Living in Mexico: The Inverse Logic That Exhausts Expats

Living in Mexico: The Inverse Logic That Exhausts Efficient Spaniards

A Spaniard has spent a year traveling through Mexico, accumulating anecdotes that depict a country where administrative rigidity coexists with street chaos. He asked for a Swiss roll in a shop, and the clerk repeated the usual script without changing a word, until he pointed to the sign. This scene summarizes what many expats discover through trial and error: Mexico operates with a different logic, and European patience runs short.

The Inflexible Public Service Script

The Swiss roll anecdote is not isolated. In shops, staff use memorized phrases that may not match the customer's request. There is no room for improvisation: if the question falls outside the script, the response stalls. Interestingly, this rigidity coexists with a total lack of rules in other areas: buses that change routes without notice, services that operate without hours, and the feeling that the State looks away.

Security: Traficante and Daily Life

According to the narrative, violence is concentrated in organized crime and does not affect civil life equally. However, the "extortion tax" reaches any business, from Cancun to Bacalar: if you do not pay, the traficante falls on you. There are reports of armed robberies in CDMX areas and warnings about neighborhoods like Tepito. Nevertheless, those who know the country insist that people's tranquility is real, and that foreigners who lose their cool pay dearly.

The Price of Fiscal Anarchy

No taxes are paid, everything runs in cash, police are easily bribed, and a driver's license can be obtained in CDMX for about $50 without an exam. This is the bright side of informality: cheap food, freedom of movement, and low fiscal pressure. The dark side is the lack of reliable services: septic tanks instead of sewers, dogs barking all night, and a bureaucracy that only works with connections.

The Silent War of Vegan Food

One of the most intense culture shocks appears with food. While some argue that any street stall in central Mexico offers beans, nopales, and huitlacoche without animal ingredients, others claim they have never seen a vegan stall in CDMX. The discussion heats up, but leaves one fact: in Queretaro and Monterrey, to sell, they sell whatever you want; in Yucatan, a tamale vendor may refuse to sell you the salsa separately, no matter how many pesos you offer.

Getting into Mexican Mode

Those who have lived in the country for years agree on one tacit rule: he who gets angry, loses. The word "ahorita" means an indefinite time, rental deposits are negotiated as currency, and meeting someone implies waiting for them to show up. The extreme advice is to spend three months in Argentina so that Mexico seems like personified sanity. Ultimately, the culture shock is real, but so is Stockholm Syndrome: the country hooks you, and not a few end up thinking of retiring there.

The disconcerting fact: after a year of complaints, the protagonist acknowledges that there is a sense of freedom, of the absence of the State, that is not found in Europe. The same anarchy that drives you crazy is what makes you stay. No one fully resolves this contradiction.