Living Here: Shopping Locally

A walk down to the Santiago market area yesterday reminded me how different shopping can be in Mexico. It's something you get accustomed to and don't notice once you've lived here awhile.

I try to patronize the small, locally-owned businesses. Shopping at big malls and large chain stores is just about the same anywhere in the world these days, but the mom-and-pop stores in Mexico offer things not available any longer elsewhere.

First stop, the auto parts store for new limpiaparabrisas, windshield wiper blades.

I took in one of the worn-out blades from my car so I would have an example. These small stores don't always carry name brands or have a huge book listing the exact part necessary for an individual make and model year of car, so it's a good idea to have an example for comparison to be sure what you're buying will fit. The guy measured the blade, and then asked me, "Do you want just one?" In the States, folks generally replace wiper blades in pairs, under the assumption that when one starts streaking, the other is soon to follow. Not so here, where people often try to eek out the last bit of use from an item before buying a replacement.

When I told the salesman I needed two, the next question was, "Do you want two the same size?" Now I guess it might seem a little odd that someone would buy two blades of different sizes, but actually the rear window wiper on my car is smaller, and I guess someone might come in and buy two replacements of different sizes. The counter guy was being thorough.

So I bought my replacement wiper blades, each complete with metal armature and adapters to make sure it fits on the wiper arm of any car. I got exactly what I needed, no more, no less. I paid seventy-six pesos, or about $5.55 in the United States. Not a bad deal, and quite a bit less than I would have paid in a larger, fancier store, or anywhere north of the border.

The smaller stores mostly cater to neighborhood residents who need to make their pesos go as far as possible. These kinds of no-frills places are exactly the opposite of the Costco and box store model, where shoppers buy items pre-packaged and often in quantity. Need one picture hanger? Well, in the big store, the smallest quantity available in blister-packs is probably a dozen, so you might end up paying for eleven more than you need. But in the small neighborhood stores you can save money by buying only the quantity you can use.

If you need one nail, one screw, or just a couple ounces of plaster or paint thinner, the neighborhood Mexican store is the kind of place for you.

So next I headed to the tlapalería, or hardware store. I had a couple of faucets that were dripping, something common around here with our hard, mineralized water.

The tlapalería is the kind of place with a long counter separating the customers from the merchandise, which is contained in bins and boxes on high shelves along the walls and "out back." You tell the man what you need, and he brings examples to the counter for inspection. Liquids are measured into small containers, and quantities of other items are counted or weighed. Advice is plentiful and free.

I bought six rubber and leather washers to repair dripping faucets. They came out of huge bins, and look as if they were punched by hand from old tires or other repurposed material. But they work fine, and I would much prefer to buy parts made by small businesses in Mexico, without the wasteful packaging seen in larger stores, and in just the quantity I need. Six washers cost me six pesos, or about forty-five cents.

The tlapalería owner even manufactures his own packaging. When I had paid for my purchases, the guy slipped them into a small paper bag, made from a recycled catalog page which he'd folded in half and glued along two edges, leaving one end open to create an envelope into which he slipped my washers. The handmade bag also has a hand-lettered publicity flyer glued onto the front, listing products available along with the store address, phone number and the fact that the tlapalería is open on Sundays.

My windshield wipers are renewed and my faucets are fixed. All with economy, recycling and the money spent in the local community. I also stopped at the bank along the way. Total distance walked was about six blocks and time spent a little more than half an hour. Neighbors greeted me on the walk home. That's something I can buy into.


Here's another post on Economy.

Yuctecan Still Lifes: A Walk Around the Corner

Assignment: See what kinds of photos I could make on my routine walk to the store around the block where I buy the morning paper. The round trip takes less than ten minutes, and I did not allow myself to take much more time than I normally do, nor deviate from my normal path. This means not crossing any streets: to get to the store I turn left out of my front door and walk to the corner where I make another left, and continue to the next corner where I turn left once more. Tendejon Miguelito is a few doors down the way, just about back-to-back with my house. I walked to the store, observing, and bought the newspaper. On the way home, I took pictures. They reveal details about life and culture "por mi rumbo," in my neighborhood.

#1. (above) A barred security door, propped open against the wall of a house. Someone slipped an advertising flyer into the bars. This is a daily occurrence in Mèrida, where many families do not have internet or receive the newspaper. Advertising is often done via these types of leaflets.

#2. Trash in a planter. Some wrappers, a plastic spoon, a bottle, two chunks of cement and what appears to be a photo of a child soldier in the Mexican Revolution have been discarded in this planter in front of a home.

#3. Old bakery. This late 19th or early 20th century-style building has been empty ever since I moved onto the street. During the Yucatàn hennequen boom of this time period many Mèrida buildings were renovated or built in this Europeanized style. I am told this once was a factory or a bakery. Some of the original wooden doors, like the one on the right, were replaced by modern steel overhead doors, a common practice over the years here in Mèrida where a good proportion of the oldest buildings were converted to industrial, retail and warehouse use. For years this building has been for sale or for rent, but nothing ever seems to happen. Recently workers have been painting, cleaning and renovating the facade. The sacks contain some of the rubble and debris from the work that presumably will be hauled away some day.

#4. Renovated house. These neighbors decided to redo the facade of their old house, creating a garage door where once there was a window, and putting ceramic floor tile on the lower part of the facade. Supposedly these types of alterations in the Centro Historico are prohibited, but many flaunt the rules. Or perhaps this house is modern enough to be exempt. Maybe no one noticed. Whatever the facts are, they redid the front of the house. It's not exactly to my taste, to be gracious about it, but everyone has a right to their own aesthetic.

#5. The carpenter car dealer. This building is just about five doors down from my house. The guy, who seems to be a Chilango (from Mexico City) and is definitely not Yucatecan, used to build and sell furniture, tables, chairs, shelving, beds, things like that. Now he seems mostly dedicated to selling used cars. These he often has parked along the street while leaving his huge private parking lot empty, taking up a lot of the limited public parking and annoying some of the neighbors. However, mostly he seems to play very, very loud music and invests his time cruising around in a convertible, top always down and with his elbow resting on the window ledge, or holds court on the sidewalk with a six pack and various neighborhood characters. You get the idea. About a year ago, he built this coffin, and it has been outside leaning against the front of his shop since. Maybe the person who ordered it got better. Maybe the buyer put off making his last payment until it was too late. Or maybe the carpenter made it as a joke. He did have the lid open and a mannequin dressed up like a monster laying inside for Halloween. I like it; brings up the neighborhood a bit. Best thing that guy's done around here.

#6. Neighbor's door. Frankly, looking at the front of this house with any kind of concentration gives me vertigo. Fortunately it's not directly across from my house, so I don't get dizzy walking out the door. A lot of homes in the city have some tile on the facade because it is more durable and requires less maintenance than a painted surface. This tile pattern apparently was fairly popular some years ago.

#7. Gilda's tree. This is a piece of a flor de mayo, or plumeria tree that my neighbor and friend Gilda put out against the front of her house to be taken by the trash collectors, who apparently balked at hauling it away. After resting there for a few days, it fell over and stayed that way, as you see it here. Right after I took the photo, someone collected it.

#8. Neighbor's plant. Three doors to the north of my house is a very old, very traditional home. When the doors are open you catch glimpses of chandeliers, paintings and old furniture that look like they have been there since great grandma's day. In the front garden there are several potted plants. This is one of them, in front of a window grille.