all the world's a stage

Shakespeare had it right.

Life really does seem to be a staged performance. He claimed it had seven acts. My experience is the acts are legion.

My mother is a big believer in wearing the appropriate costume for every activity in life. The idea is to let your clothes reflect the best of you.

I tend to be far more utilitarian.

On my second Sunday in the highlands, I decided to attend services at the Community Church of San Miguel (in one accord). Because I was going to walk the two miles there, I put on my walking shoes and walking shorts. As a tip of the sartorial hat to my mother, I donned a snappy shirt. And off I went.

My thoughts were that this is Mexico. No one at my beach church would even have noticed what I was wearing.

But it was San Miguel de Allende. I had just walked in when, one of my friends commented: "Do you think you are still at the beach?"

I have become accustomed to similar comments. Several years ago, I attended a Latin America Bloggers' Conference in Mérida with my friend Wayne. He lives on Isla de Mujeres. About as beachy as you can get.

The opening night at the library, we both attended decked out in our city slicker party togs. It was a fitting disguise because it admitted us to a group of city dwellers who were making disparaging remarks about beach people -- their attitude, their attire, the usual low gutter gossip some people indulge in hoping it makes their station in life more noteworthy.

A more light-hearted version of the same scenario happened at a dinner party just outside of San Miguel de Allende. Due to a misunderstanding on my part, I was unable to change clothes following a two-hour walk before I had to leave for the party. It was the same attire that I had worn to church, but the shirt was sweaty rather than snappy.

When I arrived, I made my apologies to the host and hostess who were more than gracious. They were happy to have me there.

It wasn't until I joined the rest of the group that I realized I had grabbed the wrong costume for this scene in the play. They all looked as if they were auditioning for the next edition of Luxury Senior Living. I almost expected Caroline Astor and Jackie Onassis to saunter through.

When we sat down to eat, I chose a seat amongst strangers, and apologized for my attire. Before I could explain my situation, the prim, well-turned-out woman on my right peered at me over the top of her glasses and said: "That's OK, dear. We just thought you were one of the beach people. I guess I was correct."

It is an odd division. City folk. Beach people. But apparently it exists in a lot of minds.

If you ask City folk to be honest about us beachies, they will tell you that they think of us as akin to lizards lounging in the sun while trying to lap up as much tequila as possible in the shortest amount of time.

Of course, the beach people are often every bit as unkind about their city colleagues. Prissy elitists who sip wine while convincing themselves their Good Deeds keep Mexico from collapsing into a heap of decaying protoplasm.

I don't buy either myth. But I certainly do buy into the costume requirements. Otherwise, I would not have given a second thought to my sweaty wear at the dinner party. My mother has taken her Shakespearean pound of flesh on that front.

When I go to any town larger than our villages -- say, Manzanilo, Colima, Guadalajara -- I always wear what I call my big boy pants. Along with a dress shirt and good shoes. Had I not been suffering from blisters on my feet, that is what I would have worn to church in San Miguel de Allende.

To me, it just seems the right thing to do. Because I go to the cities for business, my tourist costume just seems to be the right choice. A lot of my beach friends disagree. They are quite happy being dressed as if they were heading to an hour at the gym.

And that is what makes life interesting. We are each living our own play. Choosing our own roles. Switching into the costumes that reflect who we would like to be. Will Shakespeare in a post-postmodern world.

All the world’s a stage,And all the men and women merely players;They have their exits and their entrances;And one man in his time plays many parts.