Dia Del Turista: Or How I learned To Stop Worrying And Love Drunken Tourists
"The global phenomenon of poverty tourism - or 'poorism' - has become increasingly popular during the past few years. Tourists pay to be guided through the favelas of Brazil and the shantytowns of South Africa. The recently opened Los Angeles Gang Tour carries visitors through battle-scarred territories of urban violence and deprivation."
- Leslie Jamison
+ + +
March 21st is kind of a big deal here in Nuevo Progreso. It marks the end of the winter tourism season. "Winter Texans" are the lifeblood of the local economy, mostly retirees fleeing the cold winters of their home state, or country, there are more than a few winter Texans that hail from Canada.Most of them seem to hail from the Midwestern United States. At least as far as the ones I've spoken to, and the shirts proclaiming their home state along with some slogan about being a Texan when its convenient (winter).
[[And so the Day of Tourists begins...]]
Dia del Turista its called (which seems to translate loosely as 'throwing up margaritas and street corn everywhere you can while mariachi bands play'). A giant street carnival celebrating the end of the season which brings the most prosperity to the region. Why they don't hold the celebration at the start of the winter season I have no idea. I've been broke as hell recently thanks to a few fuck-ups on the part of my insurance company so I didn't ask as many questions during the festivities as I probably should have. My breakfast had consisted of codeine tablets, cheap vodka, and a snack cake that morning so overlooking such details is to be expected.
[[A local was running a 3 card monte game near the border, and fleecing tourists from the look of things.]]
The smell of every local street vendor materializing a food stall out of nowhere was killing me to be honest. The smells were amazing and the only real distraction I had was the sight of uniformed police, something I've never seen in NP before, and the sight/smell of tourists young and old puking into garbage cans or onto the street. It seems that drinking only margaritas and beer for an entire morning can affect some peoples digestive systems adversely.
[[Everywhere you turned meat was being cooked over hot coals... having not a dime in my pocket made that experience very close to what I imagine hell is like. My god did everything smell amazing.]]
Nobody was giving away sex, at least not that I was able to find, but the strip clubs got in on the festivities as well. Vampiz had a tent out with tables and chairs that covered the side street they reside on. Edward, one of the owners, was cooking meat of some sort. I never figured exactly what as I didn't hang around long. Just long enough to say hello to the girls and Edward, and then to go next door and repeat the pleasantries with Fidel the owner of Santana. Not that he had much time, as their taco stand had the same sort of crowd every other taco or food vendor had, large, composed entirely of unruly, hungry, and drunk tourists.
[[Santana's taco stand during a "slow" moment.]]
Just up the street the other strip club on the main drag had their employees dressed nicely. The best way to describe the outfits would be 'almost tuxedos'. They didn't have a tent out, but like Vampiz that had music outside to help lure in the clients. Both places seemed to be doing well with that strategy. I'm guessing a lot of 'Winter Texans' came down without their wives for the festivities.
[[Vampiz tent before things got going. A DJ, beautiful girls, cheap booze, meat being grilled out in the open. Its honestly the sort of place I hope to go when I die.]]
It had a very home-grown traveling carnival atmosphere as one might expect, but it didn't fit the feel of Nuevo Progreso. It felt more like a carnival or run-down state fair in the USA than any sort of celebration in Mexico. Perhaps that is a product of being on the border, or catering to tourists, regardless of the reasons if I didn't recognize the large shop signs and some of the local establishments, the ones that were not hidden behind rows of vendors and food carts I could have been anywhere. It is a celebration of the local tourist trade, and it felt very much like everyone and everything was going out of their/its way to make the Americans feel at home, in America.
[[A typical sidewalk, usually there are about 1/3rd as many tourists.]]
Tourism is certainly the lifeblood of the economy here, but the thing I have learned from many, many random conversations with tourists is the ones that end up here in Nuevo Progreso want very specific things from Mexico. They want cheap dentists and doctors, plentiful pharmaceuticals, eye glasses and contact lenses at a fraction of the cost in the US, and perhaps some trinkets to take back home to friends to prove they were in Mexico. More than one tourist has asked me where to find t-shirts that just say 'Nuevo Progreso' with some sort of 'Mexican thing' on them. Actual quote. Seriously.
[[A tent with a stage, and many, many mariachi bands.]]
This is the part where I get angry about the fact that 99% of the Americans who come to Mexico don't actually give a shit about Mexico. They have no interest in the local cuisine beyond the street food (tacos, elotes, lonches, all fine and delicious options), no interest in the actual culture at all, and certainly no interest in seeing more of the country than their doctors office or pharmacy of choice and maybe the beaches and islands that are about a half hour drive from here. I suppose it must seem fairly predictable that all of this annoys me, but it does, so predictable or not that is where I find myself as I write this.
Odds are good that being pissy about the fact that most tourists to Mexico have no actual interest in Mexico isn't going to do any good things for the amount of subscribers to my Patreon account thats for damn sure. More that one tourist has asked for my card or the address of 'Dispatches'. While none of them so far have subscribed through Patreon to the blog a few have become regular readers (thanks Google analytics!). Telling them how shitty I think it is that they come here for cheap shit, leave garbage in the streets, treat the locals at best like servants and at worst with a generalized disdain that screams "I'm an American, that makes me better than you". That is, sadly, not me projecting either, I've heard people say as much. Its amazing what you hear when your unplaceably ethnic look and ability to blend in to just about any crowd gets you ignored like everyone else. They pass me over like any other local, and say shitty things about the people around them because they assume nobody speaks English. Which is funny in and of itself, as this is a border town, most of the locals here who speak English speak it better than people I graduated high school with in West Virginia.
This was supposed to be a 'fluff piece' as they say. Recount the days festivities, point out a few weird moments, and exclaim that I'll be back next year. End of article.
I would happily come back for Dia del Turista next year, if not for the tourists. Thats the sad part, the local economy here is utterly dependent on a population of migratory rich people and retirees from the USA who see them as disposable people, if they see them at all. Maybe its because I've spent so much time here, maybe its because I choose to live away from the weekenders and the tourists who get a hotel room for the night because they are too drunk to walk back across the bridge. Maybe thats why the attitude of the average tourist down here angers me. They don't take the time to see Mexico for Mexico. To most of them Mexico, or at least its border towns, might as well be a gigantic open-air CostCo.
I should probably stop here before this becomes just an incoherent string of obscenities. Maybe my next article will be happier in tone. The kind of thing that encourages tourists to this little border town to subscribe to this travelogue as opposed to sending me angry e-mails about it. We can always hope.
[[Lets end on a positive note; more meat being cooked slowly over hot coals! Oh Christ, I'm so hungry right now...]]
+ + +
This post and its
original content copyright James Radcliff, and has been brought to you by Mexico,
tequila, and generally poor decision making. If you would like to donate to
support this bizarre little travelogue, feel free to do so via Patreon or
PayPal. As always, this strange and debaucherous adventure has been brought to
your screen by viewers like you. Thank you.
Comments
Post a Comment