Saying "Yes" in Oaxaca

(When You Have No Idea What the Hell You've Been Asked)

Moving to Oaxaca was meant to be a leap. While our life got easier in some ways and we gained more space, more sun, and more plants (amongst other things), we knew the change would be monumental and that it wouldn’t be easy. But that was, explicitly, the point. While we felt challenged during the course of living our lives in New York, we also felt like our opportunity to have this challenge might never arise again. What we didn’t truly understand was that, upon initially arriving and starting to integrate, we wouldn’t know what the hell was going on.

Of course, we knew this would be the case. As a food and travel writer my great interest is in other places, other countries, other cultures, and as a result I’ve read more books, stories, and articles about the immigrant experience than I can count or recall. Often the thread which connects disparate narratives is one of language. It’s hard to fit in when you can’t interact directly in the place you’ve moved to.

What we didn’t entirely get was that the combination of a lack of fluency plus a lack of cultural familiarity would prove to be truly bamboozling. So, without ever actually making a conscious decision to do this, we just sort of leaned in to the experience: when someone asked us a question and we weren’t sure what we were being asked, we just said yes.

It helps that we’re not idiots. Common sense, checks and balances, and help from people invested in our survival kept us from being taken advantage of during and after our move. We had an English-speaking attorney to handle documents for us, we bought our car from a dealer and not from someone on the side of the road, our home sale was rigorously reviewed and then approved and processed by a notario who, if not fluent, spoke at least enough English for us not to be totally lost in the process. And both behind the scenes and at times directly with us were Edgar, Penny, and Victor, all of whom made sure we didn’t get robbed, murdered, or otherwise chewed up and spat out by Mexico.

When Penny and Victor told us the builder Antonio was reliable and had fair prices we said ok and we hired him. When Antonio and Lalo the ironworker gave us the estimates for their work we said yes, that sounds good, really having no idea if the prices actually were good. When we asked them for advice about what materials we should buy, and from whom, and they very clearly directed us toward the businesses of their friends we said ok, and went to make the purchases. When Edgar told us “this person is great,” “this person is a friend,” or “this person likes to drink” we took his advice to heart.

But for smaller stuff where we weren’t at risk or wouldn’t have to front large amounts of money, we just sort of…said yes. To everything! Do you want to try this restaurant? Yes, we do. Do you want to try this dish? Yes, thank you. Do you want to visit this town, go to this shop, meet this artist? Yes to all, please and thank you.

Looking back, we think sometimes we ended up saying “yes” to questions which didn’t merit a yes-or-no response. One of our favorite local restaurants is a small spot in San Sebastián Etla named Majahua. It’s a family restaurant with an oven that’s been in operation for more than 70 years. Bussing tables and taking orders is 26-year-old Angie, while in the back kitchen is her abuela, Doña Christina, an incredibly welcoming woman who bears more than a passing resemblance to Mama Coco (although Doña Chris is much younger and far more vibrant than her ancient and sedate cartoon counterpart).

Majahua spent a number of months without a printed menu, but that was ok because we knew the restaurant had a set menu, offering soup, an entrée, and a beverage for a flat, unchanging price. Every evening either Doña Chris or Angie would come out and rattle off whatever was available that evening and we’d nod enthusiastically and say sí, por favor!, while having absolutely no idea at all what we’d ordered. But the food was always great and we were willing to roll the dice. It’s not like we’d say ooh, that’s not for us, and then get up and leave. We were ride-or-die for dinner.

Only recently has Majahua begun offering up printed menus, neatly and professionally laminated, which are offered during their brunch/lunch service. Looking over the menu we were pleased to see a range of dishes available including many we’d never had at the restaurant before. Our Spanish now improved we said to Angie, “this is great, it’s nice to see more items on the menu.”

Angie looked puzzled. “We’ve served these things the entire time we’ve been open.”

“Ah,” we said, learning that perhaps the menu was not quite as limited as we’d previously thought.

Our bacon was only slightly saved when we learned that yes, the dinner service was in fact a take-it-or-leave-it set menu as we’d initially thought. But we’d definitely had brunch there a number of times, and for a great many months we’d definitely been going in and saying “yes!” when we were being asked a question which was probably phrased as, “what would you like today?”

While it’s embarrassing, I’ve made my peace with it. The “just say yes” approach to life is not one I recommend without reservations, and we know and have known people who have said yes to things they absolutely should have said no to, and who have been damaged in the process, sometimes permanently. But when the question is “how would you like your tortillas cooked?” or “do you like pork ribs?” and not “would you like to try the fentanyl this evening?”, it’s hard to go wrong with just blindly saying yes to things.

There are far fewer opportunities now for us to make this kind of mistake. We understand far more and we’ve begun to develop preferences which guide us in certain directions. But I do hope that as we live here the idea that we’ll continue to say yes to things, even if we’re not sure exactly what we’re agreeing to, will be something we’ll still embrace.

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