Sigrid
It’s a cold Friday in the middle of autumn in Berlin, and sitting in front of me is another Latina who’s not only making me smile, but is also here to talk about one of my favorite things about Mexico: mezcal.

If you already know tequila, you’ll probably love mezcal. And one of the best things about mezcal is that when you drink it, you feel this warmth from the inside out. You just feel… content.

But before we get into that, hello.

Mica
Hi, thank you for having me.

Sigrid
We have with us Mica, she’s from Venezuela. Why did you come to Berlin? How did you end up here?

Mica
I came to Berlin looking for a better life.

I left Venezuela in 2009 and lived in Argentina for ten years. I had my own business there, started my MBA, built a life I really loved. But at some point I realized many of the things I had tried to escape in Venezuela were slowly showing up again in Argentina. It felt like a déjà vu.

So I sat down and asked myself: what’s the next step? Which country could offer the stability and kind of life I wanted?

I spent about a year researching six different cities. Germany won. And from those, Berlin won. I’ve been here for about six and a half years now, and I’m very happy with that choice.

Safety, trust and why Germany still pulls people in

Sigrid
It’s impressive how Germany is still at the top of our list when we think about migrating from Latin America – even though it’s freezing half the year.

But there’s one thing I really want to underline: safety. The feeling of safety here is something else. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do, you can just exist in a way that feels… calmer.

Mica
Absolutely.

For me, “safety” has many layers. One of them is feeling that people are not constantly trying to take advantage of you. In Latin America, there’s often an A, B, C, D way to do things – some official, some “informal.”

Here, in Germany, there’s usually just one way to do things. That gives me a huge peace of mind. I know what the rules are, I know what to expect. That’s also a kind of safety.

A rebirth and then: Mexico and mezcal

Sigrid
So what are you doing now with your life?

Mica
About three years ago I went through what I can only describe as a massive rebirth. It changed everything – in a good way. I feel like I’m finally blossoming into who I want to be.

And one of the things that really enriched this new chapter was a trip to Mexico.

Sigrid
What happened in Mexico? Did you fall in love with the country?

Mica
Mezcal happened.

Sigrid
Even better.

Mica
To be fair, yes – the culture happened, and mezcal is a big part of that culture.

I went to Mexico as a plus one on a trip. It wasn’t originally my plan to go. I ended up staying around twenty days, and it quietly changed my life.

I’d been to Mexico once before, right after university – the “classic” route: Cancún, Mexico City, everything fast and superficial. This time was different. I got to experience the country more deeply.

We visited mezcal palenques (mezcal distilleries) and I saw how they work: the respect for tradition, the way knowledge is passed down through generations, how mezcal is woven into daily life.

When I came back to Germany, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So after a while, we reconnected with the producers and decided together that I would become their ambassador in Germany. To be honest, I was already doing that unofficially – talking about mezcal to friends, colleagues, basically anyone who would listen.

Now I do it more consciously, with one project: Mezcal Cómplice

Tequila vs mezcal and why mezcal is “handmade time”

Sigrid
For everyone listening: Mexico is known for tequila, which comes from the blue agave. In Germany, a lot of people know “Sierra Tequila,” but let me drop a small truth here:

If your tequila is not 100% blue agave, you’re basically drinking sugar plus headache.

If you drink a good tequila that really is 100% agave, you’re much less likely to have a hangover.

Tequila today is mostly industrial. Mezcal is a different story. It can be made from more than 180 types of agave and is still very handmade. Every batch is literally the work of people’s hands.

It’s slower, deeper, and for those who like whisky but don’t like tequila – mezcal might be your drink.

But you’re the mezcal expert here. Tell us a bit about Mezcal Cómplice.

Mica
You explained it beautifully.

Mezcal carries: wisdom, craftsmanship and ritual. It’s families, land and time in a bottle.

Take the espadín agave, the most common variety used for mezcal. It takes around 7 to 12 years just to grow. That maturity already lives inside the plant, so mezcal doesn’t need to be aged in barrels the way whiskey does. The “age” is in the plant itself.

There are farmed agaves like espadín, and then there are wild varieties, which grow through natural pollination – often by bats – in the hills of Oaxaca and other regions. Because each plant grows in a different microclimate, the flavor changes: some mezcals are more fruity, others more herbal, fresher or sweeter.

The process is completely artisanal:

Harvest the agave and cut the piñas (the hearts). Cook them in an underground oven with wood. That’s where the smoky flavor comes from. Crush the cooked agave with a big stone wheel pulled by a horse. Ferment the fibers and juices in open wooden vats. Distill twice in copper stills.

Meanwhile, everyone in the family is involved: Kids lead the horse, Elders decide exactly when fermentation is done.

Sometimes that moment comes at 4 a.m., sometimes at 3 p.m. – it’s not a timer, it’s a feeling and experience

The mezcalero I met told me that when he drinks mezcal, he’s tasting the work of his grandfather, who planted the agave years ago. That hit me hard.

That’s why mezcal deserves respect in how we drink it. You don’t shoot it. You sip it. In Mexico we say: “mezcal se besa” – you kiss it.

This isn’t about getting drunk. It’s about ritual, presence and connection.

Mezcal, food and a bridge to Germany

Sigrid
You mentioned that mezcal, wine and beer are all great for pairing with food. And right there you already have a nice bridge between Mexico and Germany.

You’re also a bridge between Latin America and Germany. What has been, for you, the biggest culture shock living in Germany?

Mica
Funny thing: I discovered I’m a bit German inside.

I came here expecting something super rigid. And yes, compared to Latin America, Germany is structured. But Berlin softens a lot of that. It’s full of internationals, so daily life feels more blended.

Still, when you interact with actual Germans, you definitely notice certain patterns.

Sigrid
Exactly. If you ask a German for something, the first answer is usually “no.” Then, maybe, after some time, it becomes “maybe.” And then, if the stars align, two years later you can talk about it again.

Mica
Yes, that part is very real.

But the biggest shock for me wasn’t that, it was the trust system here.

In Latin America, we’re used to questioning everything – contracts, bills, institutions, even simple processes. There’s always “another way” things might happen.

Here, the default assumption is that the system basically works and that people generally act in good faith. That level of trust was very new for me – and very healing.

Of course, every good thing has a B-side. Some people do take advantage of that trust, like fare-dodging on the BVG. But overall, I really value being in a place where I can live according to my own ethics and not constantly worry that someone is trying to game me.

The real shock: not the cold, but the darkness

Mica
There is one thing that really hit me though: the darkness.

I don’t mind the cold. I completely underestimated how dark winters are.

When I moved here, I arrived at the end of March. Cherry blossoms, people outside, pre-Covid Berlin – it was magical. I managed the big tasks: residence permit, found a flat (which in Berlin is like winning the lottery).

Then October came. And I was miserable.

Friends had warned me: take vitamin D, move your body, do what you can for your mental health.

I thought, “I’m Latina, I bring the sun with me.” Yeah… no.

The darkness still got me.

Vitamin D helped. Exercise helped. But you really do need a strategy for winter here.

Sigrid
I completely agree. I started something last year that helped: ice dipping.

At Schlachtensee there’s a group called the Ice Dippers. I interviewed them for the show and then joined them. I never imagined I’d be the kind of person who walks into a freezing lake on purpose.

The first time, it was a shock. But afterward, I felt so alive and strangely connected to winter, to nature, to my body.

So here’s a plan: we go ice dipping together, and afterwards we warm up with a mezcal.

Mica
Yes. That sounds perfect. Ice dip, mezcal, fireplace – count me in.

How to survive Berlin winters: rituals, mezcal and a “happy list”

Sigrid
For people listening who are new to Germany, what would you recommend – besides mezcal – to get through winter?

Mica
Two things really helped me. First, something a Latina friend told me in my first month here, and it was so simple but so wise: Don’t expect to live the same way in winter as you do in summer and don’t expect summer to feel like winter.

Have different activity lists for each season:

-In winter: wine, mezcal, candles, long chats at home, warm food, cozy routines.

-In summer: be outside as much as possible, live in the parks, stay in the light.

When you stop expecting summer in November and winter in June, you suffer less.

Second, have a happy playlist.

On the days when you just want to lie in bed, listen to Radiohead and stare at the wall, don’t. Put on salsa. Or reggaeton. Or whatever makes your body move even a little.

For me, that changes the whole energy of the day.

Sigrid
Same here. Music makes a huge difference.

Mezcal, Día de los Muertos and remembering our people

Sigrid
Before we wrap up, I want to mention something important for anyone listening before November.

You’re probably going to hear this episode around Día de los Muertos. In my dad’s hometown, they call it Xpantolo in Nahuatl.

If you’ve seen Coco, you already have a good idea of the tradition – and honestly, Disney did a great job there.

Día de los Muertos is not about death in a sad sense. It’s about celebrating life with those who are no longer physically with us, but who come back to visit us for a night. We honor the way they touched our lives, and we celebrate their memory with food, music and, yes, sometimes mezcal.

If you want to try a small version of the tradition at home in Germany, here’s what you can do:

On the 1st or 2nd of November, light a candle for someone you miss.

Put up a photo of them.

Pour a little mezcal (or whatever they liked to drink) and drink one on their behalf.

Think of the love they gave you and the love you still carry for them.

We miss them because we loved them – and they loved us back. They’re not completely gone; they’re alive in us, in our stories, in our rituals.

Mica
Exactly. They live through us.

Sigrid
So if you try it this year – the candle, the photo, the mezcal – let us know how it felt.

Mica, thank you so much for being here, for sharing your journey from Venezuela to Berlin, and for bringing a bit of Mexico into the German winter.

Mica
Thank you. It was a pleasure.