All posts by WilliamLawson

About WilliamLawson

Canadian Ex-Pat who has lived in the Yucatan for 20-plus years now. Occasionally neurotic, observant and trying to document everything I see.

The View from the Dentist’s Chair

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

The title is misleading because I am writing not from the dentist’s chair, but from the patient’s chair, lying completely flat, head a little lower than my feet which is an excellent way of exacerbating a gastric condition known as reflux of which I have been suffering as late.

I am ‘in for’ a root canal, which in the formerly white city of Mérida is called by its much more elegant moniker endodoncia and can cost you between $1500 and $1900 according to the dentist and the tooth in question. I had one just a few weeks ago to celebrate my 47th birthday (thereby ensuring that there would be no birthday ‘lunch’ the following day) The $1500 was spent on what I believe is called a ‘canine’ tooth; it’s kind of on the corner between those front teeth and where the molars begin. Yesterday, the $1900 job, on a long-rooted molar located in the upper left hand part of my long suffering mouth.

I notice, as I am lying here, that the concept of dental hygiene with regards to my – ie the patients’ – hygiene, seems to be much more relaxed than I remember it having been in places like Canada, where I remember the dentist sitting like a surgeon, his gloved hands in the air while his assistant passed him tools and bits and pieces from a metal tray that had been removed from a micro-wave like contraption that apparently sterilized the equipment between patients.

Now before my critics pounce on me and tell me to just go home – and yes there are some out there who have a selective reading capacity and insist that everything I write is negative – I will have you know that I am not criticizing anything and that it is all observation. Note the preceding paragraph: “seems to be much more relaxed than I remember” This is not saying “those filthy third world swine”. Do you see the difference? Then, read on. If not, please leave now by clicking here.

So I am lying there, lightly coughing occasionally to keep everything in it’s place gastrically and thinking these little thoughts.

Now this is not the first time I have had thoughts along these lines. I have been to ‘the dentist’ on many occasions during my 20 year extended visit to Merida. This hygiene-related observation extends itself to all the dentists, from the general teeth cleaning visits to root canal specialists.

I have always wondered where the sterilization equipment is. I look for it and it is nowhere to be found (or seen, at least). I know it’s there, but I can never see it. It would make me feel so much better if i could see it, filled with a tray of shiny, sharp clean steel pointy things, ready to be used on me. Just me!

And when you are lying in the dentist’s chair, waiting for the next piece of steel to be inserted or perhaps the doctor is taking a phone call and you are unwillingly listening in like some inert piece of furniture as he plans his/her weekend or gives instructions to her/his maid at home, you have time to look up and observe that there are other life forms in the room with you, and their homes are the cobwebs in the corners. Perhaps you have a view of the air conditioning unit and you make a mental note to remind the doctor later to have someone clean the alarming volume of dust accumulating on the vents.

Then there is that tube that suctions your thickened saliva from your mouth. It’s hanging there from your lower lip doing it’s thing on auto-pilot, a little like those automated pool cleaners that roam about in your pool sucking up dirt and leaves. You can watch the saliva leave your mouth and travel along the tube. I always wonder: at which moment does the tip of that thing get changed and put on the tray to be sterilized?

This thought also occurs to me when the drilling starts. The little drill bits.

Then we have the whole glove thing, which seems to be for the dentists protection really. Watch the hands:

  • Grab drill handle.
  • Drill in mouth.
  • Open drawer.
  • Take out piece of film for x-ray.
  • Place film in patients mouth.
  • Move arm of x-ray machine into position.
  • Insert fingers in patients mouth to hold film in place.
  • Remove film.
  • Move x-ray equipment arm.
  • Turn off overhead light.
  • Go to another room and do god knows what (with the gloves on the hands).
  • Come back.
  • Turn on and adjust overhead light.
  • Take sharp steel thing from tray.
  • Insert fingers in mouth.
  • Poke around. Etc.

Then there is the assistant, perhaps a dentistry student from a local university (yesterday I had two, watching my open mouth and talking about their puppy). No gloves. No mask. Again watch the hands:

  • Doctor asks for something.
  • Open drawer.
  • Rummage through stuff.
  • Hold up different shiny steel things and ask doctor “this one?”.
  • Put most back in drawer.
  • Close drawer.
  • Hand shiny steel thing to doctor who inserts it into where your root used to be.
  • Scratches her chin.
  • Grabs suction tube and sucks up some saliva.
  • Goes next door for something.
  • Comes back.
  • Another look around the drawer.
  • Another piece to the dentist, who inserts it into you.
  • Scratches her head.
  • Etc.

So these are my thoughts as I am lying there. Thinking of bacteria, of germs and things like that which I shouldn’t worry about really because nothing ever comes of worrying, right? And I haven’t caught anything really bad in all my visits to the dentist over the years. And they have all been friendly, accessible and inexpensive compared to the rigidly expensive system in Canada. Maybe I am just becoming more and more Mexican as time goes on and my immune system, like many Mexicans, is so much stronger than that of a recent arrival because of the resistance built up over time. Still, in the back of my mind, I wonder…

Cuban Grill – Gran Plaza Mall

Casual Restaurant Critic

There is a new place to eat in the Gran Plaza (actually, there are several new ones, but the Critic has a limited budget and who wants to spend it all on mall food, even if it is for research) called Cuban Grill, specializing in, you guessed it, Cuban food.

Tired of Win Fa (reviewed earlier on this site) the Critic and his Mini Critic visited the Cuban Grill for lunch the other day. What was found was a rather un-Cuban employee who stared back at the Critic with boredom, then offered some samples. Un-Cuban because you imagine a Cuban to be a little more lively. It was rather disconcerting to receive, from the naked hand of this sallow-faced employee, samples of their dishes placed precariously on toasted banana chips. Who knows where those hands have been…

They have Congrí, the traditional black beans and rice (or rice with black beans, depending on your point of view), which in this case is rather tasteless. The Critic had this, along with the garbanzo beans fried with chicken or pork, the Critic was unable to tell, and the afore-mentioned banana chips. The employee took great care to accommodate it all on an optimistically over sized Styrofoam platter, spreading the garbanzo dish carefully like peanut butter to make sure it covered the area it was supposed to and looked like more than it actually was.

All in all, it was a lackluster choice; the garbanzo dish was quite simple, which means it didn’t really taste like much and the rice n beans was no better. That, and the lackluster attention received from the fellow behind the counter, made for a truly unspectacular lunch. The price? Under $40.00 for one person, which includes a can of soda.

From 1 – 5, this new place receives a solid 1. A waste of time, calories and money.

Fogoncito – Altabrisa Mall

Casual Restaurant Critic

There is a new taqueria in town, El Fogoncito, and it is yet another chain from Mexico City. They have a few locations around town and their newest one, the most ambitious in terms of actual real estate occupied is located at the entrance to the brand-smacking new Altabrisa Mall, located in, um, Altabrisa.

For those of you not from the area, Altabrisa is the newest area to be developed commercially in Merida, and it’s all new. There’s some higher end residential areas, the Altabrisa Mall built by the Gran Plaza people, the Star Medica hospital, the huge IMSS hospital and more. Car dealerships have all built spectacular outlets along the Altabrisa route, which is the street that winds its way from Plaza Fiesta (remember that mall!!?!?!) to the periférico and eventually Cholul.

A lunch at the Fogoncito on opening day left much to be desired. While the tacos are good, they are tacos and you can get a great taco anywhere, really. The ‘chiste‘ or what makes or breaks a taco place, is the service, the salsas and the location. Here the Fogoncito, on their first day open, fell flat on their face. Service was spotty, with one section of the table (there were 10 people) getting their food order taken and actually getting their food before the other half even got the waiter’s attention. The food came out in spurts (sounds disgusting, sorry) and everyone got something different from what they ordered which turned out to be a simple case of the wrong dish for the wrong person. Once that was cleared up, everyone got what they ordered. Wait staff (lots of different people) came and went, reaching across people to pick up dirty dishes and used paper napkins, setting down drinks beside the coaster that was waiting for the glass to be set on it. Much confusion all around in spite of the fact that there were about 30 to 40 wait staff people in the whole restaurant; it seemed that only 3 or 4 actually had any training before the doors opened.

The salsas? Completely unremarkable, most tasted like something you might get by opening a bottle or a tin. The food was alright, nothing to really write home about. The Critic had a selection of tacos on a platter, all of which were fine, but again, nothing special. The grilled cheese (a crispy flat roll – it’s supposed to be that way) served as an appetizer was indeed crispy but besides salty, devoid of flavor. The guacamole was good but some of the tortilla chips were soft, and mixed in with others that were crisp, which makes one suspect all kinds of unpleasant things involving leftover tortillas chips and… Soft tortilla chips is a deal breaker in a taco place. I mean, really.

One thing that the Critic found really delicious was the horchata. Served with ice and with cinnammon sprinkled on top, it was, ITCHO (in the Critic’s Humble Opinion) the perfect consistency and flavor.

On a scale of 1-5, the Fogoncito, this one at least, gets a 2. Don’t bother wasting your time, calories or pesos here just yet. Let’s wait a few months and see if things improve.

Las Gordas de Doña Gorda – Gran Plaza Mall

Casual Restaurant Critic

A newer option for a quick lunch at the mall is Las Gordas de Doña Gorda, which recently opened in the space formerly occupied by Crazy Pizza. That place served pizza that was so crazy that they didn’t sell enough to warrant paying such a high overhead.

Anyway, if you are not familiar with the concept of gordas or gorditas, a word usually used to affectionately describe the wife (it means chubby, fatty and really is a term of endearment here), these are fat corn tortillas, cut in half, heated on a grill and then split so that they are hollow and can be stuffed. Fillings include things like cheese and roasted poblano chile strips, chorizo and potato, pork etc. The success or not of your gordita eating experience depends on who cooked those fillings and their degree of proficiency in making them extremely tasty.

The gordas in the mall are good, without reaching mouthgasm inducing levels of lip-smacking goodness. What makes them attractive is that they are very cheap. At about 10 pesos a pop, you can eat 3 or 4 of these and be very satisfied. Beware that the chile salsas that accompany the gordas are hot and that, in combination with the fact that the fillings are pre-cooked and kept at room temperature while they wait to be stuffed into the corn tortilla, can make your stomach have a violent reaction between 12 and 24 hours later.

Open during regular mall hours, from 10 am to 9 pm, next to Burger King in the food court on the second level of the Gran Plaza.

Policemen shot in Mérida

Life in the Yucatan

It just keeps getting worse.

While the pregnant woman killed in Monte Bello a few weeks ago turned out not be drug-related (a prime suspect is her husband) to the relief of many, the specter of what is happening in the rest of the country as far as narcos vs. policia looms large on the Yucatecan horizon.

The narco-violencia appears to have finally arrived in the Yucatán. Yesterday two policemen were shot at; one was killed and the other seriously hurt. The assailants fled in a car they stole from a passerby. Apparently, according to the Diario (so it must be true) the bad guys were able to rob the car only after their first attempt was thwarted by the woman who owned the first vehicle who screamed and threw her car keys far away. I would call her either very plucky or very stupid to be arguing with armed robbers. Maybe she just didn’t know who she was dealing with…

It’s so depressing. The old saying, “En Yucatan No Pasa Nada” is going to have to be slightly modified if this keeps up.

Crime on the rise in Merida?

Life in the Yucatan

In the latest development on the police blotter, there was a shooting last night in the Gran Plaza mall. The local newspapers report that 3 persons ran into the mall, looking to escape from the Policia Judicial which was after them. At some point, just outside Sanborn’s at the entrance to the mall, shots were fired and one of the bad guys was wounded. The other two were subdued and all were taken away under extreme police escort, including federal and state police, all heavily armed. Some small arms were seized, as well as a grenade.

This after several high-profile drug-related arrests in the last few months, all people from somewhere else of course. The newspaper will always mention that the suspects tenian aspecto fuereño, which means that they didn’t look Yucatecan, whatever that might suggest.

The rumour mill included versions that they were hired thugs, after the chief of the state police, who was having dinner apparently in Italianni’s with his 19 year old son, who just recently ran over and killed two people standing on the median on Paseo de Montejo, waiting to cross the street, just before Christmas. Oops. “It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone” was the police chief’s unfortunate and hardly empathetic comment to one local newspaper. After that, a news blackout with no mention of the case in any of the three newspapers. Nothing happened to the kid. A drug test was not performed because the police lab had “run out of the chemicals” needed to do the test.

Speaking of newspapers, just last week, there was a picture of a 90 year man in jail for robbing a stone basin from a property. A NINETY year old man. It was a family dispute, nothing serious. People here go to jail all the time for robbing a bicycle, or perhaps a piece of copper tubing. But running over some people in your car? Not a problem, apparently.

The other theory, coming back to the Gran Plaza shooting, was that there were 6 people who were intent on robbing the mall. Robbing the mall. Sounds like a plan.

In other words, no one really knows what happened this time. And from the way the newspapers handle information, no one is going to know what really happened any time soon.

Comment on the Mexican Psyche

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan, Politics

Please note that a) this text is in Spanish; b) it was not written by me – I would have been forcibly expelled from the country); and c) it is taken from an email that was sent around when the protests against the CFE (Comision Federal de Electricidad) were taking place and is an answer to an mass email aasking everyone to turn off their lights at a certain time to ‘send a message’. This text has been published before, probably even by me, but is still worth re-reading from time to time.

Fox was still in power. Just change the names and everything else will still continue to be true.

Lamentablemente creo que, más que apagar luces, debemos encendernos nosotros.

La creencia general anterior era que Zedillo no servía.
La creencia general actual es que Fox no sirve.
Y, cuando pase el tiempo, la creencia general será que el que venga después de Fox tampoco estará sirviendo para nada. Por eso estoy empezando a sospechar que el problema no está en lo ladrón que haya sido Salinas o en lo bocón que sea Fox. El problema esta en nosotros.


Nosotros como pueblo. Nosotros como materia prima de un país.Porque pertenezco a un país donde la “viveza” es la moneda que siempre es valorada tanto o más que el dólar.Un país donde hacerse rico de la noche a la mañana es una virtud más apreciada que formar una familia a largo plazo basada en valores y respeto a los demás.

Un país donde una persona tapa la salida del garaje de una casa, y, si el afectado toca el claxon para llamar la atención del abusivo y hacer que aparezca a retirar su vehículo, entonces esa persona llega, se molesta y le reclama a uno la presión y el ruido, como si el infractor fuese uno y no ellos.

Un país donde un par de señoras pueden recorrer todo un supermercado, y, mientras compran, hablar pestes de la moral del gobierno y del incumplimiento de las leyes, y de lo terrible de tales o cuales medidas, pero después, a pesar de que su carrito tiene 27 artículos, se hacen tontas y se meten disimuladamente en la cola que es “para un máximo de 10 artículos” y si alguien osa reclamarles o quejarse ante el gerente queda ante ellas y ante los demás como un soplón, solo por intentar hacer cumplir una norma tan sencilla. Y si es la cajera quien les señala que deberán pasar a otra caja, inician un diálogo recriminatorio: “¿ves?, justo lo que veníamos comentando, por eso está este país así, todos son unos flojos , etc.”

Pertenezco a un país donde, lamentablemente, los periódicos jamás se podrán vender como se venden en Estados Unidos, es decir, poniendo unas cajitas en las aceras donde uno paga por un solo periódico y saca un solo periódico dejando los demás donde están. Porque si se vendieran así, El Reforma y El Universal quebrarían en solo 3 meses.

Pertenezco al país donde las empresas privadas son papelerías particulares de sus empleados deshonestos, que se llevan para su casa, como si tal cosa, hojas de papel, bolígrafos, carpetas, marcadores y todo lo que pueda hacer falta para la tarea de sus hijos y, además, utilizan los equipos para lo mismo, las tareas y sus asuntos personales.


Pertenezco a un país donde la gente se siente triunfal si consigue volarse el Cablevisión del vecino, donde la gente inventa a la hora de llenar sus declaraciones de Hacienda para no pagar o pagar menos impuestos, donde a Carlos Salinas no le reclama ningún medio el que lo estén viviendo fuera del país disfrutando de lo que robó.

Donde nuestros diputados y senadores trabajan dos días al año (y cobran todos los demás como altos ejecutivos) para aprobar una reforma (miscelánea) fiscal al vapor que lo único que hace es hundir al que no tiene, joder al que tiene poco y beneficiar como siempre a unos cuantos que son los que tienen (ellos por ejemplo).

Pertenezco a un país donde las licencias de conducir y los certificados médicos se pueden “comprar”, sin hacerse exámenes ni nada.

Un país donde, desde hace 40 años, un vehículo sufre más daños y sale peor parado después que es recuperado por la policía que cuando lo roban los ladrones.

(ESTA CITA LA HAGO CON ABSOLUTA CERTEZA QUE ES CIERTA, SI SE ACUERDAN ME ROBARON MI TSURU HACE 2 AÑOS Y APARECIO 40 DIAS DESPUES EN ESTADO TAN LAMENTABLE QUE MI PAPA LO TUVO QUE VENDER COMO CHATARRA. Y ESO QUE EN LA HOJA OFICIAL DE LA DEMANDA SE ASEGURA QUE EL CARRO SE ENCONTRO 2 DIAS DESPUES)

Un país donde cualquier persona puede hacer una fiesta y poner música a volumen majadero toda la noche, sin que haya nadie que proteste ni autoridad alguna que les haga apagar esa música ni siquiera a las cinco de la mañana.

Un país de gente que está llena de faltas, pero que disfruta criticando a sus gobernantes, sean inútiles, o sea Fox, porque criticar a los inútiles o criticar a Fox, crea una ilusión psicológica que aparentemente eleva la estatura moral y espiritual del que critica.

Mientras mas le digo rata a Salinas, mejor soy yo como persona, a pesar de que apenas ayer me consiguieron todas las preguntas del examen de matemáticas de mañana. (¡Qué vivo soy!)

Mientras más le digo falso a Fox, mejor soy yo como mexicano, a pesar de que apenas esta mañana me fregué a mi cliente a través de un fraude de cien mil pesos que él me dio de enganche como preventa de un inmueble.

No. No. No.

Ya basta. Como materia prima de un país, tenemos muchas cosas buenas. Pero todavía dejamos mucho que desear. Esos defectos, esa “viveza”congénita, esa deshonestidad a pequeña escala que después crece evoluciona hasta convertirse en casos de escándalo como Óscar Espinoza o Mario Villanueva; esa calidad humana que en realidad es falta y carencia de toda verdadera calidad humana, eso, más que Salinas o que Fox, es lo que nos tiene real y francamente jodidos.

No voy a apagar las luces, lo siento.

Porque, aunque Fox renunciara hoy mismo, el próximo presidente que lo suceda tendrá que seguir trabajando con la misma materia prima defectuosa que, como pueblo, somos nosotros mismos.

Y no podrá hacer nada, igual que no hicieron nada los mediocres, igual que no esta haciendo nada Fox.

No, gracias. No apago nada. No tengo ninguna garantía de que el gritón de Diego o el mustio de Madrazo lo puedan hacer mejor. Y mientras nadie señale un camino destinado a erradicar primero los vicios que tenemos como pueblo nadie servirá. Ni sirvió Salinas, ni sirvió Zedillo, ni sirve Fox, ni servirá el que venga.

O ¿qué?, necesitamos traer a un Pinochet, para que nos haga cumplir la ley a la fuerza y por medio del terror y la dictadura?

A ver si así, cumplimos y hacemos cumplir las leyes desde las más elementales hasta las de nuestra Constitución .

Aquí hace falta otra cosa. Algo más que cacerolazos, apagones o cohetones.

Y mientras esa “otra cosa” no empiece a surgir desde abajo hacia arriba, o desde arriba hacia abajo, o del centro pa´ los lados, o como quieran, seguiremos igualmente condenados, igualmente estancados.

Es muy sabroso ser mexicano, y vivir a “a la mexicana”. Pero cuando esa mexicanidad autóctona empieza a hacerle daño a nuestras posibilidades de desarrollo como Nación, ahí la cosa cambia…

Lo siento. Pero no apago nada. Suerte con su apagón. Pero creo que, de todos modos, como país de verdad igual hemos estado a oscuras los últimos 70 o 90 años.

Ojalá que cambiemos todos, porque si no, cambiar de Presidentes no cambiará nada. Porque cambiar de Presidentes, sin que cambiemos nosotros, es lograr que nada cambie jamás.

Piénsalo, y, si te cuadra, reenvíalo. Es un mensaje para todos los mexicanos

YA BASTA DE QUE “EL QUE NO TRANZA NO AVANZA”!!!! TENEMOS MUCHO QUE HACER EN VEZ DE ESTAR PENSANDO EN ABSURDAS PROTESTAS QUE SOLO MANCHAN LA IMAGEN DE UN PAIS BASTANTE DESGASTADA………….

Sushi Itto – Another Sushi Option

Casual Restaurant Critic,

Sushi has, in the past few years, become very popular among Yucatecans and Mérida now boasts several restaurants catering to fans of Japanese food. The one caveat you should be aware of is that the predominant feature of Yucatecan sushi is not so much fish as it is cream cheese. The newly opened Sushi Itto, a chain restaurant based in central Mexico, is no exception.

Located on the Prolongacion de Montejo, in a space formerly occupied by a tanning salon that for some strange reason didn’t take, Sushi Itto is a modern-looking minimalist room with high ceilings and lots of red and black.

The sushi here is a hybrid and has been extremely successful throughout Mexico, mixing traditional japanese preparation methods and ingredients with food items more readily identifiable as Mexican, like chiles, arracheras and the like.

The Casual Restaurant Critic went for lunch on a warm day, shortly after their opening, and found the restaurant full, even with no air conditioning (it was apparently experiencing some malfunction). The Critic and Co. tried some of their signature dishes whose names escape him at the moment, but one of them was a roll with beef arrachera which unfortunately featured a large piece of unchewable gristle.

Portions were medium sized, not particularly large or small. The soya sauce is the kind mixed with lemon juice so you will have to ask for ‘normal’ soya if you don’t like the sour kind. The food was tasty, but the Critic didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Nothing special.

The service was, as usual for Mérida, average at best. Managers strolled about imperiously; interacting with the clients was obviously not part of their mandate.

Would the Critic return? Not any time soon, nothing stands out that would make a return trip likely or desireable.

On a scale of 1 – 5, this Itto gets a 3. Take it or leave it.

Club Med Archeological Villas Uxmal

Casual Restaurant Critic

Don’t bother with the restaurant at the Club Med’s hotel at the Uxmal ruins! This is the advice of the Casual Restaurant Critic after a visit a few days ago to the great Mayan ruins.

With a small group of people, the Critic figured – based on a positive past experience and the fact that a French-run restaurant catering to a demanding European clientèle must have decent food – that the best lunch would be at the Club Med’s “Villas Arqueologicas”. Well, the Critic was wrong.

The small group of four ordered plain spaghetti, (without the Bolognese sauce as described on the menu), avocado with shrimp, guacamole, a Spanish omelette without chorizo for the group vegetarian and a Caesar salad. The shrimp served in an avocado was apparently very good (the Critic didn’t partake since it wasn’t a large dish for sharing), the guacamole fresh and tasty, but the Caesar salad was an absolute mess. Little bits of white Iceberg lettuce instead of green Romaine, flattened in the center of a small plate, and garnished with toasted bread triangles and boiled egg quarters around the edge. The Critic didn’t recognize anything even remotely Caesar about this salad. The omelette was alright and the plain spaghetti was garnished with chopped parsely and had to be sent back to have the offending vegetable removed, since what was wanted was plain spaghetti, no more, no less. Not a difficult request, really. The most offensive platter was the Critic’s own, the Poc Chuc. A piece of marinated pork slathered in red achiote sauce, served with the typical scoop of overcooked white rice, a dollop of black beans with some rubbery (not crunchy but rather, flexible) corn tostadas, soggy boiled vegetables and some salsa. This Poc Chuc was unlike any the Critic had ever eaten. Only the meat was really edible.

As for service, it seemed like the waiters were on Valium or something; they moved, talked and reacted as if sedated. Not particularly friendly, they seemed almost unable or unwilling to understand the Critic who was doing the ordering for the group. The Critic has lived in the Yucatan for 20 years and has quite passable Spanish, but from time to time, in out of the way places far from the city of Merida, this tends to happen a lot. It’s almost like some of the locals don’t coordinate what they are seeing (a blond Canadian) with what they are hearing (Yucatecan accented Spanish). At least this it the theory the Critic’s Better Half proffered on one such occasion. The tortillas never arrived. The question “son hechas a mano” (are they made by hand) had to be repeated three times, each time slower than before, in order to be understood.

As for the restaurant itself, it’s OK. There was no option for air conditioning, and so the group sat near the tiny pool under a fan, which was alright.

The restaurant gets a score of 2 out of 5. Don’t bother; try some of the other offerings.