I went to Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, to visit old friends for a week, then returned to Mexico City to run the Mexico Voices blog for the week before Reed's return.
Somehow in all the excitement of moving around, my iPad must have taken a hard tumble. I discovered its malfunction during our weekly "playtime" with our grandson in Chicago. I could see and hear him and his mom, but they could only hear me: a "green" screen eventually gave way to a frozen image. Not good.
Our daughter suggested that I try to find a Mac Store in Mexico City, which brings me to the theme for today's post: the cultural adventure that is Mexico and the incredible "kinship" of Mexico's youth with modern technology. Recently, I translated a news article on this very subject for Mexico Voices.
Adventure First
I looked up Mac Stores in Mexico City. We decided on the one located "Downtown" on Uruguay Street—a busy shopping street dominated by multi-story "Technology Plazas" that are, in effect, traditional markets with their closely crowded, innumerable small stalls operated by individual vendors selling computers. We thought that the franchised Mac Store would be different, which seemed confirmed when I clicked on Street View [for photo of store front, click "Street View" at map's upper right].
We called for a taxi. We told the driver we wanted to go to the corner of the Eje Central and Calle Uruguay. It never dawned on us that he didn't know where Uruguary Street—a major shopping street—was, but he didn't. So when we knew we'd passed it, we got out and began retracing our steps.
Knowing we were close, we asked a policeman: Zero, Zip, Nada. He had not a clue, which is typical. Our experience is that Mexico's people know how to go where they need to go: they develop their personal "routes". But they don't seem to pay attention to street names or where anything is located that doesn't personally involve them. Their apparent lack of curiosity about places, buildings, even those nearby is remarkable. After a year of steady trips to Mexico for Pemex, my Swiss colleague famously remarked,
"One must 'triangulate' when getting street directions; keep asking until two out of three answers agree."Next we asked a street vendor: Bingo! He knew that Uruguay is the street with a Metro stop. We thought the Mac Store was on the corner, and we thought we were looking for a good-sized store. We were wrong on both counts. The store was about 150 feet from the corner, and it looked like this:
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| The word "Mac" is barely visible through the leaves. What looks like bulletin boards are actually displays of pirated computer programs. No wonder we had a hard time believing the store was for real! |
About ten minutes later, we returned to the shop we'd previously bypassed because nothing else presented itself as an option. I definitely had my doubts, but our reasoning went something like this...
"What the heck, the iPad doesn't work now; we want to play with our grandson.... What's the worst that can happen?"So in we went. The shop was probably ten feet wide and maybe twenty feet deep. On the right side was a locked, shallow glass cabinet housing a display of Mac products. The left hand wall featured Apple ads. At the back was a small counter. Behind the counter was a door opening to what looked like a closet. That was it.
A young man greeted me and directed me to another young man who took my iPad, checked it out and explained that they couldn't retrieve anything stored on it, which was okay with me as I don't use it for storage. He also explained that if they had to change the mother board, it would be 3,000 pesos (about US$235). We looked at each other, then agreed.
The Adventure Continues....
I was asked to call in two days (Tuesday) "when the lab has completed its diagnostic". I called, but was asked to call back...at various time intervals, "in two hours", "in thirty minutes", the next day at 1 PM...twice! We were now at Friday, and I had lost all hope of ever seeing my iPad again when I was told,
"It's ready; you can pick it up. The cost is 450 pesos [about US$35]."
There was just one small problem: I was expecting to pay a minimum of 3,000 pesos. So when I was told 450 pesos, I heard 4,500 pesos.This error is not uncommon: numbers are among the most difficult to learn because our brains are 'wired' to associate number concepts with our original language. One of my co-consultants on the Pemex project was a Ph.D. economist from Cornell whose native country was Hungary. When he had to do a math calculation, he warned me, "Now you're going to hear a bit of Hungarian...."
To confirm my slowly dawning awareness of what I was hearing, I asked incredulously,
"You mean less than 500 pesos?" "Sí, señora," was the gentle reply.
Friday afternoon brings traffic to a near standstill in Mexico City as everyone tries to get somewhere else for the weekend. So I told the technician I'd pick it up the next day, on Saturday.
So at mid-day, Reed and I set off once again for Centro. This time I'd thoroughly researched Google maps for the most direct route to the Mac Store. I called for a taxi. This time, we were in luck. The driver who responded was one we knew well, and he knew precisely where we were going.
Thinking it wouldn't take long, Reed waited in the cab while I went into the store. I cheerily told the young woman at the counter who I was and that I was here to pick up my iPad, which I was told yesterday was ready. The young woman who had greeted me exchanged an unmistakable look with the technician: trouble.
"What is the problem," I asked, "Where's my iPad?"I listened to their explanation...painfully aware that the taxi was waiting for me outside. I should have known better. I didn't understand their reply in colloquial Spanish, so I cut to the chase by asking: "How long?"
When I heard "Fifteen minutes," I ran outside to tell Reed to pay the driver and come in. This was going to take awhile. By the time I walked back into the shop, the young woman had my iPad in her hand. It turns out that she had been trying to tell me she didn't have 'authorization' to retrieve my iPad from the back of this tiny shop.
How she got the authorization so quickly...I have no idea. ¡Estamos en México! We're in Mexico...where sometimes we really don't understand quite what's happening....
Technical Success!
With the iPad in my hands, I checked my email, which was fine; then moved on to FaceTime, which links us to our grandson. For some reason, getting back into FaceTime was a bit of a process, but the technician patiently persisted and finally there it was: two-way communication!
Success found at a hole-in-the-wall Mac Store...for thirty-five bucks!
This is not the first time: recently, Reed was distressed to discover that somehow he was locked out of his own Notebook—something about a password. We took the Notebook to an Internet shop in our neighborhood. In another unpretentious setting, again for about thirty-five dollars, yet another patient computer technician was able to access Reed's Notebook.
By now we were tired and hungry. Reed had a terrific suggestion: let's try the Spanish Restaurant we'd seen just down the street during our first foray. The space was delightful: colonial building, quiet interior of white-washed walls, dark beams, wait people in Spanish traditional dress, delicious food, very attentive service—an upscale oasis on a hustling-bustling market street. We left refreshed in body and soul.
Naturally, when we were ready to hail a taxi to take us back to Coyoacán, there were no free taxis. Yes, I know, but we know how to rule out gypsies. In our experience, Mexico City taxi drivers have been great—with fewer than a handful of notable exceptions relating to price-gauging. To their credit, the haggling is done before the ride begins, so there have never been unpleasant surprises.
I'm still not sure how Reed managed it, but a driver who initially signaled 'Not Available' changed his mind and agreed to drive us back to Coyoacán. It turned out he'd lived on Staten Island for several years working for a company that installed residential staircases between basement and ground floor.
His pleasure in telling us of his New York City experiences was contagious. He told us that he wanted to return, but even though he had a letter from his employer, he was unable to get his visa renewed. His regret was palpable...another reminder of the cross-cultural, cross-border links between our two countries.
So that is Mexico for us: always on the move, pleasurable in ways that surprise and delight us, frustrate and surprise us yet again, always inimitably and memorably alive!
We continue to struggle for a metaphor to describe this country and its multi-layered, multi-faceted culture. It isn't easy. A recent article in the Mexican press described Mexico as an "archipelago" whose parts don't get along very well.
But archipelagos are strings of islands. Mexico's 'parts' are not isolated: they are dynamic, in constant motion, bumping into each other and, at times, into us! As on busy Uruguay Street at mid-day on a Saturday, when retrieving my iPad!
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