
Sí Change: In Mexico, Life Begins At Forty Winks
Beware, the arch-enemy of the gringo nana-napper.
Recently I decided to head for the hills—literally. In January, 26 years after this Queenslander moved to New York City, I sold my apartment there and started building a house in the Mexican mountain town of San Miguel de Allende.
If you want a lifestyle change that forces you to reconsider the relative value of time, a move from Manhattan to regional Mexico will do it. One example is the different attitude the town’s many churches take to tolling the midday hour from their bell towers.
They don’t rush to do it all at once, like New Yorkers piling into a subway car. No, the churches of San Miguel take what could be described as an omakase approach, each serving their own version of noon over a relaxed period that can stretch for several hours.
The plucky oratorio nearest me, for example, prefers to get in early, chiming midday sometime after 11.30 am. Other more established churches follow in order of seniority, with the grandest holding off until closer to 1.00 pm. This drives some gringos, usually the newest arrivals, loco. One can imagine them accosting a bellringer: “There’s a reason why my watch is made out of gold, señor! Don’t you know time is money?”
Mexico, though striving, remains a poor country by many economic measures. But this ancient mountain plain is the same one the Aztecs tromped through, warring with older tribes, on their way to founding Tenochtitlan in 1325. The Spanish crossed it to conquer them in 1521, renaming their capital Mexico City.
And now the gringos are here, many fleeing climate change or economic and political instability further north. Seen in this light—through the drowse of the daily siesta, surely the most civilised custom known to man—the phrase “time is money” takes on a richer meaning. Different groups come and go over millennia, but the land endures. Time is its people’s real wealth, an inheritance that’s available to spend even when there might not be cash in their pockets.
It’s a persuasive way of life. Being able to take a lunchtime nap is a luxury that feels like cashmere dipped in chocolate wrapped in gold. And it comes at an unbeatable price: free. Plus, you never have to worry about hitting the snooze button. The local churches will keep reminding you it’s noon, sometimes until 3.00 pm.
PHOTOGRAPHY: CHRIS LUENGAS.
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