There are many things to love about living in Mérida. The light. The architecture. The food. But three months into my art residency, halfway through my time here, it is the people who have inspired me most, shaping my work in ways I did not anticipate.
Mérida has a soul. I felt it early, but I understand it differently now.
A Culture Built on Giving
Not long after I arrived, someone offered me the use of their car. I barely knew them. I declined, of course, feeling the weight of the gesture more than I could properly receive it. But what stayed with me was what they said when I turned it down.
"I just want to help."
Simply. Without expectation. Without transaction.
I have heard some version of that phrase more times than I can count since arriving here. It is not a performance of generosity. It is woven into the fabric of how people move through the world in this city. When you sit down at a restaurant for a drink, the kitchen will often send something out on its own, a small plate, something the chef is testing, a little gift you never asked for. These moments catch you off guard at first. Then you start to recognize them. Then you start to look for them.
Hard Work and Deep Roots
There is something else I have noticed about the working people of Mérida. They are not afraid of labor. Long hours, physical work, sacrifice for the sake of building something better. That ethos is real and present here.
But they are also not in a rush in the way that erases everything else. They will not trade a genuine moment of human connection for the sake of efficiency. The relational fabric of daily life is not something to be optimized away. It is the thing itself.
The Faces I Have Come to Know
I have been intentional about getting to know the people around me, not just the city itself. It has given me some of the richest parts of this experience.
There is Pedro, who works at the automotive shop down the street. He is almost always there when I walk by, opening up in the early morning or closing down late at night. Every single time, without fail, he greets me with a wide smile and a wave. He does not know much about what I do. I do not know much about what his days are like. But there is a warmth in that daily exchange that I have come to depend on more than I realized.
There is Roy, the waiter at my favorite restaurant here. I am somewhat embarrassingly devoted to their mole, which I believe is the best I have found in the city. I order it every time. Every single time. Roy knows this. He smiles when he sees me sit down. He announces my order back to me with a laugh, not unkindly, more like we are in on a joke together. On my last visit, he asked me if I had moved to Mérida permanently. When I told him no, the disappointment on his face was visible and genuine. I thought about that for the rest of the day.
And there is Patricio, a pharmacy technician at the farmacia down the street. Every visit he greets me like I have made his week by walking through the door. He hands me samples with the warmth of someone giving a gift. There is nothing transactional about the way he does it.
And then there is Raul, who works the OXXO parking lot with a flashlight, waving cars in and out for tips. Every time I pass through, he makes sure no one runs me over, and we exchange a smile and a buenos noches. It is maybe thirty seconds. It is also one of my favorite parts of the day.
These are small moments. A wave. A laugh. A smile at the door. But they have become some of the most important parts of my days here. I came for the residency. For the work. For the space to create. I did not expect to be so moved by the generosity of the people I would meet along the way.
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