So.
Anyway.
Some of you may know that I will be imminently starting work as a research assistant in the Neurology Department of the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine [December 2018 update: oops we all know how that turned out!]. In Baltimore. The onboarding process takes some time though, and I can do all of that remotely, so I decided to go to Mexico for the month that I have free. So here I am, and it has been five days, all of which I have spent exploring Mexico City (El Distrito Federal).
My mom was skeptical of my booking a flight that left at one in the morning, as well as of the airline I chose. Aeromexico has a sub-two-star rating on Yelp. But that was the cheapest option, and the similarly priced flight from one of the big American carriers would have gotten me into the DF at nine at night, as opposed to five in the morning, which I preferred due to the fact that it gave me more time to explore the city. It also seemed like all of the really negative Yelp reviewers had made amateur mistakes like scheduling five-minute changeovers or losing their departure card. So I was pretty sure that I would be fine.
So, at Dulles at 11 in at night there was only one check-in line visible, and all of the people were speaking Spanish. The flight was full, so I had to check my bag. Also, I was so focused on just making sure that I got on the plane successfully, that I didn't pack anything in my carry-on bag. Literally all I had for the plane ride was an empty bag. One of the passengers was carrying-on an expensive camera, and turned out that he was a cameraman for CNN, going to cover the Hurricaine, and that was another thing; I was starting my Mexican adventure right when the worst storm ever recorded was scheduled to make landfall.
In the terminal, I had some conversations in Spanish, and I got suggestions for where to go in Mexico. In future blog posts, if I go to one of the suggested places, I will let you know.
The flight was pretty uneventful. I really slept most of the way, and had some pretty vivid dreams. To drink, I initially asked for water, but changed it to be the super fizzy Mexican Agua Mineral. Was good.
Landed.
In the immigration line, right ahead of me there was a tall-ish guy with dark curly hair who was happily chatting with a woman who was physically next to us, but a bit of head of us in line due to it's serpentine form. Then we got into a conversation about Mexico, and where we both lived in the DC area. An interesting fact that came up was that, in spite of his fluent Spanish, Mexicans can tell immediately that he is Puerto Rican, from his accent, and the way he looks. This shouldn't be surprising. Still, I forget sometimes that all of the Spanish speaking places have accents as different as American and British accents. It turned out that the woman was one of his co-workers. He works for some health-related department of the federal government, and he sometimes has to give presentations to Spanish speaking audiences who are all from the same country. He told me that the co-worker woman, in spite of not being a native speaker, could, due to her being a philologist, suggest regional Spanish words to use that are tailored to the audience. He also gave me further suggestions for where to go, emphasizing the beauty of the town Puebla. I told him where my hostel was, and he suggested that since he knows the right way to get a cab in the airport (slightly complicated in MEX), and since the place where he was staying is in the next neighborhood over, and since he speaks fluent Spanish, we could share a cab.
When visiting a foreign country, it is sometimes unwise to be trusting of strangers. But the way he was being so friendly with his co-worker, and the way he described where he lived in DC all added up, so I went with him.
Before getting to the cab area, I had to clear customs. I pressed a button, and a green light turned on. Ivan (the guy with curly hair) kindly explained that the way they decide who to search is the pressing of a button, which randomly causes a green or red light to turn on.
So, I was glad for his help, and I got to the hostel safely at 7 AM, and I gave him my email and the URL of this blog.
I confess that before leaving DC I had briefly considered the feasability of walking all the way across Mexico City as a way to arrive at the hostel while simaltaneously 'getting to know the place'. This would have been a bad idea.
I had chosen a small hostel in a nice quiet neighborhood called 'La Roma Norte'. There were some huge hostels near the Zocalo, but I went with this smaller one because I read that this neighborhood was nice, which it was. The blocks near the hostel had many plants and trees, as well as Parisian-ish architecture, which had been promoted by the dictator Porfirio Diaz. The hostel itself had a nice living room, with plaster moldings on the walls, and ceiling height glass doors that opened inward, revealing a stone railing that looked out to the street.
The surrounding areas, Roma and Condesa, are well-off too, with upscale areas that look just like Clarendon (neighborhood in Arlington).
But I was really tired, and didn't yet notice this; I fell asleep on the couch, not wanting to wake the other guests in the dorm by setting up my belongings.
Woke up. Showered.
It was time to try buying a Mexican SIM card. I had heard that you could just buy them in convenience stores, so I went out to find an OXXO or 7-11. But at every convenience store I went to, I kept on being referred to other convenience stores. Finally I arrived at one that did have SIM cards, but the guy said that they only had regular SIM cards, not micro or nano.
So, from a guy working in an electronics shop which also did not have SIM cards, I finally got directions to walk way over to the Avenida de la Reforma, where I found an official TelCel store in a shopping mall. The guy behind the counter was very professional (wearing a suit and tie) and I was able to understand most of the points of the way the charges for minutes and data worked. But sometimes I had to tell him 'no te comprendo, pero yo te creo'.
I bought an envelope in which to put any money that I would keep in my locker in the hostel. In selecting the envelope, I was reminded of the meaning of the word 'tamaño'.
So I get back to the hostel, lock up the things like my passport that needed to be locked up, and I ask Alejandro, the very friendly guy who works there, about where I should go. He suggests going to either the Zocalo, or the neighborhood Coyoacan, where Frida Kahlo lived. I chose the latter, and took the metro there. The thing was, though, that the line for Frida Kahlo's house was 45 minutes long. So, at the suggestion of a certain couple I talked to, I went to Leon Trotsky´s house. The coolest thing about being there was just knowing that he had lived there. There were pictures of him with Frida Kahlo, and many memorabilia. The problem was, though, that the English guide was kind of dull. The Spanish-speaking guide on the other hand, was very didactic and clear, but I could only understand 30% of what he said. In the end I learned about how the house was fortified and guarded, and how the eventual assasination went down. Very sad. He was from a Jewish family, BTW.
So then I ventured to the plaza of Coyoacan. It was a beautiful scene of hundreds of Mexicans just sitting around on benches, having fun, and there was one of those classic out-of-tune organs that the guy plays just by cranking it, and, even though I don't remember clearly, there must have been a guy selling balloons. There were actually two adjoining plazas, and one had a fountain in the shape of coyotes. I later learned that 'Coyoacan' means 'place with coyotes'. I am guessing that the name came before the fountain.
To eat, I had some elotes, corn kernels with salt, chili peppers, and lime juice.
Adjoining that plaza was a magnificient colonial church. The interior was flanked by intricate carvings of saints, about six on each side. The altar was incredibly ornate, as well, and there was a lot of guilding. You deserve a better description, but all I can think of to say was that it was in a very colonial-Catholic style, and very impressive. The priest was saying about something about 'este es mi sangre, este es mi cuerpo', and there was a woman in a white dress with a white veil.
Afterwards, I walked around the plaza a bit more. I asked a guy 'Why do so many restaurants specify themselves as Mexican restaurants? Since we are in Mexico, shouldn't it be enough to just say 'Restaurant'?'
There was night and there was morning: a Second Day.
With two Spanish women who were doing their masters degree on monkeys in Chiapas, I went to the anthropology museum. To get there, we had to walk through a park known as Bosque de Chapultepec. In a way that was similar to a park that I saw near Coyoacan, the park was fairly densely planted with trees, so that it was a bit of a cross between a park and a forest. It was Sunday, and there were many people riding their bikes and rollerblading.
Ivan, the guy from line, had highly recommended the anthropology museum, saying that I should devote several hours to exploring it.
It was a large museum, almost certainly larger (and better) than the Natural History Museums of New York and DC. There were two stories, stretched around a very large courtyard, which featured a unique fountain, in the form of 'rain' falling down onto the cement from a gigantic tree-mushroom type thing. Along the length of the building that stretched around the coutyard were many salas, each devoted to a different time period or Mesoamerican civilization. Sala means 'hall' or 'room', but not all rooms are salas. A living room in a house is called the 'sala', but a bedroom is not. I spent a good deal of time in the 'origins of man' and 'population of the Americas' rooms, taking the time to read all of the explanations in Spanish (some were available in English, too). Even though they were excellent exhibits, I spent too much time in them, because there are many exhibits like that at museums around the world. What was truly special were the other Mesoamerican civilization focused rooms. Each was completely filled with priceless artifacts, with detailed, well-written explanations. What was surprising was that there were many more Mesoamerican civilizations than I had previously known about. For example, the Teotihuacan ruins were built by a pre-Aztec civilization that were not the Maya. In total I spent about four hours exploring the place, but I eventually stopped reading the Spanish, because my brain hurt. One highlight was the large round Aztec 'Sun Stone', often mistaken for the Aztec calendar. It is shown below, but the photo is not mine:
Also interesting were various codices, folding books in which civilizations colorfully recorded their history in their pictographic writing systems.
I took a break by the pond in the middle of the courtyard, and I talked to a Mexican family, and their seven year old boy practiced his English with me. I also ran into the couple (whom I learned was Brazilian) that had suggested that I visit Leon Trotsky´s house.
Afterwards, we went to a market (2017 update: this was Mercado de la Merced), where we were the only tourists. One of the Spanish women thought that it had herbalist and witchcraft (brujería) related stalls, but it was just a huge crowded market, selling ordinary things. We had some good lamb tacos, though, and it was still interesting overall.
Next, we walked to the Zocalo, and viewed the cathedral, which was even more impressive than the church in Coyoacan, and included a chamber that had more of a white-marble look. There were carvings on the side, covered by ceiling-height wooden gates, which were themselves impressive. In the middle there was a large, ornately carved 'building within a building'. '¿What could be up there?', I wondered to myself. Organ music was playing.
Right outside, there were glass windows on the ground, displaying the original Zocalo stones, built from the destroyed Aztec temple. 'We were a bunch of really nice people back then', remarked one of the Spanish women.
Made efforts to see Diego River murals inside of a fancy building. They were closed that day, though.
Had some beers.
The Spanish women went to see some mariachis, and I went to see the Palacio de Bellas Artes, a concert hall with beautiful white marble architecture on the outside, and art-deco architecture on the inside. As I approached, I saw some Muslims praying in the square. There was a Diego Rivera mural there as well (Man at the Crossroads), but I was not able to see it.
On the way back to the hostel from the metro, I had quesadillas for dinner, which I then bought from the same quesadilla stand for the next two nights. One of them included huitlocoche, also known as corn smut.
The next day I went to Teotihuacan. When walking in, I bargained the price of a small paper guide down from 100 pesos to 30 pesos. When walking around I heard many didactic tour guides, and I would sometimes listen in on them, but never blatantly followed them. It sounded like they were worth hiring. Instead, I just read the informational signs, which were just OK. But still, I was impressed by the size of the city: it was over a mile long. Down the main stretch, there were some murals and carvings, but not too many. Recall that I prefer to not take too many photographs.
I climbed the Pyramid of the Sun, and snapped this photo:
Went back to the hostel, and then Ivan called me to have dinner with him and his friend from Mexico city. We went to a place that had a sort of 'elementary school' theme which was located in one of the upscale areas, and I had some sort of steak sandwich. Ivan is a super friendly, funny guy, and he was joking around with the staff the whole time. They had dots pre-printed on the cards for the playing of dots, and I won a very competitive game. Afterwards, they drove me around the city, showed me some monuments and some prominent art-deco architecture, and pointed out a bad neighborhood near the Zocalo to which I should never go. Thanks a lot for a great night,
The next day I got up early and successfully visited Frida Kahlo's house.
On the way there, I asked a security guard standing in front of a blue house '¿Esta es una cas azul, pero no es la casa azul de Frida Kahlo, verdad?'
He said, 'Si, la casa azul de Fida Kahlo está por alli'.
I payed for one of those automatic audio guides, and it was completely worth it. The house was full of her paintings, and memorabilia. She had an incredibly painful life, having overcome polio as a child, only to have her body nearly destroyed in a bus accident when she was 18. Her marriage to Diego Rivera was passionate, if somewhat unfaithful, and she was an enthusiast for traditional Mexican culture, which was reflected in the decorations of the house.
The pain of her life is reflected in the stern, resolute countenances of her subjects, which are often in contrast with their colorful surroundings. One particularly interesting painting was a still-life of fruit. At first glance, it looks beautiful, but then you see that there are mushrooms sprouting from many of the fruits. They are also cut open, in in a rough, un-careful way. The general effect is to create symbolism which the audio guide told me is related to Kahlo's fertility issues. The fact that such deep symbolism is found in a still life, which, I imagine, are sometimes just boring decorative pictures, is part of why Frida Kahlo is considered a master.
There were also some cubist works of Diego Rivera. His cubism period is less known, but I did notice that one of the paintings included a clock, which is a motif that appears in some of his other work [2018 update: was confused between Salvador Dali and Diego Rivera. Won't happen again].
I was glad to have seen some of the best ancient and modern Mexican art within two days. I even think that there are distinct bridges between the two eras, as Kahlo and Rivera both include traditional Mexican elements in their work, and the distorted decorations of ancient Meso-American art are slightly surreal.
Also, the Trotsky memorabilia in this house was actually even better than the Trotsky memorabilia in Trotsky´s house.
A newspaper announcing the successful Russian revolution:
I also took pictures of Frida´s mole recipe. I had not paid for permission to photograph anything, so I only photographed things that I thought I might read later.
Later that day, I went to Xochimilco, where there are, to this day, Chinampas, gardens on pads of soil in the middle of a lake, which were previously cultivated by the Aztecs. The problem was, though, that the area is getting urbanized so quickly that it is not the Garden of Eden that it once was. There is a nature reserve nearby that might be worth visiting someday, though.
That is it for now. I will tell you about my visit to the Dolores Olmedo Museum to see more works of Kahlo and Rivera, my Dia de Muertos in Oaxaca, and surfing at Puerto Escondido in future posts. I am publishing this post on November 5, from Puerto Escondido, sitting at a computer outside a supermarket. There is a TV here that is showing the Mexican soccer team play Nigeria (Mexico is winning 1-0), and these guys sitting here get REALLY excited when it looks like Mexico is about to score.
