One afternoon, I waited for an hour and a half in a bank line to cash some traveller’s cheques. When I finally reached the front of the queue, I presented my paperwork; the teller glanced at it and disappeared. Five minutes later, she returned to give me back my passport. Then she disappeared again. Five more minutes passed without a sign of her. At last a manager came to the counter. ‘Depósitos,’ he called out, ‘Anyone have deposits?’ Those who did were moved to the front of the line. I asked the manager (was I mistaken, or did he bear a resemblance to the Mayan god ‘Not Right Now’?) for an explanation. ‘We are out of money,’ he explained. ‘When we get enough deposits, we will continue changing cheques.’

The other gringos in line had grown extremely impatient, to the point of hostility. When I relayed the explanation, they erupted in hoots and howls. ‘A bank out of money? That’s incredible. That’s so like the Mexicans. These people are the most inefficient on earth. What kind of bank doesn’t have money?’
Almost everyone gave up and left. I, however, was stuck because the teller had taken my cheques. As the deposits trickled in, I reflected on the little incident. The other gringos were right – this sort of thing typified Mexican culture. The unusual circumstances didn’t seem to faze the Mexicans waiting in line; for the gringos, on the other hand, it was a great indignity and a farcical confirmation of their stereotypes.

But there was something else that the gringos had overlooked, something equally representative of the culture. A television set had been placed to one side of the queue for the entertainment of the clients while they waited in line. For an hour, the screen had shown images of the Mexican landscape, the sea and its people, while a narrator recited the poetry of renowned Mexican poets like Octavio Paz. The presentation wasn’t noticed by the tourists, but many of the Mexicans watched – and listened. Maybe it was true that a bank running out of money was typically Mexican, something that would never happen in the United States. But when in the US would a bank – or any place for that matter, including public television – entertain customers with poetry readings? What American would listen to poetry for more than three minutes? Bank inefficiency was one thing about Mexico; another was a love of poetry.

costa rica | guatemala | honduras | mexico

on the road