That's My Story

LIFE BY THE SLICE

Published in Western Outdoor News week of Dec. 12, 2006

If you ever want to see the differences between Mexico and the U.S. stop in a little country store sometime. If you’re driving the Baja or down the mainland they dot the countryside in every little pueblo. Sometimes you see so many of them you have to wonder how such tiny communities can possibly support so many mercaditos (little stores). But there they are on every street corner and out into the countryside.

Sometimes, the Corona signs and the dusty rusty pick up truck parked outside are larger than the store itself.

I had been to Baja many times before moving here but most of my experiences with local stores had been the ones “in-town” in Loreto, Cabo, San Quintin and other relatively large towns or cities and usually it was for the inevitable run for beer and ice to rejuvenate the ice chests.

It wasn’t until I moved down that I had my first experiences in the mom and pop “super marinos” that most folks actually shop for daily necessities.

At the time, the little pueblo of La Ribera had maybe two of these stores. At times, the village itself was so sleepy that it seemed the only 4 or 5 people in town worked at those two stores and the little Pemex gas station and that was it! However, considering I had moved in 10 miles down a dirt road, coming to “town” for the first time in several weeks was quite an event and I had a grocery list of goodies I either needed or craved.

The dusty little white store was lined with wooden and cardboard boxes on a dirty concrete floor. A dog lolled lazily in the sunny doorway and couldn’t be bothered to move out of the way so you had to step over him.

Light came in through dusty glass windows. Fruit and vegetables were stacked in old weathered boxes. No shiny wax or spray jobs here! Dirt still clung to yellow onions and dried red chilis nestled next to a crates of limes, tomatoes and platinos (sweet bananas) that emitted that sweet over-ripe banana smell at that dark end of the store. No fancy displays. Bottles of staples like Spam, salsa, soup, salt, bottled water, canned milk toilet paper and light bulbs could be found on the same shelves in no particular order. “Essentials” like beer, tequila (in plastic bottles!) and potato chips; tobacco and tortillas were closer to the counter which contained no cash register, just a smiling older senora.

“Puedo ayudarle, Senor?” (Can I help you sir?)

The first thing I asked her for was some paper for my typewriter and she responded that she kept the paper behind the counter and asked how many sheets I needed. In bad Spanish, I told her I need a “reem of paper.” She looked at me quizzically. Having only recently transplanted from the wonders of such icons as Staples and Office Depot, I thought perhaps she had misunderstood my Spanish. I smiled back. Of course I want a ream. Yes, the whole thing!

She told me no one had ever bought the “todo” (everything) before. She didn’t have a whole packet, so she asked me how many sheets I wanted. I told her 200. She smiled and brought out her daughters and they counted them out 1, 2, 3,…38…65…

In the next hour, I also found out you cannot buy a “pack” of cheese; a “six pack” of beer; a “bag” of hotdogs; a “carton” of cigarettes; any more than you buy a “pack of paper.”

For instance, when I asked for hot dogs ( I was still very “gringo-fied” in those days!) they got a pack, cut them open and pulled out ONE uncooked hot dog, dropped it in one of those thin plastic produce bags and handed it to me. I laughed and she grinned when I told her I wanted “todo” again.

The packet of yellow American cheese got the same treatment, she peeled off one slice from the packet until I again smiled and requested the whole thing. Cigarettes for my amigo neighbor were the same, they were willing to sell me just one single smoke and beers and sodas were not attached by six-pack plastic bindings. You put them in your bag one at a time jangling way as you tried to carry them. Why would anyone want to buy less than one cookie? One piece of baloney? One fishing hook? One piece of paper or one nail?

It’s because that’s what most people could afford as I was later informed by my neighbor. It’s a day-to-day and hand-to-mouth existence. Cheaper by the dozen? Buying in bulk? Some for now and some for later? Buy the “large economy size?” These were concepts as foreign in these pueblo “super markets” as if I had decided to talk about stock options (which I don’t understand either!).

But that first day, I have to say I was charmed and enlightened by my experience and by the grins and giggles of the senora and her two daughters helping me not to mention their delight as I handed over 21 dollars American cash. I walked out with two armloads of groceries and they must have thought it was Christmas.

As I was to find out with each growing month of my tenure down the road, you actually can get by on one fish hook, one piece of cheese, a hot dog and a tortilla. In time, I could bring in some of my fish and trade it for some Cokes or I could barter some of my tomatoes for slices of homemade goat cheese. Life before B.C. (before Costco) was so much simpler out in the Baja countryside.

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.