AN AMERICAN WOMAN
LEARNS ABOUT MEXICO TIME

Kristy King

Fivedays before I left the country, my 21-year-old self finally got her driver’s license. Getting my driver’s license was one of the few areas in my life in which I procrastinated and turned what should have been a simple happy process into a long and slightly painful one. When I finally had that license in my hand, boy was I proud! However, after living in a small isolated town in Mexico with sand roads where you drive as you please, that license seems inconsequential. A lot of things we Americans worry about now seem insignificant.

But I’m not here to preach or to lecture. I simply want to bring alive a wonderful experience from Baja California Sur, Mexico, and what it taught me. In Baja, there is American time—on the dot, followed to the number, and there is Mexico time—anywhere from 15 minutes early to an hour late is acceptable.

Mexico time is not just a custom: it’s a way and a choice of life. The choice is to experience a life not controlled by time, impossible deadlines, hitting all the green lights, and taking every little cent off income taxes. The point is to live life happily, fully, to the most satisfied level—and then, only then, to make money and meet reasonable deadlines.

Until I went to Baja I was not aware of how fully I had lived life on "American" time. Last year I was an 18-credit hour (full course load) college student who was a CA (community adviser, otherwise thought of as a residence hall mom, monitor, and organizer), a stage manager (six nights a week and many additional hours), a friend, a daughter, a sister, and someone constantly striving toward perfection.

In Mexico, these many details and roles seemed to slip away. I was still a student, sister, and daughter, but I was also someone who took time for me and to appreciate what others and the world had to offer. One image especially comes to mind. Picture sand roads, sand dunes, sand beaches, and sand all over any clothing you have on. Then look beyond the sand to the sparkling water, and behind the water keep gazing, on out into the distance, where you spy jaw-dropping glimpses of red mountains on neighboring islands.

Many times I stood at the front of campus, sat on the beach, or planted myself in the sand marveling at this view. Not just due to the view itself but also because I was reminded of how many awe-inspiring vistas there are in the States and how many I see every day—yet I couldn’t describe a single one in detail.

Another memory is of a time in which my worries, especially about money, seemed to slip away. It happened on a hot, sunny day, when we were interviewing members of the community about issues relating to sea turtles. After already having been given free, homemade, still-warm, mouth-watering tortillas, we went to another house to begin another interview. Over the course of the visit we were invited to a huge party and given mangos that the owner had picked from his tree and cleaned for us.

What made this memory stand out is that the house these people were living in was marked by poverty according to American standards. Yet there we were, being offered food, drink, and a good time. For those few minutes my fears over loans, getting a paying job, and covering the bills went out the window; I remembered that money does not have to be the ruling factor in my life.

What I learned in Mexico came not just from the classes and exercises we were involved in but from the effects of each experience we were offered and the ongoing shifts in my outlook on life. Whether the experience came from a ponga (motorboat) ride, from a time around a bonfire with a group of friends, or from listening to the staff and the culture, I learned. What I learned is this: Life is a journey. Maybe to some degree I already knew that, but now I’m more willing to experience life that way.

I’m saddened to realize I’ve already lived 21 years on this earth and have done so much but taken time to remember so little. As I journey from now on, it will be more important to me to take time to remember while living and learning from life. I also am reminded that even when things seem to be colliding at the breakneck pace of a race car, there’s much to be taken in, learned, and loved amid the chaos.

I guess I have two choices: to be stressed out, running around at the pace of American time—or to live with having a few things not get done, to accept that I’m not perfect, and to live at the pace of Mexico time. So, there you have it, my goal: to live as an American but to allow myself to mix in living as a Mexican might. Implementing that goal will itself not be easy or quick. Yet as one of our Mexico group leaders, who I think has already met this goal through his dedication not only to his job but also to himself and the environment, liked to put it, "No worries."

—Kristy King is in transition between several Pennsylvania, Washington, D.C., and Virginia settings, having just finished college at Eastern Mennonite University. She is exploring options and hoping one of them will help her decide which direction the next stage of her life will take.