searchin' in the sun for another overload

Mexico is a hot culture.

So the anthropologists tell us.  A culture where relations trump quantitative factors -- such as time.

That may be true.  For all I know.  But I find what I know these days is far less than what I thought I knew when I was 22.

Whatever the reason, time in my little village has a different meaning than it does in Salem.

That much most visitors know about Mexico.  They laugh about it as "Mexican time."  Usually within earshot of Mexicans who consider the comment to be far less intended as an accurate description than to be an insult.

My Mexican neighbors and I are experiencing one of those moments.

Last Thursday, I opened my gate to drive into the village.  It was apparent I was going nowhere.  At least, not in my truck.

One of the lines that crisscross our street was hanging in front of my gate at carrier level.  If I had driven out, I would have snagged it.

The line had come unattached (please not the passive note my neighbors would use to describe the situation).  But someone, probably thinking they were doing a good deed, tied it to the palm tree in front of my place. 

At just about the height a person could reach.  In other words, too low for trucks and cars to pass.

I asked the lady across the street if she knew anything about it?  She did.  It was the cable television line to another neighbor.

My land lady called the cable office.  The clerk on the other end was a bit confused.  If we were not calling about the loss of our service (I have none), why were we calling?

Being a concerned citizen is another of those cultural elements that does not readily translate.  The clerk promised action.

Here it is, the next Thursday.  The line is still down -- now untied from the tree.  Before I needed to become a community activist with a hedge lopper.

I can get my truck in and out.  Traffic can travel up and down the street.  My neighbor still has cable service -- as far as I know.

And I am content for having done my part as a good citizen.  If the cable company is satisfied enough to have traffic running over its infrastructure, who am I to violate The Prime Directive?

Fellow blogger Shannon over at Rat Race Refugee writes today:

Priorities are just different here. If someone is on their way to an appointment and runs into a friend, you will never hear “ sorry, busy got to run”. Who knows when, or if, you will see that friend again so the appointment gets shoved to the back burner, so to speak. If your daughter is sick, if your mother had an accident (if your brother is in jail) this certainly takes priority over whatever obligations you may have had for that day. I have come to understand that this is why I spend so much time waiting for the plumber, the phone guy etc. and I am a little less frustrated and a little more forgiving when they may not show up when they said they would, or even on the day that they said they would. I believe this is the crux of living on Mexican time.

I have found the same thing happening to me.  I am hurrying off to meet people for dinner, and I see someone I have not seen for a long time.  I usually stop and talk. 

Most people I meet for dinner in Melaque realize time is flexible.  They do the same thing.

What would be considered as stealing someone else's time in Oregon is seen as a way of life here.  After all, dinner is going to take hours.  We can afford to be less neurotic about time.

But I am not certain I fully agree with Shannon, either.  The cable guy may be making time with his grade school sweetheart and never got around to fixing the line.  Building his cultural relationships. 

Maybe.  I suspect the clerk filed this in the "doesn't matter" box.

The bottom line is that I do not have a dog in this fight.  In fact, I don't even have a dog.

What I have is a truck.  And when I feel like not sitting in the shade while I catch up on my reading, I can go where I like.

Better yet.  I have time.  To spend as I choose.

Hot culture or not.