Mexican Radio

As I have said before, one of the ways I survive (metaphorically) in suburban Houston is through the attitude taken by tourists.  This is the attitude of being from somewhere else, being interested in the differences, exploring.  For me this is relatively easy because I come from a densely populated land of cool, grey dampness and here it is baking hot, sprawling, and comes with palm trees.

The peak of this experience comes from driving around the foreign-looking place listening to radio in Spanish.  This radio is for the very large population of Mexicans, or first/second generation immigrants from Mexico.  A very large number of Mexicans come to the area to find work, physical labor in the beating sun at first, then moving towards trades so that they can pay for their children's education.  In the suburbs there are packs of Mexicans doing landscaping, building houses, construction, dishes, busing tables.  Outside the cities you come across conglomerations of shacks, workers on the farms.  When you need a plumber, or an air conditioning expert there is at least a 50% chance of the guy (always a guy) being of Mexican descent but speaking flawless English.  The best guess is that 44% of Houston is Latino of which a very large proportion speak fluent Spanish.

Such a large Spanish speaking population creates a demand for Spanish speaking services.  This is most clearly illustrated for me by the radio dial.  By my count there are five radio stations in Spanish that I can get here in Spring (more than all the English rock and pop stations combined).  These have a large range from the latest pop hits to the ballads of years past.  There is a cross-pollination at the pop end (Shakira, Enrique Iglesias, Jennifer Lopez) to a completely distinct sort of music (a big band sound with brass, accordion, and percussion created by a mix of latin rhythm and European military band instruments).  I would call it analogous to the range from old-school country to modern pop.

Driving in 100 F (38C) heat with an almost liquid breeze, a straw hat on my head, a Hound of Hell sticking its head out the window, palm trees fluttering, and the sound of Mexican accordion on the radio is all the way foreign for me.  It helps me move from a selfish, right wing, privileged suburb to a vacation in the sun.  Just like a tourist I pick out a word here and there, sometimes even enough to know vaguely what the song is about (the word "corazon" is never very far away) but mostly I have no idea what is going on.  Occasional bewilderment is one of the characteristics of a tourist.

So, thank you Mexican radio.