We arrived at our casa in Mexico on an unusually cold night in January.  Our host gave us a tour of the rooms and provided an overview of the weeks ahead: garbage pickup, housecleaning service, and activities around town.  As he was about to take leave, I asked him about the location of the thermostat.  When he stared at me in silence, I knew I was in trouble.  “First of all,” he began, “this is Mexico. We have no thermostats.”  He then proceeded to show us how to fire up the two propane gas heaters in each bathroom.

Our host never got to the “second of all.” I did feel foolish in how I asked about heat.  This was hardly my first visit to Mexico; recalling my previous trips south of border, however, I remembered that I rarely traveled in January.  More significantly, this was my first trip as a 70-year-old.

I spent the next three weeks of my stay in central Mexico trying to stay warm, trying not to turn my ankle on the cobblestone streets and trying to avoid opportunistic amoebas.

50 Years a Gadabout

I started traveling by myself and with companions in the early 1970’s.  My traveling adventures began immediately after college. I saved a thousand dollars, booked a $200 flight to London and traveled through Europe until my money ran out: about 100 days later.  At times I traveled solo, and other times, I met friends who were already traveling abroad. 

I still wonder how we connected pre-internet or cellphone days but it happened.  We would select a place to meet on a designated date and stay at that location until the other person arrived.  (These days, if someone is 10 minutes late in meeting me, I text to determine if s/he is on the way.)  I’ve slept in train stations, in chairs on boats, on assorted couches and unsavory crash pads.  But that was then.

Now, I sit around shivering in my puffy jacket and lament about how “soft” I’ve become.  When I was young and traveling with all the arrogance afforded my age, I didn’t understand why the elderly chose group tours and cruises, or chose to simply stay at home.  I knew they were missing out on experiencing the local culture and all the misadventures that make great stories. 

Of course, I’ve met plenty of seniors on the road. Some of them seem to be handling their discomfort well; others appear to need help as they struggle to descend steep stone stairways or navigate the uneven terrain of cobblestone. Whether these elders are enjoying their travels or just feel they should be traveling is questionable.

White Whine

Being cold or unable to drink tap water is a first-world problem, I understand.  We spent our last two nights in Mexico at a 400-year-old hacienda with a shower that looked very inviting.  The water in the shower, however, never became more than tepid, so I inquired at the front desk.  They quickly dispatched an employee to determine what the problem was; the problem was there was no problem. Tepid shower water is another first-world problem.

In 2013, writer/comedian Streeter Seidell published a humorous book entitled White Whine: A Study of First-World Problems.  Although Seidell did not specifically address my white whine of being cold, he captured the spirit of how entitled we Americans have become and how much we like to complain about imperfect living.

Responsible Tourism

Many of us justify our travel, especially to developing countries, with the belief that it’s good for us and good for the area we’re visiting.  The blowback from overtourism — too many people in one location— has challenged the belief that travel is always beneficial for the residents of the areas we visit.  In some cases, locals never reap the economic benefits and only suffer from congestion and rising prices.

The remedy is to buy local, to visit off season, and to avoid the congested cities and head for more remote villages.  Once we commit to that strategy, however, we’re at risk for feeling uncomfortable.  Those remote locations may not have reliable WiFi, potable water, and/or the infrastructure to support our travels.

For now, as I plan my next adventure, I’m cranking up the thermostat and drinking my tap water with great abandon.