Mexico Lessons
Where do I even start?
Some days it felt like I was walking around with a metal pole in a lightning storm. Some lessons were simply learning how things work here. Some were, frankly, a bit traumatizing. All of them have made me stronger.
Here’s Part 1, the honest version.
Rent: skip the expat traps - We already covered the rent situation in Moving to Puerto Vallarta: find a place through a local, not through expat-priced listings.
I also had to break my lease when I decided to go back to Canada. Landlords may threaten you over this. In my case, nothing came of it, but it wasn’t something I felt good about but I didn’t have a choice.
What’s cheaper in Mexico
Car insurance
The dentist
The vet
The mechanic
The house cleaner
Car detailing: $9 for inside and out, and the best detail job I’ve ever had, using a bucket of soap and water and a broom. (I have yet to figure out how they get all the sand out when my Dyson can’t.)
Pretty much anything involving skilled labor…
What’s not cheaper
Gas is expensive, and quality can be questionable. Always get premium, and always at Pemex.
Groceries cost about the same as at home, except fresh produce and eggs.
Eating out costs roughly what it does in Canada, unless you hit a taco stand or a street vendor. (Cervezas are cheap. 🍺)
Clothing is VERY expensive. Bring as much as you can from home.
Raw dog food is very hard to come by. I ended up switching Ruby to a powdered raw. It’s not nearly the same quality, but it was the only comparable option.
Driving in PV is wild!
Scooters are everywhere, doing whatever they want. Almost no one wears a helmet, and sometimes you’ll see a whole family on one 😳. Drivers often make their own third lane, and in the city you have to be in the far right lanes to turn left. That took a while to get used to.
Shop around (and keep your street smarts). The majority of Mexicans are very helpful, and there are far fewer “bad guys” than the internet would have you believe. But you still need your street smarts, and you still need to shop around.
Take pharmacies - One will ask for a prescription for certain meds; another won’t. One might charge 4,000 pesos for a medication that costs 1,000 pesos down the street.
Everyday logistics nobody tells you about
Home gas has to be arranged and refilled. It doesn’t just appear.
Power bills are paid at OXXO (think Circle K back home). You can also send money transfers to Mexican accounts there.
ATMs will offer to “convert” your withdrawal for you. I didn’t figure this out for months. Accepting can cost you an extra $80 to $100, depending on the amount. Always select decline.
Health care: Get the insurance!
If you’re a resident, you get free access to things like vaccinations and public hospitals. I’d also been told the healthcare was really good, so I didn’t buy insurance.
Big mistake.
I ended up with a sudden medical emergency, and it was one of the most traumatizing and humbling experiences of my life. The closest hospital was a private one, and they wanted $4,000 CAD just to admit me. That wasn’t feasible, so I left and started walking home. I was covered in blood, so an Uber wasn’t an option. My plan was to clean up and get a ride to the public hospital…
⚠️ Graphic Medical Image
The following image shows the extent of the bleeding described in this section. Please click only if you are comfortable viewing graphic medical imagery.
Some locals at a bar saw me and brought me inside. One of the women working there helped me shower (yes, businesses here have showers in the washrooms, which is a little weird), and then they took me to the hospital. It was packed, and no one spoke English. I was mortified and scared. They stayed with me until I was finally admitted. They even offered to stay longer, but by then it was very late.
A nurse brought me to a room, put me on a table, and gave me an IV. No real explanation, just a game of charades. Eventually a security guard who spoke English explained that they would admit me and I’d wait for bloodwork and a doctor. Then, again without explanation, they took all my belongings, including my phone. No way to reach my family, no way to translate. Sweet. 😐
I was left in the middle of a room on an underpad with a single sheet, lying in my own blood for eight hours. The hospital wasn’t clean, and the bathroom was filthy. They were convinced I was having a miscarriage (which I knew wasn’t physically possible), and they weren’t kind about it. I felt like a spectacle, treated like a privileged foreigner who’d wandered in. And yes, we are privileged to have decent healthcare at home, but this was nothing like anything I’d experienced, and not being able to communicate was debilitating. No water and no food, in case they needed to do surgery.
Eight hours later, a doctor who spoke English arrived. I was given my phone for five minutes. (They said they’d taken it in case I needed surgery, so they wouldn’t be responsible if it got damaged. I’m still not sure I believe that.) My bloodwork came back negative for pregnancy. The ultrasound found nothing wrong. I never did learn what caused it.
But I definitely got insurance after that.
If there’s a cause you’d like to donate to, consider Mexican hospitals. They need it.
Lock your door, even in a “safe” neighbourhood
4:30 a.m. Ruby wasn’t feeling well, so I took her out. The keys to get back into my building are like Fort Knox, so I decided not to lock the door or the gate. (My unit was on the main floor, right as you enter. I thought, no one is up at 4:30 anyway.)
I heard a noise while we were out, only steps from the front gate. I saw the neighbours doing something in their Jeep. No biggie. I walked back to my condo and there was a guy running out my door with my belt bag.
Naturally, I chased him.
Through the courtyard, up and down stairs, out a gate on the other side that had been left unlocked, about a city block from my building. He jumped in his car, and I tried to smash the window. Adrenaline is a real thing in moments like this. (Please don’t try this at home. Or in Mexico.)
The Jeep guys saw what was happening and chased him too. The police were called. The Jeep came back; they’d lost him. Then one of them asked if I had any way to track my bag.
Duh - yes, there was an AirTag in the wallet.
“Get in,” he said. He spoke no English. Oh boy, this could be interesting…
We chased the tag to a condo building (police in tow) and found the car he’d been driving, but no dude in sight. Then the tag started to move. Back in the Jeep. An hour and a half later (we stopped to talk to some “guys” whose jobs I probably don’t want to know about), we were finally close, and there it was: the AirTag, lying on the ground. It was worth a shot.
I returned home to discover my car key was gone too. Great. I went hunting for my AirPods, which appeared to be in the courtyard, and by some grace of God I found those and my car key. We’ll call that a win.
What was stolen: my belt bag, my wallet, my driver’s licence, my residency card, a couple of gift cards, about $100 cash, and my credit and bank cards. (Thankfully I had extras locked up to get me by.) Replacing the residency card was a pain: Eight hours at immigration and $400, but I needed it to check out of the country.
What I got: a few scrapes from the chase, some new friends, a lesson, and another adventure story for the books.
