Hospitality, Humanity, and Friendliness
With a minus sign
I was lucky to visit different continents and meet wonderful people there. Many of them were impressively hospitable despite the fact I was, for them, only a stranger they’d never see again. Although some were not rich, I could tell a lot about them.
But I want to provoke a bit today, so I’ll talk about the anti-hospitality I faced in some places in Latin America. I did not visit much there and can’t blame everybody, but I got some bright impressions.
Here, you can find out that gringo isn’t a cliche or meme; it is a stigma. Maybe if I knew Spanish or settled permanently, I could get rid of it. But you can’t avoid it being a stranger. It means only one: pay. Give me money. Give more.
If goods in shops or markets don’t have a price tag, a seller may overcharge you once he sees you’re a foreigner, especially if it’s apparent that you need this thing. I think it’s not a secret that restaurants can have two menus for friends and foes. The same dishes, different prices.
Almost all nature reserves in Guatemala require to take their guide even if there is no one reason for it. It’s more the ability to invent a workplace in the condition of total unemployment.
But well, at least the guide does his work. There are a mass of other insolent ways to grab your money. A roadblock in a random village where you will be asked to supplement its budget (they stop not all cars, only presentable ones). A dude who “helps” you park a car when his help isn’t needed at all.
My top is people who fill in pits on roads with ground and garbage and aggressively demand money from drivers. Needless to say, how qualitative such repairs are.
Wherever you’re leaving your car, some fellow can appear out of nowhere and say it is paid parking. Obviously, he’s a fraudster, but it’s better to pay than to find a cut wheel or broken windows.
Once, our car broke down in the middle of nowhere. We stood near somebody’s yard and waited for a rental car provider. The yard inhabitants watched us through the windows. Finally, a woman came to us. You can think she asked whether we needed help. Of course not. She said that parking near their yard is paid. It was only once when our cheerful guide flipped out and sent her to hell.
Another day, we drove slowly across a village. Almost all roads in Guatemala are two-lane. If you’re caught in a deadlock, there are nearly no chances to drive around it. We saw the reason in the end: somebody left his car on the road and went to a market about his business. Everybody had to drive around the vehicle. It wasn’t the tourist village: that guy behaved so with his fellow villagers. If they don’t respect each other, there is no point in expecting hospitality.
Of course, we also had good experiences and met lovely people. Guides who accompanied us to a volcano. They just did their work well, and damn, it was great. It was enough.
Once, I wanted to buy a brown banana from a street vendor. The seller said some ridiculous price for the whole bunch of bananas. I paid the full cost but only took one. She caught up to me and gave it all anyway. We ate them with the whole group. By the way, brown bananas are gorgeous.
But these are the only exceptions that confirm the rule. You aren’t welcome here unless you have money.
On the way to Guatemala and back, we had transfers in Mexico, with one-day stops in Cancun and Mexico City. All went well in Cancun. But in Mexico City airport, border guards arrested and took away one of us. They kept him the whole day in a weird room without the right to contact anybody and escorted him to a plane like the criminal.
Three years later, our guide’s wife suffered the same fate. The only difference is that they informed her she was deported (without saying why, of course). I heard a few more cases about such behavior of Mexican border guards. I don’t have an explanation for this. Do they catch “criminals” (random travelers) and get awards? Or do they like to scoff at people?
Imagine yourself in this girl’s place. You’re taken to a room with bunks like in jail, TV, and a mass of other detained (well, some of them really look like criminals). You’re forbidden to use your phone. There’s no ability to contact the consul and no explanations of what the hell is going on. Everybody speaks Spanish only. Wtf?
I have no reason not to believe that Mexico has an adorable, diverse nature. But I’d like not to return there considering such risks. And I’d not advise anybody about this. In this case, this is the minimum possible to do — not waste money in the country that can meet you this way.
I could scale my impressions using memories of people I believe in, but I think it’s enough. We could justify such an attitude, considering poverty dominated this region. But I know other impoverished countries where people are hospitable and lovely, even to their detriment.
As you can see, it doesn’t always work out. Anyway, I still can’t understand how they manage to live so badly among their adorable nature and climate of “eternal spring.”
As opposed to all I said, I met heartfelt hospitality in Asian countries and heard more from others.
Malaysia by Kelly Benson
Uzbekistan by Craig K. Collins
