As of last Thursday night, I’ve officially settled into my new spot in Bogotá. Before the switch, though, I had to make sure I explored all of Mexico City’s previously untouched essentials.
Independence Day passed more calmly than I expected. I went with some friends to the parade downtown – a super impressive show of absolutely all that is Mexico, including cactus leaves, raspadas, and other foods, at least ten types of dance, flags, toys, historical figures, Aztec symbols, Spanish colonialists, and on and on. Lunch along the parade route was an appropriately patriotic chile en nogada.
From the parade, we moved on to a party, a very family-oriented “Noche Mexicana” where we ate the traditional independence meal of pozole and watched the president give the “grito” (“shout” or “yell”) on TV: standing on the balcony of the Palacio Nacional the man rings a bell (same site where independence was originally declared, in the same manner) and yells several “Vivas” something like this… President Calderon: Viva la Republica!, Crowd: VIVA!, Pres: VIVA MEXICO!, Crowd: VIVA! Meanwhile the family gathered around the TV at this party was making fun of the first lady’s clothes. Apparently both she and Calderon are widely disliked. After the grito we blew horns and shot off fireworks, and the TV showed a really fantastic light show and fireworks display happening downtown, which several of my friends criticized for the fact that it cost so many millions of dollars. But it did look cool.
That September 15th was only day one of the race to see it all. Like I mentioned, I made an early dent in sightseeing, with the pyramids and Bellas Artes, etc. Since then, I’ve hit tons more:
Museo Nacional de Antrolopología – extensive display of artifacts from all of Mexico’s indigenous cultures. Most important part of course is the Mexica (Aztec) room.
Condesa/Zona Rosa – neighborhood inspired by French culture. Popular for yuppie bohemian types, so naturally I enjoyed it. Went here for hookah and hummus, and OMG I forgot how much I love hummus.
Templo Mayor (Main Temple) – ruins, supposed site of the Aztec’s founding of the capital, right in the middle of the city even today. Hard to imagine what it would have really looked like, but so cool to see, especially knowing that excavation of the site only began about 40 years ago. Before that, no one knew it was hidden under the modern city.
Xochimilco – weird area in the south of the city where you can rent trajineros (large, long, colorful boats) to take you for a ride down some old canals. A really popular place to drink during the day and/or have a family outing. Each trajinero is named after a girl – there were no ANDREA ones though, but we made the boatman change the sign just for me. There are also mariachi boats that you can pay to ride along side your own and play for you. Funny little place, all in all.
Palacio Nacional – finally went inside, to see several more Diego Rivera murals, some government chambers, and a special bicentennial exhibition. Worth it.
Castillo de Chapultepec/Museo Nacional de Historia – site of a battle during the war with the U.S. in the 1800s and the famous story of the Niños Heroes, also used to be a living space for dictator Porfirio Diaz. Best part – tons of Siqueiros murals (I like him better than Rivera). From the patios you also get a fabulous view of the city, and I went on a photo rampage. This, I think, was my favorite attraction within Mexico City. Plus, you have to walk through a bit of the Parque de Chapultepec to get to it – a pretty little bonus.
Besides cramming in a billion tourist attractions, I spent my last week in Mexico with friends, revisiting Coyoacán several times (favorite bar, still: La Bipo), getting my last dose of mariachi music, and still trying and failing to like mezcal. I never expected to be so happy in Mexico, or so sad to leave.
What I found there, above all, were the most genuinely open and generous people I’ve ever encountered. I really was told that their casa was my casa, wherever I went, by perfect strangers. And they meant it. It did take awhile for me to adjust to their pace of life; mainly, nothing happening on time, ever. At first, I couldn’t stand it, but I grew to appreciate the subconscious Mexican belief that, as Lonely Planet puts it, “few things are worth rushing for.” Meanwhile I got to know a totally distinct culture, one that people are really, really proud of, and I also had the privilege of seeing how they see their country’s challenges – they’re very aware, and very openly critical.
Most importantly, as someone from the U.S., knowing how we view Mexico, my eyes were totally opened to the way they look at us, and at our countries’ relationship. The news coverage I saw – of immigration, narco-trafficking, the war in Iraq, etc – was clearly different from what we see in the States. And I can’t even begin to count how many times I was asked for my opinion on Arizona’s immigration law. The answer was always, I hate it, it’s racist, etc, but I was surprised to get a variety of responses back from my Mexican friends. On immigration in general, I heard everything from “They [the Americans] treat us like animals” and Angela’s story of a cousin who got his finger cut off by migration authorities, to “Well, I understand… For example, if Mexico had as many Chinese people as there are Mexicans in the U.S., I would be upset too.” No matter what, though, it was a central conversation topic, one that I hope keeps its momentum in the U.S. as well.
Anyway, my conclusion is that it would do us all good if more people got a taste of Mexico, a real one. Not just a few news clippings and a viewing of Y tu mamá también. Not even twelve college credit hours. You have to live things to really understand them. Six weeks ago, I would have said Mexico wasn’t really my style. Now with just a few days away, I find myself terribly craving the place, pondering when I can go back.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Getaways!
Time is flying. The past dozen weekdays have been occupied by my last days of teaching, capped off with a pizza/potluck party I helped put together for the students. With that experience ending, I have nothing but good things to say about the English school, but it was not my favorite part of Mexico. Not surprisingly, I enjoy my weekends much more, particularly my weekend getaways.
Two weeks ago I visited Queretaro, a smaller city about three hours away, where half of Blanca’s family lives. Known as one of the cleanest and safest places in the country, the town is a favorite for tourists and better-off Mexican families. I could have stayed for weeks. Favorite activity: strolling the downtown center – a web of narrow streets, old colonial houses and little plazas dotted with artisan and snack stands. Everything right now is decorated in red, white, and green for Independence Day (not Christmas), and street performers are out in full force. Besides the centro, another essential stop was the “arcos” or centuries-old aqueducts, underneath which currently runs an annual sculpture display of alebrijes – traditional imaginary monsters usually in the form of some brightly-colored animal combo, like dragon/fish/insect. After a lovely tour, we (me, Blanca, Mario and Andres – same two friends from our pyramids excursion) hit a few cantinas and ended our Saturday night with tequila and dancing in the bigger, more modern version of them all, La Cantinita. Loved every minute.
Weekend vaycay numero dos took me to Acapulco with the same three friends, plus seven others. We stayed in a gorgeous yet slightly run-down and shockingly cheap multi-level house overlooking the bay and the mountains beyond. Two pools, four balconies, and a 10 to 15 minute drive from the beach. At pretty much every waking hour (and every hour was a waking hour) we could be found swimming, drinking, or eating seafood. Often all three at once.
Friday night we went out to one of the more popular clubs, Paladium, situated in the side of a mountain with a panoramic view of the bay, featuring open bar, bright lights, loud music, and interchanging stage dancers, including one guy painted all in silver and dressed like an Indian. They say he’s been dancing there for decades. Cool? I guess. After the club it was naturally time for more beer and swimming back at the house. And so the cycle continued into Saturday.
Saturday included a round at the beach on an island offshore, and later, several rounds of tequila pong (we ran out of beer) which I helped organize and then lost, miserably. But with dignity =) We relished the sight of the sunset, dined on hot dogs and ramen, pumped the music a little louder, and somehow found ourselves in the pool on Sunday afternoon, counting down the hours til we had to leave. No one wanted that moment to come. But here we are, back in the DF.
A note on security: I have yet to feel unsafe in Mexico. However, I receive a number of frequent reminders that the situation here is constantly stirring. In Acapulco, for example, one friend was warned that it was not safe for us to stay out past 2 a.m., because tourists have been much more frequently targeted here than before. My friends were actually shocked to here such advice – they told me Acapulco is to them what New Orleans or Vegas might be to me, a place where people go to go crazy, to wander the streets at all hours and leave their senses behind. But now, it seems to be less so. In Mexico City too, I’ve heard rumors of a peace pact between narcotraffickers – no gang violence allowed in the city, so druglords can come here to live happily and peacefully (their own weekend getaway?). Some people say the pact might have been broken. Others say alternative groups – mad at the government for not doing more to fight the narcos – are planning some type of revolutionary act for Independence Day. While these are all rumors, the solid truth is that narcotrafficking, and its subsequent violence, is a penetrating reality here. Alfonso Jr. told me he always knows the narcos that come into his restaurant by the way they dress. It’s very distinct and actually pretty comical if you forget the drugs and death thing.
Anyway, not to alarm anyone. In Mexico City at least, the rule applies that if you stay away from the wrong people, they won’t come knocking on your door either. There’s little reason to worry.
To end on an up note, Independence Day is tomorrow. I’m ready to rock my red, white, and green, and dive into the celebration. Can’t wait!
Two weeks ago I visited Queretaro, a smaller city about three hours away, where half of Blanca’s family lives. Known as one of the cleanest and safest places in the country, the town is a favorite for tourists and better-off Mexican families. I could have stayed for weeks. Favorite activity: strolling the downtown center – a web of narrow streets, old colonial houses and little plazas dotted with artisan and snack stands. Everything right now is decorated in red, white, and green for Independence Day (not Christmas), and street performers are out in full force. Besides the centro, another essential stop was the “arcos” or centuries-old aqueducts, underneath which currently runs an annual sculpture display of alebrijes – traditional imaginary monsters usually in the form of some brightly-colored animal combo, like dragon/fish/insect. After a lovely tour, we (me, Blanca, Mario and Andres – same two friends from our pyramids excursion) hit a few cantinas and ended our Saturday night with tequila and dancing in the bigger, more modern version of them all, La Cantinita. Loved every minute.
Weekend vaycay numero dos took me to Acapulco with the same three friends, plus seven others. We stayed in a gorgeous yet slightly run-down and shockingly cheap multi-level house overlooking the bay and the mountains beyond. Two pools, four balconies, and a 10 to 15 minute drive from the beach. At pretty much every waking hour (and every hour was a waking hour) we could be found swimming, drinking, or eating seafood. Often all three at once.
Friday night we went out to one of the more popular clubs, Paladium, situated in the side of a mountain with a panoramic view of the bay, featuring open bar, bright lights, loud music, and interchanging stage dancers, including one guy painted all in silver and dressed like an Indian. They say he’s been dancing there for decades. Cool? I guess. After the club it was naturally time for more beer and swimming back at the house. And so the cycle continued into Saturday.
Saturday included a round at the beach on an island offshore, and later, several rounds of tequila pong (we ran out of beer) which I helped organize and then lost, miserably. But with dignity =) We relished the sight of the sunset, dined on hot dogs and ramen, pumped the music a little louder, and somehow found ourselves in the pool on Sunday afternoon, counting down the hours til we had to leave. No one wanted that moment to come. But here we are, back in the DF.
A note on security: I have yet to feel unsafe in Mexico. However, I receive a number of frequent reminders that the situation here is constantly stirring. In Acapulco, for example, one friend was warned that it was not safe for us to stay out past 2 a.m., because tourists have been much more frequently targeted here than before. My friends were actually shocked to here such advice – they told me Acapulco is to them what New Orleans or Vegas might be to me, a place where people go to go crazy, to wander the streets at all hours and leave their senses behind. But now, it seems to be less so. In Mexico City too, I’ve heard rumors of a peace pact between narcotraffickers – no gang violence allowed in the city, so druglords can come here to live happily and peacefully (their own weekend getaway?). Some people say the pact might have been broken. Others say alternative groups – mad at the government for not doing more to fight the narcos – are planning some type of revolutionary act for Independence Day. While these are all rumors, the solid truth is that narcotrafficking, and its subsequent violence, is a penetrating reality here. Alfonso Jr. told me he always knows the narcos that come into his restaurant by the way they dress. It’s very distinct and actually pretty comical if you forget the drugs and death thing.
Anyway, not to alarm anyone. In Mexico City at least, the rule applies that if you stay away from the wrong people, they won’t come knocking on your door either. There’s little reason to worry.
To end on an up note, Independence Day is tomorrow. I’m ready to rock my red, white, and green, and dive into the celebration. Can’t wait!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Homemade Tamales and Other Satisfying Adjustments
This past weekend I reached the one-month mark in Mexico. As Saul reminds me constantly, I will never get a full taste of this country in the little time I have given it, buuut in the course of a month, certain things have ceased to confuse me.
I’m no longer startled at the sound of someone yelling at the top of their lungs or blowing a horn in the street at strange hours of the day. They are pushcart vendors, and they’re probably selling something delicious. It’s like hearing the ice cream man coming.
Rather than roll my eyes in protest or try to beat them to it, I wait for guys to open my car door, and I expect them to walk down the sidewalk between me and the street. What’s more, I’ve found I actually like it. The tiny I-am-woman-hear-me-roar, need-to-assert-myself impulse I used to feel in these situations is gone. I’m happily soaking up chivalry.
I know the order of stops on the pesero bus, and on my nearest line of the metro. I know to tip waiters but not cab drivers. I know the most common slang words and gestures, and cuss words. I know where they make the best agua de horchata, my current guilty pleasure of choice. I know what NOT to eat, even if everyone around me can stomach it. I know what hours of the night I can catch a bus, and when I will be shit out of luck. (Luckily I did not learn this the hard way.)
And I can give basic instructions on concepts that were once totally foreign. For example, how to make tamales oaxaqueños. Enjoy!
Step 1: Slap a handful of maza onto a banana leaf (or in other cases, boiled corn husk) and flatten into a patty.
Step 2: Add a large spoonful of salsa verde - made of green tomatoes, chiles, and love... or something like that. Sometimes the sauce is red, but everyone prefers green.
Step #: Add chicken, bone and all. It didn't look like she cooked the meat beforehand, but some online recipes say you should. Sergio tells me pre-cooking is optional with chicken, but not with other meats.
Step #: Fold.
Step #: Steam for about an hour, and they'll be ready to serve!
I’m no longer startled at the sound of someone yelling at the top of their lungs or blowing a horn in the street at strange hours of the day. They are pushcart vendors, and they’re probably selling something delicious. It’s like hearing the ice cream man coming.
Rather than roll my eyes in protest or try to beat them to it, I wait for guys to open my car door, and I expect them to walk down the sidewalk between me and the street. What’s more, I’ve found I actually like it. The tiny I-am-woman-hear-me-roar, need-to-assert-myself impulse I used to feel in these situations is gone. I’m happily soaking up chivalry.
I know the order of stops on the pesero bus, and on my nearest line of the metro. I know to tip waiters but not cab drivers. I know the most common slang words and gestures, and cuss words. I know where they make the best agua de horchata, my current guilty pleasure of choice. I know what NOT to eat, even if everyone around me can stomach it. I know what hours of the night I can catch a bus, and when I will be shit out of luck. (Luckily I did not learn this the hard way.)
And I can give basic instructions on concepts that were once totally foreign. For example, how to make tamales oaxaqueños. Enjoy!
Step 1: Slap a handful of maza onto a banana leaf (or in other cases, boiled corn husk) and flatten into a patty.
Step 2: Add a large spoonful of salsa verde - made of green tomatoes, chiles, and love... or something like that. Sometimes the sauce is red, but everyone prefers green.
Step #: Add chicken, bone and all. It didn't look like she cooked the meat beforehand, but some online recipes say you should. Sergio tells me pre-cooking is optional with chicken, but not with other meats.
Step #: Fold.
Step #: Steam for about an hour, and they'll be ready to serve!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
My tour guide tag team
As I write this, it is Tuesday night, and our electricity is out. Again. It happens. As Nancy says, the house looks like a church with so many candles spread around. Yucari is running in and out of my room showing off her latest treasure – a shiny new Winnie the Pooh balloon – while her parents dine on the tamales Angela and Rocio made earlier today, from scratch as usual. So delicious.
Anyway, I wanted to get into the small but significant dent I’ve made in sightseeing over the past four weeks here. This far from the city’s center, my location is the opposite of convenient, but I have gained a few tour guides by living here. Last week, Rocio took me to Zócalo, the city’s center ever since the Aztec empire. It’s currently all decked out in preparation for the Bicentennial Independence Day celebration, coming in two weeks. On one side is the Palacio Nacional, one is the Catedral Metropolitana, and the others are government buildings. The nearby streets form a huge maze of shops, our real reason for going. We browsed the craft stores and gift shops, and Chio made me try papas adobadas – potato chips coated with what else? Chili powder, and nacho cheese. Not bad.
A few days later, Chio turned over tour guide duty to Sergio, who showed me around UNAM, the biggest and best university in Mexico, considered a landmark of national pride. We mainly went to check out the campus’s botanical garden and sculpture park, both beautiful and impressive. Besides some really large works of art, the sculpture park was heavily scattered with students taking advantage of the space to get together and start their weekends early.
As for my weekend, I checked the next sight off the list when Saul decided to kidnap me for another country excursion. We went to the Sierra de Ajusco, some small mountains about a fifteen-minute drive from our house. The woods there were almost all pine and would have made a great campground, but Saul told me camping isn’t the most common of pastimes in Mexico. We climbed a mountain, all the way to the summit, which was marked by a cross. Not much of a view, but a good accomplishment for the day.
Got back from the woods in time to go to a party with Blanca, had a great time and got limited sleep, as I had planned to get up early Sunday to visit the Teotihuacán Pyramids, an essential tourist stop about an hour outside the city. Since I’d crashed at Blanca’s, she assumed chauffeur/guide position, along with two of her friends. Armed with a giant water bottle to clear the last remnants of hangover, we arrived at the pyramids around noon. Entrance is free on Sunday for Mexicans only, so of course I tried to get by as a national, but the gatekeeper totally pegged me as a gringa, and Blanca gave up the act. Just when I start to think I’m not that obvious.
Teotihuacán dates back to Mexico’s pre-Aztec inhabitants. Once inside, we walked the Calzada de los Muertos (Avenue of the Dead), today lined with vendors selling clay whistles that sound like eagles and jaguars. We met up with my host family at the Pyramid of the Moon and hung out for a while, but parted ways again so we could climb the larger Pyramid of the Sun. At the top, people raise their arms to the sky, or take turns touching the pyramid’s highest center point, to take in the site’s supposed spiritual energy. Meanwhile we took our time to enjoy the beautiful weather, the view of the ancient city grounds in the distance, and the less-than-skillful orchestra of children blowing clay whistles.
Rather than end the day with Teotihuacán, we made our way to Coyoacán, a neighborhood that Blanca explained was once a vacation spot outside the city, but later got swallowed up into it. Love urban sprawl. The place retained its charm, though: cute, colorful houses, a pleasant little square full of well-tended greenery, a craft market, and lots of cantinas and street food. We wandered the streets, gradually eating and drinking our way through. I had already tried pulque – alcoholic beverage made of fermented fruit, gross! – from a stand near the pyramids, and added mexcal – “like tequila but stronger” – to the list of nasty Mexican alcohol that I’d rather not consume again. The food, however, more than made up for it, not to mention the company. I couldn’t have asked for a better Sunday.
When no one’s around, I become my own tour guide. I’ve made it to a few museums – the Palacio de Bellas Artes (Fine Arts Palace) and the Diego Rivera Mural Museum. The main features of both are huge murals by Rivera, which I can easily sit and lose myself in. The other artists’ works in both places, also wonderful. I wanted to take more photos than I was allowed.
Anyway, like I said, these are not even half of the sights I’ve yet to explore here, but I’m more than happy with how far I’ve come, and super grateful to everyone who’s shown me around.
Anyway, I wanted to get into the small but significant dent I’ve made in sightseeing over the past four weeks here. This far from the city’s center, my location is the opposite of convenient, but I have gained a few tour guides by living here. Last week, Rocio took me to Zócalo, the city’s center ever since the Aztec empire. It’s currently all decked out in preparation for the Bicentennial Independence Day celebration, coming in two weeks. On one side is the Palacio Nacional, one is the Catedral Metropolitana, and the others are government buildings. The nearby streets form a huge maze of shops, our real reason for going. We browsed the craft stores and gift shops, and Chio made me try papas adobadas – potato chips coated with what else? Chili powder, and nacho cheese. Not bad.
A few days later, Chio turned over tour guide duty to Sergio, who showed me around UNAM, the biggest and best university in Mexico, considered a landmark of national pride. We mainly went to check out the campus’s botanical garden and sculpture park, both beautiful and impressive. Besides some really large works of art, the sculpture park was heavily scattered with students taking advantage of the space to get together and start their weekends early.
As for my weekend, I checked the next sight off the list when Saul decided to kidnap me for another country excursion. We went to the Sierra de Ajusco, some small mountains about a fifteen-minute drive from our house. The woods there were almost all pine and would have made a great campground, but Saul told me camping isn’t the most common of pastimes in Mexico. We climbed a mountain, all the way to the summit, which was marked by a cross. Not much of a view, but a good accomplishment for the day.
Got back from the woods in time to go to a party with Blanca, had a great time and got limited sleep, as I had planned to get up early Sunday to visit the Teotihuacán Pyramids, an essential tourist stop about an hour outside the city. Since I’d crashed at Blanca’s, she assumed chauffeur/guide position, along with two of her friends. Armed with a giant water bottle to clear the last remnants of hangover, we arrived at the pyramids around noon. Entrance is free on Sunday for Mexicans only, so of course I tried to get by as a national, but the gatekeeper totally pegged me as a gringa, and Blanca gave up the act. Just when I start to think I’m not that obvious.
Teotihuacán dates back to Mexico’s pre-Aztec inhabitants. Once inside, we walked the Calzada de los Muertos (Avenue of the Dead), today lined with vendors selling clay whistles that sound like eagles and jaguars. We met up with my host family at the Pyramid of the Moon and hung out for a while, but parted ways again so we could climb the larger Pyramid of the Sun. At the top, people raise their arms to the sky, or take turns touching the pyramid’s highest center point, to take in the site’s supposed spiritual energy. Meanwhile we took our time to enjoy the beautiful weather, the view of the ancient city grounds in the distance, and the less-than-skillful orchestra of children blowing clay whistles.
Rather than end the day with Teotihuacán, we made our way to Coyoacán, a neighborhood that Blanca explained was once a vacation spot outside the city, but later got swallowed up into it. Love urban sprawl. The place retained its charm, though: cute, colorful houses, a pleasant little square full of well-tended greenery, a craft market, and lots of cantinas and street food. We wandered the streets, gradually eating and drinking our way through. I had already tried pulque – alcoholic beverage made of fermented fruit, gross! – from a stand near the pyramids, and added mexcal – “like tequila but stronger” – to the list of nasty Mexican alcohol that I’d rather not consume again. The food, however, more than made up for it, not to mention the company. I couldn’t have asked for a better Sunday.
When no one’s around, I become my own tour guide. I’ve made it to a few museums – the Palacio de Bellas Artes (Fine Arts Palace) and the Diego Rivera Mural Museum. The main features of both are huge murals by Rivera, which I can easily sit and lose myself in. The other artists’ works in both places, also wonderful. I wanted to take more photos than I was allowed.
Anyway, like I said, these are not even half of the sights I’ve yet to explore here, but I’m more than happy with how far I’ve come, and super grateful to everyone who’s shown me around.
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