The name Chihuahua is derived from the Tarahumara Indian language and means "sandy and dry" (or "place where sacks are made"-I like the former better myself). I can't imagine a more appropriate moniker for the state in northern Mexico, and its capital city which bears the same name. Winters in Minnesota are almost soggy compared with the arid atmosphere in Chihuahua.
The city of close to a million souls is
And oh how do they graze. Beef or carne is the food of choice in Chihuahua, and it dominates the local restaurant menus. Many, many varieties of top notch steak can be had at reasonable prices (or unreasonable prices-I was dining on the company's dime so I didn't really notice). While this may sound delectable, especially to the Atkins obsessed, eating steak and beef day after day does get quite old. By the end of my eight days spent in Chihuahua, I was craving anything and everything else. Chicken, pork, ostrich, etc. And pasta, especially pasta.
Soccer is THE sport in Chihuahua, although basketball is also popular. As I mentioned earlier, I watched the US and Mexico under-23 national teams vie for a spot in the Athens Olympics in a bar in Chihuahua. The Mexican fans were nervous before the match began, still a bit shell shocked from their 2002 World Cup loss to the American squad. But they need not have feared, for the contest turned out to be quite similar to the 2001 NFC Championship game between the Vikings and Giants. The home team got off to a fast start and never was seriously challenged. And a 4-0 score in soccer is roughly equivalent to a 41-0 drubbing in football.
I was also able to catch some live local soccer action (oxymoron?). Remember what I said about it being dry? Check out the "field" where the match took place. All dirt baby. Makes you think twice before going for that slide tackle. Since hockey is not real big in Chihuahua, the Commissioner naturally gravitated towards the soccer pitch.
The meddling metropolitan planners of the world (Ted Mondale for example), would be aghast at the sprawling nature of the city. As the population has swelled in recent years, it has sprouted offshoots in all directions, particularly to the west, which has become THE place to live, eat, and shop. For some reason the people of Chihuahua cling to the antiquated notion that growth is good.
The ultra cool urban hipsters of the world (anyone who works at the City Pages for example) would be appalled at the presence of American mainstays such as Wendy's, Burger King, Wal-Mart, McDonalds, and yes, most egregious of all, Applebee's (which is incredibly popular with the locals). Sadly, the corporate behemoth Starbucks has yet to stomp its boot heeled footprint into the sandy soil of the city, but I confidently expect that it will only be a matter of time before Chihuahuans are enjoying venti double lattes with the rest of us.
The one category of business chains that you won't see in Chihuahua (or anywhere else in Mexico for that matter) is gas stations. The only game in town is PEMEX or Petroleos Mexicanos, the government owned monopoly that controls the country's oil and gas resources.
Mexico is an exporter of oil. It is also a country desperately trying to prime its economy to help alleviate the widespread poverty of its people. So one might assume that the government would seek to keep gas prices low to help ease the burden the consumer, and make businesses more competitive.
Of course, in this case, one would be wrong. A little conversion work with exchange rates and metric measurements shows that the average Jose six pack in Chihuahua lays out around three bucks a gallon to keep his vehicle on the road (that and a lot of duct tape and Bondo). Remind me again why government control of resources is good for the people?
Not that higher gas prices keep folks off the roads (paging the Metropolitan Council). Chihuahuans like to drive and drive like Banshees they do. Traffic is not so much congested and clogged as it is crazy and chaotic. There are traffic laws, but much like the local zoning regulations, their existence does not guarantee their enforcement.
Speed bumps are employed in many places, but all they do is cause drivers to slam on their brakes at the last possible moment as they race from bump to bump, as if they are trying to qualify for time trials and are worried about their split times. Traffic signs and signals do not indicate hard and fast commands that must be obeyed, rather they are viewed as merely suggestions. A red alto sign means stop. Unless you're in a hurry. Or there's no one around. Or maybe you just don't feel like stopping.
Traffic lanes? Mere guidelines for possible avenues to direct your vehicle. If they don't work for you feel free to flow wherever the road takes you.
Turn signals? A nice option if you an afford 'em but don't use 'em too often, else they might wear out. And don't get so hung up on this right signal means that I'm turning right stuff either. Hey isn't it enough that I'm telling you that I'm going to do SOMETHING? You Americans and your need for specifics.
The city is also home to more than its fair share of monuments and statues. Some of them are understandably related to the city's history, while the background and purpose of others is a bit murky (this angel for example). Then there are the three monuments to men some might consider "oppressors" rather than heroes. Henry Ford, Christopher Columbus, and Cortez all get their place in the Chihuahua sun. In the industrial complex, not far from where our plant is located you can even find a larger than life, artistic version of the Man of La Mancha.
I've probably been to Chihuahua nine or ten times over the last six years, and every time I discover something novel and unique about the city. But there's one thing that I've never seen there in all my visits. A Chihuahua dog. Say it ain't so Taco Bell.
Monday: Orphanage visit
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