Doing Business In Mexico

In understanding the implications of doing business in a foreign country, I think it is necessary to understand one's own perceptions of the country at hand. It is important to recognize the evolution of this process from the beginnings of relative ignorance to the final stages of ongoing understanding and acceptance. This is the only way a bridge can be built between two seemingly different cultures.

BEFORE MEXICO

Family Connections: Personally, I have been in close contact with Mexicans on many occasions--some short-term, others long-term. I have an aunt (by marriage) who is Mexican, and so I also have three Mexican-American cousins. By the time I was old enough to recognize the significance of this cross-cultural marriage, the greater family had come to accept my aunt's differences. She has always been fast-talking and very opinionated, and for much of my childhood I assumed this was how all Mexicans were. She and her family also lived in Colorado and this made getting close to them extremely difficult.

Exchange Students: As I entered into high school, I had no idea the profound effect that befriending international exchange students would have upon me. At my school, we often had students from Brazil, the Czech Republic, Germany, Mexico, and Spain. But for some reason, I always seemed to gravitate towards the Spanish speakers--especially the Mexicans. At the time I did not know why. First of all, I did not speak Spanish (I was actually studying French in high school). And secondly, my experiences with my Mexican aunt were...well let's just say they were less than warm and cuddly. And yet, my intrigue with grew with each new student I befriended. The friendships were so strong in fact, that I have been able to keep in contact with them for years after their return homes.

For as long as I can remember Mexico has been kind of like the "littlest brother" to the U.S., in that we often found him a nuisance, but really had a true love for. While this is obviously a generalization, I think it is true for the most part. This analogy is one that I can remember thinking even as early as my freshman year in high school. As I got older and built relationships with Mexicans, I wondered why they revered us and our country so much. I figured this could be explained simply for economic reasons. They were "poor" and we were "rich"--case closed. But as a result of my experiences with the Mexican exchange students, I knew things could not be that simple. I needed to understand better--I needed to go to Mexico.

When I decided to go on this trip, I resolved to hold nothing back. I would do things I had never done before. I would eat things I had never eaten before. I would say words I had never said before. I would befriend people knowing that I may never see them again.

IN MEXICO

The Airport: As the plane flew over the black Mexican landscape, before the plane had even landed, I was already looking for differences between this land and my own. I immediately noticed that the lights that dotted ground below were different in color. In the U.S., typically the lights are more of a bluish-white color as opposed to the yellow-orange glow of the ones found here. As we pulled into the unloading area and exited the plane, I was taken by surprise by the prevalence of the armed soldiers standing in various locations around the airport. I wondered why this was necessary. What kind of message are they trying to send? What kind of message do visitors interpret? I did not know what to make of it, so I made sure that I cautiously and casually proceeded into the building, trying my best not to look in any way suspicious (not that they had any reason to suspect me of anything).

Since I was the one of first people from our group that passed through Customs, I was also one of the first people who had the opportunity to approach and talk with some of the host families. Initially I was befuddled, while simultaneously excited and frustrated by trying to communicate with these very energetic and talkative people (especially considering it was eight in the evening). I was the first person from our group to talk to Jorge Lujan as well. After meeting him and some of the

Eventually, I successfully found my host family and they took us to their car--a Chevy Malibu with leather interior. This immediately contradicted the traditional stereotype of Mexicans. I had studied French in high school and only had ten weeks of formal Spanish training under my belt, so needless to say, I was pretty nervous about communicating effectively with my family. But as we started driving to the house, I began trying to speak Spanish with them. I asked about their family, what kind of music they liked, what they enjoyed doing, and they did the same with me. It was exciting to be able to communicate to people in another language and actually understand them! They were some of the friendliest and touchiest people I had ever met in my life.

Casa de Garduсo: When we arrived at the house there was entire welcoming party of some of their neighbors, including the token drunk. They had everything from Manzanita (a carbonated Apple drink) to real Cuban Bacardi (banned in the US) to Mexican red wine. I had expected this kind of situation prior to my arrival, since we were told that Mexicans were extremely family- and neighbor-oriented, and that they also enjoyed their alcohol. I learned very early on in my life that the best response in an overwhelming situation like that is to just "smile and nod." I found this came in quite handy on this first night here, and would later prove to be quite handy with the open-air market vendors as well as the taxi drivers. I am sure there were many times when my agreement was incorrectly assumed.

The house itself broke the stereotype that Americans have of Mexican households. It was quite clean and quite large, including three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, and TV room all in the main house. My room, complete with private bathroom, was located in the guest house (yes, the guest house) behind the main house. While everything was on a much smaller scale than your typical American home, never did it feel cramped or uncomfortable. All of the Mexican homes that I had encountered were paradoxical in a way. Every home was gated and had significant security measures in place on the inside. But once you were within the gates of the property, the windows and doors were never locked. They were often left wide open, day and night, something that you rarely find in the U.S., even in the most benign of neighborhoods.

Tec de Monterrey: Oddly enough, my roommate and I were the first to arrive to the campus