Mexico

Well, we went to Mexico today. I'm very glad that we live in the U.S.A.



First, we haggled with the street vendors all day. Sometimes this was fun, but other times it wasn't fun. There are very few prices marked on anything, and everything is up for negotiation. Unfortunately, I believe many United States and Canadian people are taken by these vendors.

For example, we purchased a little Mexican pullover that is really warm with a hood today for Keegan. One man said $25. Another said $15. A sign on a nearby stand said $6 for the same size. The only difficulty was that we wanted to find a red one. The $6 ones didn't have a red color. So yet another vendor started at $23. I told him that was too expensive. He instantly went to $15. Jeff and I began to walk away. His price dropped to $10. I told him that a vendor two doors down had some marked for $6. I didn't tell him that the other vendor didn't have a red one. He then said that he would sell it to us for the same price as the other vendor. As we walked away, I was upset because I thought I could have talked him down more. Jeff told me to be happy that I talked him down $17. I suppose I should be happy about it, but I still wonder...

Every vendor speaks to you as you walk by. My favorite lines included:
"Come. Buy something you don't need from me."
"Ok, now you give my store a chance."
"Look at my products. You don't see what you like, I'll go get it for you."

Some vendors even stand in your way just enough so that you will have to turn and look at their store in order to walk around them.

We thought about getting a small conga drum, but everyone started at about $60. They usually got to around $20 as we were walking away. Two different vendors ran across the street to another vendor to see if they could get a conga drum instead of a set of bongo drums. The one vendor even had the nerve to tell me that he needed to check in his warehouse just before he ran right across the street to another place we had already been.

Some people walked up to us with jewelry draped on their arm. If that didn't work, some sent their little children up to us. I shook my head to refuse them. The adults would step out of the way and keep talking to us, but the children wouldn't step out of the way. Finally, I turned, looked a little girl in eyes, and sternly said, "NO!" just like I heard a mother scolding her children. The girl got out of my way after that.

Everyone called me, "Hey, lady." Many people called Jeff "sir." Sometimes, they called him "bro."

There were easily at least 100 pharmacy shops in the area in Tiajuana where we shopped today. Of course, we stopped at many along the way, and we didn't buy a thing at any of them. Jeff had me take a picture of a sign that listed a bunch of medicines with their prices.



He asked all sorts of questions of the pharmacists. One lady tried to sell him a four pill Z-pack. (A Z-pack is an antibiotic that is supposed to be taken for five days, taking two pills on the first day. In other words, there should be six pills.) Jeff turned to her and said that there are supposed to be six pills. She pulled a six pill pack from behind the counter and said something like, "I have those, too."



Almost every pharmacy item is sold OTC (over the counter). Very few prescriptions are needed, even for antibiotics. Jeff finally asked what kind of training the Mexican pharmacists receive. The man answered that some have a two month training school, while others have a three month training school. AHHHHHHHH! Then, the man asked Jeff if he wanted to become a pharmacist and train for two months. Jeff replied with, "I am a United States pharmacist who studied six years for my credentials." Needless to say, we soon left that pharmacy.



When we walked out of one pharmacy without anything, a drug-dealer walked up to us and said, "You didn't find what you want in the pharmacy. Maybe I can help you find it." AHHHHHHHHH!