Mexico...Que?

Last night I was working in the gallery when I came the realization that I'm working in someones Mexico. Now before you get completely confused and tell me that I'm not only in the United States, but also in one of the furthest points from Mexico in said United States, let me explain.

I work in a gallery that sells rather expensive things mixed in with some extremely expensive things. Things I can't afford and could never justify purchasing at such a price. And yet every day, we sell these expensive things to women who leave their husbands outside or down the street while they do their "souvenir shopping." These people are on vacation. And not just that, a good portion of them are on a cruise. They come wandering down the streets in their white slacks with their Hawaiian shirts with their sweaters draped over their shoulders, purchasing a few ridiculously expensive pieces of jewelry and art, eating some lobster, and then returning to their ship to finish their boating journey. This is their Mexico. This is the grown-up, upper-class version of Mexico. Think about Cancun, Jamaica, St. Thomas, St. Croix, etc, and you'll get it. We have the same trinkity touristy stuff as all of those tourist stops, it just costs more, and involves lobsters. True, there is some really great art around here, but you have to sift through the shot glasses and T-shirts to get to it. I'm just thankful that I work in one of the least "trinkity" places in town--we're actually probably one of the few places in town that sells quality things. They just happen to be things that cost more than I can afford...oh well.

Now maybe all of this was brought on by the fact that we had a Peruvian band playing in the courtyard outside the gallery yesterday. The tropical music bringing in large crowds to gather around the fountain and then slowly wander through the gallery might have influenced my thoughts, but let's face it: It's true. I'm living in Mexico.