Mexico and Amigo Care

Poor Mexico. The country is America’s whipping boy, blamed for everything from illegal immigration to illegal drugs, and the State Department has issued warnings about the larger border towns (Tijuana, Nogales etc.), pretty much advising Americans not to go there because of violent clashes between drug gangs.

Poor Mexico—but not just because the US tends to blame its far smaller neighbor for its own problems but because (as with Canada) it fails to recognize the important service Mexico (and Canada) provides. If the US-Mexico border were ever permanently closed, I would argue that the US would be the greater loser.

Some time ago, we visited Algodones, a border town where California and Arizona touch just south west of Yuma, Arizona. The border is quite casual going into Mexico—no documents needed—you know you are in Mexico because of the street hawkers. They’re not offering the usual serapes, ponchos, sombreros, and pottery. Instead, one calls, “Lady, you need dental care? Admit it! You need dental work.” Another calls “Eye glasses? Best price in town. $100 for trifocals and frames.” “Look here! Look here! You need a pharmacy?” Billboards on top of the buildings advertise everything from crowns ($300) to liposuction to face lifts.

Mexico, in other words, has become the cut-rate medical center for US citizens without health insurance. There are no children to be seen, no young adults, no family couples. Instead, the streets are full of US seniors carrying tell-tale purple plastic bags full of prescription drugs (from the Purple Farmacia—the largest in town). The local (very good) restaurants are full of white haired visitors, and stores cater to a more adult taste (no nudes, no skull-and-crossbones t-shirts, and no two-for-one grande margueritas).

Mostly the town is full of medical offices and happy clients: Who wouldn’t be happy when teeth cleaning costs $15? The streets are clean and the buildings in good repair, suggesting not only respectability but prosperity. No one appears to actually live in Algadones, however. There are no food markets or clothing stores. Apparently people live in places like Mexicali and commute to their offices, which occupy a strip that starts at the border and stretches about 100 yards south. The further from the border, the more shabby the offices and the lower the prices. But right at the border, the offices look well furnished, and, if asked, the seniors using their services say they are well satisfied with the care.

Everyone is busy making money and both sides of the border get in the act. Just north of the border are Indian tribal lands, so every car parking pays the tribe $5 for the day. The lot is huge and was packed (the tribe also has a decent hotel-casino where people can stay while having procedures). Coaches from various retirement homes and RV resorts as far north as Colorado come down every three months or so on a schedule to allow residents to make doctor’s appointments and pick up prescriptions. People driving from California to points east plan to stop at this town. Everything is cheerful. The pharmacy clerks call everyone “amigo,” and both sides seem generally delighted with the exchange, although it pays to get references when having something as complicated as a dental transplant.

The only downside is the wait at the border to get back into the US. Last year, it took us over an hour to snake through customs. Still, even that had its amusing side as people compared what they had paid for various things and had a chance to giggle at some of the strange things going home. Every western and northern state and all western Canadian provinces were represented in the line—along with a few stragglers from New York and Maine.

Looked at from the senior point of view, Mexico provides an incalculable benefit to US residents, who gladly avail themselves of its services and have a good meal while they’re at it. I think we can call this Amigo Care.