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Published: January 9th 2012
Films on the plane: Horrible Bosses - good!
The Hangover II - shite. Is novelty an essential component of comedy? YES
By good chance I was sat next to a nice young woman from Leicestershire on the plane - Jess, so on arrival we teamed up to figure out an authorised taxi into the city. She had been through S America before and is an experienced traveller, speaking some Spanish. Result! Her hostel was right by the main square, the Zocalo, with the cathedral on one side, the Palacio Nacional on another, bright Christmas lights all around buildings and an enormous twinkling Christmas Tree in the middle, branded all over with Pepsi logos. In the dark it was a very festive first sight of the historic centre.
My own 3* hotel was another 5min drive away. Smart polished stone entrance, squashy sofas in the lobby, tablelamps with plastic coverings still on their white pleated lampshades - surely a fire hazard? My fifth floor room is spacious enough but with NO means of heating and only 1 double socket in the entire room. It is 7° outside. After the mangling of an 11hr flight I am ready for sleep
but am cold in bed. Meh.
In daylight my street is full of electronics stores noisily proclaiming their bargains. To meet Jess at 11am I need to use the Metro. Walking nervously past street hawkers shouting their wares of plastic toys and sunglasses, 3 blocks away is the nearest stop so I go underground and buy a few tickets - 15pesos for 5, that's under 20p per journey! The system is easy to understand and the morning throng is good for people-watching. Beggars and buskers get on at each stop, work a carriage, then get off. Blind men selling calendars, old men selling batteries, scruffy women selling throat lozenges...
I meet Jess in bright sunshine by the Pepsi tree. Having started the day cold I layered up so now I'm boiling! The Zocalo is filled with family Christmas activities - a huge ice rink, a snow machine tent for snowball battles, backdrops of Christmas scenes for kiddi photos, cake painting in preparation for
El Día de los Reyes tomorrow.
Inside the vast Catedral Metropolitana we gawp at the usual Catholic nonsense with its regional specialities. Side chapels are festooned with bright silky ribbons in gratitude
to a particular saint for prayers come true. There are photocopies of diplomas at the foot of a case of Holy Relics - thanks for exam success? One rack has a small padlock with each dedication, it stays there until the prayer is answered - WTF?? Another side chapel has versions of Mary looking like a brunette Barbie cloaked in embroidered satin and shiny gold bling, sheltered in a perspex canopy. Mint!
We're getting peckish, so back out in the sun we randomly wander side streets seeking sustenance down beside the Palacio Nacional. Nope, just wall-to-wall pavement traders shouting for our attention, overlooked by the frosty armed guards of the Palace. It's mayhem and I'm still nervous of being mugged at any moment. Over a fence we get a glance at the Templo Mayor - the footprint ruins of the main Aztec complex that Cortes destroyed and built the cathedral over. Weaving our way in a loop around the Zocalo we make it to a large street filled with posh frock shops. There must be a stack of dressy occasions for Mexican dames to keep this lot in business. The colourful evening dresses are very long and elegant on
the mannequins. Given most females here don't even come up to my armpit, I'm guessing these beautiful gowns are hemmed to suit each customer! Silver and gold strappy evening shoes are displayed too, heels suitable for a lap dancer.... or a very short chica.
We find a diner for lunch and I have my first stab at Mexican food - fried corn tortillas topped with 3 mole sauces, green brown and red. It's not great but the large fresh orange juice is. For the large band of uniformed staff we are almost the only customers and while we are still eating, one fills time mopping the floor, which was not dirty, using cleaning fluid smelling like Jeyes, so that's fairly offputting!
Jess needs to get back to Skype her Ma, whom she only saw yesterday, so I'm solo for the afternoon. Making my way down the busy main shopping street is great for people-watching. Couples seem quite affectionate in public. Traffic cops stand around chatting. Men carry great loads on their shoulders. Older people don't look very healthy. Women are quite keen on the glam aesthetic, filling their tight jeans with Latino curves. Young men are
quite keen on hair gel, creating trendy styles. I loiter for some time around a pleasant leafy square with fountain and church just taking it all in before descending marble steps past sellers of lighters and sesame snacks into the Metro. I navigate several changes in the underground labyrith over to massive Chapultepec Park.
Exiting back into daylight I pause on a road bridge to get my bearings as there are no signs. While I consult my map I am approached by a local woman asking if I read magazines? Erm, before you spin me a line can you tell me where the Museum of Anthropology is? She walks along with me to show me the way. Result. She also wants to give me a copy of the Watchtower to read. She's Mexican but has been a Jehova's Witness for some years and learnt English so she could fulfill her mission to foreign tourists in the city. Fair play.
The Museum is large modern and well-arranged with galleries surrounding a peaceful inner courtyard. One section of paving is roped off for workmen with tools and generator, several slabs lifted up for attention. However as I pass by the
3 men are just sitting around. I spend a very happy afternoon being overwhelmed with hundreds of pre-Colombian stone carvings, clay figurines, obsidian body ornaments... I hear a random European explain to 2 American women that jade is so hard it took the Indians months to work a piece without the aid of metal tools, gradually shaping it by sand-grinding. Crikey. Out the back are lush gardens to display larger stone temple pieces. They look great surrounded by greenery. After so much archaeology it's refreshing to see the upper floor of regional folk customs seamlessly blending Catholicism with indigenous beliefs. Holy festivals are celebrated with distinctly pagan masks headresses and dancing. Mexico is a big old country and every area has its own unique traditions honouring the old Gods, the land, the phases of life, their dead. Each town had a shaman as well as a priest. Handlooming cloth means garments are rather square to use every piece of material, then elaborately embroidered. Maize cultivation as food staple and the cycles of the year feature strongly in their rituals. Bright ribbons hang from crazy straw hats, mirrors are strung around necks, paper flowers make arches over altars, colourful beads set
in clay create vibrant pictures, shiny tinsel brightens garlands. I love the diaramas of domestic scenes, each hut with its own altar/shrine for the daily observances that interweave their rural existence. It's so unusual for me to see a culture where Christianity didn't stamp out the original 'nature-magic' practices or drive them underground. Great stuff.
However, my legs are now aching big time and 'tengo hambre' - I'm hungry. I pass through the wide courtyard again. Paving workmen now absent, no visible progress from earlier. As I'm about to leave there is a very loud humming from right above me. I watch as a noisy helicopter takes off from the top of a very tall building and dragonflies away into the dusk. With so much traffic maybe this is the way rich people get around the city?
Beyond the smart environs of the museum are a string of makeshift kiosks for souvenirs and snacks. I avoid them, priced for tourists. Back near the Metro entrance are also a series of vendors with tiny stalls. In Japan this would be a row of vending machines. Here labour is cheap so it's people. Instead of a fridge the bottles of
drink are kept cool in a vast tub of ice. I choose a coke and 2 blocks of peanut brittle. The old man in a cowboy hat tells me the price but I can't quite understand so I present the coins I have and he indicates the ones he wants. 7 pesos. That's 32pence.
On the return Metro I'm delighted to see people carting home large round flat boxes. I know these contain special Rosca de Reyes cakes for Epiphany celebrations tomorrow. It's big here, children get presents. I go straight to meet Jess at her hostel and share beers with 2 of her fellows - Adi is an Austrian Arab who speaks 5 languages, Brian is a 54yr old Welshman whose accent I correctly guess as Swansea. We go to the nearest place for dinner, a definitely tourist restaurant beside the Zocalo. We're almost the only customers again but at least they have Englsih menus. Adi has forgotten his wallet so leaves to get it before we order. He doesn't come back! The 3 of us discuss what we're planning for tomorrow. Jess is going to the famous temple ruins out of town. I'm looking forward to finding
the Frieda Kahlo house. Brian thinks he might get a tattoo of the Orion constellation on his ankle. I privately find this highly funny and instantly judge him as rather thick which is born out by later comments.
Later I bid Jess goodbye as I won't see her again, she's heading across to the Yucatan, then flying down further into Central America for 3 months. Intrepid girl. Returning on the Metro to my neighbourhood, I miss my way in the dark and walk in the wrong direction. The streets are completely different at night, shuttered shops, rubbish lying around, not many people still about. When I do make it back to Hotel El Salvador I request an extra blanket to keep me warmer in bed. The lift is out of order so I climb the stairs 5 floors. That warms me up quite a bit!
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Epsom
non-member comment
Bully for you.
Terrific description and all those photographs. Camera working well, then. I loved Jesus with the cocoa beans and particularly fetching skirt!! So glad I eventually found my way in. I'm still sure there is a glitch in the private option, because I get a brief glimpse of your site then it is immediately covered by the joining form. Now you are public I found my way your help. Good luck.