Informal couchsurfing, and some lessons learned

I left Mexico City heading south - destined for the fabled city of Oaxaca, but planning to stop for a day in Puebla on the way. It didn't particularly grab my attention, but being on the way, and a well-established spot on the gringo trail, I decided to check it out for a day. It would break up the trip anyhow.

On the bus a smartly dressed young woman sat next to me, and it wasn't long before we began to chat. To my surprise, my Spanish skills held up, and we were able to go beyond the routine superficialities that normally dominate my interactions with Mexicans. Her name was Jessica, she was 22, and she had recently finished law school and had just begun her career. It was clearly obvious that she came from a wealthy background - in addition to her expensive clothing, she carried that distinctive air about herself that most rich Latin Americans do. (It may just as well be the same with Canadians, but my interactions there are limited to the more commoner, middle class).

Jess came from a family of lawyers - her mother and father were both practicing lawyers and her younger sister was also studying law. The only exception to this was her brother, who was studying the noble craft of cosmetic surgery. I quickly got the impression that in deciding to study law, it wasn't so much of a choice for her - money and prestige dictated what profession she would choose. We talked for almost the entire bus ride, and soon discovered that we had some common interests. As much as we talked, however, she still couldn't wrap her brain around the idea of a woman traveling alone - a reoccuring theme I've been exposed to on this trip and others. As we neared Puebla she asked if I wanted to hang out with her that evening - she had a car, and she could show me around, take me to an inexpensive place to eat. "I'd love that," I responded. After all, my aim on this trip is to meet Latin Americans and try to understand their culture and life as best as possible.

We continued talking, and as we reached the outskirts of the city she grabbed me by the arm and asked if I wanted to stay with her family - I'd save money, there's lots of room and her family would love to have me as a guest, she explained. I didn´t even have to think about it. "Of course I would!" - how could I turn down the opportunity to stay with a Mexican family? Plus it would definitely help my budget. I agreed, but only after I made sure her family wouldn't be bothered by my presence. She quickly assured me it was the opposite, that they'd be thrilled to have me around.

When we reached the terminal Jess called her dad to come pick us up and eagerly told him about her new Canadian friend who was coming over for the night. As we walked to the car she informed me that her 11 year old brother spoke the best English in the whole family, so that if I had any problems with Spanish, he could help. "Great," I thought, as I had already used all the words in my Spanish vocab over and over and over.

We got in the car and introductions were passed around. It clearly became apparent that her little brother's English was extremely basic and that I was going to somhow have to stretch my Spanish through the night. But she was right in that they were all enthused to have me, as all 3 passengers in the car kept smiling and nodding at me as if I was a celebrity. On the way back to their house, Jess' dad stopped to make a call to the family matriarch and even threw the phone in my direction and hurriedly asked me to speak to his wife - in Spanish. While I can get by speaking Spanish in person, talking on the phone is a completely different story. I was lost after the fifth word and kept responding with "si, si." I had no idea what our brief conversation entailed, but I got the feeling I embarrassed myself slightly when the whole car burst out laughing when I finished.

As we reached their neighbourhood, my suspicions of their wealth were confirmed. Not only did they live in a gated community, but in one of the nicest houses I've seen in my life. By the time we got there I was starving, and to my pleasure, there was an extremely delicious (and luckily, vegetarian) meal waiting for us, prepared by their servant, Julie. I don't know why I was shocked that they had a servant - this is Mexico afterall, one of the most unequal countries in the world, where anyone with even a little money has domestic help, but it still unnerved me.

As I ate lunch with the family, I became progressively more uncomfortable with their relationship with Julie and the blatantly obvious power disparities between she and Jess´ family. It wasn't just the fact that they got her to do everything (and I mean everything - from serving the food to passing someone a napkin that was a few inches from their hand), it was the way they used their power over another human being for their personal benefit. Whether at the conscious or subconscious level, they knew that they had so much control over not just this one individual, but a whole strata of society, and they had  no hesitations about exercising that control. While this family was so lovely and opened their home to me, this fact made me deeply uncomfortable and I had to politely refuse their invitation to stay for a few more nights. I know this depressing fact of life will continue even without my presence, but I couldn't willingly participate in it, not with a clear conscience.

So I stayed one night with this family, in my own little apartment that they used as their home gym, and got to witness firsthand a regular theme of Latin American life - deep, pressing inequalities between people and how that manifests itself in society. In this case it was a wealthy family, who could afford to send all their children to the best schools, who could study the professions that pay most lucratively, and thus could ensure their family remains at the top level of society. They can pay their help pennies, because desperation is rife and labour is cheap, and that effectively guarantees that Julie's children, like herself, will not be able to attend a fancy post-secondary institution and will never have the opportunities these people do. This is Mexico's vicious circle: the rich remain rich while the poor continue to suffer. As shocking as it was, I'm glad I got to see it. Now I just need to turn the tables and experience the other side somehow. Any ideas?