Last Day

Tomorrow in the wee hours of the morning I say good bye to Mexico.  I don't know when or if I'll be back but it won't be for a while.  This country can be very challenging if you are not on the tourist track.  It is worth the challenge, every bit of it and now I am tired.  I can't think about future trips anywhere right not, just going home.  Everything about today is a push towards home.  I smell water.

What A Difference The Rain Makes

We have had two days of rain so far, all afternoon today and it's still coming down and aside from getting wet this is the best I have felt since I landed here March 1.  I was actually bounding up the stairs like a guy half my age and when I was getting up from my seat on the Metro, I actually bounced up and grabbed the overhead rail as though it was a trapeze, just the way I do it on the bus or Skytrain in Vancouver.  The positive ions and the clean air must be having an effect and it is almost like being home in Vancouver.  This has brought me to a few conclusions, particularly that the air quality this time has generally been very poor and that it has been affecting my health and my emotional well being.  Besides the social inequality in this country and especially the grandmother beggars here in Mexico City this tells me that for health reasons alone that I had better rule out Mexico City and probably the rest of Mexico, for future vacations.  A holiday is supposed to be restorative, not an endurance test that could land you in the hospital.  During previous trips here I have managed to overlook a lot of these things, not ignore them, but simply continue to focus on the positives.  This will be my second stay here that I haven't had an enjoyable place to stay, somethng that could feel like a positive and secure base and this has certainly affected my enjoyment here, as well as the overwhelming noise, pollution, crowds and traffic.  Seriously they think Vancouver has the world's worst drivers?  Come to Mexico City and just feel the love.  Ordinarily Mexicans are lovely, kind and warm people until you put them behind a streering wheel and suddenly you get instant sociopathic drooling idiot assholes.  This, I fear is not an exaggeration and anyone who has ever lived here will tell you something similar.  I have been priveleged to be able to go on these vacations for the past six years running, Costa Rica as well as Mexico City.  I am well aware that international travel is neither human right nor personal entitlement but a privilege.  I also feel that my Spanish has reached a level of fluency that I may no longer have to spend an entire month or longer in a Spanish speaking country to improve my ability, though I'm sure it would still help.  I would also like to visit other places where Spanish is spoken but this depends on my budget as well as being able to find a situation that is relatively free of English speakers, a place that is tranquil with access to nature, little auto traffic, relatively safe, where it isn't an ordeal to eat as a vegetarian and that is highly walkable.  If anyone has any ideas, then please, I would like to know.  Meanwhile, I am getting ready to go home and this will happen withing the next forty-eight hours or so.  There is by the way much I love about Mexico, but it is time to call it a day.

I Can Smell Water

 It rained today in the afternoon, plainly, abundantly, fiercely and in the free--falling wrath that can be found only in nature.  I fortunately made it into a restaurant for an early dinner just before the sky let loose. There was thunder, wind, and then the light shower became a cloudburst.  It lasted only around twenty minutes.  It  is a nice restaurant that serves a kind of modern Mexican cuisine with brightly coloured plastic chairs.  I could envision such a place in Yaletown or Kitsilano, maybe in Mount Pleasant.
     I am feeling tired these days and frankly and openly bored which means it is time to get back into the saddle at home in Vancouver.  My life feels on hold now and it seems as if I have passed much longer than a month here.  This is such a beautiful country and it is such a shame that so many Mexicans shit on their own country.  I am anxious to go home.  I can smell water.

The Bougainvillea Curtain

This morning in the kitchen of the guest house where I am staying I had a conversation with a guest who lives in Guadalajara.  I told her that while Canada has a high standard of living it has little if anything to match the charm of Mexico.  This country has a lot of charm, as well as history and culture and incredible beauty, natural and artistic.  It may not be an easy place to spend time in but to the senses it is intoxicating to the point of leaving one feeling completely sensorally overloaded.  Is it any wonder that so many Canadians keep returning here, despite the corruption, the pollution, the social inequality, the gang violence, etcetera.  As I have previously mentioned my social conscience does seem to have run ahead of my aesthetic needs and for this reason I do not feel I can return to this country, at least not in the next few years.  While I am back in Canada I will likely feel tempted, lured and seduced by the sweeter memories of this place, then foolishly return only to be splashed in the face with the reality of the toxic public water this country is notorious for.  I will make a point of rereading these posts whenever I feel tempted.
     Speaking of toxic water, during this trip I have been using hand sanitizer all the time, whenever water touches my hands, after using public transit, before eating, after using a computer.  It seems to be working as I go home in three days and I still haven't been sick (touch wood!)
     The sounds of a neighbourhood in Mexico in the morning can be very diverse, from the sweetness of birdsong to an incredible range of human dissonance.  This morning there was some fellow outside selling cooking gas from his truck, and he was out in the street hollering repeatedly, ''Gassss!!!!!!''  but it sounds like Waaaaauuuugh!!!!!, or as though he himself is suffering from gas. Meanwhile another fellow was whistling manically while directing cars.  Mexican men have this peculiar toneless whistle they use while directing cars to park that at first sounds amusing but after prolonged exposure can be very irritating.  Around the same time another fellow was riding a gigantic tricycle hocking what appeared to be tamales.  Attached to his tricycle was a recorded voice message announcing in a loud, metallic, almost robotic tone, ''Tamales oaxaquinos, calientes, deliciosos tamales, tamales muy ricos, tamales oaxaquinos,'' over and over and over again, which translates as Tamales of Oaxaca, hot, delicious, tamales, very tasty tamales, tamales of Oaxaca.
     You know, lately I have been trying to visualize the neighbourhoods I love here without the bougainvillea, and they don't seem that attractive after all.

More Behind the Bougainvillea

I just had a chat with a local cop while he was supervising a demonstration against parking metres in Coyoacan and he explained to me why there are grandmothers and others begging in such numbers on the sidewalks of Mexico City.  A lot of it makes sense actually.  Their family is their sole support and these women have often been traumatized or abandoned by abusive sons with addictions and other problems who have beaten them or the family unit has collapsed because the men have left to find work in the US or Canada or other places.  Also there is a huge influx of people moving to Mexico City and the public services such as they are are not able to keep up with the demand.  According to him a lot of people make more money begging than they would working because the wages are so poor and a lot of them don`t want to work anyway which probably has some measure of truth in it though I also suspect there could be a lot of other hidden barriers that make it difficult for some to stay employed and this just is not being addressed by public services that are already overstretched and deteriorating.  A lot of these people also have mental health issues but the support systems are not able to monitor them or provide them with adequate rehabilitation services and in many cases their families enable them to subsist on the street which also hinders clinical intervention.
     I have also observed here in Mexico, a very strong ethos of survival of the fittest and if you can`t cope then too bad for you and if you have no supportive family available so much the worse.  I often hear people say this is a poor country but I also notice that people are generally well dressed, driving expensive cars and filling upscale eateries and diners so in a way I take this with a grain of salt.
     In my own experience I know what it is like not being suitably employed.  Not everyone is cut out to do factory or construction work which probably is why a lot of people are not able to hold down a job and because of this they give up in dispair and just don`t want to work because they have not had access to decent employment counsellors (once again, a thousand thanks, Isabella, if you happen to be reading this) or training and skills development so of course they are going to fall through the cracks, beg on the streets, or sell cd`s on the subway and the street to survive.  In fact, had I not had some timely interventions which fortunately are available in my country to those who need them, I would not be writing this blog at all.  I would likely be pushing up dandelions in an unmarked grave.

Behind the Bougainvillea

You know, by the time I leave Mexico in five days I will have spent up to one hundred dollars on giving alms to beggars.  And you know something, even by Mexican standards I am not that well off. In Canada I am considered working poor and the only reason I am able to make these trips is because I live in government subsidized housing and I am very good at budgeting.  I do not mind doing this at all, but this is one of many factors that have convinced me that I should take Mexico off my travel list.  It isn`t because I hate giving but that I am quite troubled that the government of this country and so many of its people are so indifferent towards the most vulnerable citizens who live here.  For example, that homeless man lying in the blazing sun on the sidewalk the other day, who might have been dead or dying, and all these well dressed Mexicans stepping around him as if he didn`t exist.  No one with a cell phone to call for the ambulance or check to see if he was alright.  Or today the elderly woman with a cane whom I assisted up the stairs at the Chapultepec Metro Station.  No elevator and not one single caballero to offer her assistance.  What is wrong with this country?  Here President Enrique Peña Nieto lives in luxury on top of a hill in Chapultepec Park and metres away some of the poorest Mexicans struggle to make a living selling unsafe food or useless junk because there are no other opportunities for them in this country.  Why does this country have such passive contempt towards its own people, and why aren`t more Mexicans doing anything about this?  I have noticed a healthy culture of protest in this country and I would love to see it grow till the elected leaders start to really pay attention to the real needs of Mexicans.
     Old women having to beg and homeless men dying on sidewalks should not be acceptable in any society.  To my friends who live here I have this to say.  Start.  Anything.  You have a voice.  Use it.  It is not as hopeless as you think and all you need is to start caring about your neighbour and to get over the fear, dispair and cynicism that hinders real and positive change from happening.  This is your country and you know it better than I do and you know whom to consult and whom to advise.  On behalf of our friendship I am asking and I am imploring you to do something.  I am asking you to care.  When I have returned to Canada I will be contacting the Mexican Consulate in Vancouver and the Mexican Embassy about this.  No excuses.  Do something.  This is your country.

A Very Short Post

The only thing in Mexico I really like is the bougainvillea. All else is expendible.  I think this is going to be my last visit here, at least for a while.

Mexico Burn Out

As my time here draws to a close I think I have accepted that I have drawn all I need from being in Mexico.  I know that coming here the last couple of times has been a default option for lack of funds to go anywhere else and this time the noise and the squalor have become at times overwhelming which is sad because there is still so much beauty that I appreciate here and the people are for the most part wonderful.  Mexico is still a poor country, with corrupt politics, poorly developed infrastructure and a population generally very conservative and I think over the longterm traumatized from being from historically being governed by presidents and parties and, yes, a military, that really seems to hate the people who put them in power and whose taxes keep their sorry asses alive and thriving.  There is no magic wand or easy solution for this country.  It has to come from its own people whom I think are simply too tired and burned out with having to survive to have much time or strength to stand up to this dysfunctional government and system.  There are pockets of protest here and there and they are very vocal and for the most part permitted but I get the feeling that many people either are two busy coping or too indifferent or too drunk to do much of anything.  I am really hoping that the voices of protest here keep being heard and that eventually a fire is lit that will not be quenched but will bring about the changes that this country needs to flourish, not as a member of NAFTA and other free trade pacts but as a nation that cares for its people.
     Today I saw on el Paseo de la Reforma a homeless man lying on the sidewalk, exposed to the sun (we are in the middle of a heat wave here) and nicely dressed people simply not noticing that he might be dead or dying for all they care.  I don´t blame them for their indifference.  They must themselves feel helpless and that their hands are tied, that is, if they even saw him.  But this often seems to be the fate of single people who have been abandoned by their families and traumatized.  I read recently that this is why so many grandmothers end up begging on the street.  They have been abandoned and-or traumatized and there simply are no resources available to really help them.
     It has been easy today to chat casually with strangers.  I noticed a small group of Middle Eastern Muslims getting into a car, the women all wearig hijab.  A working class looking guy looked at them rather bemused and I explained to him that we have a lot of Muslims in Canada and even if the hijab seems kind of strange at first one gets easily used to it, but it's the niqab or full face veil that can be hard to take and how in Quebec they are trying to pass legislation against the veil in government services and it's all very controversial.  It  sometimes amazes me here how unfamiliar Mexicans are with the concept of multiculturalism.
     While I was seated in front of a fountain in Condesa I noticed an older woman with a walker coming towards me so I moved over for her to sit down but she wanted to remain standing and engage me in converrsation.  It turns out that she has been to Ottawa, Quebec and Toronto and really likes Canada.
     Whether or not I return here, I really want to get the best out of my remaining time here in Mexico, regardless of the challenges.

What A Difference Trees Make

 I have just arrived in Coyoacan after two weeks in Puebla.  Being away from home has been wearing on me the last couple of days and I am eager to return home but I am trying to contain this eagerness to return so that I don't miss whatever further blessings are here for me.  I had problems finding my bus at the terminal in Puebla and seven different employees gave me seven different directions which also didn't help much.  Then at the terminal in Mexico City the woman at the authorized taxi desk was a complete twit because I didn't know the name of the exact neighbourhood I was going to in Coyoacan.  A kind couple showed me a map posted and then when I got in the taxi the cab driver said it was the wrong neighbourhood (turned out he was right) and charged me an extra four bucks or fifty pesos, then forgot to give me change for the one hundred (eight dollars) peso note I gave him.  So it isn't a huge amount and I can absorb the loss but let's say I've had better days in Mexico and here in the Distrito Federal, or the Federal District of Mexico (which is a fancy name for metropolitan Mexico City) things are more expensive and one can easily get pesoed to death.  There is no guests' computer in the guest house where I'm staying and even though I have access to the kitchen, as a vegetarian it is difficult to negotiate myself around meat eaters for the short term and restaurants here are pricier than in Puebla.  Also in Puebla I always ate at the Zanahoria which serves good and economical vegetarian food.  The place has zero atmosphere but it has helped keep me alive.  Here in Coyoacan at a supermarket I had to shell out for overpriced nuts and dried fruit as well as bananas and oranges since the fruit offering in the place I have breakfast in Coyoacan is expensive and the dinners in other places, though meatless, aren't always nutritionally balanced so the nuts and fruit are to help keep me in reasonable health.
For two and a half hours on the bus from Puebla I had a pleasant and interesting conversation with a lady who is a high school teacher, all in Spanish.  When we got into Mexico City I really noticed the many trees, which are lacking in Puebla.  It is amazing what a difference trees can make for one's general health and wellbeing.
     I don't think I am going to continue to need to take these long trips in order to improve my Spanish (which has been up to now my real reason for going) and I just might stay home from now on or at least for a few years. I know, I've said this before, and once I'm back in Vancouver I hope that  this time I will come to my senses and stay there.  Budget travel is not for sissies and since that's all I can afford it might be better to give it up.  I'm not getting younger and the minor hardships are becoming somewhat less minor.  I just hope that once I get off the plane I don't find myself missing Mexico like I did last year.

Puebla, Final Thoughts

This is my last day in Puebla and at noon I leave for Coyoacan.  Being here has been a mixed blessing and even though in my last post I resolved to never return here I think I might for a shorter visit, say for five or six days.  Two weeks is too long to spend here if you just want time to relax.  There is not enough green or quiet space in or near this city to make it feasible.  This morning, early, I took a long walk through the city, in a way as an act of reconciliation.  There is much architectural beauty here and I think it would be worth seeing again.  But not for two weeks.  Even at eight am the streets were full of music in some areas as street and sidewalk vendors and owners of small shops were already beginning to open to prepare for a new day of commerce.  The music itself is wonderful and it is almost like providing a soundtrack for a movie set in Latin America.
     There is a youngish man, I think in his early thirties, whom I have seen several times wandering around talking to himself in English.  He is not on a phone or bluetooth, I can tell the difference, having worked in the mental health biz for the last ten years.  He is clearly not well, alone, and from his accent of English, likely an American.  I really wonder how he managed to end up here and what has happened to strand him here in a state of mental illness and likely without recourse to medications or mental health services.  He doesn't seem to be destitute as he usually is carrying with him something to eat or drink.
     I have accomplished almost everything I have wanted to do while in Puebla.  I have bought at generous discounts ten books in Spanish that I get to lug back to Vancouver, I have done some really good artwork and have had plenty of opportunity to practice my Spanish and a good number of folks eager and willing to chat with me.  I have also had plenty of rest and quality sleep so, dispite the inconveniences and disappointments things have gone fairly well here.

Puebla, Day Fifteen

This is my final night in Puebla.  I am glad to be going and I won't be back.  Despite the beautiful architecture this city is hideous.  When I was approaching Puebla two weeks ago by cab I found it so shabby and ugly that I only wished that I could have turned back immediately.  Even the nicer areas seem, I don't know, but I made the best of my two weeks and it hasn't been that bad.  I forced it to work for me and now I can go.  And the architecture is wonderful.  I stumbled across a tour group from, I think, Germany, and they seemed competely enthralled with the place and one woman could not quit snapping photos.  But there is something about the people, the energy here that I simply do not like.  And this could well be something to do more with Mexico than with Puebla.  I am not a huge fan of Mexico.  I do like Mexico City, at least I like Coyoacan and el Paseo de la Reforma and parts of Roma and of course Chapultepec Park.  But Mexico City is in many ways a very different entity from Mexico, even though they are the same country.  Tomorrow I return to Coyoacan for just over a week then April 1 I fly back to Canada.  It can't happen soon enough for me.

Puebla, Day Fourteen

This will be my second-last night in Puebla.  This city has grown on me somewhat.  I now do not regret being here two weeks as this is how long it has taken me to get to know Puebla a little bit and actually enjoy my time here.  I still stand by my evaluation that this is primarily a working class town with not much to offer in the way of sophistication and glamour but this is part of Puebla's charm.  Still, beautiful heritage architecture alone does not a liveable city make.  This place lacks in green space and apparently in social and community services, hence all the old ladies and women with children you see begging on the narrow sidewalks here.  But this is Mexico and although this country has come a long way in recent years it still has a long way to go.  One is not going to transform a highly hierachical and conservative society overnight into the Sweden of the Americas and this likely is never going to happen.  I have heard from reliable sources that corruption is so endemic at every strata of society, often getting worse the higher you go, that it would not be realistic to see much positive change here, at least not for a few generations, which is sad because the heritage and history of the Mexican people is so rich and vast and this country deserves a decent government and these people, at every social strata, deserve a much better quality of life.  I certainly cannot see myself ever living in this country.  Realistically, I would have to be upper income or a very gifted entrepreneur or would have to have such academic and professional credentials as to make my presence here necessary to the well being of the country.  Besides which, Mexican society is very insular and family oriented so that even if I were to successfully immigrate here it would be at the risk of chronic social isolation unless I were to become part of any of the resident communities of Gringos, and I did not go to all this effort to become fluent in Spanish for that.
     It has been an enjoyable day, very art-focussed as I spent prodigious amounts of time in two different cafes while working on my current drawing, both very beautful places in their own right.  I have already written about them: the All Day Cafe with the beautiful waterfall fountain with a statue of Buddha, and the York Cafe up on top of the hill with the magnificent view of Puebla.  Eventually the wind picked up while I was inside the York Cafe and began blowing in storm clouds and I knew it was going to rain soon, so I left early and hoped that I could beat the rain to the restaurant where I had dinner.  No such luck, but it did not rain very hard so I wasn't soaked once I finished the two and a half mile or so walk to the restaurant where among other things I had their version of Greek salad.  Not at all Greek really, the cheese was wrong, the olives were wrong.  I was remembering the first time I ever ate a Greek salad. It was back in 1975 when Greek food was still considered exotic in Vancouver and it was made by a Greek. I was nineteen at the time and hanging out with friends who lived communally in a big old house in Kitsilano, back in the days when a lot of people shared big houses at cheap rent and no one seemed to mind sharing a bathroom.  How times have changed, eh?
     It is going to be different being back in Coyoacan in the same guesthouse as before.  It's going to be kind of a trade off actually.  There is no tv in my  room in Coyoacan, but my radio works fine there so I can listen to local radio in Spanish during the evenings.  My radio in Puebla does not pick up the signals very well. It has been interesting watching tv in Spanish here, especially the Simpsons, and also a lot of movies.  I am not going to miss the cockroaches in the bathroom.  I will miss the guests' computer here at El Hotelito, but there is a decent cyber cafe in Coyoacan with decent rates and piped in clasical music so it woun't be a total loss.

Puebla, Day Thirteen

Not a bad day over all.  I sat in a couple of cafes with a new drawing and climbed up the Calzada Fuertes to the top of the hill, enjoyed the wooded park and spent time in the Cafe York again.  It turns out this is not a university campus after all but a type of conference centre.  It is also the site of the victory of Mexico over the French after they ruled the country for I think two years in 1862.  Can you imagine how different things would be now had the French stayed.  Chili con poutine, anyone?  Actually I might try making that, I'll bet it would taste great.  I did have a run in with the two vicious daschunds belonging to an obnoxious spoiled rich kid, you know, the kind we have in Vancouver.  They always wear designer sunglasses and talk in a kind of whiny sneer redolent of a life of privilege and entitlement.  It's a wonder they have any friends at all, but these kinds of people usually have tons of friends, all of them as vile and obnoxious as they are. I stood still to wait for the dogs to lose interest and leave and instead of kicking or trying to chase them off I simply addressed their owner calmly, in Spanish, to please call off his dogs.  Of course he didn't apologize after so I simply said ''Desculpas aceptadas'' or apologies accepted, which is a passive aggressive but very useful way of calling someone an asshole without having to use the word.
     After spending more than an hour in this lovely cafe I took a walk on a road that circumnavigates the entire hill commanding quite the view of Puebla and the surrounding region.  The air quality seems better today and walking is a lot easier.

Puebla, Day Twelve

I have reached that point in my journey where I am counting the days till when I get to go home.  Twelve remaining if you must ask.  Yes, I am sick of Puebla, sick of Mexico, taking the dog, love Dorothy.  When I return to Coyoacan I will likely feel a bit better since unlike Puebla I love Coyoacan.  Puebla has been a disappointment and I really think two weeks is too long to stay here but I likely won't be returning so it is just as well.  I decided to stay here for two weeks because of all the postive hype I have been hearing about this city.  I wasn't warned about 1. the lack of green space, 2. the horrible traffic, 3. the visible poverty and disgraceful condition of many of the neighbourhoods, 4. the dreadful air pollution.  This is not my idea of a liveable city regardless of the reputation as a world heritage site.  The old buildings are beautiful, some breathtakingly so, and the magnificent old churches?  In a recent post I mentioned there are at least as many beautiful heritage churches in Puebla as there are Starbucks in Vancouver.  Well, I think now there must be more churches here than Starbucks in Vancouver.  Today on my travels I stopped in at least seven of them. Rather a lovely, contemplative way of conducting my personal tour of this city while exploring hidden corners still unknown to me, and this aspect does help compensate for my general sense of disenchantment with this city.
     So some of you must be shaking your heads and wondering why this poor masochist has opted to spend so much time in Mexico, given his sense of disenchantment.  The answer is quite simple.  One month of Spanish immersion is perfect for improving my proficiency in Spanish.  This is in a way a working holiday for me and not only do I use Spanish at work but it has become a wonderful way of expanding my mind and opening my horizons, plus, it absolutely rocks being fluent in another language.  Maybe I should try other Spanish speaking countries you say.  There are quite a few.  And yes, I am thinking of this but everything has to square with my income and budget.  Did I tell you that I'm working poor? and this of course makes Mexico the most affordable option for me right now but that doesn 't mean that I won't consider other countries.  I should also add that two years ago what I owed nearly a thousand in taxes as well as needing necessary dental work, including a very expensive root canal and crown, along with being so down in my hours at work for a while that it nearly created a poverty crisis for me, my bank account took quite a beating for a while.  I am trusting that if things go better this year that maybe I will go somewhere else.
    In the meanwhile Mexico is not without its charm and I could see myself easily spending more time in the future in Coyoacan and in Mexico City, but I am taking this all year by year.  It also might be nice to spend a couple of entire years again at home in Vancouver so I can appreciate afresh the whole annual cycle of the seasons.  And pine for Mexico?  Pathetic, eh? No matter where you go, there you are, or more accurately, no matter where you are, there you go!

Puebla, Day Eleven

I went to Cholula today, which is a town near Puebla famous for it's great pyramid.  You would never guess it to see it because it has been covered with dirt, trees and scrub for centuries.  On top of it a church was built in 1596, part of the trend of the Spanish to repurpose ritual sites in the Americas.  The pyramid is larger than the Great Pyramid of Egypt.  It is 180 feet high and 1300 feet square at the base. I climbed up to the top, tiring but not exhausting to visit the church which makes up for its lack of size by the lavish ornamentation inside.  Gold everywhere.  Following this I went through the labyrinth of subterranean tunnels underneath. There are five miles of these tunnels and the ones open to the public are much shorter.  They are very narrow with a low ceiling and a triangular shape.  I hit my head once and also my shoulder.  I was offered a guide for an extra five pesos but I declined, partly because it is easy to get pesoed to death here and also because I wanted to do it alone, to really get a sense of how the place feels.  I afterward looked at some of the excavated ruins at the bottom of one slope of the pyramid and tried to get a sense of how this complex must have looked in its complete glory.  I tried to envision how different things would have been had the Spanish invaders not destroyed these buildings of remarkable beauty and purpose and how different Mexico would be now had they treated the indiginous people with respect.  Of course they might have also convinced the Aztecs etc. that maybe they could replace human sacrifice with offerings of flowers and fruits and in exchange refrain from burning and butchering anyone who did not accept their version of the Christian faith.
     The bus ride was cheap, seven and a half pesos or around sixty cents.  The seats were cramped but nicely upholstered and the ride generally not at all friendly for those prone to motion sickness.
Late this morning I had breakfast in the usual place.  I saw whom I thought was the owner but when I asked it turned out she is the owner's mother so in a way, yes , she is the de facto owner.  She would be in her fifties, I guess, with extreme red hair and the personality to match.  Yesterday she looked downright frightening as she was giving orders to one of the waiters to clean a table.  Today I told her how much I like having breakfast in her restaurant and how nice and friendly and great to chat with her waiters are.  Three of them heard me and were smiling ear to ear and I winked at them.

Puebla, Day Ten

This is turning out to be a much more pleasant, more enjoyable day.  Yesterday it was very hot, the air pollution was high (I heard on the local news that the air pollution is the worst it's been in history, and given the way I tire easily walking any great distance with the thin air and high altitude factored in, I do believe them).  It is also difficult to write on my blog these days because one of the hotel guests (hell is other hotel guests) has been monopolizing the computer room with first and third party skyping and this to me is the height of inconsideration.  However, I am wearing earplugs and I just asked him in polite Spanish to please lower his voice.  I have also just found that being assertive is paying off, and I also sense him to be a gentleman anyway (some of us are).
     As I was saying yesterday all in all was a misery for me and I found myself pining for the rainy cool weather of Vancouver and everything else I love about my city.  Also, the crowds everywhere in Puebla were intolerable.  I kind of made it worse for myself because I went to a local supermarket in search of bananas and chocolate bars.  The chocolate bars I got on special but, can you believe this?  they had no bananas. This is Mexico and they had no bananas!!??  So I took the long trek to a different supermarket where, yes, they had bananas, but no public washroom, neither anywhere in the mall so let's just say I had to be very valiant on the long walk back until I found refuge in one of the local Italian Coffee Companies, that local cafe chain that is like Puebla's Starbuck's substitute.
     Today is El Dia de Benito Juarez which celebrates a president from the nineteenth century, Benito Juarez who among other things separated church and state so it is a public holiday here in Mexico.  Speaking of churches I have noticed, and I am not employing hyperbole here, that there are more baroque churches here in Puebla than there are Starbucks in Vancouver.  And all of the breathtaking splendour of their era.  Puebla itself I am noticing to be quite rough around the edges.  This is not a glamorous berg by any stretch of the imagination, but quite a working class town.
     Today I wandered around in some new territory, frequently slipping into very rough and potentially unsafe neighbourhoods and I am discovering here in Puebla that the neighbourhoods are like microclimates and there are so many different kinds.  I was going to sit by that beautiful tiled fountain again in the park but there was a young man seated there already with his pit bull, and though I have nothing against pit bulls in general I always try to err on the side of safety when travelling so I exited the park and wandered through a very rundown neighbourhood that had a kind of rough beauty about it.  I didn't stay very long because it didn't feel safe, returned to the park where a family had taken the place of the young man and pit bull but then they left when they saw me coming so maybe they didn't feel very safe around this strange looking white guy? Who only knows.  So, I stayed for quite a while and worked on a drawing but kept my materials in my bag so I would be able to leave quickly, just in case.  After a while I felt that strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck, turned around and noticed a rough looking type seated just behind me.  That is when I packed up my knapsack and left as quickly as possible.  I have noticed that, given my experience in emergencies at work that I could do this very calmly and efficiently without panic or fear.  So, I sat instead in a coffee shop nearby where I continued to draw.
     I wandered some more aftertward, discovering a really cool looking area with brightly coloured buildings and churches, of course, and almost a festive sense in the air.  I sat in another park in the shade by a fountain and from the corner of my eye noticed a couple in their fifties being very tender and romantic, as though they were each other's first love, and who knows?

Puebla, Day Nine

I was reminded today of why it is often better to spend Sunday in Mexico in your hotel room, that is if you don't like crowds.  That's right. Sunday here is family day writ large and it is very difficult to make one's way through the crowds, especially given what slow walkers Mexicans usually are.  Nothing else worth reporting, just a generally unpleasant day full of noise.

Puebla, Day Eight

I went out today for comida, the afternoon meal, with the family of a friend who lives there, him, his wife and their two children.  There is nothing like sharing a meal with a Mexican family to get an idea of how central and important family is in this culture.  There are a lot of craft and book vendors out in the squares and pedestrian malls, this being Saturday.  I nearly succumbed and bought something then reminded myself that even when I am travelling I am on a budget.  There are also a lot of live street theatre events in and around the zocalo, for example three men dressed as clowns doing a comedy skit.  Everyone seems to live outside here. I seem to always return to eating enchiladas after sampling other fare here.  I am afraid that when I think of Mexican food enchiladas spring to mind before anything else.  I have never eaten an enchilada that I didn't like.  It is the one Mexican dish I would happily die while eating (not necessarily from eating.)
     I asked my friend why in Mexico they paint all the tree trunks white.  They do look rather absurd, as though they are teenage boys wearing white tube socks.  He said it's calcium based white wash to prevent the spread of disease.
     One of the hotel staff asked me if I would change a large bill for him, 500 pesos or $40 Canadian.  I did it willingly but I kind of wonder about the professionalism in this kind of transaction and I know that it is often difficult to change large bills in this country except in a bank, so I am going to stash the 500 pesos note with the money I expect to bring back with me, or blow it all on books.

Puebla, Day Seven

I wandered into the wealthy section of Puebla.  It was the trees.  Rich neighbourhoods tend to have a lot of trees and Puebla is no exception and I tend to be attracted to trees.  So, when I saw that silly looking mansion that looked like a cross between the Alhambra, a mosque and a sultan's palace I knew I was in a different 'hood.  I wandered up an uphill road to the top of the hill, quite a climb, but what a view and came across a big forested partk (more like open woodland) next to a universtiy campus.  Nothing near the scale of the forest of Pacific Spirit Park but still a nice relief after a lot of city.  There is a cafe there, The York Cafe (good Spanish name, eh?) with lots of windows and a view of the city.  I stayed there for maybe over an hour working on a drawing.  When I descended the hill I stopped in a park with a fountain surrounded by benches decorated in coloured tiles and began to resume work on the drawing.  Shortly after a young couple stopped to chat and seemed interested in my artwork.  They are very young and engaged.  She works in a department store and he is studying graphic design and showed me his sketch book.  A very talented drawer.  We must have visited for around a half hour or so.  Then I wandered back into town, made like a tourist and bought a sarape at the craft market.

Puebla, Day Six

I brought two pairs of shoes with me on this trip.  A pair of decent black walking shoes and some beat up old runners that are visibly falling apart.  Until today I have been wearing exclusively the runners, since they are very comfortable and my feet like them, but as I said they are looking beat up so today, almost two weeks into my trip, I switched to the walking shoes.  Oh, they are very comfortable shoes that wear well and still have a long life span ahead of them, but it took one chance encounter to remind me that it is better to wear the beat up runners: a street shoe shiner began to pursue me.  It wasn't really that bad, he wasn't rude or aggressive, just a good natured pest.  I finally managed to politely put him off, but turned onto a side street  to dode him just in case.  So, I am back to the runners.  There is a part of Puebla that is made up of connecting squares, plazas and pedestrian walkways and they never seem to be very crowded and have decent looking shops and cafes and... trees!  I have finally come across a street in this part of town with trees.  I revisted the craft and artisan market and one of the merchants was very eager to sell me a sarape, even offering me a discount.  I do like the sarape, but even on a vacation I avoid impulse buying. Understanding that he needs to make a living I am probably going to buy it at it's original price, since even then I would likely be paying double for it in Canada. There are very beautiful wares on sale here for a pittance and even someone as austere and cost conscious as me has to take care not to overspend on stuff I am not going to need.  Besides, the real wealth of being here is not in the stuff that gets bought but the act of being here.
     I am thinking today that there are a lot of things that Vancouver and Puebla need to learn from each other.  I think Vancouver could do a lot more to beautify some of its major streets much as they are here in Puebla and elsewhere in Mexico.  I have this image of Kingsway, a particularly ugly traffic thoroughfare that bisects our city being given a broad meridian boulevard planted with trees and gardens with a pedestrian walkway and a bike path down the middle and an electric street car line on both sides.  I also would love to see more colour in Vancouver, brightly painted building facades and more beautifully appointed public
squares and thoroughfares for pedestrians and cyclists.  Puebla, on the other hand could use a major upgrading on its infrastructrure, better traffic lights that are pedestrian friendly, better sidewalks and more done for senior ladies so that they don´t have to beg on the street to survive.

Puebla, Day Five

It's been a mixed day but still more enjoyable than not.  I took a long hike into a new area on a carreterra that made me think of Kingsway beautified, given the meridian boulevard with jacaranda trees in full purple blossom.  I came across a mall with a supermarket where I stopped to buy nuts, bananas and chocolate bars, by which one might infer that I'm a bit nuts, going bananas and really need my chocolate, which altogether isn't far from the truth.  I wandered as far as the river, then made my way back on a side street where I sat in a cafe full of comfy chairs for an Italian soda where I did some more drawing and had a nice chat in Spanish with the young lady serving me.  It seems that a lot of people respond well to art here and when they see what I'm doing they often want to visit more.  This for me brings to mind the whole redemptive property of art, that making art in a way is part of recreating life and the world and establishing the Kingdom of God on earth (no I haven't been smoking anything.  Why would you ever ask?  I actually seriously believe this.)  I did have a couple of less than pleasant encounters: early today with the entrance to the casa de Cultura, which is a beautiful place with an art show that is free on the main floor and a pleasant patio garden.  The unpleasantness came when neither the security guard (they all tend to be grumpy assholes here) or the old man watching over their heritage library would give me clear instructions about paying for my ticket to get in upstairs.  He just told me to check my knapsack, so I did and on the lady's advice I put it in a locker.  Then when I went back into the library the same little old man told me that I still have to pay for my ticket, this while two other white tourists, two women were standing there wearing their backpacks and he didn't seem to be noticing much.  So I just said I'm leaving, got my knapsack and left.
     Then later this afternoon I stopped in the university bookstore to brouse and maybe buy something.  Both the idiots working there rudely ordered me to surrender my bags at the front counter.  So in eloquent Spanish I told them that I am not a thief, and if I can afford to travel here from Canada then I sure don't need to steal from you, and left.
    Otherwise, this city is growing on me.

Puebla, Day Four

     I seem to be acquiring more or less a routine here.  I got up decently early (at seven) and decently well-rested, I think thanks to the young guy on staff who turned the lights out in the patio making it much easier to stay asleep.  My little room faces an indoor courtyard with a makeshift roof.  Because there is a transom window over my door with only a flimsy curtain it admits light freely and waking up at three am to that kind of glare is not for the faint hearted nor for the light sleeper.  My room is dominated by a bed that sleeps three (don´t get any ideas!) covered with a zebra stripe counterpane against a purple wall.  I am not making this up!  It  suggests a man cave, circa 1980 or so.  Bring your own Iron Maiden.  The ceiling is high, probably at least fourteen feet and is brick with seven wooden beams.  There is a small fridge, microwave and sink as well as a decent size bathroom.  There is also a tv that works okay with plenty of Spanish progamming (oh yeah.  We´re in Mexico!) I actually like this room.  It is quiet and a lovely place to retreat to in the evenings despite the small size.  The staff here are also really nice.
     I did a walk this morning into one of the many poorer areas.  This is inevbitable here in Puebla and I have come to accept it as an important reality check, along with the beggars and the demonstrations for human rights and yesterday in the zocalo for women's rights.  The arquitecture is beautiful but there is a sense of squalor and borderline desperation in these neighbourhoods as the inhabitants struggle their butts off to survive.  I ended up back at the zocalo in the usual restaurant for breakfast.  It is a good deal.  Scrambled eggs with cheese, a plate of fresh fruit, French bread with honey and orange juice all for around seven dollars Canadian.  Along with two churros, which are like donuts only long, straight and kind of twisted covered with sugar and cinammon.  Very nice actually.  This breakfast usually lasts me till dinner.  The waiters here are also pleasant and like to chat which is great for my Spanish needs.  And it is my tendency when I travel to select places that will be regular hangouts so that I can get better acquainted with some of the staff.  As well as the Spanish practice I learn tonnes of information about the area and Mexican life and culture. One fellow, one of the waiters, is a rather streetwise looking guy in his late forties I would say who wears a black bandana on his head along with the black uniform has become particularly friendly.  I imagine that he was quite a party guy in his youth and probably had quite a few fathers and mothers worried about their young daughters. This morning he was telling me all about pulque, the traditional Aztec beverage and all its great health and tonic benefits. Among its other virtues, he told me, it is supposed to increase sperm content (in men I berlieve) and he told me about one notable fellow he knows who credits this legendary elixir with having fathered thirty-six children by four mothers.  The things one can hear at breakfast.
     I had one bit of unpleasantness while breakfasting from this fellow playing a small tinny sounding harp who wanted to serenade me with Mexican folk tunes, for a fee of course, whether I liked it or not.  I told him politely that I would rather enjoy my breakfast.  He didn´t get it.  Then I said I would prefer some quiet please while enjoying my breakfast.  He insisted on staying.  Then I said, please leave me in peace so I can enjoy my breakfast.  He still wouldn´t budge so I raised my voice just a little and said, ''¡Vaya!'' or get lost, and he left.  Oh the look he gave me!  On the other hand I know he needs to make a living and life here is a struggle, but you know something?  Life is also a struggle for me and being a white tourist, as I mentioned to Armando the waiter, doesn´t mean that I have money falling out of my ass.
     I wandered into a pleasant area of pedestrian malls and squares with lots of antique shops and stumbled across this wonderful cafe where I must have spent more than an hour working on a drawing.  It´s name is Cafe All Day (I an not making this up) and it has about four or five separate rooms and courtyards with comfy chairs surrounding round tables.  Where I sat there is a fountain with a buddha head and a waterfall and when the sun shines through the skylight the falling water is beautifully illuminated.  There is also a local chain of Mexican  coffee shops called the Little Italian Coffee Company which are as numerous here in Puebla as Starbucks in Vancouver.  I have been inside a couple and they are nice and I would say nicer than Starbucks.

Puebla, Day Three

I took a walk into what I think is the south end of Puebla. Except for the direction of the sun it is difficult to maintain a sense of direction here even though the streets are laid out in grid pattern, making it hard to get lost here.  I felt compelled by what appeared to be trees in the distance.  I have mentioned already that this city has a tree deficit and I love trees.  I cannot have enough of them and I often wish I could live in a forest. I stopped in a park that has...TREES!!!.  Not a lot of them and it is right next to a thoroughfare so there are tonnes of traffic, but they were still lovely to see along with the bougainvillea bushes that look rather like azaleas.  I wandered from there into a poor rundown neighbourhood.  I felt no sense of menace while there and noticed how well dressed and well groomed the locals were.  On the way back I took a different street which happened to be the site of a university: Universidad Angelopolis, or The University of the City of Angels, I suppose.  Strange it is to see a university situated right next to a slum, but this I have also noticed in Mexico City so I wonder if I see a pattern here.  I also came across a huge craft and artesinal market and a humongous church which was open.  The interior seemed quite stark and austere but the height of the vaulted ceiling must have been that of a five or six storey buuilding.  It also sprawled and rambled into two other conjoined chapels, one rather ornate in the Baroque sense.  I did stop by a book stall and purchased a couple of novels in Spanish, both thrillers, brand new at a very cheap price, approximately eight dollars Canadian for both.
     I have noticed that tourists are very easy to identify in Mexico by one simple feature.  All the men are wearing capri pants and sandals and flip flops.  Mexican men very rarely dress this way.

Puebla Day Two

This morning I had breakfast with a bee.  It was not a wasp, but a honey bee, a little bit on the large side so I believe I was breakfasting with the Queen Bee.  I was sitting outside under the colonaded gallery that surrounds the zocalo this morning having breakfast in one of the many restaurants while the cathedral on the other side was pealing bells that sounded almost like thunder.  People were playing music and games in the park and again I saw young people engaged in tossing colour hoops in the air.  The bee wanted to see what I was eating and paused to sip my hot chocolate.  I don´t mind.  She is a bee and I can´t tell you how many times I have eaten honey in my life.
     On my way back to the hotel a middle aged man called after me, crossing the street in my direction: ¨Guero, soy de Colombia y busco una mujer mexicana.  ¿Me ayudas? (Hey, white guy, I´m from Colombia and I want to find a Mexican woman.  Can you help me? ¨  I replied, ¨´Sir, please bother someone else¨, and returned promptly to my hotel.  Then a friend who lives here came around to pick me up and we went to a restaurant in a different neighbourhood.  Later, after he dropped me off at my hotel I went for a long walk that took me through a rather poor, hardscrabble part of Puebla.  I am noticing that despite the visible beauty of so much of the architecture that there remains a lot of poverty in this city.  I stopped again in many of the churches and their beauty and opulence would suggest an inverted Baroque wedding cake. I stopped at the library museum complex which is situated in what appears to have been once a convent or monastery.  There were three fully armed soldiers with machine guns guarding the place and to get in I had to check my bag and sign in.  I have never visited a library (which was no hell, by the way) under such close security.  I stopped again at the zocalo where there were a lot of music events taking place and underneath the colonaded gallery there were musicians playing old Latin classics to which a group of seniors was happily dancing as though they were still in their prime.  One of them, a gal who looked as though she had just had a very successful visit to the cosmetic surgeon was playfully and capriciously waving her bright red fan while twirling with her partner.
      I had dinner again at the vegetarian restaurant, not quite so noisy this time and I didn´t need earplugs but still pretty bad.  However the food is so good and cheap that I just simply remember to bring earplugs with me should I need them.

Puebla, Day One

Well, I got here, as I am often fond of saying.  It wasn´t at all difficult.  I had an overpriced but delicious breakfast at La Pause then returned to my guest house to finish packing and clear away all my personal detritus, to make it a bit nicer for the good person cleaning my room.  I return there in two weeks.  I had a half hour wait for my taxi and passed the time seated in the patio where I began a new drawing and chatted with the owner´s graddaughter, a girl of about four.  She likes animals and drawing and showed me some of her drawings.  Seems like a very bright, very honest kind of kid.  Funny, I am not into kids but I tend to take them more one by one, the way I take adults.  The cab driver was really nice and is quite used to gringo passengers practicing their Spanish with him.  In the bus terminal I had a hell of a time getting into the pay washroom with my luggage because the turnstyle is very narrow and twice, on the way in and out the same gentleman helped pass my backpack over the turnstyle for me.  Note to self: next time pee before you get in the cab.
     The sprawl that is Mexico City is something undescribable and must already be the stuff of legend.  On the outskirts there are many really sad looking slums.  The landscape towards Puebla is quite lovely with lots of open fields and pine forests and hills.  Entering Puebla itself was a bit of a sad experience.  As with Mexico City Puebla appears to be ringed with slums and even as the congenial cabdriver drove me to my hotel a lot of it seemed rough and hardscrabble till we moved towards the city centre.
     The city itself has breathtakingly beautiful heritage architecture.  As soon as I checked into my hotel I went out to find a vegetarian restauant, following the cab driver´s directions.  It is on a rather elegant boulevard called Avenida Juarez and goes uphill.  I passed the restaurant.  It is called la Zanahoria (or the Carrot.  Go figure!).  It seemed a little early to eat so I continued walking uphill determined to stop only once I reached a white domed church at the top of the hill.  The church itself is closed but there is a memorial plaza, called the National Flag Memorial with a huge Mexican flag waving above.  It is at the top of the hill and I think it might be one of the highest points in Puebla.  There was a youth group of maybe a dozen or more teenagers there playing a game with multi-colour hoops.  One of them was also carrying a large wooden cross shrouded on top by what seemed like sack cloth.
     On the way back down the hill I stopped for a bite in la Zanahoria.  The food was delicious but the ambience crowded and so noisy that I had to wear earplugs.  I´m still going back.  The food is good, economical and I don´t mind wearing earplugs while eating.  From there I walked towards the zocalo and visited the cathedral.  There was a mass going on and I didn´t want to stay because it was already getting dark and I am new here so not really wanting to get lost at night.  The crowds on the pedestrian mal were incredible and this kind of reminds me of just why I usually don't go out Saturday evenings while I´m in Mexico.

Budgeting And Other Thrilling Stuff

Yes, travelling on a budget. What fun. Someone asked me the day before I went on my trip if I was going to see shows and concerts while in Mexico City and Puebla.  I said no, but really even if I wanted to, I would likely blow my entire travel budget in a week, so it is a good thing for me that night life and entertainment are not high on my list of priorities while I´m on vacation.  In fact, I make myself stay within a very strict budget and still make sure that I am having a fairly good time.  This year I have figured that, including meals, transportation, internet cafes and the odd treat or surprise I would be spending a bit less than forty bucks or four hundred pesos a day.  I have brought enough money to ensure that I can easily blow seven hundred pesos or around sixty dollars every day, after hotel costs, but I am still limiting myself to five hundred pesos max, the hundred pesos a day that I save I am reserving for transportation costs to Puebla and back and the likelihood that I will be spending a bit more while in Puebla on museums and other sites of public interest.  I also plan to spend some of that on books in Spanish that I plan to bring home to Vancouver with me.  The extra funds otherwise are in case of emergency, otherwise I hope I have enough left over when I get home to nicely fatten my bank account.  It isn´t at all a pain or drudgery maintaining this budget, in case you are wondering.  It does help me to stay grounded, and anyway I already know that during my last couple of weeks I will have horded enough to spend on some things I might really enjoy.
     One thing I really try to maintain while I´m abroad is a level head and I really ensure that my natural good common sense hasn´t been forgotten in Vancouver or left to languish in my suitcase.  Especially when travelling alone in a poorer country where I am a racially visible minority, and one that is generally assumed to be stinking rich, I try to watch my back at all times while still appearing and feeling relaxed and at home.  It is a balance that I can easily strike because I try to use a kind of prayerful mindfulness, or an ongoing awareness of my surroundings and of my own interior state. This also helps me stay calm and centred.  For those of my younger, or simply immature, readers who like to get stinkin`wasted when you´re on vacacion, all I can say is more power to you, but make good and sure you have health insurance and easy access to your national embassy because if you are not careful you just might need them.
     It´s been altogether a pleasant day.  I am back inside that nice cybercafe where they play classical music (Vivaldi and I think Brahms right now, but it could be Schumann. In fact I think it is Schumann.)  I had a really decent and full night`s sleep last night, attended mass at San Jaun Bautista, went for breakfast at the usual cafe where they serve up a decent Manchego cheese omelete with fresh squeezed orange juice, coffee and baguette all for the tune of around five bucks Canadian.  And the people there are nice and they seem to like my art or at least they are really fine with me wasting a couple of hours in there working on a drawing.  I later did a walk in Los Viveros, then took the Metro into Mexico City where I sat in another familiar cafe with my art while enjoying coffee and chocolate cake, after which I walked on Reforma into Chapultepec Park and sat for a while again in the Audorama which was strangely silent today.  Then I went for a walk in the park, stopping at the lake with the Gator-Aid green water where there are now seven white egrets hanging out. There used to be just two.  They are a delight to behold and I think I will be drawing or painting them again soon. I also stopped by an excavated Aztec ruin in the park of the stone structure to conduct from three springs at the foot of the Chapultepec Castle through aqueducts the water supply for the city before the Spanish conquest.  Odd, isn´t it, how advanced a civilization can be in so many things yet think nothing of performing ritual human sacrifice to keep the sun shining, or from burning witches and heretics in honour of a Lord and Saviour who would have utterly condemned this kind of practice, or send their sons and daughters to fight other people`s battles in foreign countries and I promise to go no further with this theme...
     Tomorrow I leave for Puebla.

Cats

This post isn´t really about cats, but I did see three on my explorations and even to see one in a day in Mexico City is a bit unusual, especially given that the cats were almost identically coloured.  I saw two while wandering through the rather charming mews of an otherwise nondescript and boring but for the wonderful flowers middle-brow sort of neighbourhood, just following a visit to one of their humongous supermarkets.  It dominates a mall and is called ¨Mega¨and for good reason.  Try and imagine, if you will, the Great Canadian Superstore, but with two floors, each the size of a single Superstore.  Yeah...Big.  I bought two 220 mg. bags of mixed dried fruit and nuts to help sustain me on my first couple of days in Puebla as I figure out where to eat there.  This preemptive bringing concentrated food, like the cashews I bought Saturday at theVancouver airport, has turned out to be a very good idea and this is really keeping me from going hungry.
     Back to the cats.  While wandering through the mews I noticed a large lanky long-haired cat, white with a dark bushy tail and face, not quite like a Siamese, approach a young father and son enjoying a snack together seated on a stone embankment.  Lying next to them on the embankment was an identical cat, probably the other cat´s sibling.  The dad called the first cat over who came to sit with them for a while.
A bit later, in a park, a young couple were seated together on the grass when a very thin looking stray cat approached them.  The young man had a tin of cat food which he promptly presented to the cat.  This cat, although a short hair, was identically coloured to the two long haired cats I saw a bit earlier.  Just before, I went for a walk through the labyrinth of winding streets cobbled with stones like beach rocks in a very well- to-do neighbourhood of San Angel, the town right next to Coyoacan.  I stopped there in a small chapel that I have previously written about in earlier trips.  A man caretaking the place told me that it is nearly six hundred years old.  the interior is gorgeous with a lavish gold-plated altar set off beautifully with the purple cloth of the Lenten season.
     As I continued my walk I came across two young, very thuggish looking men, and couldn´t really figure out why they were in this neighbourhood as they didn´t appear to be working there.  They might have been casing the ´hood for possibilities for break-ins. Anyway the vibe didn´t feel at all good so I let them continue walking ahead of me and I took a different route.  Then, when I left the neighbourhood I saw them again coming towards me.  Not wanting to take unnecessary chances I walked ahead of them quickly and turned onto a crowded street where I disappeared into a book store.  The two guys might have been completely innocuous but I have my doubts and, as a white visitor, I know that I could be perceived as an easy target here in Mexico, so I am watching my back.
     I had a great dinner in a rather hip eatery near my guest house, then, on my way to this cybercafe (not a bad place this one, they play classical music, eapecially Vivaldi, and the vibe is relaxed, quiet and respectful, and their rates are super cheap).  As I was walking past the square I noticed again a crowd of nearly a hundred or so locals yelling, banging and whistling, with a few riot police on standby so I asked one of them what´s going on.  He told me with a rather weary and cynical expression, that it was another protest against parking metres.  I smiled, shook my head then walked on.

Santa Maria Ribera

It is a challenge writing this blog in internet cafes, especially in this small corner store where space is limited and everyone is in my face but this is part of coping and adapting to a different culture.  Mexicans seem to be a lot more tolerant of noise and space than Canadians.  I think that this is because they are a much more social and family oriented people and so they are better accustomed to closeness and noise and to put it bluntly less spoiled than we are.  There is also no point saying anything to anyone because I am the foreigner and I have some anecdotal evidence that there is some racism here against gueros, or white people.  But this is to be expected here because this is a mono-culture and they have absolutely no concept of multiculturalism as we know it in Canada.  For my part I let it pass and really work at being kind and respectful, even though my first instinct might be to bitch-slap, but this has never turned out well so I really try not to do this any more.
     This morning I visited the Church of Saint John the Baptist (parroquia de San Juan Bauptista) where a tall austere looking Franciscan priest dressed in the traditional brown robe daubed ash on my forehead in observance of Ash Wednesday.  There was no service and no ceremony.  You simply walk in and there he is standing at the very front waiting for the faithful to come and receive this poignant blessing and reminder that we are made of dust and to dust we shall return.  Then I had breakfast in a cafe nearby, from where I had a view of an almost uninterrupted steam of people entering and leaving the church for the anointing of ashes.
     I spent the afternoon on and around Paseo de la Reforma, where I sat in a favourite cafe drinking coffee and eating rich chocolate cake while working on a new drawing.  Then I walked further to explore an area I learned about recently on the internet, called Santa Maria Ribera.  It is fascinating, and as soon as I got onto one of the streets I had this incredible sense of deja-vu.  I am certain that I have seen this place in several dreams.  Try to imagine, if you will, those of you  who are already familiar with Vancouver, and for those of you who are not there is always Uncle Google to ask, a combination of Main Street and Commercial Drive, before gentrification, with a slightly seedy touch of Main and Hastings, but with beautifully built and carved store fronts and building facades painted in a whole spectrum of colour, trees and sidewalk vendors and flowers and people and a certain vibrancy that gives its own light.  On the way back to Reforma I stopped in at a small cafe for a bottle of mineral water.  The young staff didn´t appear to understand my Spanish, which is odd, because I almost never have this problem, so after I apologized for my accent they could suddenly understand every word I was saying.  My theory is, I am probably one of the only white people they see around for days or even weeks on end and I might be the only one who speaks Spanish and this can be quite a lot to absorb, so of course I cut them slack.
     This evening I am going to hand-wash my dirty laundry, rinse it in the scalding hot shower in my room and hang it to dry.  The costs of the guest house doing my laundry are through the roof and the local laundry service isn't much cheaper.

Cotton Candy In The Air

I am in a cyber cafe in Polanco, that affluent district near the Museum of Anthropology.  I walked through nearby Chapultepec Park on the way and stopped to wander in the bird area of the zoo, where I saw a few of my faves, especially peacocks, including a white peacock, and a golden pheasant.  On the way out I sat on a shaded bench where I was joined by a lady pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair and the elderly gentleman she was also escorting.  We had an enjoyable chat for a while, then I went for a walk in Polanco which is full of pricey stores, restaurants and cafes.  Even in this cybercafe I am paying fifty pesos for an hour or four and a half dollars Canadian, while in Coyoacan it´s around one dollar or a dollar fifty.  Even food prices in Mexico City are almost as high as in Canada.  Given that the average income here is less than twenty grand a year I really wonder how they cope here.  I am trying to supplement the meagre portions I am eating in restaurants and cafes by buying fruit, mostly oranges or bananas, and nuts.  I have noticed that my appetite is often fairly low when I am on holidays and I will likely again be losing some weight this month.
     Taking the Metro subway here from Coyoacan wasn´t quite the endurance test that it was yesterday.  It takes getting used to but it is a wonderful way to engage with the everyday people who live here even if we don´t talk to each other.  It is a great place for people watching.  Often in the stations there are people begging, old women, indigenous women with small children, men with disabilities.  One man had so many dreadful wounds on his partially amputated legs that I would shudder to describe what I saw.
     While I was waiting for the interminably long traffic light to change while trying to cross Reforma in order to get from one part of the park to the other there was a man working with a cotton candy machine.  The breeze was causing bits and scraps of cotton candy to go flying in the air around me and other bystanders and it was kind of fun harvesting the cotton candy bits from the air and eating them.  The gentleman was kind enough to not charge us for them!  Then, on my way into Polanco I walked by once again the memorial statue of Mahatma Ghandi which accurately features every one of his ribs.  Well, he was one for power fasting, eh?  I have always deeply admired Ghandi and in many ways he has been like a role model for me, but I draw the line at fasting, especially as a way to force my will on others, though I expect his motives were considerably higher.  I do find it kind of interesting and a bit incongruous to find his memorial statue here in Mexico, given that there doesn´t appear to be a clear historical, philosophical or cultural connection here, especially given this country´s history and legacy of violence.  In a Spanish conversation group I am part of in Vancouver we were talking about the subject of peace and social justice in Latin America and that there were never any role models for peaceful resistance or protest in those countries which likely accounts for the many blood-drenched conflicts that have occurred here.

Bougainvillealand In The Morning

Yesterday I chatted for a while with two of the many police who patrol this neighbourhood from street corners.  I kept getting, well, not lost, but was looking for an internet cafe and while I was walking around later they asked me how I did and we stopped and talked for a little while.  They don´t seem to believe that the environment is in danger (this came up when in reply to the question about whether all the buildings are heated in Canada, I replied that yes, of course, it is very expensive and some areas of the country still rely a lot on fossil fuels which is not great for the environment.  While walking in Los Viveros, that big park full of trees I walked by three or four times a group of about thirty people sometimes sitting and sometimes standing in a prayer meeting.  It was rather interesting.  The woman leading would pray in short phrases and they would repeat after her.
     The couple staying in the guest house with the little girl are from Colombia (she) and Mexico (he).  We had an enjoyable chat in the kitchen.  They asked what I do so I said I´m a mental health support worker.  They both smiled and each suggested I might apply therapy to the other, but I graciously declined, replying that I´m on vacation.  Strange that it didn´t occur to me to ask what they do, since I´m usually the first to ask.  But I think it´s also because of the exotic element about being here.  I mean, that I am considered exotic because I am from a different culture and people are going to be curious.
     There is also a beautiful plaza that looks exactly the way I would envision the quintessential Mexican plaza, neatly laid out paved walkways and trees, a fountain that unfortunately doesn´t work right now and the bust on a pedestal of Raul Anguilano, Artiste Universal, El Orgullo de Mexico.  Or, Raul Anguilano (I might be misspelling his name, so Mexican readers please be patient with me) Universal Artist, the Pride of Mexico.  Yesterday in this same square someone was playing bagpipes (Scottish music, no mariachi) and I told him he played very well and that my father was Scots.  Later in this plaza there was a group of around a hundred people or so gathered round in a protest demonstration against the installation of parking meters in Coyoacan.  One lady was circulating a petition and asked me to sign.  I declined, since I´m only visiting and when I asked her if maybe the use of parking meters might help control congestion she gave me a rather pitying look, smiled and walked on.  Interesting how much I learn around here since I speak Spanish.
    I got up early this morning and went for a walk in the direction of the sun which made the pavement in front of me look like liquid light.  I stopped in the Frieda Kahlo Park.  There is a statue of her, quite large, up on a pedestal in a corner where she sits rather like an Aztec Princess.  This left me thinking about how natural it was for ancient peoples to worship the sun since without it everything that lives would perish.  I still don{t understand though why this would have led the Aztecs to practice human sacrifice.  And then the Spaniards came and instead of just stopping them from this vile practice they introduced their own form of brutality.  I wonder how things might have turned out had they all taken a more collaborative approach, say, ¨You stop sacrificing people and we´ll stop burning witches and heretics.¨
     The ambiance here is not to be missed.  These narrow streets, many with cobblestones, colourful building fronts spray painted in graffiti,  the flowers everywhere, especially the bougainvillea, so shameless in it´s gigantic sprays of magenta, scarlet, purple and golden flowers, and the people everywhere often crowding sidewalk cafes and cantinas.  I walked through a poorer area of town this morning as well but still, everything festooned with colour.

First Day In Coyoacan

I have twenty minutes to write this and no time to send it to everyone so I hope you will all have the resourcefulness to look it up here on my blog.  I am also doing this inside a noisy internet cafe and it is hard to concentrate and the guest house where I am staying does not provide computer access for guests which seems a little bit limiting to say the least.  My flight went well.  The passenger on my left (I was in a middle seat.   not so bad, really) kept wanting to engage me in conversation and I really don´t mind this.  I know that most people are antisocial grouches when they are on airplains and hate it when the person next to them wants to strike  even a minimum of conversation but I say to all you misanthropic grouches, please get over yourselves.  There is nothing wrong with being friendly and acccomodating towards strangers and actually an awful lot that is right about it.  This person I at first wrote off as a young jock but he appeared to have a brain and an interest in talking about a wide range of topics.   His parents are Libyan and he grew up Muslim.  He works in the oil patch in Alberta and seems to have mixed feelings about making a living off of environmental devastation.  Mind you, these days, I am increasingly treating perfect strangers and almost everyone else like they´re my clients so everything goes a little more smoothly these days in my interractions with folks.
Coyoacan is beautiful and my room is big and peacful with a view of the garden.  There is a larege communal kitchen but there is a young family staying there right now and I kind of want to give them space, and besides I have already budgeted for eating out.  There are big towering trees everywhere and brightly coloured building facades and walls festooned with multihued bougainvillea.  Many of the walls, unfortunately are also adorned with tag graffiti. The couple who own the bed and breakfast are a pleasant middle aged couple, but seem quite absent from the premises.  The mother of one of them, a tiny anciana (little old lady) is a lovely, friendly lady.  They also have an affectionate golden retriever dog.
I attended mass in the parroquia San Juan Bautista, that magnificent and huge baroque church that I have already bored everyone about.
I expect to send the afternoon walking around.