How Mexico Survives

I had once thought that in the tropics, or warmer climates in general, everything is fighting everything else for survival. Walking through the jungles of Costa Rica, I found one plant growing on another plant growing on a tree dripping from another tree that feeds itself from the decaying masses of more plants. The levels of vegetation in the rainforest are infinitely falling in on each other. While Mexico lacks the same fecundity at the end of their dry season, I see hits of the same in the shores beside this mountain lake. I can take a square foot of space anywhere around the lake and find a plethora of plants and a multitude of insects. But here, survival is not really the issue and I grow increasingly more confident that Mexico, or at least the lake at Santa Maria del Oro, wants everything to survive.

I start my argument with the bottom of the food chain. I´m not really sure what insects eat aside from the lower half of my legs, but apparently there is enough of this mysterious food source. There are bugs everywhere! Butterflies, flies, ants, spiders, bugs with scary looking legs, bugs with pretty shells, bugs that look like very small animals. The background music to this Mexican landscape is the constant buzz and hum of its many legged occupants.

Next in line on the chain of survival seem to be the birds and fish, both feasting on the ready buffet of 1000 different kinds of insects. The birds get off free because as far as I can tell, nothing eats them. Their purpose is to build nests, sing songs, and keep the insect population in check - a task in which they seem to be failing, scream my legs from below my knee high, insect protective socks. The fish in the lake have a meal set for them throughout the day and night, as insects scatter the glassy top of the lake, awaiting death either by water or consumption. They thrash their legs in protest, but I know that just three feet away in any direction, there are ten or more insects exactly them willing to carry on the genes of their species. Survival is not a challenge but a given.

The people of Santa Maria are included in the loving embrace of Mexico´s abundance. Ths morning, I watched two boys launch a barely water safe boat into the lake. Within a couple hours, they will return with twenty or more fish. We plan to buy four fish for twenty-five pesos, the equivalent to $2.50. The rest of the fish will be sold to the surrounding restaurants for ceviche, fish tacos and other delicious fish dishes. Should our fishermen return with abundance, our fish will be cooked over a campfire, seasoned with salt and lime and eaten with fresh tortillas.

From my observation, the other food source of Santa Maria is wild mangos. Mango trees are everywhere, bursting with fruit waiting to be knocked down with rocks and sticks. Locals do this throughout the day as everyone seems to have a mango stashed somewhere on their their person. My prefered method of mango retrieval is a good medium sized rock, but I have seen everything from brooms stuck in trees to forked sticks laying along the side of the road. If you do not mind a minimal diet of fish and mangos, it seems a person could spend their days in lazy foraging and sleeping in the shade. If you want more of this, you need money.

At the mention of money, Mexico withdraws her embrace and turns an insulted face away. Should variety outside of survival be desired, money is necessary. But money is a little harder to come across.