Learning a Third Language:
communicating on the one-way road
I want to talk about the road-system here in Taxco, Mexico, and a new language that I am just starting to learn. No, not the Spanish.... actually, it is the language of the single-lane road in Mexico.
Imagine a city built directly into the mountains. Imagine cobble-stone roads winding up and down, all throughout this magical city – like a maze – like playing snakes and ladders.
Now imagine – those roads are single lane, and they are steep. Very steep at times. With corners so sharp and tight, the drivers frequently have to back up a number of times to work their way through the 3 or 4-point turns.
I have realized that these roads are so old – they were not built for vehicles: they were built for walking. This brainwave delighted me - I hadn't been able to figure out why they had created such an impossible road system… because they didn't! They just never changed their walking system. And it is glorious.
But this is really what I want to say – about the language I am learning: what do you do when two cars are facing each other, straight on – one headed up the hill, and one headed down the hill. I mean, you would think that by now, there would be a system of something like – whoever is headed down the hill should have the right-of-way; it makes the most sense, right?
That doesn't appear to be the case. Instead – there is a complex system of honking involved. Honking back and forth – back and forth. Different speeds of the taps of the horn, different levels of volume – spaces of silence in between – evident breaks in the conversation where no one is yet ready to make a move or give a clear answer....
Eventually, after enough series of beeps occurs – one of the drivers starts to drive backwards. Now, by then, there might be a few other vehicles behind them, so they start honking at those vehicles as well, and they gently start honking back at them. Yet, truly, somehow, even I could tell the difference between the horn beeps directed at the car facing my driver and the cars behind us. How is this possible?
Eventually, a series of vehicles are all happily driving backwards down the hill, or even up the hill – and the car that I am in, is finally starting to inch forward.
It is miraculous.
There is not one red or green light in a city of 100,000 people. I don't think I have seen a stop sign.
Everything is a series of horns honking. And yet, when I am in my apartment with the windows open, I don't hear anything of the sort.
It is because they beep so short and quietly – like a conversation instead of an argument. There are no blaring horns; there is no anger; there is no frustration. I mean, once the vehicle has backed-up, down-hill or up-hill, for like 100 or 200 meters, or whatever it is – the drivers high-five each other on the way by. Like they are saying: hey, we did it! Another successful maneuvering of this road system that wasn't created for roads. All smiles, everywhere.
I imagine it wasn't so long ago here that these really were all still walking paths. And truly, out in the countryside, besides the tourists in VW taxi cabs acting as tour operators, mostly it is still people walking or riding horses. Ah, yes - so those would have been actually horse trails too, wouldn't they have.
It is miraculous.
I have always loved Mexico; but now, I am starting to have more words about it – more clarification about my reasons.
It's the people. It's the culture. It's the idea that being friendly, engaging, open, kind, enthusiastic – these are qualities that are inherent: the norm instead of the exception. I get it – things are not perfect here. The news contrives to tell us that each and every day. But the truth is that each time I come back to Mexico, I recognize the risks, I most certainly comprehend the risks – and yes, I do feel some fear at times. And yet still - I am much more overwhelmed by all the beauty, and all of these wonderful new languages that I am learning.