anika in mexico

I’ve learned my lesson from the past few days, so I decided I wouldn’t rely on anyone today to do stuff with.

At breakfast Sigrid mentioned that she’d been invited to Gerardo’s for lunch for his son’s birthday, and although she didn’t say as much, it was clear that I wasn’t really invited. That suited me fine. (Turns out that when Gerardo heard I was in town, he and his wife both were soooo sorry that they hadn’t invited me. They thought I’d already left to San Miguel.)

I decided that I’d go to the Museo de Anthropologia. Sigrid was concerned that it was going to be very crowded, but I didn’t mind. I went anyway. I found a parking spot on the road with the help of a “viene viene” and headed over to the Museo through the park, passing the Museo Tamayo on my way.

I was just in time to take a seat at an outdoor stone bench around a venue where the Voladores perform. Four of them climbed up a very tall pole that swayed quite a bit with their movements. They wound up long thick ropes around the top of the pole, and attached the other end around their waists. Then they jumped off head first, and they safely circled the pole as the rope slowly unwound. In this manner they continued to “fly,” getting closer and closer to the ground with each turn. At the last moment they flipped right side up and caught the ground running. Then they asked for donations.

After the show I walked over to the another little show that was going on. Traditional Aztec dancers were pounding their drums and shaking their rattles and playing with fire. They carried on in the hot sun for quite a while. Then they asked for donations.

Next I meandered over to the museum. I passed security and walked into the lobby area. It did look rather crowded, so I didn’t buy a ticket. I figured it would be better to come back on a less crowded day when I can really enjoy the exhibits. I walked over to the gift shop area, but also didn’t go in there because I would’ve had to check my bag, and that line was also long. But the walls of the museum shop were glass, so I got to gaze at all the pretty wares for sale. I spent quite a bit of time looking at some of the painted silk scarves that had amazing patterns all over them. There was one motif of a bug that really caught my eye (it was just one small part of a large intricate pattern) and later would inspire a nifty little patternof my own.

When I left the lobby area, I was surprised at the two lines of people waiting to get in. I didn’t have to wait at all to get through security, but now the two lines wound all across the large entrance plaza, and I had to cut through one of them to get out!

Feeling extra good about my decision not to go in, I crossed Reforma to head down to the Jardin Botanico. They installed an exhibit that is hung on the large fence that circles the park. It apparently changes often. When I saw it last time, a few weeks ago, it was a showcase of photos of the amazing natural beauty of Mexico. I’d expected to see the same photos today, and was glad that I’d get to take a closer look at the photos of nature and animals, but instead there was a new exhibition. It was photos from a magazine that covers the political climate of Mexico. There were photos of death, violence, destruction and presidents. In a way it was amazing to see the images, but it was also kind of unexpected and jarring on the otherwise sunny cheerful day. About 3/4 of the way through I had to just avert my eyes, and continue my walk to the Jardin without looking at the remaining documentary photos.

Once I entered the Jardin, I focused my attention on the plants, trying to distance myself from some of the horrible scenes I’d just taken in. I did a pretty good job of it. It’s a very tranquil place. Some areas are sunny with lots of cactus and shrubs. There’s an area with water plants, and and agricultural display with corn and chiles growing. I found a nice little plaza with lots of trees. There were plenty of benches underneath the shade, and I picked on toward the back edge of the plaza, and sat down to work on the pattern that had been sparked at the Museo gift shop.

I drew for quite a while.

Eventually a couple of ladies came over and sat on the bench next to me. One of them had her son with her. He was full of energy and just wanted to go play, but the ladies were tired, and just wanted to sit. At one point he was jiggling the bench we were sitting on, and his mom asked him to stop because, “ella esta dibujando” (”she is drawing”). That piqued his curiousity, so he peered over to look at what I was doing. He pointed to the lines I’d made with a dark green marker and asked, “es negro?” and I said, no, it’s a very dark green, but he looked rather confused, so I pulled out my black marker, and drew a bit next to the green to show him the difference. Then he started talking about how sometimes trees have leaves that are dark green. Eventually the ladies felt rested and the three of them continued on their way.

I got up shortly thereafter, and decided to head back home after a brief pass through the greenhouse.

I got back and continued working on the patterns I started. Met up with Sigrid, had some supper, then to bed.

Happy Birthday Max! You’re 5!

Today was off to a normal start. I’m really settling into a routine here. I got up almost too late for school, which happens when I really get used to a schedule. I managed to get there about 10 minutes early (I’ve been arriving 30-40 minutes before class starts to check email or review my homework). My professor was 5 minutes late, so it was a nice amount of time to relax a bit.

Class was really fun today. We were learning about “esa es la mia” “eso es el tuyo” “esa es la suya” “eso es el nuestro” etc. (this item is mine, that is yours, that is hers, etc.). It was funny because to start the practice, my professor stole my bottle of water. Claiming it as her own, she affirmed, “esa es la mia.” I was rather shocked, and with a swelling, indignant tone I splurt out, “nooo. esa es la miiia!” That was the desired response, and soon enough I caught on to what she was doing, and then we all had great fun stealing each other’s waters, pens, books, papers and erasers, proclaiming them as our own or assigning them to a new owner. We were all laughing with gusto by the end, especially when we looked over and saw Megan clutching her purse on her lap, protecting it from being appropriated by someone else, even for the moment.

I walked out with Megan, and she mentioned that next week she might be meeting with her Israeli Graphic Designer friend for coffee, and that I was free to join them. I think that would be fun if it worked out.

After school I went through my usual routine: supermarket for a few forgotten items and ticket validation (today it cost the same as it would have at the school, so I’ll just park at school next week), bank transaction, then to Starbucks for a venti capuccino and some internet time. I continued my correspondence with my new old friend, got even further addicted to facebook, IMed with a few friends, and just generally wasted some time.

Of course when I wanted to leave, it was raining. Not storming, but it was a steady downpour. I got impatient, so I dashed to my car and got soaked anyway. 30 seconds after I was in the car it stopped raining. I was just in time getting home to join Sigrid for some mole de olla. It was amazing and delicious. It’s basically like a one pot stew. A little spicy with a tasty broth and lots of vegetables and a little meat, accompanied with fresh, hot tortillas. It was perfect, and I probably could have eaten 3 more bowls full, at least in theory.

We were joined by Jenny and Walter. They suggested that I go check out this “Saturday Bazaar” that oddly enough only happens on Saturdays. They even showed me how to get there in my brand new Guia Roji road atlas of Mexico City. Walter even provided me with a few contigency plans in case I missed this or that exit, and a few options for how to return depending on where I end up parking. Should be a fun adventure for a Saturday afternoon.

Jenny mentioned that the other day a woman at her usual produce stand gave her 3 artichokes and told her that if she leaves them out to dry, eventually the center opens up and a beautiful flower blooms from the middle of the dried leaves of the artichoke. Jenny said that she was entirely skeptical, but that today one of them did indeed bloom–a bright purple pincushion that looks incredibly unlikely, but also very beautiful. I was intrigued, and I mentioned that I’d really love to see it, and maybe take a few photo graphs. I arranged to meet Walter at their place at 5 after he’d had a chance to run some errands.

In the mean time Anne (I found out she spells her name this way, pronounced Ah-neh) came back, so I invited her along, and we both headed over to see the unusual blossom together, with a brief stop at a supermarket so she doesn’t have to starve.

Igor, the Alaskan Husky greeted us, and soon we were face to face with the mystery flower. It was indeed unexpected. All the artichoke leaves were dried and shriveled and opened out to the edges, revealing this round purple pincushion of a blossom, about the size of a standard CD. Its two friends still haven’t bloomed, but one of them looks like it could be yellow or orange. The shapes and the textures were very interesting indeed, and I got some great photos of all three. (I seriously mean to add photos to this blog soon; bare with me!).

After staring at the blossom and taking a slew of photos, we went to the backyard so Anne could see the view. It’s really beautiful, even with all the new buildings that have or are popping up.

After the brief visit, we headed back toward the house, stopping at Starbucks for a refreshment and some conversation. It was the third time that day that I’d been in the area, and we even parked in the same spot that we’d occupied when we went to the supermarket.

After Starbuck’s we headed back home where we figured out some plans for night time activities. It’s going to be Mama Rumba’s for some salsa dancing!

I wasn’t feeling great. I wasn’t sick, but my lower back had flared up again. I don’t know exactly why. I hadn’t done anything specific that made it hurt. I thought of a few suspects. It could be my bed (it’s pretty hard and uncomfortable) it could be my new car (perhaps it’s not ergonimic in a good way for me), maybe it’s the chair I’d been sitting on in my room while doing my homework (I finally realized that there was not base support, so the cushion just sags through the hole, offering no real support–this is my main suspect actually. I realized that the other chair in my room does have a nice firm seat base, so I switched immediately, but I’m afraid the damage might already be done).

But I managed to get ready, and by the time Siggy stopped by to pick up Anne and me, I’d just decided to go for it. I’m glad I did, and after drinking some tequila, my back was feeling much better. After a little more tequila, I allowed myself to be dragged out from behind the table onto the dance floor, where Pancho gracefully dealt with my ineptitude. After a shot of straight tequila, I suddenly could dance with no problem, and after another, I was dancing with strangers, whirling and twirling quite convincingly. After a while they played Rigaton, so I could bust out some of my best home-grown hip hop “moves”. (Up until that point they’d had a live band playing great salsa music.) Then they played this song where they sing, “pass the bottle” and so we did just that… passed the bottle of tequila and everyone drank from it.

We stayed until the club closed, finally getthing back in Siggy’s car. We had to take her friend Elsa home. On the way we all ate Principe cookies. Anne and I were dropped off at around 4am.

So yesterday I woke up at 8am as requested by my great-aunt so I could have the first shower (she said that we shouldn’t use the 2 showers at the same time–not enough water pressure) and then join her for breakfast. We had a mix of mexican and german breakfast foods. Broetchen mit frijoles y queso. Also broetchen mit aprichot marmalade, and thankfully cafe con leche.

This morning we had a more typical german breakfast–broetchen mit kaese und schinken, coffee, und kartoffel salad. The potato salad was probably the oddest thing to have for breakfast, but it was really tasty. Sigrid said she thought it was best for breakfast.

After breakfast yesterday I was pretty wiped out. Not only from lack of sleep, but they say that it really takes a while to get used to the altitude. We’re about a mile above sea level here. I finished the Harry Potter book, then took a nap until 2pm–the scheduled time for lunch which is a heavier meal, more like dinner in the US.

After lunch, I joined Sigrid in her favorite small sitting room. I read aloud to her, a bit from the little book that I snagged at the used book store in Gaithersburg. It’s a travel log written by a Japanese fellow who traveled in Mexico in the 70s. So far, I’m highly amused by his perspective. He loves to discuss the history of the country, which is kind of interesting, but when he started to describe in detail the particulars of the ritual of human sacrifice, I felt weird reading that to my aunt, so I stopped and we played cards instead until Siggy came to pick me up.

I met Siggy’s friend Ray and we went for an ice cream. I tried the Mayacuba Nieve. We then walked to meet some of her other friends at a small bar called “Diente de Oro” or “Gold Tooth” It was nice enough and the beers were $2.50-$3.00. So I met: Pollo (chicken), Pancho, Paola, “The Old One” (he’s 28), Jimena and her boyfriend, and Charlie. They are all so cute, and I had such a nice time just watching them be loud and boisterous while making fun of one another. They were all friendly, and most of them spoke really good english. Each of them took a little time to chat with me a bit, or to teach me some Spanish.

After some time I was definitely getting kind of tired and hungry, so some of us went for tacos. I had dos tacos pastor y dos de ribs (forget what it was in Spanish). I love mexican tacos. They are very small and very fresh. Perfect meal for the evening which tends to be lighter, more like lunch. You order them a la carte like sushi so you can really try a lot of varieties.

After tacos we all parted ways and Siggy dropped me off back at home. I went to sleep soon after, and woke up this morning again at 8am. I think I might have let myself sleep if I’d wanted too, but I felt pretty awake, so I got up, showered, and then helped Sigrid prepare the breakfast which was mostly done, but the maid had to leave really early, so we had to make the final preparations.

Now I’m sitting outside on the little terrace overlooking the narrow yard. There’s a wall to separate us from the neighbors, covered with ivy. There are several tall trees, and lots of lovely plants in many varieties. Roses, holly, hibiscus, fuschias (which aren’t just in hanging baskets, but actually grow like a shrub right in the ground), boganvilla, daisies, begonias, orchids, geraniums, and of course, african violets (Sigrid’s favorite), just to name a few.

I like Tante Sigrid very much. It feels odd to compare her to my grandmother, her sister, but I can’t help but notice the difference. While Sigrid is perhaps a bit dramatic and protective (a trait that I think she has passed on to her daughters and their children), she’s very friendly and loves to talk. She’s interested in me and my thoughts and experiences, but also loves to reminisce about memories from her younger days.

She has a lot of interests, plants/flowers and playing cards as I have mentioned, but also she loves music and reading. She was an avid and daring horse rider when she was young, but she was aware that it was pretty dangerous, so she never allowed her kids to try it. Her eye-sight has gotten bad from the Macular Degeneration that it seems all her siblings and cousins also suffer from. To compensate, she’s gotten playing cards with large numbers on them and often listens to books on tape.

She has a small sitting room that has lots of windows where she most often spends her time. There’s also a large dining room filled with african violets, as well as a breakfast nook where she eats most of her meals. My favorite spot seems to be out here on the terrace by the lawn, though I also have a terrace upstairs that is connected to my room. I think I would really like it up there, but right now there is quite a bit of dog poo thanks to Peluches, Karin’s fuzzy droopy white dog. I haven’t been able to bring myself to clean it up, but once I do, I’m sure it’ll be a nice place to sit.

It’s such a strange space in time and place where I find myself right now. I could almost imagine it as a movie if I had a better wardrobe and a better defined story line. Right now I feel totally at peace. I don’t really have any more or fewer responsibilities, but I think perhaps because I’m here in Mexico away from everything I know, I feel less encumbered. I can really do as I please. I can go out for a walk, meet up with Siggy for an adventure, or just sit around and write, draw, sleep or soak up the sun. I’ll be starting my language school on the 6th, so then I’ll have a bit more of a routine, but really, until then, I can just take the time to get used to the altitude and the city.

It’s been raining a lot here, but right now the sun has burned away the clouds, and it’s shining on me.

Sigrid has told me to think of this as my home–I am free to come and go as I please, free to eat whatever whenever I want, free to do laundry, free to sleep. I hope to soon feel as comfortable as I do at home, but having a maid has thrown me for a bit of a loop. Her name is Reyna, and she really does a lot. I can’t help but think of the kitchen as her domain, but she’s so nice and accomodating, that I’ll probably get over that. Still, it’s a different experience to be served breakfast and dinner at your home. I know it’s just part of the culture, and it’s not a big deal here, but I think it’s contributed to me feeling like a guest in this house. It’s the least I can do to clean off the table, and I’m always tempted to do my own dishes, but Reyna shooes me away if I try.

Reyna only speaks Spanish which so far has been fine. I know enough that I can communicate what I need, and she knows that I really need her to speak slowly so I can understand. She has 2 kids: a boy who is 13 named Leonardo and a girl, 9, called Adriana. They both are highly curious about me, I think especially the girl. She seems very sweet and also is very good about speaking slowly and helping me with Spanish.

One of the things I love about Mexico city is the ubiquitous VW Beetle. They are everywhere, and I love them. Luckily the habit of the “punch buggy” game isn’t part of the Mexican culture or likely everyone’s arms would be black and blue.