Our newsletter is going bilingual! Read this post in Spanish here.
The Mariachis came out of nowhere.
“It’s a quiet Tuesday night,” I thought. As Noah headed to his Spanish class, I found a park bench on the opposite side of the church, away from tourists and the mariachi bands who serenaded them. “Surely, no one will bother me here while I write.”
I’d barely written a word when a Mariachi band merrily made its way over to me while performing “El Mariachi Loco”. “Am I being pranked?” I wondered. I quickly realized the musicians weren’t serenading me, but the couple next to me.
Writing would be out of the question. If I couldn’t fight them, I’d have to join them. So, I closed my laptop and joined in, singing along to Mexican classics like “La Bikina” (the song the mariachis are singing in the video above). I laughed, realizing that moments like these are what make Mexican town squares or “plazas” special.
Plazas are Mexico’s public living rooms. They’ve been a space for entertainment, community, celebrations, and debate in Mexico for over 4,000 years. Every town has them: an open paved area that typically spreads out in front of a church full of ornate benches, fountains, and gardens. Mariachis are one staple. Plazas are also a host to food and balloon vendors, street performers, shoe shiners, hand-holding couples, church-goers, families, children, and tourists.
Growing up, plazas were a central theme of my Mexican upbringing. I was baptized at the cathedral of the “Zócalo”, the largest main square in Mexico City. When I was 10, I spent many hours zigzagging through crowds as I rollerbladed in the main plaza in Cozumel. At 14, I held hands with my first boyfriend in “El Parque” of Puerto Morelos. In my twenties, I witnessed passionate rallies by presidential candidates back in the Zócalo (like when the current president refused to accept defeat in 2006). My life, as for other Mexicans, was significantly defined by moments at the plaza.
A fellow Substack writer, Nora Selmeczi of the soothing and thought-provoking publication, Enda Lettere, recently asked me what types of nature sounds or animals I observe when I go sit in the plaza near our apartment. It dawned on me that it’s never nature that catches my attention. Rather, it’s the people.
Plazas are an excellent place to sit and observe how people act and interact. “Jardín Allende”, the main plaza in our current home of San Miguel de Allende, has been a particularly fascinating place to people-watch. Thousands of locals and visitors walk through it daily enjoying each others’ company, listening to live music, eating a sweet treat, or snapping photos of its iconic church, San Miguel de Arcángel.
As I sat at this plaza last night, watching people while I enjoyed my strawberry ice cream cone, I wondered: What we can learn from one another at a Mexican plaza? I gave this some thought and here’s what stood out at Jardín Allende:
At a Mexican plaza, we can inspire each other to be bold and courageous.
It wasn’t the Mariachi music that delighted me most on that Tuesday night when I attempted to write. Rather, it was the man who stood up in front of the mariachi band to serenade his wife. His voice was good, but not particularly outstanding. And yet, spectators clapped and hooted after each song, as we all probably thought to ourselves, “How romantic!” and “Gee, I could never do that.”
Noah has been asking me to sing with the mariachi bands too. The thought of it provokes violent butterflies in my stomach. Whether I do it or not remains to be seen, but what is certain is that this brave serenading man reminded me that there is more to gain (like your wife’s admiration) than to lose when we stop caring so much about what others think.
I see another courageous man in the plaza every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. He sings at one of the restaurants. Now, this guy is good - he should be paid to sing. What I find bold is not his singing but his title - he calls himself “The voice of San Miguel de Allende”. According to him, his voice is THE voice of this town and no one else’s.
The singer’s audacity makes me chuckle and wonder: what if we all shared our talents and trusted our greatness just a little bit more? What entertainment or inspiration are we missing out on because someone is too shy or too afraid? The serenading man and “the voice” of this town remind us that the world will not end if we have a little less self-doubt and share our talents with a little more gutsiness (in fact, someone may even write about you in their newsletter!).
At a Mexican plaza, we can learn to connect with one another and feel less alone.
Last night, as I sat at Jardín Allende thinking about what humans there had to teach me, a Mexican couple sat next to me. “You’re a little close,” I thought to myself.
“Buenas tardes,” the wife greeted me. I politely nodded and responded back in Spanish “Good afternoon”. I was antsy to get back to the deep pondering she had interrupted. I was shocked when two hours later, we were still talking and exchanging contact details so we could get together. Right there was the human lesson I’d been searching for.
Instead of being irritated, I said goodbye to this lovely couple eager to see them again. I felt happy to have made some new friends. What a rich human-to-human connection I might have missed out on had I left that bench when that couple sat down. Meeting them made me wonder: How many enriching connections do we miss out on by ignoring people around us?
Instead of burying our heads in our phones or finding a lonely bench, a simple “good afternoon” can invite a relationship. It doesn’t have to be a deep or long one; it can be one that simply makes us feel a little more connected and a little less lonely, even if for only a couple of few hours. Most people in the world are nice, I’m finding. They’re seeking human connection as much as I am. Perhaps this afternoon I’ll go back to the park, bravely sit next to someone, and be the one to annoy them with a friendly “buenas tardes”.
Mexican plazas can teach us to slow down and enjoy the present moment.
I’m the only person I’ve seen at Jardín Allende with a laptop. That Tuesday night was the first and last time I ever attempted to work at the plaza. I quickly learned that there’s a reason why plazas have benches and not tables: we’re meant to sit and look up at the world, absorbing the moment in front of us.
By leaving my laptop at home when I go to the plaza, I’ve caught beautiful and entertaining moments like these:
The beautiful quinceañera arranging her dress for her photoshoot in front of the church steps
A family laughing together on a bench while enjoying their simple picnic of ceviche and tortilla chips
The fashion-conscious girls lying on the dirty ground to take perfect shots for their “Insta stories”, perfectly oblivious to the chuckling spectators
The elderly woman breaking up her breakfast bread to feed the gathering pigeons around her
The devout men sitting on old paint cans outside of the church door to listen to mass despite a crowded church
Every day is full of small human moments that are extraordinary. We’ll undoubtedly miss them if we’re constantly rushed or distracted.
Even if you don’t have a plaza or park near you, I invite you to consider: in what place and at what time today might you be able to pause the rush, stop “doing”, and simply “be”?
To answer my original question, there is much we can learn from each other at a Mexican plaza. Courage, connection, joy, good humor, generosity, and perseverance are all human traits that we can observe and inspire in one another. All we need to do is put the laptop down, look up, and observe.
Karla is a Mexican/American travel and fiction writer. She’s also a life and career coach for career-driven women. Karla is one-half of Aventura Road, a married couple of nomads who live in an RV and travel full-time. Karla writes, while Noah photographs.
Follow Karla on Instagram @karlaexploradora.
Follow Karla & Noah on Instagram @aventuraroad.
Stories from a Mexican Plaza