Posted on January 21, 2003 in Memes
While we’re off exploring the continent’s most polluted city, I invite my readers to explore some questions regarding writing.
Posted on January 20, 2003 in Immigration Vacations
The people in Mexico City have been kind and friendly without resorting to the grabby tactics I know so well from Tijuana and other places on the south side of the friendly strands of barbed wire.
Posted on January 20, 2003 in Vacations
The guide demonstrated a nice technique for dealing with the swarms of vendors who approach you while walking down the Avenue of the Dead or any other open market.
Posted on January 20, 2003 in Site News
The First Amendment protects my Freedom of Association as well as your Freedom of Speech in public domains. I choose not to associate with you.
Posted on January 19, 2003 in Vacations
Went to the Basilica of Guadalupe today. Observed the “miraculous image” from one of the four conveyor belts which drag pilgrims past her place on the wall behind the altar. The aisle is discreetly set underground so that you can’t wave to friends or hold up an advertising card visible to the congregation. Once we got outside the church, we ran into the first of several photographers who offered people the chance to have their pictures taken with the Virgin while astride one of two artificial donkies. A few clever vendors added life sized pictures of John Paul II, Juan Diego, Mickey Mouse, Tigger, or Spiderman.
Later we worked our way down to the Alameda Central where we viewed the murals in the Palacio Belle Artes and the Diego Rivera Mural Museum.
Posted on January 18, 2003 in Vacations
All the way over here, Lynn asked me to repeat the spelling. “Chapulpetec Park”, I’d repeat for her. “C H A P U L P E T E C — just like it sounds.”
Posted on January 17, 2003 in Vacations
No, still no photos. We´re back in the Internet Cafe located in the Zona Rosa (the pink not the red zone). We spent too much money today visiting the Templo Mayor and the Palace of Justice (where we paid a guide to explain the Rivera murals to us — he did a nice job, though he didn´t teach me any Mexican history that I had´nt known before (but then, I´m not the average gringo.
A taxi driver told us that one needed three things to drive around in Mexico City: a good set of brakes, a good horn, and Jesus Christ. I´ve decided not to drive out to the pyramids: instead we´re going on an organized tour. Drivers cut in all kinds of directions just to get ahead. We´ve seen taxi drivers go short of the sidewalk to get around stalled traffic. More than once, I found myself facing opposing traffic. I´m leaving this town for the experts.
Main attraction: the Templo Mayor, the remnants of the great double pyramid that used to stand in the center of the Aztec capital. A large, informal market fills the square between the sanctuary of the old gods and the Sanctuary of the new one. Aztec dancers staked out a rainbow-colored Aztec calendar. Some of the dancers reserved the closest spots for their own stalls where they sold reproductions of artifacts, skulls, and, in one case, nearly obsence drawings of Aztec warriors carrying off comatose maidens. (I never realized that they made so many.) Prices were astounding for those of us reared on the markets of Tijuana and Ensenada. Even the more tourist-infested markets offered better bargains than the dives of the Avenue Revolucion in TJ.
We ate well without ever entering a restaurant. For less than five dollars the two of us bought ourselves generous helpings of ceviche (lime-pickled seafood in salsa) and sodas. Lynn hunted down bargains in beads and jewelry for her nieces while I, naturally, procured skulls and similar artifacts.
Mixed among the souvenir-infested blankets were a few faith healers, some styling themselves as Aztecs. I observed, but did not photograph a man who kept a smoking bowl of copal. His customers, who were many, approached him one by one. He´d press his thumb to their foreheads while murmuring something, possibly in Nahuatl. This man wore a panama hat, a white shirt, and blue jeans. A hippy contender dressed in a traditional Aztec headdress and breachclout. He prefered to do consultations, as far as I could see, rather than actual healings. An elderly bruja dressed in bright native-woven rags enjoined us to partake of her services. A sign indicated that she offered only ¨white magic¨¨. The images of saints which surrounded her (including ¨Santisima Muertas¨– Saint Death) conflicted only with the tarot cards she used to tell the fortune of an anxious university student. While she made him cover the cards with his hands, she explained her services to us. Of course, she spoke so rapidly, we did not understand.
The Templo Mayor itself consisted of ridge after ridge of black and burgandy walls made of pumice. Concrete paths took us around the site, which included the remnants of several feathered serpents, eagle warriors, and polychrome inner sanctuaries protected by steel roofs. In the very back was a modern museum where we enjoyed exhibits of sacrifice remnants, a skull rack, several terracotta idols (including my all time favorites Xipe Totec and Mitlantecuhlti), and, the Mona Lisa of the place, a round stone depicting the chopped up remnants of an Aztec goddess who´d been thrown off the pyramid in mythic times after slaying her mother.
Tomorrow, we go to the Museum of Anthropology in Chapultepec Park and to the cemetery where Diego Riviera is buried. Sunday is reserved for Lynn´s pilgrimage to Guadalupe and on Monday we visit the Pyramids.
To be continued….
Posted on January 16, 2003 in Vacations
Enroute, I stopped to leave a calling card in the restroom to show what I thought of the airport’s namesake.