by Yours Truly
Part Juan - Introduction to Driving in Merida
as a Concept
I have just come to the dramatic realization that in all the issues of NotTheNews, there has been, apparently, no issue dealing specifically with the driving habits of the citizens of this provincial town!
This is probably due to the fact that I have vociferated (look it up) on this subject so much and with such vehemence to both my friends (the ones that still tolerate me) and immediate family members and in my notes for my soon-to-be published uncensored memoirs, that it only seemsthat I have already written about the subject here in the wide open and increasingly crowded spaces of Web-land.
That and the excellent but alas, only-in-Spanish, criticism of her fellow citizens by the now world-famous X'tabay on the same subject, has prompted this moment of quiet introspect and careful reflection.
But no! It's true! I have not tackled this one!!!!
And so I hereto embark on yet another critique that will hopefully measure up to the demanding expectations of my seven (now eight; thanks Jim) readers and that first person to sign my guestbook, saying I should be more merciless and when the dung strikes the ventilator, blame it on my age and the fin del milenio.
This series of articles will not deal with the maniacs that have escaped from the federal penal colony also known as the D.F., since their particular driving habits have been formed by years of survival of the fastest and eternal persecution complexes; rather, it will focus on the Yucatecans themselves, who still haven't come to terms with the formerly white city's phenomenal growth and the resulting changes in the pace of everyday life.
Driving in Merida, for those of us coming from foreign lands, is a true cultural immersion program, since it effectively demonstates, on one hand, the otherwise imperceptible Jekyl and Hyde personality traits in Merida's driving population. In other words, a peaceful, panucho-loving, spend-Sundays-with-la-suegra kind of Yucatecan will turn into Charles Manson on speed when behind the wheel of his Nissan Tsuru or VW Golf. On the other end of the spectrum, one can observe the slow, careless drivers subliminal (they themselves do not even notice it) refusal to accept the fact that they are no longer in 1957, and that Merida is no longer Valladolid or Ticul.
Native New Yorkers and other extranjeros from more populous parts of extranjia should bear with me, since their particular driving habits probably leave much to be desired as well - as well as those of you who hail from Athens, Greece or some other similar place, like the D.F., where survival depends on who's fastest and most agile and has the heaviest foot.
I'm talking about driving as seen from the standpoint of real civilized foreigners who learned to drive in a straight line, wait their turn at stop signs and who generally comprehend the idea behind such things as turn signals, solid and dotted dividing lanes, pedestrian crosswalks, and the ample possibilities for misinterpretation presented by that multicolored semaforo thing hanging in some major intersections. These foreigners, having been conditioned over many years to "drive defensively" now have to rethink their strategy if they're going anywhere by car. I'm in the latter group by the way, the poor uncomprehending driver who went nowhere waiting for pedestrians to cross the street and the light to actually turn green.
But no more. While I try to control the baser urges brought on by the driving culture in Merida, occasionally I will adopt some local practice to assist me in going where I need to be going, fast! Starting in the next article, I will look at some of these driving practices so that unwary newcomers to the Cultural Capital of the Americas will be prepared, forewarned and alert.
