Mexico City, Day 4 Observations: I must admit Ive never quite encountered a city that feels so dynamic, so approachable, and so mysterious all at the same time. Theres none of the frenetic pacing (awful and crowded subway bottlenecks an exception) or rigid scheduling required of NYC. Unlike London, people are quite approachable, warm, and willing to share a lot with you. Unlike Sao Paolo, your urban environment doesnt feel like fortress, with all of the gates, walls, and security cameras staring you down. But warmth and ease dont mean sacrificing culture, as was clearly evident from my day today. In the span of a few short hours, I had the opportunity to see one of the largest squares in Latin America, a church from the 1700s built on the ruins of an Aztec temple, a convent turned hospital, turned abandoned structure thats been beautifully refurbished as an economics museum, a postal palace with sweeping, gold encrusted staircases, a massive entertainment palace of Bellas Artes, and an angel monument to Mexican independence. All of this while having chilaquiles con salsa verde, conchas, cafe con leche and two types of mezcal, complete with chili-slated orange wedges. Yes, I had a guide today, but I really never felt as if I wasnt welcome in the city. It was one of the few instances where not knowing the language really didnt bother me as much as I expected. Yeah, its frustrating as hell not knowing that a specific word means lentil or what the placards at a museum say, but at the same time, you have to try and combat that alienation by connecting with people, gestures, non-verbal communication, whatever youre able to do with the language skills you do have. Case in point: connecting with people in the city who open up their afternoons to show you around and give you a taste of what they like best about their home. There are obviously so many social and political issues in Mexico City, but that also doesnt diminish the fact that its so alive, so mysterious because history seems to linger well into the present. Imagine: Montezuma is resurrected, perched at the top of the Torre Latino Americana, looking down at the Bellas Artes orange and yellow dome. Somewhere, a young would-be Frida Kahlo sips a cafe nestled among elegant trees and uneven sidewalks, penning an angry letter to her lover. Hours later, in a dark bar in the Centro, all types of men gather, catching glances, giving kisses, losing all inhibitions, as queer Mexico City spills out into pre-dawn, into my arrival.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Mar 2014 04:47:52 +0000
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