My 28th with Frida

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The intensely bright blue walls greeted us even before we had reached Calle Londres. Strolling through the side streets of Coyoacan this morning searching for her house was sort of like a grown-up version of ¨I spy.¨ Anything even attempting to be that vivid color would cause a quick sideways glance and the open-ended question of ¨Is that it?¨ When I finally came upon it, however, I knew right away. There is no questioning, or comparing, with the former house of Frida Kahlo.

When I planned this trip I knew right away that I had to see this place that I had been picturing in my head for so long. Frida was not about to let me down- upon entering those blue walls I felt a sense of calm welcome. The blue contrasts perfectly with the hundreds of plants and flowers in the inner courtyard, and upon examination of her bedroom the fact that butterflies were one of her favorites as well seems now an obvious oversight. How did I miss such a thing?

Because of that visit, and many other things today and over the past week or two, my 28th will be one to remember. Who else gets serenaded by a mariachi band at their dinner table while gazing up at bullet holes in the ceiling left by Pancho Villa almost one hundred years ago? Only in Mexico, my friends, only in Mexico.

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