Your first time or two visiting somewhere else, it’s hard to avoid comparing it to what you know at home. With some expected naysayers bleating about this medical venture of ours (usually quite racist in their tone), we’ve definitely been alert to perceiving the differences as well as the similarities to American culture in our time south of the border.
*
After Steve has a brief nap, he declares that his last pre-surgery meal will not be the attached hotel Denny’s even if he has to eat from snack machines. We decide to walk across the street to peruse the mall. Those of you dubious about eating out in Mexico will be assured to note that the creeping ooze of American food “culture” is quite thriving in Juarez: Burger King, the Scottish place, Wendy’s, and of course Starbucks reign among many other instantly recognizable logos across the city. (Well, technically they were putting the finishing touches on building a new Starbucks across from the hotel, but I’m positive they have more elsewhere.)
The mall is easily identifiable as a mall; Steve notes that if you blindfolded him and put him into the middle of the mall concourse without letting him see identifying signs, he would guess that he was in a Southwest town with a high Hispanic population, but would not be able to guess he was out of country unless he could see signs. Even the background drone of hundreds of talking people that is the default mall noise sounds like people shopping anywhere else.
There are a few familiar storefronts, and many more that are Mexican in origin but so obviously a counterpart to what we have in the US as to be easily identifiable. One observed quirk made me think of you, Kiki: there are six, (I counted!) six different shoe stores contained in one mall. We don’t spend much time looking at the shops because we are full of hunger, so after walking a few times between the various food courts and restaurant options we decide to see how they do Italian food in Mexico at a little café called Italianni’s. We’re seated along the side that is open to the mall thoroughfare, separated only by a wrought-iron half-wall. This is a superb place for people-watching, which is what we do for the whole meal. (More on those thoughts contained in another post, coming later.)
The meal itself is quite tasty, though I find I’m not that hungry myself. The best part of the meal (other than the people-watching) is the tasty drink that we couldn’t catch the name of due to the accent and speed with which the waiter pronounced it, but is essentially apple juice and merlot with a touch of sugar added. Delightful, and also attractive—they bring it to the table unmixed, with the deep red of the merlot in the top half of the glass slowly seeping down into the translucent amber of the juice.
We don’t linger after the meal but make our way through the still-bustling mall back to the entrance we know will point us toward the hotel. On one end the movie theater lines fill the food court and extend down the passage; we learn later that Wednesdays are a two-for-one ticket special. On the other end someone blares pop tunes at full volume while a room full of participants…exercise? Group-rate dance lessons? We don’t get close enough to tell.
One difference we observe returning to our room is that the road traffic does not seem to diminish at night. There are as many cars driving at 10 pm as there were when we arrived at 4:30pm. Steve spots the ideal place to cross the road, which is good, because otherwise it might have taken 20 minutes to get enough break in traffic. We return to our hotel and, though we attempt an early turn-in, are still up way too late for someone having surgery the next day. Steve is handling his decreased nicotine levels with surprising grace, and he does manage to get some hours of rest.
We awaken early enough for me to grab some complimentary breakfast, which is a generic “continental” set-up that is certainly no worse than American hotels and better than a few in which I’ve stayed. We meet our team assisting Steve in the pre-surgery process at the desk, and they decide we have enough time to visit a local pharmacy before Steve checks in. We linger too long in the pharmacy waiting for one of our purchases to be ready, but the nice things you hear about purchasing medical pharmaceuticals across the border we find to be happily true for us. (I obtained three inhaler refills for the price of one US refill, for example.)
We check into the hospital after chatting in the car about a police officer who was recently shot and discussing a bit of the local drug kingpin and some of his recent antics. The officers standing outside the hospital on guard all wear Kevlar vests as comfortably as if they never wore anything else. This is a distinct sensory contrast from when we enter, for the bottom floor doesn’t even smell like hospitals do and appears to be a fancy business building lobby. The illusion is only broken by the occasional scrub-dressed person passing through. It takes less than 15 minutes to process Steve’s paperwork which is notable since he left the chart he was supposed to bring with him sitting on the breakfast table back at the hotel. (We apologize to the assistant for making extra work.)
We take the elevator up and now it looks and smells much more medical. However, our expectations are scattered again when we get to our assigned room. It is seriously, no joke, the finest, classiest hospital room I have ever seen. Totally modern-looking medical bed, reasonably large TV, wood accents and floor (obviously a non-porous wood-like substance, but well done), and both a suede-covered recliner chair complete with built-in cup-rest and a suede-covered daybed-style couch with four huge pillows. Yes, really.
The prep team for Steve’s surgery is efficient and quick overall, they have four different people performing various preparatory duties on his different parts. Everyone seems to smile easily, even here. The only part that is obviously not-America (other than the luscious room and friendly helpful service) is the lack of latex. I don’t see most of the nurses using gloves for the prep, so one hopes that they are saving them for the doctor’s use at least.
*
They’ve wheeled Steve off and I’ve taken long enough to write this that he should be back within minutes, but for now I sit on a comfy couch, typing and waiting. I think I’ll try to find a net connection so I can post this at least somewhat close to real-time.
(Originally posted at Words Words Words by reesa. Please leave any comments there.) | 
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