Be an Amigo

As a child, I was taught to mind my manners, especially when visiting someone else’s home. Be respectful of their rules and practices, listen to and learn about the host, graciously accept what is offered to you, and offer to help in return. I believe these same principles apply when visiting another country.

My daughter and I just traveled to Mexico for the first time. She was buzzing with excitement about so many aspects of the trip, especially the part about missing a few days of school. But I told her she wasn’t missing anything because she was still going to receive an education while we traveled. In fact, this was going to be the best form of remote learning in which she could ever participate! As a parent, I need to seize opportunities like this to ensure the practices I learned as a child are also carried on as her custom.

Before we departed, I read to her about Puerto Vallarta’s history, geography, weather, cuisine, attractions, and economy. We learned that 50% of their workforce is in hospitality, so I had the notion that the general population must be struggling. Although we stayed at an all-inclusive resort, I wanted to be aware of any tipping policies. The receptionist told me tipping was not necessary. Mind you, I’ve worked in hospitality for a long time, and I would never turn down a tip. I also assume the employees are trying to catch-up after the Covid drought. So I tipped. Everybody.

I studied Spanish for four years beginning in 8th grade. Unlike riding a bike, I find it easy to forget how to speak a second language without practice. So, in addition to reading about Puerto Vallarta, I’ve been using Duolingo to brush up on this skill, and to introduce it to my daughter. I want to at least try to be able to speak the language of the country I’m visiting. Although I spoke some Spanish, almost everyone I interacted with spoke English very well, and seemed happy to oblige.

We learned more by walking along the Malecón, viewing and purchasing the wares and fares of the local artists and food vendors.

We learned the most from our taxi drivers. Raul told us about tequila tours and to be on the lookout for coatimundis (which we were lucky enough to spot later that night!). Antonio played mariachi music for us, used google translate on his phone to make sure we understood each other, and he pulled over when there was a sight he wanted us to see. He was calling us “familia” by the end of our ride. Our third driver wanted to know all about us. He said he could tell we were not like other gringas. I laughed, looked down at my fanny pack, and then asked what he thought was different. He replied, “Most Americans who visit are arrogant.” That made me sad and disappointed to think ‘we’ were not minding our manners when visiting someone else’s home. He and I continued to get to know each other for the rest of the drive, and it wasn’t lost on me that he finished each sentence with “mi amiga.”

Being a good guest doesn’t require bending over backwards to please your host, and vice versa. It’s as simple as minding your manners. So please remember, we’re all sharing the same world, so mi casa es tu casa, y tu casa es mi casa, amigos.

Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!

It’s Marci Gras! I did my part to make sure Fat Tuesday lived up to its name by making and eating an absurd amount of gumbo and cornbread. I’ve never been to the Mardi Gras festival, but I have been to New Orleans, and our hotel was right on Bourbon Street, and we visited the Mardi Gras museum to see the floats. I was also traveling with my 7-year-old at the time, so I had to be somewhat prudent. Anyhow, I was watching the news this morning about New Orleans and how there is no parade because of Covid, but houses and yards are decorated to the nines. One interviewee said, “The parade may be cancelled, but the spirit of Marci Gras cannot!” And that is when I got teary-eyed.

I don’t know about you, but I hope post-Covid celebrations rush in like someone opened the floodgates. Potential memories are being stolen from us. Sweet memories of passing out cupcakes on your birthday or Valentines to your classmates were erased like a chalkboard this past year. Dancing like nobody’s watching on a crowded amphitheater lawn is only a hallucination. Singing the school fight song with 109,000 other fans in the university stadium must have been a figment of my imagination. Hugging and holding hands? Only in our wildest dreams. Festivals, reunions, and play dates are all fictional chapters of our now boring lives. Gosh, I even fantasize about struggling to get the bartender’s attention during happy hour!

I hope when we become a herd again, we become immune to boredom. I hope we flock together and have a parade. A day of parades all over the world with singing and dancing, and everyone has a seat together at the grandstand with a perfect view of the spectacle. But the timing of these Mardi Gras celebrations will be reversed, because we’ve been abstaining for too long, as if we’d given up togetherness for lent. It’s time for the spirit of Mardi Gras that has been hibernating in our hearts to wake up, take a real good stretch, and let the good times roll!

Sharing is Caring

When we first moved to town, before buying the house I grew up in, we rented a house next to a family that became and remains close friends of ours. They had a daughter that was about my age, so naturally we played together often. When we bought our house around the corner and down the road, we still made our way back to their house to play on a regular basis. In the summers, they participated in a program called the Fresh Air Fund. Two young children from New York City would travel to our rural town to live with their host family, our friends, for the summer. My parents followed their lead and welcomed a young girl to live with us for a summer. I anticipated their arrival with a buzz of energy because I knew how the increase in group size would spur fresh dynamics that harnessed a lot of potential for game play!

The mission of the Fresh Air Fund is to transform limited opportunity into limitless potential for the underserved children of NYC. I wasn’t aware of this at the time, but my experiences with these children was my introduction to racial inequity. I remember how excited and nervous the children were in some of their new experiences with us. What do you mean you’ve never swum in a pond before? What do you mean you’ve never rolled down the side of a grassy hill before? What do you mean you’ve never stomped through a brook or walked through the woods or caught fireflies before? I took my advantages and opportunities for granted. I still do.

I offer up prayers of thanksgiving and gratitude, and prayers for those in need. My life’s work has revolved around helping the young and underprivileged gain skills and knowledge to achieve their goals. And so maybe I’m doing better than some of my privileged white counterparts in the awareness department, but I cannot become complacent, because there is always more to do and more to give.

I’m hopeful that, in light of recent events, more white people, myself included, will come to terms with their white identities. They will do some digging, uncover some truths, and let in some light. And then they will begin to share. And I don’t necessarily mean opening the doors to our homes to welcome in children from the city (although I highly recommend it!). I mean to share the kinds of things that are replenished and multiplied through the act of sharing: kindness, joy, knowledge, experiences, time, and friendship.

It’s past time for a season of change. It’s past time for those of us who have been breathing freely, stagnant as the air may be, to throw open the doors in our minds, because everyone can benefit from fresh air.

What gifts can you share? How can you help to level the playing field for all humankind? What opportunities and privileges have you taken for granted throughout your life?