bag 'em, danno

The more regulated our lives become, the more complex life seems to be.

Time is an elusive dimension for me these days, but I think it was about two years ago that Mexico estrblished a regime to do away with one-use plastic bags. At about the same time, Oregon did the same thing.

On a visit north back then, I walked into my favorite grocery store in Prineville, paid for my goods, and waited for the cashier to bag up my groceries. I stared at her. She stared at me. Not in one of those courting stares, but an Oregon standoff stare whose subtext was -- "well?"

A little chat resolved the dilemma. I was waiting for her to bag my stuff in plastic. She was waiting for me to hand her a canvas bag hand-woven by Hopi widows under a waxing gibbous moon. Because I had come to the market unprepared, she graciously sold me a bag with the store's name written in script large enough that Venusians would know where I shop.

The clerk apologized and shifted the blame to Oregon's governor for stripping an option from customers that they preferred. The governor gets blamed for a lot in this part of Oregon.

It turned out that Darrel and Christy had a full inventory of bags in the back of their SUV. I simply did not know. On subsequent trips, I bagged like a pro.

When I returned to Oregon in August (just as the virus was building up a head of steam in the state), I headed to the same grocery store with my pied collection of bags. I wheeled my cart up to the cashier, unloaded the groceries on the belt, and started to hand the bags to the same cashier I had encountered the prior year. 

Her eyes took on a look of subtle horror. "No. No. I can't tough those. And don't put them on the belt. You're not supposed to even bring them into the store."

Outside bags were forbidden because they might spread the virus. Or, at least, that is the justification she was given when the state regulations switched bag horses in the middle of the stream. Canvas bags were now out. Plastics bags were back in.

Now, I fully understand the reasoning, if not the logic. But the ability to switch moral positions so quickly does undermine the absolute certainty that accompanies these pronouncements. The cashier, whose wisdom I have come to admire, said: "It is obvious whoever wrote these regulations never worked in a grocery store." 

Yesterday, I stopped at the same market to buy some cheese and sodas. Into plastic bags they went. At least, that fact has remained constant. But the contents of the bags were what caught my attention. Two partially-filled bags ended up costing me just under $70 (US). About 1400 Mexican pesos.

Now, I have paid 1400 pesos for groceries before at home -- now and then. But never for two light bags.

One of the largest differences in living costs between Oregon and Jalisco is food. It is noticeably cheaper in Mexico -- even though that gulf is narrowing as mexico becomes a more prosperous country. And, ironically, I can find more food options in our area of Mexico than I can in Prineville.

There are several benefits in my flights north. The first, of course, is seeing my family. But, the second is almost as important. Spending time north of the Rio Bravo reminds me of the virtues of Mexico.

In four more days, I will be headed home.