What's Next? 48 Mexico 2012

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The breakfasts here at the Red Tree House are huge, varied and sumptuous.  If I'm up early enough I have a routine that I call a staggered breakfast.  I begin with a glass of fresh orange juice by which time I am usually chatting with one or two other guests at the table.  Sometimes, but not every morning, I will have coffee.  Then I dish myself a generous plate of fruit, usually papaya and canteloupe and occasionally pineapple and another glass of orange juice.  Following this I have a banana and one or two small containers of yogurt, strawberry or mango or peach or whatever's available.  Then I help myself to a croissante with butter and jam after which I am served a cooked dish from the kitchen, be it an omelette or eggs Mexican style or enchilada or other dishes with black beans, tortilla chips and cheese.  This keeps me going for the day and generally I don't eat again until dinner. Today I did a staggered walk through two sections of Chapultepec Park and into Las Lomas, the wealthy area.  I didn't feel much like walking so I rested several times on park benches and had a lovely time sitting in the shade in the Audiorama, that grotto where they play music, classical today.  I took a slightly different route through the park and discovered a small wooded island surrounded by a canal.  It was very busy with people today, being Sunday.  In Las Lomas, while resting on a bench in a small park, a man tried to sell me a couple of book marks for around twelve bucks Canadian but it seemed a bit high so I turned him down.  Then, after I started walking again, an old man accosted me to tell me what a complete liar he thinks their president Felipe Calderon is, and I told him that at in Canada we have his clone, Steve, in Ottawa.  Interesting chat and he was intrigued that I would reject the true Catholic faith to be an Anglican but we managed to avoid getting into an argument about religion.  On the way back I stopped for a cold drink, a Mocha Frappe in Cafe Havanna which is probably the best of it's  kind I have ever had anywhere, then took the Metro back to the hotel hoping to beat the rain.  I didn't and got reasonably wet on  the walk from the station.  On the train I got confused about my stop while having a conversation with the fellow sitting next to me.  We were talking about multiculturalism in  Canada.  So I had to change trains at the next station but still did okay.  The station I started at in Polanco was extremely hot.  It felt like around forty degrees, but the next station felt cool and fresh. The rain today and the hail yesterday are considered very unusual here for this time of year so there seems to be climate change happening here.  However it is making the air fresh and very breathable. Back in the hotel I had some interesting chats with other guests about life in Mexico City.  I mentioned that it's a shame that so many have to struggle here to make a livelihood, for example, having to hawk pens or gum or cd's or whatever on the subway but another guest said that at least everyone gets to participate and contribute.  I wasn't in the mood for a political discussion so I kept my mouth shut, but I would hardly call having to hawk stuff on public transit work with dignity though I'm sure some must be good at it and might even enjoy it.  I met some more interesting guests, among them a young musician from Montreal who has made Los Cabos her base and seems very excited about her new life here in Mexico. I am starting to think more about my upcoming trip to Chiapas for two weeks beginning this Thursday where I will not be as spoilt as I am here at the Red Tree House so it's going to be different. I am especially looking  forward to seeing the Mayan ruins of Palenque

I've been sleeping later than usual and I arrive for breakfast during the last half hour when there aren't as many other guests present.  I sat at the main table but the woman from Delaware was holding court telling everyone what they wanted and didn't want to know about her rug business so I moved to the smaller table were there was a guest from Nicaragua who doesn't speak English and a Canadian and an American.  I sat with Maria and we began to talk in Spanish, then the Canadian left and the American tried to engage me in English so I asked him if he speaks Spanish, which he does, so the three of us could all visit in Spanish which helped Maria feel included. Then she left, Steve and I switched back to English and tried to solve the world's problems.  We both see the Occupy movement as the first whisper of some major public resistance and social change that may be headed our way in both our countries.  Later I went to Bougainvillea Land or San Angel where I wondered around on cobblestoned streets faced by walls festooned with bougainvillea and through a couple of parks, then walked into Coyoacan where I got lost in the various winding streets and lanes.  I saw some interesting murals, one featuring two images of Frida Kalho,  one where her head is superimposed on the body of a deer.  Various strangers helped me find my way back when I was lost, then at the metro station a man holding a baby helped me get my ticket right so I could insert it in the turnstile, and on the train I saw a young man get up and offer his seat to a young mother with a  baby.  When I emerged from the metro we were hit by a mammoth hail and thunder storm so I had to take shelter under an awning with a group of people.  When the storm lightened a bit I  ran across the street into a big diner type restaurant where I ate some of the best enchiladas I have had here.  The place reminds me a little of some of the original Vancouver diners before they were taken over and hipsterized to death.  The waitress was also very kind and when I left she stuck her head out the door and said come again.  By this time the storm was over but the damage has been done and some streets are flooded. I just had a great visit and interesting conversation with other guests in the living room, including a couple from Vancouver (Surrey) and their son and another couple from Toronto and another guy from Toronto.  Something I have noticed about the many Canadians I have been meeting here is that we all seem interested in what other people do and where they are from.  While the American and European visitors are often nice enough, except for certain bores, they don't usually take open interest in others but seem more interested in talking about themselves and their own occupations, activities and interests. Tue., Mar. 13, 2012 at 9:19 p.m. In the mornings in the neighbourhood where I am staying can be heard the howl of the man who sells propane gas from door to door.  It sounds something like, "bwAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!??"  And he repeats it over and over.  Try to imagine the sound a calf makes while being castrated and you'll get an idea of how he sounds.  There are other times when I here a hand bell being rung.  This is the garbage man announcing his presence to households that have garbage to get rid of.  Often whistling is heard because Mexicans like to whistle.  Sometimes they are tuneful, usually not and generally very annoying. I actually refused to sit in a local cafe this morning that seemed otherwise very nice because the young woman there wouldn't stop whistling.  Many, especially working class men, communicate back and forth with loud whistles, like blackbirds or mynahs.  Always people are talking and of course always in Spanish.  I never hear spontaneous  singing but often music in the background, particularly Cumbia, which is of Colombian origin and has a slinky, sensuous, sinister kind of sound.  The sound of traffic is never far away and frequently trucks or workmen with hand  carts will play repititious recorded messages over and over announcing their services and wares. Also street musicians of varying talent can be heard, playing all kinds of instruments.  Some are extremely talented.  Sometimes they sing opera and beautifully.  Above it all I hear birds singing, some much like our own in Vancouver: robins, a thrush very similar to the robin, and red coloured house finches.  Also the loud whistles and squawks of the large shining black grackles. Often there is a strong odor of sewage coming from the grates, sometimes the heady fragrance of orange or lemon blossoms, or the smell of tortillas being fried at the many open air taco stands or an unwanted whiff of second hand cigarette smoke. The sights come mainly in the form of bright colours, usually on houses and storefronts: orange, red, yellow and blue predominate.  And also butterflies, usually bright yellow are everywhere.  And flowers, there is so much bougainvilliea growing throughout this city in unforgiving hues of magenta, scarlet, crimson and saffron as well as hibiscus and bright orange flowers that flourish on vines, and of course the purple blossoms of the jacarandas that often cover the sidewalks.  There are trees everywhere.  Mexico City is a very green city.  And of course there are the omnipresent cars and concrete and asfalt and cobblestones and terracotta brick. There are fountains and statues and monuments and memorials everywhere, almost every block in some areas.  It isn't all pretty.  Many neighbourhoods are rundown and half destroyed looking.  Others are bland and uninteresting highrises or nondescrit buildings from the sixties.  And there is graffitti everywhere. This morning I discovered a cafe that to me seems perfect.  It is spacious, tranquil, with art on the walls and Vivaldi in the background and a friendly and diligent server and a comfy sofa where I was seated drinking a caramel cappuccino. I took another walk in the quiet section of Chapultepec Park where I returned to the island and crossed over a relatively dry part without getting a soaker or a sprained ankle.  The place is tiny and tranquil and full of beautiful trees. By one of the lakes I saw two beautiful white egrets.  Then I went up to the castle.  Instead of trying to describe it maybe you could google Castillo de Chapultepec images and you will see why I love this place.  I love opulence, even though I am a minimalist.  So the shadow side to my simple austere lifestyle is my love of gorgeous works of art and decoration.