The Big Big Trip Journal! If you want to make the man (or woman) upstairs laugh, just tell him your plans!

[HobbesOnTour]

Day whatever......

Something a little different this week.....
https://strava.app.link/T7ahjbobz9

There's 190 odd original photos on there to give folks an idea of what one barrio, or neighbourhood looks like!
(There are some duplicates - in my defence trying doing it on a phone )

If you want some reading I heartily recommend:

https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/my-sons-first-bikepacking-micro-adventure.266354/

https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/bill-billys-world-tour-across-north-england.266445/

for some father - son adventures!

I can't get a really good handle on how easy or otherwise Strava is to look at pictures, so if anyone has some feedback or suggestions I'd appreciate it!

https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day whatever......

Roma

For @IaninSheffield

The colonia was planned as an upper-class Porfirian neighborhood in the early twentieth century. By the 1940s, it had become a middle-class neighborhood in slow decline, with the downswing being worsened by the 1985 Mexico City earthquake. Since the 2000s, the area has seen increasing gentrification.[3]

Currently Roma and neighbouring Condesa are known for being the epicenter of hipster subculture in the city, and rivals Polanco as the center of the city's culinary scene. Besides residential buildings, the neighborhood streets are lined with restaurants, bars, clubs, shops, cultural centers, churches and galleries.[4] Many are housed in former Art Nouveau and Neo-Classical buildings dating from the Porfiriato period at the beginning of the 20th century. Roma was designated as a "Barrio Mágico" ("magical neighborhood") by the city in 2011.[5] Wikipedia

An electrical pole, cables everywhere, an ugly car..... and it's still a pretty picture. ​

I didn't set off to explore Roma. In fact, I was supposed to be heading in the opposite direction, but as is the way for someone who has the gift of time coupled with an appalling sense of direction I meandered, being drawn down here for a tree, over there for a building and around the corner just because it looked so inviting. Before I knew it, I was happily "lost", or as I prefer to think of it, in exploring mode.

It really is the most valuable of gifts - time. There's no need to rush, there's time not just to see but to savour, to absorb and to feel. To illustrate this point, having "discovered" Roma, I decided to make a return trip on the bike. I didn't make it. I stopped to watch a man teaching his son how to ride a bike - on a busy road - and once hooked, followed them into a wonderful park where more distractions pulled me hither and tither. I was "lost" for a whole afternoon.

If I ever do make it down to Tierra del Fuego I've a sneaking suspicion that the glaciers will leave me dizzy with their high (relative) speed!

Time and México City combined is one of those special combinations like warm soda bread dripping with Kerrygold butter - each on their own are great, but combined? That's a little bit of heaven right there. Also, we can survive without them, even tell ourselves that we don't need them, but there's no denying the fact that life is simply better with them!

I've the Lonely Planet guide to Mexico (I'm generally not one for those types of books) but I haven't looked at it for CDMX since I got here. It doesn't have a section on Roma (I opened it just now to check) but it does have a long list of trendy stores, restaurants, coffee shops and bars all with Roma addresses. Even if all those things weren't severely curtailed by Covid, I still wouldn't be in a rush to visit based on that list.

However, the Roma neighbourhood is a hell of a lot more than some trendy, hipster hanging out joints.

There's a house in there, somewhere, I promise! ​

For a start, as is typical here, it's got the trendy next to the old and dilapidated. There are some very exclusive small stores and boutiques, but at one end beside a park there's an open air market - cheap, cheerful and lots of it.

I can buy a taco for 15 pesos from a street vendor or pay up to five times that in a trendy joint. I can browse in a fancy bookshop or I can mosey half way down the street and have a lot more fun in a second hand bookshop with its chaotic towers, walls and mounds of books. (It's the first time I've actually cursed Covid since I got to this city - I didn't stay anywhere long enough).

Trees in front of buildings​

The larger streets can be chaotic, the smaller streets calmer and I can walk a long park in the middle of the main street if I so desire, traffic buffered by trees, the sunlight (or rain!) filtered by branches and leaves, regular seats to sit, relax and watch the world go by. There are also regular fountains (sadly all suffering a Covid outage). It really is an interesting experience, this island of serenity stretching through the middle of a busy road.

There are many, many elegant buildings, well secured, well cared for and no doubt very expensive. And there are near ruins, or total ruins, often within low-fat-soyamilk-caffeine-free-cappuccino throwing distance of each other!

I know this happens everywhere, but it's very common here and I find it charming. On my meanderings I've learned not to judge buildings too quickly. What looks an uninhabited wreck actually is a home for people, a wall with a large gate can be hiding a beautiful building, vibrant garden and secure parking, or that elegant church in the distance is actually falling apart up close (just about all the churches are in varying states of disrepair).

A wreck or a thing of beauty? ​

A typical characteristic of this part of the world is the use of vivid colours on buildings. Oranges, greens, blues, yellows, pinks, purples, often in crazy, but captivating sequences. "Blue and green should never be seen" has not been adopted in México! It reminds me of older buildings in the smaller towns and villages in Ireland (or the tourist traps) - vivid colours brightening up (and possibly camouflaging cold and damp houses).

The charm, however, in Roma, is neither the buildings nor the trendy, hipster services. It's the atmosphere. The calm amidst the chaos.

There's a hectic river of human activity flowing down the main thoroughfares, sweeping you along if that's your thing. Rivers have banks and the riverbanks here are calm, interesting, stimulating. These metaphorical riverbanks are like real riverbanks; They have trees and bushes, places to sit and watch "the river" sweep past, they're colourful and vivid, man-made and from Mother Nature. They even have "lifebuoys" if you inadvertently step into "the river". The lifebuoy? The attitude of people. I've become more and more careless trying to take a photo, often finding myself in the middle of the road. I've lost count of the number of times that a car has stopped, less to avoid running me down, more to allow me to take a photo without a car in the way. It's not an aberration, it's normal. No, scratch that - it's not normal. It's special. On that note if I suddenly disappear from view it'll be safe to assume that the American tourists are back on the roads

How long is long enough to soak this up? ​

This brings me to the problem with Roma, and indeed big parts of this city - the taking of photos. Forget about the massive bundles of wires and cables hanging out of poles, or the frequent low hanging or broken cables that can wrap me up or bisect a scene, the problem is obstrucion in the form of trees and to a lesser extent cars. A beautiful old building fronted by a collection of Soccer Mom cars is an interesting contrast, I suppose. I prefer when the cars are old and battered, but it is what it is.

Trees planted in front of buildings really impact on the photo options. I can back into them and not get the full building or they can shield the whole building from the lens! The shade can distort the "real" colour or totally eliminate detail.

Photo problem aside, the trees are king. On a sunny day the shade and coolness beneath them is refreshing, on a rainy day, they're often a huge, natural umbrella. As valuable as that may be, their real contribution is in the atmosphere they impart.

How do trees impart atmosphere? Let me count the ways;
There's the sheer variety of trees. Some are huge, some are tiny, some shoot straight up and explode in a firework style like my favourites - the Palm trees, others are stout and bushy, providing immense cover. Some are young, are being nurtured and protected, while others are mature, gnarly and disdain human intervention as they grow at human unfriendly trajectories. I'm no botanist, and can't identify much more than a Palm tree, but the multitude of tree varieties just reminds me that I'm in a new world on a great adventure. Here, in this grand City, right up there with the Great Cities of the World, there's a wildness, a natural, living, thriving, untempered and vivid wildness that goes a long, long way towards reminding me that I may be stuck, but I'm still travelling.

Depending on the direction I take I can leave Roma and head through a poorer area, far fewer trees, more broken roads and footpaths or I can head in the opposite direction and be surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers. On foot, the transition is slow, on a bike it can be sudden and jolting, metaphorically and literally - the surfaces become….. interesting!

I visited Roma over three days, the first meandering, the second as the destination for a walk (I ended up walking over 30km!) and the third day on the bike. One day was dry, the second was sunny and hot, the third wet and dull. Each time I saw different features and when I go back again I'll see even more.

And Roma isn't even my favourite part of the city!

For a whole load more pictures have a look at Strava

https://strava.app.link/T7ahjbobz9

*All piccies edited.

Chat away! https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Sunday, September 13, 2020

When I first came to México City, in a neighbourhood close by I came across some wonderful looking restaurants. One particularly pretty little plaza had a few that looked enchanting. Of course, they were all closed at the time.

Today I got to eat in one, well, technically outside of one and it certainly didn't disappoint. However, this being México, there's a whole lot more to the tale than simply having a good meal.

For the past few weeks, weekends are for weekend things. Yesterday, Saturday's, highlight was watching the Pro14 (Rugby) final - Leinster won!

When that was over, it was out in the afternoon for a long walk. Just when I think I've seen and absorbed all that the City close to me has to offer, Mother Nature steps in and schools me.

Caught in a torrential downpour I took shelter in a Starbucks until they closed and kicked me out. Then it was hopping from awning to awning until finally, I could make a bit of progress. I was still a good seven or eight kms from home, but at least the sky was dry (the paths and streets a different story!).

The thing was, because of my sheltering I missed the last of the daylight. Darkness had fallen and if you think that's a bad thing, you'd be mistaken.

Taking the smaller streets, the trees cast wonderful shadows as they waged a silent and still war with any street lighting. I couldn't see the colours of the trees, certainly, but the shapes were more prominent, the branches and twisted, gnarled trunks something from a fantasy. Light reflecting upwards from all the water on the street was another bright weave into the dark tapestry all around me.

I haven't been out much after dark, certainly not within spitting distance of home, but not for one moment did I feel unsafe.

This is on its own in the middle of a busy road. When i first saw it on the bike I got so distracted I almost got squashed by a bus! A beautiful burst of bright colour! ​

At one stage, I passed three guys, clearly down on their luck, sitting in a doorway that would have given some shelter in the rain.

As I walked by, one of them said something to me that took some moments to process. He'd been asking for a cigarette. Ordinarily, I'd continue on, but this is México and things here are different. I turned around, strode back to them and in my best Spanish apologised, explained I was learning their language and it took me a moment to process. I offered three cigarettes, all gratefully accepted and had a chance to assess the situation. One was drunk as a lord and probably had been for a number of years. One was very quiet, eyes lowered in a face that was looking down, while the third, the one who hailed, me was the most alert of the trio.

What followed was a very interesting conversation. Hernando had lived in California for 42 years, served in the US army as a Marine and had seen action in Iraq. Once my nationality was established, he let loose on his attitude to America. To say he was not a fan would be an understatement.

He wasn't the typical street dweller stereotype, fluent in English and French as well as several local dialects. At my request we conversed in Spanish and he looked for details of my trip and recounted some of his military experiences.

We bumped fists as I went to move on and declined the offer of another cigarette, a stern look to his companions indicating that they should decline too.

Today, then, Sunday, was the day I was heading back to San Angel, a former village, now subsumed in this big city. There were parts I wanted to explore on foot, since a lot of it is cobbled and is a brutal punishment on a bike.

Beautiful but brutal on a bike! ​

Even though i had a destination in mind, it's just impossible not to get sidetracked because I'm passing through some of the oldest parts of the city. Arriving in San Angel I skirted the market and went up a side street. At the top of this street I saw a man, certainly not a well off man, lying on the street. This is not an uncommon sight around here. As I drew closer I noticed the Police Car (also not an uncommon sight - so common, in fact, that they barely register) and some Policemen standing around. Then a few things were processed almost simultaneously. The man seemed to be at a very uncomfortable angle for someone asleep. There were also a lot of flies buzzing around him. Finally, I noticed the yellow tape cordoning off a very small area around him.

The poor man was dead.

How, why or for how long I have no idea. What was striking was that it seemed so normal. There was a lot of foot traffic around the market, but nobody seemed to be particularly put out.

I couldn't but help think of Hernando from the night before and especially his two friends who seemed much less well able to handle their situation. I can't recall ever having had a conversation like that before, and bang, the very next day I witness the consequences of life on the street.

Just up the street, I reached a little plaza/park, bought a bottle of water and sat for a little while thinking.

I was familiar with this place, having visited already this week. It's home to a statue to the leader of the San Patricios (another post for another day) and a monument to the men of the Battalion who lost their lives - or to put it more accurately - were executed by the Americans.

Having gathered my thoughts and gotten myself into a slightly more positive mood I was hit with the song "The Fields of Athenry", an Irish lament for a man sent to Australia for having the temerity to steal some food to feed his starving family.

It has to be admitted that that's an unusual song to be hearing in a Plaza in México city!

In fact, it wasn't the only Irish tune being performed by a duo, one on mandolin, the other on guitar, under a little marquee.

There was a whole load of them! And surprisingly good versions too!

Then they started a song with the lyrics "On the road to sweet Athy…." and we entered the twilight zone.

I hummed and hawed as to whether I should say something or not, but in the end decided that I should say something. So, when the song was over, I approached the closest member of the band, and explained that I was actually from the town of Athy (my Spanish didn't extend to explaining that it was clearly a very, very old song because "sweet" is not the adjective that immediately comes to mind these days!).

Well, if I'd told him that I was from Colombia Records and that I wanted to sign them then and there for billions of pesos I couldn't have received a warmer welcome. His curious colleague once discovering my origins, announced to all and sundry in the square of my heritage. I thought it would be an amusing anecdote for the musicians, not a major public event! Then someone suggested I should sing and that's where reality resumed.

They asked me to stay around until after the gig, which I was happy to do and afterwards another chat was had.

The Mexican Rovers. Not a drop of Irish blood in the pair of them, but Luke Kelly is an influence and they can do a pretty good interpretation! Look them up!

The Mexican Rovers ​

After the public announcement I resumed my seat and was a little disturbed by a couple of older ladies making eyes at me, until I was rescued by a guy who came over to make sure I was feeling welcome in his country. He's about 9 months too late! Another pleasant chat with him recommending places to visit, just about all of which I've already seen - by accident rather than design. He mentioned Coyoacán and I told him of my near drug-like addiction. He then recommended a cafe to visit in the centre - El Café de Cuba. When I asked him where it was, he flapped his hands dismissively saying that wasn't important, I could find it easily enough, and then went on to describe in great detail why I should visit. Much more valuable than an address!

Heading off again, I was certainly in a better frame of mind. Where I was wandering has some of the oldest colonial history with narrow cobbled streets, wonderful gates, old walls and interesting buildings in various states of repair and or refurbishment.

The Modern City is never too far away!​

This is one of the wealthiest residential areas I've seen and, as is typical in my experience, the welcome is muted. There were significantly fewer smiles from people, but none of the borderline hostile sullen stares I'd receive in similar areas in the US.

This is down the middle of a busy road! ​

And so I wandered, bemused at the experiences this city throws at me, sometimes in rapid succession. So, when I meandered towards the familiar church, I picked one of the restaurants, bagged a table outside and enjoyed some guacamole, some mole (that's the sauce, not the rodent!) with chicken and a cold beer.

I've about another hour's walk to get home. Rested, refuelled and ready to go it could take me three hours or even a bit more!

Can I really be blamed if I'm late home? ​

México can be hard, but it's great!

Product Placement Alert!
At this point I'd like to give a big plug to cycle.travel. While it has worked since I crossed the border, it was only in the most limited way. I couldn't use addresses, for example, so while I have used it in Mexico, here in the big city it hasn't been of much use, especially on a phone sized screen.

I had been using Komoot now and again simply because of its address searching facility but stopped since it appeared to be trying to kill me.

Well, last week playing around trying to find a pyramid I realised that Cycle.Travel now has the address search function working!! It's 100% operational here in México!

The best bike route planner just got better!!

In Europe, Cycle.travel has brought me on safe and interesting roads. It got me from NL to Ireland and back with about 15 minutes of planning, it gave me better roads than the ACA in America and it literally saved my ass in Nashville when Komoot wanted to kill me on Old Hickory Blvd.

I know Richard sometimes reads these posts so I want to take this chance to say a big, big thank you for putting together such a great tool for a bike traveller.

Muchas Gracias!

If you haven't used it before, spend a bit of time getting used to it. It's worth it. It's not perfect, no planner is, but I reckon it's the best, certainly for touring.

https://cycle.travel/

Before I forget..... the restaurant​

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day WhatTheHellDoesItEvenMatter

Sunday, September 27, 2020

I went out for a bike ride today!

There's a few rules you need to be aware of to ride a bike here. I don't think they're written down anywhere, but don't let that put you off!

It's quiet today, but normally this is choc a block with traffic, stalls and lots and of people!​

I suppose the first one is that a driver behaves differently when he is in your field of vision than when he is not. So, in other words, when a car is behind me I really don't have to worry. However, once that car pulls alongside me, or overtakes me, then I have to be on full alert! It appears to be a zero sum game - They see me when I can't see them and once I can see them I disappear from their consciousness!

Another is that traffic lights are misnamed. They're just lights and appear to have little influence on traffic. They're a useful indicator of traffic flow, but not much else. There is so much light breaking, early and late, that sticking rigidly to them is a fool's game! That's not mentioning the large number of confusing junctions here often with 6 or 8 different roads. Trying to pick out which traffic light was optimistically placed for my guidance is a puzzle requiring the wisdom of Methuselah!

I am Tree. I grow where I will.​

The final rule is that one way streets are, in the language of the times, fake news! It would seem that the one way system can be overruled when the driver has sufficient need. What's defined as sufficient need is, as yet, unclear to me. And of course, if you think your bike, motorbike or vehicle is sufficiently small, then one ways, like most others, doesn't apply to you!

A picture cannot possibly capture the feeling of these streets, influenced so much by the trees. Shade from the sun, shelter from the rain, home to birds and sometimes squirrels. Magic. Pure Magic. ​

Amongst the other things that make life interesting is noise!
Yes, there's more horn blowing now than before, but there appears to be little venom or malice. Oftentimes, it just seems to be someone saying "Hey, I exist and to prove it I'm going to hit my horn".
It can, though, make a foreign cyclist a tad jumpy at times.
Other noises that can freak out the unsuspecting cyclist is the sound of rushing water coming from a drain. On more than one occasion I've been swinging my head looking for the tsunami!
Then there are the manhole covers. Often loose fitting, sometimes very loose fitting, they create a metallic hammering sound when driven over. You'd think I'd get used to that, but each one has its own unique sound and believe it or not, the sound can vary depending on whether it's a car, pickup, van or 18 wheels rolling over it! One day, in the centre I was ducking for cover when a big truck and trailer rolled over a particularly loose manhole!
Then there's just the noise of the mishmash of traffic - everything from ancient motorbikes to muscle cars, pickups held together with rope and a prayer to important people with their own heavily armed jeeps. There's a very strange orchestra of traffic making a lot of noise, yet, if it ever gets too much, without knowing where I am, I can find a quieter street or a little park and the noise just falls away…….

Of course, there's always the surfaces to contend with. They can be smooth, but generally not for long. Roads have been dug up, sealed, redug and resealed again - it makes for an interesting ride! There's the ever present speedbumps of varying types, heights and angles to add a sense of adventure. Cobblestones are just a fact of life. Then there's the sunken drains, potholes (for no apparent reason) tree roots and the ocassional trunk to make me really appreciate life!
And that's just in the dry! After rain it gets a whole lot more interesting!

Some of the more interesting surfaces!​

I get on fine with most of the traffic. Bikes are common here and folks are used to them. I'm more likely to smile and laugh when someone pulls in front of me. Sometimes I'll get a cheeky grin and a salute from someone when they know they've done something silly. It helps that I'm rarely in a hurry and sometimes it's fun to just pull in and watch all the craziness going on.
The exception are Ambulance Drivers. I'm fairly sure that they work on a commission basis, or at least that's the only reason that seems to match their homicidal driving style! It's instinct for me to pull over out of the way when I hear a siren. In México I've expanded the whole "pulling over" thing. I call it the "reverse sismo routine" - get off the street, into a building and get as far upstairs as is possible before the flashing lights pass me!

If all that reads like a complaint then I'm not explaining myself very well!

It's fabulous! It's life affirming! It gets the heart pumping and then gives lots of places to relax.

Forget about "training" or Strava Segments. The place is too busy, too crazy, too beautiful, too historical for any of that stuff.

Is there any day better on a bike that doesn't involve getting a backrub from a big palm leaf? ​

There are just too many things that deserve a bit of time to be observed, absorbed, stored. It could be a building, a car, a tree, a park, a dog, a character. To zip past, giving only a glance is a sure fire way of ending up in whatever Hell has been set aside for cycle tourists.

It's people like this that make a bike ride here so interesting!

Yes, it's a pretty cool car, but what the photo can't transmit is the almost ear shattering volume of music emanating from the car!
He's driving very slowly through residential streets, blasting his music (I'm thinking late 80's dance), waving and saluting everybody. Everyone, and I mean everyone, receives a beaming smile, a wave, for the more fortunate he removes his hat and waves that.
Without fail, everyone responds with a smile and usually a wave back. There isn't a frown, a Sunday hangover grimace, or any sign of annoyance.
I have no idea if he is a local character who does this every Sunday, or if it's just normal to express your joy and share it around.

There are definitely days and they're coming around more frequently now when the road isn't just calling out to me, it's bellowing, Sergeant Major-like at me. The urge to explore sometimes, is very dominant, clouding everything else. Thankfully, this great city throws up scenes like this……

The first time I came across this sight, a cool, damp day, moving slowly in heavy traffic, my heart leapt. There is something awe inspiring about a church to me, especially an old one. Cycling in Europe, spires could act as a crude navigational tool. I missed that in the US - a severe lack of spires, but churches here are tall and proud. To happen upon one is a real treat and goes a little of the way in satisfying the exploration urge. Now that cycle.travel is working here I could easily throw a route together to bring me from church to church. Feck that! This way is a lot more fun!

Just a sample of things to see on a wander....a wonderful old door, an old car (getting done up during the week) three trees that bring out the child in me and a Sunday Salesman! ​

A lot more pictures here:
https://strava.app.link/Ss8DLuLv89


Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day Whatever…….

Many years ago on one of those TV channels near the end of the list I was watching a program on airplane crash investigators.
One investigator said that planes rarely fall out of the sky for one catastrophic reason - it's normally the result of a sequence of events, each one relatively innocuous, but together, in a sequence, they can be fatal.
I don't know why, but that stuck in my head and became something of a mantra. If it delivered a lesson it was that until a catastrophe happens it's possible to postpone or prevent it just by picking up on one of the errors.
The example he used was illuminating.
A US plane in Canada had a faulty fuel gauge.
Not a huge problem in itself since pilots also use the manifest to show how much fuel they have.
Due to a communication error, the plane was refueled with X litres instead of X gallons.
Despite this, the plane had enough fuel to reach its next destination.
In flight, bad weather at the destination caused air traffic control to request a diversion to a different airport. The pilot did his checks, fuel gauge was good, fuel order was good and changed direction.
The plane ran out of fuel and was lost.

Why am I talking about plane crashes?
Well, I haven't been in the best of form for a while. Nothing serious, but it first manifested itself in a poor sleeping pattern. I'd wake up suddenly and have terrible difficulty getting back to sleep. This would happen several times a night, and of course, with sleep, it affects everything else.
It took me a while to i.d. the trigger and as I alluded to above it was a few things all running together.

The first was the poor dead man in the street. That took more out of me than I initially thought. The fact is that there is not a whole lot separating me from the homelessness stratum of society at the moment in that, I, like a lot of them, am operating without a safety net.
It's nothing to seriously worry about for a while, but a single, stark image got lodged in my subconscious somewhere.

Around the same time I read of a touring cyclist killed on Highway 17 in South Carolina. From what I can pick up he was south of Charleston but on a very familiar 4 laner with minimal shoulder.
He was towing a trailer with his old dog in it and was hit from behind. The dog, badly injured, survived, the cyclist died at the scene. After a quick investigation the driver was arrested.
Road accidents can happen at any time, in any place, but from what I can piece together it was on a straight road in good conditions. Just a lapse of concentration. It just happened to be on a highway that I had my own issues with.

These rainstorms sneak up like ninjas! In front is the footpath covered in water, to the left the deeper water where path and road meet. Drains are so overwhelmed that they turn into fountains shooting water out!​

Normally a good walk can blow the cobwebs off but the rainy season didn't so much swagger away as pause frequently, cock his leg and mark his territory! Ferocious showers flooded streets, basements, houses and soaked me twice in two days. Given that clothes drying options are minimal and I don't have a lot of clothing anyway, I was stuck inside for the guts of a week. Whenever I did go outside, invariably in damp clothing and definitely wet, squelchy footwear, I got rained on again. Here, it's not the rain falling down that gets you, it's the rivers running down the streets, the swirling rapids at every corner that soak you from the toes up! Those lovely trees with their interesting trunks and branches that I'm always prattling on about? Well, in the rain they turn into destroyers of umbrellas! The holes in the streets, the broken drains, the uneven kerbs are hidden under the water so that the wise walker soon gives up on the idea of staying dry and instead focuses on staying upright!

Tired, damp and with a bit of a cloud around my head my Spanish was suffering too. Progress regressed to the point that I seemed to be going backwards. Learning Spanish is the rock I cling to on tough days, the beacon that lights things up so I can see a way forward. A dimming light is not great for looking forward and a slippy rock is not great for holding on to.

I saw a post on Facebook from someone enquiring about driving from A to B here in Mexico and someone replied with only a link to a news story of two guys who disappeared last year surfing only for their bodies to be found in their burnt out van a couple of months later. I've read worse stories than this but when you're immobile things can land on you and stay there.

And all this time the clock is ticking and the time is approaching to make another decision.

There was a time when I wouldn't even have realised that anything was wrong and ploughed on. The thing with ploughing on when you're in a bit of a dip is that you just go in deeper.

I even discovered something I don't like about México! Actually, something I hate! And I hate using the word hate!
It's the organ grinders! Having lived in the Netherlands and Germany for a while, I'm well used to Organ Grinders. I may not like the tunes, but at least they're musical!
Here, they make a sound like they're actually grinding a bagful of cats! It's horrific! It came as something of a shock to me to realise that I didn't like the sound of cats being ground up but once the shock subsided all that was left was the tuneless, rhythmless wailing that penetrates my skull easier than an icepick!
Something I don't like about México??? Time to take action!

Palm trees are like Nature's fireworks to me.​

Since most of the rain was in the afternoon or evening I took to reversing the day and getting out in the morning. That meant that by evening time I was knackered and my Spanish would suffer, so instead of new stuff, I concentrated on revising the old stuff. That wasn't so hard and the confidence, probably the most important thing for a foreign language, soon started to build back up.

I went looking for the three homeless guys I'd encountered the night before I saw the poor dead man. I wanted to talk some more with Hernando, see if there was anything I could do for him. I never did find them again and after replaying our conversation over in my head I started to think that his need was less material and more human.
However, as the weather picked up I took to spending more time in the park, going over my old notes and watching people….. and dogs! The thing here is that if you're immobile long enough, someone will try to sell you something. Armed with a pocketful of change I was ready for a little transaction and a bit of a chat. I invariably gave more than was requested and without fail the extra was returned, to be returned again.
I learned to give the kids multiple coins and watch them count them out and add them together out loud. One careful lad did it twice, counting out the coins in a different order - to be sure to be sure.
The kids don't talk much, but the adults do. One man, in clean but very worn jeans and check shirt and a haunted look in his eyes walked away from me when I couldn't follow what he was saying. I asked him to return, telling him I was learning his language and if he talked more slowly I was sure I'd understand more. He did and I did. A wife, two kids and no work since Covid he was either an excellent actor or genuinely in need. He'd a box of cheap sweets and I bought some, giving him far more than necessary.
Another day he approached me, seemed to recognise me and went to slip away. Again I asked him back, a little chat and overpaid. I haven't seen him since, I just hope I haven't offended him. People rarely beg here - they'd rather sell something cheap or provide some service or entertainment.

This is my view when I commandeer a stone chess table to study. That's a dry (Covid induced) fountain. To my left is the fenced in doggy area - I can't sit too close to that or I'll be fluent in dog speak and have zero Español​

Not everything went well. I took to doing an intensive (for me!) ride on the bike just up and down the main road so there are fewer distractions. (Previously I've headed off on long rides planning to cover maybe 50km and after 3 hours I've covered 5km!) I managed to develop a saddle sore! Dumbass! A sore little bugger too!

However, most things worked, best of all, I took a day for me, fecked the budget and went all in. More on that later.

That there on the left is a footpath! Narrow, and made narrower by the trees it is also an obstacle course as the roots rule the paths here! A delight on a bright sunny day, a nightmare in the dark, in rain, or even worse - both!​

The final part, of course, is this city and its people. In the pouring rain no-one is out without a car so human contact is non existent.
(Here's a strange observation; Time and again while out and about and rushing for cover because the dam in the sky is creaking and ready to burst I'll notice I'm the only one rushing. People still strolling around, sitting on grass having a picnic, playing with their dog while soluble me is barrelling past!)

But once people are out and about the charm of this place is there to be seen - so long as I can focus on it. When I focus what do I see?

Spot the dog!​

This tree looks like nothing special. But you should hear it! On a busy street near the centre, made chaotic with roadworks it appears to be teeming with birds - birds desperate to make noise. It's bizarre! There are lots of trees around, but it's just this one they hang out in!​

I have no idea if this tree was intentionally manipulated in this way, but it, and the many, many trees like it create a sense, a feeling of freedom that is quite uplifting - when you don't nearly decapitate yourself on one!

Or this one!

If you're looking at this and inwardly giving out to me for not taking a level picture please know that the church is definitely tilted! Stepping out after a little exploration I suddenly felt dizzy and lightheaded - that was the slope!​

I've given up trying to rank trees here…. But this one is special.​

I see a couple, a large man and a petite lady doing the tango along one side of the park. A little speaker is pumping out a latin beat and, since I have aspirations in that direction, I stop to observe. It's possible she's a teacher (there's no way he's a teacher!) but as I watch them together, her petite frame almost lost in his massive one, I come to the conclusion that no money can cover the risk she's taking - this is love! Pure, deep and unconditional! Extremely unconditional! Her foot stomped feet proof of that!

I see a guy on his bike stopping at the traffic lights (remarkable in itself!) reaching for his water bottle as his boxer bounds up to him. A well rehearsed routine sees the boxer arching to swallow the water his master squirts in his mouth. A quick drink himself and master and dog are ready to break the lights!

In the centre of the old town of Coyocán a girl walking her Shepherd notices that the little guy selling sweets shrinks from her dog. Leaving the dog sitting obediently, she goes over to the little guy, hunkers down and has a little chat. On cue, the shepherd approaches and she slowly takes the little boy's hand in her own and places it on the dog's head. Moving slowly, they rub the compliant dog's head as one until she slowly removes her hand leaving his stroking the dog. How often do we get to see new friendships start?

México's great!

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

The Date.....Part 1

So….I had a date the other day! I first saw this lady a few months ago but with Covid there really wasn't much chance of meeting. Nothing, however, was going to put me off giving it a shot whenever I had a chance!

I've never done Internet dating before, but I do enjoy a first date! There's the anticipation, the nervous excitement building up. The whole what will I wear dilemma, especially when she's made it very clear that she's very fussy!* I headed off one day on the bike to scope out the area, check for a good eating place. It's all about the prep!

Then the message comes through that the time is right!

I was up bright and early, showered, shaved and like a gentleman was ten minutes early. I actually dropped into a church first, since I had a bit of time!

In these times of Google and Facebook it's easy to do a bit of snooping, to see what's behind the public facade. I hadn't done any of that. I had a face, an idea what she was about….. the rest would be discovered in due course.

My Date: El Palacio de Bellas Artes​

No, this is nothing like the best that she looks, but this is how she looked that day.

I don't know what it is about this building but she has captivated me since I first saw her on my first full day in this great city. There are lots of fine looking buildings here, but this one is something special. Except for these days! She's now surrounded by a high, blue steel fence as a defence against protestestors who up until a few days before were camped out in the street in front of her. Access is through one teeny tiny, heavily guarded door in the blue wall.

Social distancing was in force with stickers on the ground. Myself and a few others played a multi-lingual form of hopscotch as people were slowly admitted.

When I was ushered in through the door there was definitely a WOW moment. I just stopped, stared and tried to breathe which only annoyed the guard. Apparently, stopping in the doorway is not a clever thing to do.

I shuffled in, out of his range and paused again. I've never been in a building so elegant, so impressive, so large that, by rights, I should feel tiny, insignificant and yet made me feel anything but! I was in the finest building of México City! Another reality meets concept moment!

The interior of this beauty https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Interior_del_Palacio_de_Bellas_Artes_05.jpg

I was greeted by a hostess, directed to the ticket booth, they had no change, I really didn't care. All around me was gleaming, reddish marble, sometimes black. Above, God knows how many stories, a dome, golden on the outside, gleaming inside, like something from a science fiction movie, drawing me upwards.

A lot of the architecture in these parts make very good use of the sun. Churches have glass domes and stained glass windows that can cast light in a way that only a genius could have understood what they were doing. That, or they were just very lucky!

It's difficult to overstate the effect of sunlight illuminating an altar in an otherwise dark church.

Such was the effect here. The magical golden dome, so striking outside, was taking the outside light and coating the interior with a golden coat.

Looking up! https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Interior_del_Palacio_de_Bellas_Artes_01.jpg

Can't have too much of a good thing!
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wik...ntro_-_Mexico_City_-_Mexico_(46153767531).jpg

If marble can seem like a cold and heartless material, here it was warm, elegant and gave all the impression of being alive.

I tried to follow the most direct route to the stairs I had been pointed towards, but the view changed with every step. Acutely conscious of the fact that my lack of progress was being anxiously monitored I headed for the stairs, a ticket check, then up again where I was directed into an exhibition.

It was by Modigliani and his contemporaries in Paris up to his death in 1920.

This was a surprise to me having done zero research and just wanting to get familiar with the building. Besides, there was only one thing I really wanted to see.

I started off at a brisk pace but was quickly pulled back into a more sedate pace. I'm far from an art critic and I suppose my tastes tend to "normal". I like art that speaks to me, not so much art that needs to be translated. And Mr. Modigliani wasn't speaking to me. His work tended to be portraits, normally elongated, dour looking faces. Frankly, they left me cold. However, there were some interesting presentations on Paris of the time, a cocktail shaker of various international ingredients that occasionally threw out some interesting intoxicants. Some of the other artists had some very interesting work.

One of the pictures from the Exhibition. I loved the colour and the mystery of the "Spanish Lady"​

Information was available throughout the exhibition in Spanish, English and dialect, but what particularly impressed me was beside each information board there was a small video screen with a man doing sign language.

They also had occasional films from the period from Paris which really helped to set the environment the artists were living and working in. Paris of the time was a magnet for all kinds of misfits!

Stained Glass https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palacio_de_las_Bellas_Artes_Vitral_del_Techo.jpg

For some reason, the works by some of the Latin American artists were more appealing to me. They tended more towards landscapes and urban scenes with interesting colours.

I really wanted to see the murals that are on permanent display. I've heard about these, read a (very) little about them and thought that they'd be big paintings. Ha! Dumbass!!

First of all, you have to remember where they are. A frame can greatly enhance (or ruin) an otherwise good painting. These murals have this building as a frame! That certainly lends a certain gravitas. But the murals? WOW!

First of all, the scale is immense. The content is immense and powerful. I was half expecting some of the characters to climb down from the wall and go on the rampage! If you might think that the location might reduce the impact, might dilute the effect you'd be very much mistaken!

To be quite honest, one mural could keep someone occupied for hours. Despite the size, there is a massive attention to detail and looking over a section a second, third or fourth time will throw up something missed before. Or maybe I'm just not artistically minded enough to process the whole work in one go!

Overwhelming was the cumulative effect. I felt like a glass trapped under a running tap, full, overflowing and unable to move.

There are some benches for the more artistically challenged amongst us to sit and absorb these giant, loud paintings, but in these Covid times they have big Xs on them to deny us that chance.

It may seem strange to use the word loud, but some of these were bellowing their message. It's quite disorientating to be in an almost still museum, the marble floors that broadcast each step and these murals booming their messages. An advantage of Covid.

I love the fact that the mural consumes the wall, edges and all.​

I only felt a little guilty leaving that floor having not fully appreciated what was there. It was too much, at least for me.

Covid may mean that I can't sit down and work through what's in front of me, but it also means that I've the time to return.

This was the penultimate floor so I wandered up to the top floor - the Museum of Architecture. It had been given over to an exhibition for some architectural awards. The restoration projects were interesting, but some of the "new" projects were horrendous! I'm no fan of modern architecture with its straight lines and lack of colour. I was particularly interested in the hospitality section and let's just say I'd prefer my tent!

The future of Hospitality in México? Oh please, Lord, Noooooooooo!​

Then it was off to look for the highlight of my day! There's a wonderful, old church on the edge of Coyoacán, a suburb close to me. Honestly, it's a toss up which is my favourite - El Palacio de Bellas Artes or the Capilla de San Antonio de Padua. Two more different buildings could not be imagined. There's an old painting of this church, painted long, long before the city grew around it. There's just the church, a wonderful old bridge and open land. I've been aching to see the original! Google tells me it's on display here!

Feck Google!

I spoke to three different people asking about it, working my way up the hierarchy. The good news is that my Spanish extends to discussing a bit of art! The bad news is that I was sold a pup and the painting ain't here!

The scale was so immense and light was reflecting everywhere with the result that my phone had trouble focussing!​

I tried to be mad. I tried to be angry. I tried to be disappointed, but no negative emotions would bubble up in the main hall of such a beautiful building. If I thought the outside was captivating, the inside is beyond words. Scrap the art, I would have been just as happy to walk up and down the hall!

I'll be back!

*Due to Covid the cloakrooms are closed and rules are posted as to what may not be brought in. Umbrellas, backpacks etc. are not allowed. The problem with that is the unpredictable weather!


More pictures here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Palacio_de_Bellas_Artes

There are different sections so grab a comforting beverage of choice, sit back and dream a little.

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

A trip to the Blue House

Frida Kahlo is something of an icon in Latin America and very well known worldwide. Not being particularly artistically minded I didn't know much about her. I did do a little research though, back in Mazatlán. I'd been asking people, Mexican mainly, that if they had to leave the country what places would they want to visit? One of the answers I received was "The Blue House", Frida Kahlo's home.

Since I appear to be lucky, the museum is not too far away from me and is located on the edge of Coyocán, that most magical, wonderful, calming, balming and downright crazy suburb of this great city. This means that I wander past or close to the Blue House a couple of times a week, at least.

At the risk of committing blasphemy I have to say that apart from the colour, there is nothing particularly amazing about the exterior of the Blue House.

It's no wonder of architecture, it's not even the nicest house on the block! Other houses are just as bright, albeit in different colours.

For the first several months the museum was closed, a Covid casualty. However, back in September some of the museums reopened and the Blue House was one of them!

Covid made it a bit trickier. Tickets had to be purchased in advance, online and for a set time period. It will sound strange but making an actual appointment at a set time was a challenge in itself! After months of not having had a schedule this seemed strange, awkward and strangely authoritarian. (When I needed to extend my visitor permit it was pretty simple - get up, wash, have coffee and cycle downtown).

Add in the fact that Mexican time is very different to Rest of the World time - it's flexible, stretchy and really quite insubstantial!

Even the simple thing of working out how long it would take me to walk there was a challenge. Taking the direct route would take 45 minutes - if I wasn't donning my Mexican head.

My Mexican head is that frame of mind that tells me the direct route is the wrong route, that a brisk walk is a brisk too far and that every route will throw up something new to admire no matter how many times I've walked that way before.

First World problems, eh?

Appointment made, ticket on my phone I set off allowing myself two hours for a 45 minute walk! I arrived 5 minutes early

I joined the distanced queue, showed my ticket, paid extra to take photos, got my temperature check, my gel and an overall body spritz.

This is México in a nutshell - I had to buy my ticket online to reduce Covid risks, but still had to pay (cash only) to take photos. It makes no sense - but interacting with the people - the lady checking the ticket, the two ladies behind the photo paying booth, all smiling, all welcoming might make no sense but was lovely to experience.

(Also of interest, locals pay less than half what I as a foreigner have to pay for entrance! So far, this has only happened here).

So, I step into a little bit of heaven.

This part of town, one of the first areas developed by the Spanish, has for decades been the hangout of the privileged and artistic crowds (but not exclusively). This means lots of big houses, big gates in high walls and for anyone with the slightest bit of curiousity an urge to see behind the wall.

I've commented many, many times on these pages how quickly I can slip from one world to another in this city. This is another of those times.

Trees, greenery, a pyramid, fountains. If ever a place was designed to calm frayed nerves, to block out the outside world and at the same time to create a space where serious work could be inspired, then done, it would look something like this.

There's a Covid path to follow so I follow it and into the house.

The exhibition starts with art that Frida, herself collected.

There's an old tradition of travelling artists being commissioned to paint small scenes, religious in tone, of events that the patron wants to give thanks for, normally with a text description, a prayer, or words of gratitude.

This one is in gratitude for saving her husband's life ​

This is not high art. It's commissioned by relatively poor folks and painted on whatever scrap materials are available. A lot of these are tin - other materials haven't survived.

It is simply wonderful!

Right in front of me a social history from all over this great, huge country. The things people feared, the things they were grateful for. The things that changed their lives.

Given the age, the handwritten script, the foreign language I struggled to understand them all, hell I struggled to understand one! There was a simplicity and a faith radiating from these that I found very moving.

Unfortunately, given the relatively small size of the room, the strict route and the build up behind me I had to reluctantly move on.

The next part of the exhibition contained some of Frida's art.

Frida Kahlo grew up in this house and lived here as an adult with her sometimes husband, Diego Rivera, himself one of México's greatest artistic sons.

Struck with polio as a child, seriously injured in a trolley bus crash as a young woman she suffered unimaginable pain during her life. Many surgeries were attempted with mixed results.

If it's possible to feel pain from art, then some of Frida's work is proof. Some of it is very hard to look at. Frankly, I have trouble processing it. Not that I can't, just that it's painful to do.

Some of the art clearly represents her difficulty in carrying a baby to term. An arts degree is not needed to figure that out. It can be very difficult to look at - and that's me, a childless (at least I think so!) man.

I can see why women everywhere seem to admire this lady.

Thankfully, there is more "conventional" art that demonstrates her ability to represent the real world with a skill as great as her ability to represent the psychological world.

Her father was a photographer and photography was an art she understood. Another room has a collection of photos from her father, from magazines and some self portraits.

The first room of the house that we get to see (not enter) is the kitchen. If you're like me and think the kitchen is the beating heart of a home, well you'll love this kitchen! If you think a kitchen is a purely functional place then this kitchen is from the twilight zone!

I know why they won't let us in - feckin' eejits like me would never leave!

Then we move on to the studio and having never visited an artist's studio before I found myself captivated. With the exception of the ropes keeping us away and the complete absence of any kind of mess or untidiness it would be easy to believe that the artists had just popped out for a minute!

Yes, artists. Diego worked here beside Frida - at times. Their relationship was tempestuous at times so he also had his own studio elsewhere.

Not being an artistic person I was intrigued to find myself drawn to folders in a glass covered set of shelves with labels such as "Receipts and invoices", "Diego's friends - personal", "Various Interesting (things) and Curiosities" - how great would it be to delve into that??? - and the intriguing "Americans arise and defend your last remaining Millionaires".

A cabinet of folders and reference books​

Frida's very simple desk is in front of a window, but another window has a view over the garden.

Frida did many self portraits and mirrors were an important tool in her art. A beautiful, old mirror hangs on a wall and captivated me. I have no idea why!

In order to include as many photos as possible, I've split the post. Please read on......

 

[HobbesOnTour]

A Trip to the Blue House Ctd......

If the kitchen was the heartbeat of the house, the next room was the soul.

In what's not much more than a passageway from studio to bedroom we pass Frida's day bedroom.

Due to her physical struggles she was often confined to bed. Her painting started in this bed, asking her mother for a mirror so that she could paint a self portrait while lying in the bed. I'd images of a large, full length mirror, elaborate, ornate and inspiring in itself. It's not.

It's surprisingly small and simple.

Since it's not a room there is no door and the open side looks out on the garden. I'm sure there were times when that was a balm for her, an inspiration, but I'm pretty sure there must have been times when it tore the heart from her to be bedridden so near, yet so far from nature and beauty.

For such a small room it contained so much, a lot of it intangible. It drained me. You could fill the space with books about the lady but I don't think they could convey the meaning, the emotion in that little space.

The next room was Frida's night bedroom. It could have had a dancing Marissa Tomei, a live performance from the E Street Band, a mad scientist announcing a cure for Covid amongst bubbling test tubes and I couldn't have raised the slightest bit of interest. I was spent.

Unfortunately, the other rooms (Diego's bedroom for one) are closed (clearly stated on the website) so I shuffled out to the garden.

And the recovery started. The peace and calm was healing, rejuvenating me slowly, but steadily. There are pictures scattered around the garden with quotes from Frida or Diego that only hearts of stone can't be affected by.

After a little walk, a little contemplation, a little reorganisation of perspective, I was ready for the last part of the exhibition in a separate building - Frida's wardrobe.

In a room upstairs in the house, decades after they died, someone opened a door in a room upstairs and found most of the content of this part of the exhibition. México is a strange, wonderful place!

What I thought would be a hop, skip and a jump through ladies' fashion turned into something altogether different.

It started with a display of some of the clothing and tools that Frida used to try and get some use and comfort from her body. Crutches, corsets and a disturbingly bloody hospital gown.

Then some personal art, disturbing certainly, but enlightening. A sketch, drawn after the amputation of her leg, gives us a glimpse of the mental struggles and her way of dealing with it - awarding herself wings.

This is quite a moving display, intensely personal. There's an awful lot to take away from here and I'm not sure I got it all. For a relatively small museum and a Covid inspired tempo it really packs a punch. The problem is that we can become a bit punch drunk.

There are more photos, mainly from her youth and one of her mother as a child in her indigenous clothing.

There are a selection of dresses, traditional in style, that were favoured by Frida as the long skirts covered her legs, her uneven gait and allowed her to present herself as "normal".

There's a small display of "high fashion" inspired by Frida's style which did nothing for me.

Finally, there's a display case of individual items of her clothing. I was scanning along, not particularly interested in fashion until I saw this:

The boot has a false heel to allow her to stand evenly and walk more normally. Totally practical. But how beautiful! How feckin' defiant!

Who'd have thought a boot could say so much?

I was going to end this account of the visit with that boot, but México is a land full of surprises.

One night, in the run up to El Día de Muertos, out for a walk as I'm wont to do, I walked past the Blue House and saw this around the door.

I was rooted to the ground and felt a a swirling surge of emotion flowing through me.

Frida died in 1954, Diego in 1957 but they live on, their love that in life was so turbulent and intense now seemingly calmer.

I can detect no sadness in this, only joy.

That's how a visit to the Blue House should finish.

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

El Día de Muertos

A visitor should always be welcomed with open arms. Even the dead ones.

I've read this and variations of it all over the place. My experience since crossing the border backs up the first part of that sentence. My experiences of the past few weeks is backing up the latter.

Without a doubt, this has been the highlight of my trip and at times, I've wondered if the Gods of Touring have conspired in some way to have me here at this time.

Now, here comes the tough part - I have no idea how to put this experience into words and I have precious few photographs because some things just shouldn't be photographed.

First, a little background.....

El Día de Muertos* is a UNESCO recognised tradition that is believed to have evolved from the merging of local (pre-Columbus) celebrations at harvest time and Catholic traditions of November being the month of the dead.

Halloween, as we now know it, is believed to have grown from Irish immigrants to the US bringing their own marriage of pagan & Catholic ritual. That has strayed so far from its roots at this stage it is like a different festival. For example, the modern Pumpkin carvings are said to be descended from the tradition of carving turnips and placing a candle in them to ward off the evil spirits wandering the land.

*Technically, there are two Days of the Dead, the first mainly for children, the second for adults.

The theory is simple. On one day the dead can return to this world. This is something joyful and to be celebrated. There are things we can do to make the journey easier for them, enticements we can use for motivation. And then there is a party!

A fundamental part of this, it appears, is that just because your heart may have stopped and you have been buried in the ground, you're not actually dead until you've been forgotten or not spoken of.

What a beautiful idea.

To go forward in this tale I have to go backwards a bit…..

The Graveyards (Panteones) here are different.

Passing by them on my journey I was aware of them but felt reluctant to enter. I stick out like the proverbial ill thumb and had no language to explain myself if necessary. I think Guadalajara was the first one I entered.

https://images.app.goo.gl/K7rJRFffGEwok6797

Chaos!
Pure, unbridled chaos!

Here in the bigger city, it's no different. But such a beauty in chaos I don't think I've ever seen.

And such stories! There to be read or deduced.

They like crypts here, usually one for a family. Some can be as big as a small house, others as small as a large coffin. Some are modernish in design, others are gothic creations. Some are tended to regularly, others are literally falling apart. Most have some kind of display function and contain pictures, religious symbols, perhaps personal effects.

I have no pictures, I just don't feel comfortable taking them. I have looked for a place that sells them to take some photos but can't find one close by.

Then there are smaller monuments, not a crypt, but something akin to what we would recognise as a headstone - except it is generally the size of the grave. Again, a variety of styles, ages and degrees of maintenance.

One I've seen has all but disappeared under the ground, just a corner of a kerb reaching out of the ground, for all the world like the stern of a sinking ship, raised up before it takes its final plunge to the seabed.

Finally, there are the simple crosses, perhaps concrete, more usually of wood or metal. Sometimes just a stump is all that remains.

So, try to imagine all these designs, all beside each other, not a one bearing any relationship to its neighbour. This one is straight, its neighbour at an angle. That one is new, bright and sits proudly, its neighbour is ancient, broken and sinking into the ground. This one is an elaborate monument of marble and glass, that one is a rusted iron cross.

https://images.app.goo.gl/U3sfRvouWzTr4C326

Then there are the paths!
They start out wide and straight but ultimately disappear! A grave here, a grave there and it has narrowed. Another grave here and it has to turn. Finally, a grave stretches across and the path is gone!

It's quite clear that no planning rules are followed here - if anyone has ever contemplated such a thing!

Oh! There are trees! Normally quite a few! They've wrecked a few monuments, their roots go everywhere. Pretty much anywhere I go in this city I have to take trees into account - a graveyard is no different!

However, there is something to the chaos. It creates the image of a place alive, always changing and really very human in its disorganisation. It's very, very different to a cemetery from my experience, with straight lines and similar sized headstones. Sterile, almost. Here, squirrels play amongst the headstones!

I'm enthralled.

They are not sad places in themselves. It's not unusual to see kids running around between the tombs!

Buying colourful decorations is not a problem in this town!

​

The graves not neglected are at the very least clean and neat, but more often are decorated with bright flowers (fake is fine) and other bright ornaments. You know those plastic, hand held windmills we give to kids? They're very common! The brighter, the better! Fake sunflowers, animals such as butterflies or bees, decorations like we'd use at Christmas are common too! I've seen one grave with silly frog faced plant holders, or another where there is a display case with string running end to end and cute, (toy) monkeys in various poses.

There are some wonderfully personal touches. One monument has a marble guitar with song lyrics that I'd never associate with a religious place and another has the shape of a guitar carved out of the marble.

There's a charm, difficult to express to seeing a grave with the usual religious accoutrements, a statue perhaps, a cross, a religious inscription and above them, or beside them or occasionally covering them, a windmill, or a sunflower. What could so easily be seen as tacky, as disrespectful, is actually a very personal symbol of love, of loss and of celebration.

In one cemetery there is one grave, special above all.

It's for a girl who died in 2015 at the age of 26.
There is headstone at the top of the grave with a glass door in the shape of a heart. This contains a statue of the Virgin Mary.
The grave itself has a mound of earth running its length and a simple cross made from white stones and white shells in its centre, a vivid contrast to the brown soil. Along the sides are potted plants, half in the soil, half out, the corners are guarded by swan shaped flower plots.
Above the grave, a crude construction stands at head height made of four iron poles supporting a sheet of perspex. From this hangs the most amazing and vivid array of sunflowers, bees, butterflies and incredible prints of flowers that could only have been designed by a child. And windchimes. I despise windchimes with a passion but here …… they just belong.
Around the perimeter of the grave is a flat, uneven border of concrete painted the most incredible and calming blue.
You'd think that such a bright, lively and moving (literally!) display would stand out in a graveyard…..but it doesn't. I had to pass close by before I saw it. Then I found it very, very hard to leave.
Aside from the inscription on the headstone there is a brass plaque, a personal statement and a vow from someone left behind. It is incredibly sad, yet uplifting at the same time.
I found this wonderful celebration of a life back in August so I assume the display is permanent. I went back to visit in the week of the Día de Muertos and noticed only a few additions, a line of fresh marigolds being one. Unfortunately, another of them was a new resident. From what I could figure out from handwriting on a simple wooden cross the girl will be travelling back with her mother this year.

It's jarring and it can take quite a while to process some scenes. A child's grave for instance. An elegant headstone, carved angels flanking it on each side, colourful windmills and toys placed in front of them. The sacred and the playful.

With this in mind it's perhaps easier to tackle the Day of the Dead.

Altars are made to draw the dead home and to help them celebrate.

The dead are as they come from the grave - skeletons, there's no sentimentality here! But they're not scary! They're here to party!

Most of these altars are in people's homes. Some are in shops or restaurants and one I saw was for a dog!

In one church I visited there was an altar created with the pictures and names of recently departed priests and missionaries. On the table was a selection of fruit and vegetables, some water and, strangely, I thought, slices of tomato. Also, candles were burning. I particularly liked the fact that there were simple paper decorations of Catarina and pumpkins too - a welcoming flexibility in the house of God.

Directly beside it on the wall was space for people to add names on post-its. Two blocks of post-its and a couple of markers were supplied. Lots of names had been added, some with full names, but most just were first names. I liked the familiarity and lack of formality.

There are skeletal figures everywhere - on people's balconies, occupying tables in socially distanced restaurants, painted or stuck on to windows and doors.

The male skeletons may be dressed in a suit, a tuxuedo or maybe as a Cowboy, but the lady skeletons? They wear the most bright, colourful and downright fabulous fashions imaginable!

Again, I have to emphasise how these are symbols of joy, of celebration. The skulls are smiling, the clothes celebratory. There is absolutely nothing to fear here!

Marigolds, orange Marigolds are the flower of the season - they are everywhere, adorning every tended grave.

I saw one grave where a path had been outlined with Marigold petals to lead the inhabitant from their grave to the main path (it's chaos in these cemeteries!😁). It took me a second to process what I was seeing and then to understand its significance. Talk about a kick in the feels!

Another typical decoration consists of intricate designs cut out of brightly coloured sheets of paper. I'm sure nowadays these are mass produced by machines but in times past were, I'm sure, a theraputic labour of love to create.

Due to Covid the cemetries were closed for the weekend and Monday. I've no idea if this was flagged in advance but my first inkling was on Friday when I came across a sign warning of closure in a cemetry far away from me.

When I rolled up to my more local one on Sunday, it too was closed and had a police guard! (There had been no advance warning during the week when I previously visited.)

The cemeteries I visited in the week preceeding the festival seemed busier than normal with people tending to the graves. Usually it was a family affair and I didn't sense any sadness.
I saw cans or bottles of beer, and cigarettes on some of the freshly decorated graves waiting to get the party started.

For the festival itself, usually there are parades and people dress up. The "Catarina" (featured previously) is a popular character (albeit relatively new) and there is normally at least one parade. However, in these Covid times all events have been cancelled, roads have been closed and there is a heavy Police presence.

The centre of Coyocán (normally a centre of festivities) was blocked off, admittance tightly (if irregularly) controlled. One entrance involved getting swept by a detector of some kind (the others didn't!).

I saw some people with make-up on - not terribly significant because half the facemasks in use here are skeletal - some in traditional Catrina costume and some more dressed for Halloween - a surprisingly sexy Jack(ie?) Sparrow, a remarkably unsexy Wonderwoman (that took some work!) and a very naughty (overage) schoolgirl with thigh high boots!

To go off on a slight tangent, the influence of Halloween is present. Some people decorate their houses as might be seen in the US. Others mix and match. I know from my time in NL that the Dutch Sinterklas is under threat from Santa Claus - particularly tricky because they operate on dates almost 3 weeks apart!

In reality, it was just people either walking around or people in restaurants and bars eating and drinking. I'd imagine in non-Covid times there'd be bands and dancing and general merriment.

I tried my best but I just wasn't feeling it.

I visited the centre of Coyocan on Saturday night, again on Sunday night and also Monday, and if I'd been looking forward to a "festival" or a "party" I'd have been bitterly disappointed.

It reminded me a lot of my Camino trip, one highlight in particular that had built up in significance in my head only to be experienced in a metaphorical and literal dark, grey cloud. I learned that day that it wasn't the destination that was significant, it was the journey to get there.

I'd walked miles and miles over the previous weeks, visiting different places, I'd visited the cemeteries, seen families dressed up taking photos, seen buildings decorated with arches of flowers, I'd made my own stab at putting an altar together but most of all I got to witness and learn about a new way to think about death, to my mind a more positive, healthy way.

México is great!

An example of what was not possible...
https://images.app.goo.gl/ZbJZSH2J32sFofdv8

Chat away!
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[HobbesOnTour]

The Date Part Two.......

I'm sorry to report that my departure from the Palace was memorable for the wrong reasons. Since the entire grounds had been cut off from the outside world, I had a glorious chance to take the perfect photo from the front.
The guard, however, was uncooperative. Uncooperative is a euphemism for vehemently and aggressively negative. I don't think it was the same guard who I'd exasperated on the way in by being struck motionless in the door (perhaps word had spread about me!) and to be fair, it is the only negative interaction I've had with officialdom, but nevertheless I was leaving with a dark cloud floating over me which seemed so unfair to such a beautiful building.

However, this is México where dark clouds are soon chased away and I still had the rest of my date!

This is the park beside the Palace. It's a place wonderfully full of activity yet relaxing. Now most of the fountains are active it is a place of joy as kids of all ages fill them in the afternoon heat. ​

Back on the day when I'd encountered the Mexican band playing Irish songs, a friendly local had suggested a particular café to visit. I was on my way there now - El Café de Cuba!
Except that doesn't exist! Well, there are a couple of eating places with café and Cuba in their titles, but none that would inspire such a wholehearted endorsement as I had received. Don't ask me how I know!

I was actually on my way to Cafe de Tacuba. See! Easy mistake to make. In its favour was the fact that it was only a few minutes walk from the museum.

I love eating out! It's a real treat! I love watching the people, customers and professionals, the interactions. I love watching people who care about what they're doing, not so much the ones who don't give a damn. The food is only a part of it. The whole experience is the thing that matters.

To get there I passed this wonderful building - The Post Office!​

Cafe de Tacuba is clearly old - the tiles along the wall where I was sitting were immaculately clean but bore all the signs of a long and hard life - and it is old school.

Greeted at the door by an older gentleman in a suit far too heavy for the temperature and the work, I was led through the restaurant from one charming, vividly bright chamber to another to be seated at a table with a plastic tablecloth, aged portraits on the wall and a stained glass ceiling. A gruff instruction and a lady appeared beside me with a menu and a request for a drink order.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cafe_de_Tacuba_02.jpg

If I hadn't just come from a literal Palace I'd have been struck dumb, but I was starting to get into my stride!
The first thing that strikes are the colours! Bright, alive and the very definition of contrast. White tiles offset by a vital blue, orange and yellow flowers painted on the most pure, white walls, ornately framed portraits of who knows who (I've a suspicion that these are not that old, but they had the look of age); stained glass windows and ceilings and an upstairs section, Covid closed, with real plants hanging down to head height beneath gave the impression of sitting outdoors.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:El_Café_de_Tacuba.jpg

The old school vibe continued with the service. There was a strict hierarchy. There were the women kitted out in starched white uniforms who were the bosses, took the orders, checked on their guests and presented the bill. Then there were the guys, most, but not all, relatively young, kitted out in black trousers and white shirts. They were the runners - they brought the food on large trays (even for little old me!) which had to be placed beside the table on a folding dumb waiter (which they also carried and opened while balancing a huge tray on their shoulder) and then transferred to the table before removing the plastic cover over the plate. Yes a well used, battered plastic dome!
Later, they'd return to clear the table.

Right above my table​

The food was good - nothing exceptional - but the experience? Fantastic!

Enchilladas, house style, quesadillas and a happy tiger!​

I took a wander to the bathrooms and did a little exploring in the other chamber (I'm deliberately using the word chamber - a simple "room" is too bland, too generic to fairly describe these), similarly decorated but different enough to warrant more time. Conscious of Covid and social distancing I didn't get to see everything in the detail that I'd like, but like the Palace, there's always time for another visit.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cafe_de_Tacuba_03.jpg

Sated, I set off again. This was now unplanned territory so it was time to navigate by nose. I was in the historical city centre a good 10-12 km from where I sleep and I was bikeless.

The doors in these parts are phenomenal! Some are clearly quite new, but some? I think some have seen some very interesting things!​

As great and wonderful as this city is, any bike I see parked has multiple, big chain locks around it and whatever pole is available. Leaving the bike unattended for long periods of time is not something I want to risk - whatever about Covid putting a dampner on my touring, not having a bike would finish it off!
While there are CityBikes that can be rented for 1-3 days the places where I (a foreigner) can sign on are limited and of the few I've tried, none have working consoles for processing a card. Perhaps another Covid victim.
So I'm reluctantly using public transport to get in and out of the centre. I had a vague idea that I might walk home but as I followed my nose (in the wrong direction for going home!) that idea slowly faded from my mind.

Wandering around after the café I passed this. Behind me is chaos with traffic, hawkers and people heading to and fro. In front, this. ​

*Edited to compensate for the heavy shadow.

At the risk of repeating myself, México city is a city of contrasts. Beside a Colonial building standing proud and elegant is another, naked to the elements, its roof gone, windows gone and stonework faded, cracked and crumbling.

This shell is just one of the ruins opposite the Palace, a five minute walk from the Post Office above! A city of contrasts!​

Beside an elegant coffee shop where the trendy and chic sit and sip their soya lattes there's a taco stand where a guy in stained clothing is cooking and dispersing his smoke amongst the café elite.
On the road there's an old, spluttering Collectivo bus, it's sparkling rims and washed tyres in sharp contrast to the hundreds of diy bodywork repairs it carries while behind it a gleaming Mustang with darkly tinted windows rumbles in its fumes.
It's not the contrast itself that is so striking and noticeable, after all, every city has these contrasts, it's the proximity of them that is so eye-catching.

In between all the fine buildings, all the ruins there are sights like this. I'm not especially a fan of graffiti but the colours and subjects have their own beauty and transmit their own energy​

Perhaps one of the greatest examples of this is the old Cathedral itself.

I've just realised how long this is!
And the Cathedral is going to be a long one!

Chat away!
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[HobbesOnTour]

The Date.....Part 3

La Catedral Metropolitana

The description of the Church is from the day. The description of the service is from a different visit.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sagrario_de_la_Catedral_Asunción_-_panoramio.jpg

Before I get to the building itself, a little history. The Cathedral was built on the site of a native temple, some of which was discovered relatively recently and can be viewed at one side of the Cathedral, protected by glass. You can actually stand beside the old ruins, turn your head and see the new ruins!
"Ruins" may be a tad over dramatic but there is no denying that the Cathedral has seen better days. There are trees growing on the roof!

The actual ruins. The Spanish destroyed a city to build one in their own style.​

A perusal of history throws up the (unusual, in my opinion) fact that the Mexican Republic has had a fractious history with the Vatican, only establishing official relations with the Vatican in the 1980's (quickly reinforced by 5, yes Five, official visits by the Pope!). The relationship between Church and state may be officially stronger, but the Government still keeps its distance, most notably in denying money. Church buildings, no matter how historical, are the sole responsibility of the Church - and the Church doesn't have the money to look after them all. Since there are churches everywhere in this wonderful city, it is not unusual to come across absolute wrecks!

This one is a stone's throw from the Palace of Fine Arts, blockaded with metal sheets, sinking into the ground, yet proudly defiant!​

And on to the Cathedral….

Inside the gate there's a friendly guard who takes my temperature and sends me on my way.

Inside, a motion detector activates an English speaking voice that tells me to wear a mask and another machine dispenses gel directly on to my hand.

Stepping in to such a vast building to be ordered around by a disembodied voice and trying to figure out an automatic gel dispenser can be disorientating. It's like the massive structure has held its breath until you're standing there, ready, then it blows you away!

Or at least that was my impression.

I'm immediately aware of two things - height and light. There's a brightness here that I wasn't expecting that gives the impression of a welcome.The height is exaggerated by the light coming in from above and the pale cream colour of the domes that make up the ceiling.
Strangely, the next thing I notice is a distinct lack of prayers - people praying. In every single church I've been in in this country there is always someone praying, usually not alone.

I'm (still!) standing on the right hand side of the Cathedral and stretching in front of me is a wide, long aisle, above me a series of domes leading to one main one with mostly plain glass that seems to be hoovering up all the daylight from outside then diffusing it all over the interior. Inserted in the walls at regular intervals are little chapels, each to a saint, each individually decorated, normally in gold. Lots of gold. Unfortunately, all are gated, closed off and in relative darkness.

Then my eyes roll to the left.

A rear altar with a gold backdrop and a black Jesus on a crucifix set between two rows of massive columns, each pair supporting a ceiling arch.
The stonework is a clean grey adding to the brightness and the floor is a cream marble squared off with a reddish brown
Since only one of three doors are open, the bright light falls on the right side of the altar, fading as the eye runs left, leaving the other side shrouded in relative darkness.
Set between two columns it has an intricate pulpit on either pillar, supported by intricate gold, presumably for important addresses.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Altar_del_perdón_2.jpg

I shuffle over to properly appreciate this view and take a socially distanced seat on a pew.
This is where locals sit, kneel and pray. This is where the prayers are!

Now I can see the ceiling is actually a dirty cream and shows signs of neglect, or age if you prefer. Water stains, cracks and even exposed stone where some has fallen away

From the walk home, a Church as an island in an ocean of traffic. ​

Going deeper into the building, directly behind the first altar is "el coro" a room within the Cathedral lined with intricate and detailed seats of wood. Above this room on either side are two organs.
Coro
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:00206_el_iluminado.jpg

Organ
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Metropolitan_Cathedral_of_Mexico_City_2015_75.jpg

Continuing on, the Cathedral becomes much brighter due to the main dome. Simple lead framed windows high in either side add to the lighting effect.
There are no pictures in these windows, hardly any colour in most, just a series of 4 sided shapes giving the impression of having been thrown together from odds and ends.
There's a simplicity to them, an amatuerness that is very pleasing

For a building to honour a being "up there" that is looking down on us, it's design is perfect.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mexico_City_(2018)_-_566.jpg

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Interior_de_la_Catedral_Metropolitana_2.jpg

To the right is the Sacristy, a separate room.
This is opulence and art on an unbelievable scale. It's overwhelming. There's a painting on the ceiling that was so detailed, so beautiful that I can't recall a single detail - only that I wanted to lie on the floor and never leave.

It was a strange experience for me. Normally I have a bit of an aversion to excessive displays of wealth in a church but there was a beauty to this room that was genuinely disarming.

There was furniture, portraits on the walls, an amazing door, a rich, deep carpet. I only had eyes for the ceiling.

Honestly, I stepped outside into the main Cathedral and had a real difficulty in recalling what I had just seen.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/Filenterior_de_la_sacristía_mayor_de_la_Catedral_Metropolitana_de_México.JPG *

* If you've opened the link you'll see that it's unlikely there was a painting on the ceiling! I took that from my notes recorded within half an hour of leaving the building. It's entirely possible that I have it totally backwards. I cannot overstate how powerfully disorientating that room was!

Back outside, there is another altar at this point - of marble. Elegant and simple at first glance, it reveals its detail and beauty slowly.
Running from this altar back to "el coro" is the most wonderfully elegant aisle of marble so smooth, so shiny. My mind doesn't often turn to marriage but if ever there was an aisle to make a bride feel special, unique and a great beauty of the world it would be this one.

Behind this marble altar is a creation that almost defies description such is the detail. Set back as it is, it receives little light and deep as it is, there's a spookiness to the darkness
There are portraits, two large ones in the centre, portraits and scenes on each side, and a very modestly sized one of God, presumably, looking down from above, statues, at least two heads, intricate carvings, a golden altar, a very modestly sized Christ on a cross, browner than we'd see in Europe.
This was damaged by a fire in the 1940's and restored so I've no idea what's original and what's not.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mexico_City_(2018)_-_185.jpg

There are smaller versions to each side. The one on the left has 10 portraits - so dark they're like 10 black sheets, on the right, fewer portraits but it seems to have survived better, brighter and a strange doll-like figure in a glass & gold case. (There are a lot of dolls in churches here. They can be quite spooky!)

I spent a long time looking at these, trying to take in all the detail. It's an immense undertaking and perhaps I needed someone to explain the significance of the different components, but the overall effect on me was cold. I formed the idea that this was less a celebration of a heavenly benevolence than a display of wealth and authority.

Thankfully, walking away from there I burst out laughing (in a Cathedral no less!) as I was inspecting the most elaborately carved confession boxes and started to wonder what sins I could possibly commit to be worthy of such artful confessionals!

There is a Covid inspired one way system. Not wanting to go against the flow I found myself outside and promptly walked around and back inside!

A completely different scale!​

After my second round I thought I'd seen it all.

Ha! Dumbass!

There's what's known as a Tabernacle right next door. It's facade is unbelievably detailed and I felt drained going in, thinking I'll have a quick peek and be on my way. I was cultured out. I couldn't take in the level of detail on that facade - the sun would have burned me to a crisp first!

The facade of The Tabernacle. You could stand there all day and not see it all. Since it's on a corner it has two facades!​

But how wrong was I!

It took me a while to notice the similarities - the same silver/grey arches, the same domes because the atmosphere was so, so different!

There's a happy story told of Roald Dahl writing a lovely letter to a young fan who had sent him a "dream in a bottle". That story came to mind in this place because if I had a bottle I'm sure I could have opened it, spun around and filled it with pure, unfiltered joy.
This place was that special.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Metropolitan_Cathedral_of_Mexico_City_2015_22.jpg

It was about a third the size of its big brother, but it was so much brighter! The cream on the walls and ceiling seemed to have a touch of yellow that was so much warmer.
The altar? So much simpler than next door. The most vivid item was a golden sun, high behind the altar. You know the way a child draws the sun? A yellow circle with lines of varying length radiating out? This! In gold! Light from the windows in the dome working its magic.
A smaller one behind the actual tabernacle on the altar. A golden, joyful energy flowing out of it.

Here, it's not ostentatious, it's joyful, not intimidating but welcoming, not formal but friendly. By some standards it's very ostentatious, by the example of next door it could be a different religion!
Same imagery, same architecture, but the feeling is completely different.
This is the house of a joyful God, not an authoritarian. A God who encourages and rewards resides here.

The aisle here was shorter and simpler. Adding flowers along its length on tall stands gave the one next door a real good run for its money!

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Metropolitan_Cathedral_of_Mexico_City_2015_17.jpg

I took a seat and just felt. I had thought I was empty, jaded and only entered because I thought I better finish off the job. Now I was full of energy and wanted to explore more! I was in such a bemused state that it took me quite a while to notice that the two main supporting pillars had developed a nasty lean!

In the end I only left because I really needed to pee!

The other facade of the Tabernacle​

To finish off the Cathedral story, I returned on a Sunday. It was one of my usual follow-my-nose ramblings around until I rolled up again.
I asked the temperature check guy if there was a Mass as I didn't want to intrude and he replied, very accurately, that there wasn't. He omitted to add that the mass would start in ten minutes!

So there I am, looking at one of the organs when I notice armed Police. Then there's a bit of a hubbub and a procession is walking down towards me, turns and begins to walk up that wonderful aisle to the marble altar.

I now have a dilemma. Do I walk around behind them and swiftly head for the exit or do I stay? There are no seats unoccupied so I decide to exit. However, on the side of the altar there are some empty pews so I plonk myself down. How often do I get a chance to attend a mass said by a Cardinal?

Since I was pretty hidden I didn't have to worry too much about when to sit, stand or kneel.

Since he was a cardinal, he had three helpers in suits who took it in turns to hold an ipad in front of him. Two other priests assisted as well. And an altar girl. She was the only one in a coordinated outfit - a bright red mask to match her red altar girl outfit!

It was the sermon I was looking forward to. How often do we hear a Cardinal preach?
He had a soft, easy voice. Practised at public speaking. A voice of explanation, of reason, but alas without passion. He'd tell you why you should do something, not inspire you to do it. (We should be nice to each other - my Spanish is coming along!)

I wouldn't feel right taking communion so I didn't. When mass was over there was a round of applause which I found odd and I left without having undergone any significant change.

Nature's Fireworks! No context, I just love Palm trees!​

Since I was there, I couldn't resist another visit to the tabernacle next door. There couldn't be another mass!
Ha! Dumbass!
There I was sitting down, basking, when two priests came out. I wasn't the only one in the church, but that wasn't unusual. Caught again!

Just like my first visit when I could easily have believed that this was for a different religion, this mass was something altogether different!

For starters, it was a young priest. I can't remember the last time I saw a young priest! He might have tripped over his tongue a time or two, but that was enthusiasm. He talked fast so that I couldn't keep up, but there was no doubting his conviction and passion. He was lively, animated and certainly inspiring.
While the mass was going on a young couple came in with three children, just looking around. I sensed that they weren't here for the mass, but I saw a look pass between them, they rounded up the kids and taking a pew for the kids and one for themselves (social distancing) settled down in front of me. The kids behaved impeccably.

This city is full of life and colour!​

It was a real treat to catch unexpected Masses in both parts. It also emphasised and underlined the differences between the parts. I don't lay claim to any faith, although, growing up in Ireland and having been raised a Catholic and educated in a Christian Brother's school, religious imagery is a part of my vocabulary.

In these circumstances, I'm an observer, a respectful one I hope. I observed a Cathedral, uplifting certainly, but powerful and intimidating and attended a Mass said by a Cardinal, who, for all his rank, didn't seem to connect with the congregation. I also observed a smaller church, that was joyful, and attended a Mass that was human and inspiring.

That Cardinal has a lot to learn!

For more pictures have a look here
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Metropolitan_Cathedral_of_Mexico_City

Interesting churches are everywhere!​

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

The Date Part IV

The best dates are multi-day ones and this one is no different! On another day, I set off to track down that painting that I thought had been in the Palace of Fine Arts but wasn't.

Partly due to my rather haphazard approach to research and planning, I actually walked past the National Art Museum (Museo Nacional de Arte) on my way from the Palace of Fine Arts to Cafe de Tacuba. I knew there was a big art museum, but honestly, I was museumed out and didn't fancy scratching that particular itch.

It meant another trip to the old centre and another building that hits right between the eyes and leaves you stunned. Oh, there's some art too!

Outside, it's impressive, if slightly authoritarian in aspect. I look at it, can appreciate the symmetry, be impressed at the size and the image it casts, but there's nothing that speaks to me. It's cold.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MUNAL.jpg

An amusing anecdote if you look at that picture....the man on the horse is the king of Spain when México won its independence. Unlike most statutes, that one has moved all over the city! For safety reasons! For the time I've been here he's surrounded by a blue, steel fence!

But inside?
They're crafty here - there's a choir, an orchestra and Lorelei's Mexican sisters hidden that erupt into some kind of seductive, celebratory hymn. The interior doesn't speak to me - it sings to me!
Unlike the Palace of Fine Arts this took me by surprise. There I had been expecting something special. Here, not so much.
Again, legs rooted, head sweeping around I think I could stand there until they kicked me out and still not have seen everything - and that's just the lobby!

The temperature taking, gel dispensing guard was kind and gentle with me as he suggested I shuffle deeper inside to his colleague on the ticket desk. His colleague who surprised me with a body disinfectant spray barely registered in my consciousness and the lady on the desk was patience personified and smiled proudly when I told her that her workplace was beautiful.

There's a staircase that draws the eyes at the expense of everything else. It's painful to pull the eyes away, hurting whatever part of the body that responds to beauty.
I drifted up.

*Edited because sunlight fecked it up!
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:InsideStaircaseMusArteDF.JPG

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museo_Nacional_De_Arte-_stairway.jpg

A few steps. Stop. A whole new perspective, new details to process.
Somewhere at the top there's a painting on the ceiling but here, on the stairs, I can only see jigsaw pieces - a bit here, a bit there, a few steps and the first pieces are gone and something new is revealed. The weirdest strip tease I've ever seen!

At the top of the stairs there's a guy waiting to check my ticket. When I finally reached him I apologised because he'd put out his hand three times to take my ticket but each time I'd stopped to savour. He smiled, welcomed me and directed me onwards to the exhibition.

This is what awaits on the ceiling atop the stairs. Worth the walk!​

* Edited for light

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MuralCeilingMUNAL.JPG

Exhibition? Oh yes! There's an exhibition! I was only here for one painting, I wasn't interested in an exhibition and once I became aware of the content it didn't slow me down.
The building did!
The doors were amazing! The cornices were amazing!
The exhibition was of repurposed fake art.
An artist had taken fake artwork and had either;
Divided the original into three segments, one untouched, one scraped (so that it had a faint, almost impressionist image) and the final had all the paint removed, that paint then reused to coat another canvas beside the original.
Or
Cut the "original fake" into pieces and placed them in a frame.
I'm sure there's merit to creating something original from a counterfeit but I found it repetitive and felt that someone had worked a little too hard.
The background information was interesting though, how fake art was created, sold and who was "faked" the most.

An interesting image, the fist really seems to be bursting out!​

One room had little brass nameplates, each one with the name of the artist. For every fake painting in their name there was a brass plate, each a unique design. A couple of artists stretched floor to ceiling.
I was amused to see that quite a few of the fakes had been bought and placed in Trump Tower. There's a fake joke in there somewhere!

I wasn't sad to leave the exhibition behind and move on to the next one. (In fact, the museum was hosting four separate exhibitions!)

The first room was filled with portraits of the twelve apostles - in fact, a lot of the older artworks are all religious in content - and I wandered around enjoying the process of trying to remember them all and trying to match the English and Spanish names. Something was bugging me though and it took me well into the second half of the apostles before it struck me - how the Hell did anyone know what these guys looked like?

In fact the whole first section was of religious art. It's amazing to stop for a moment and think just how much religious art is in this town. Churches, museums - it is everywhere.

Truthfully, at this stage, the building had been having more impact than the art! High doors, amazing corridors, beautiful finishing. Then it got serious.
I entered the Salon Principal.
I burst out laughing! I couldn't help it.
Probably the most elegant room I've ever entered and it's filled like it's a cheap electronics bazaar!
There were a few small displays of things I barely recall. One was a water filtration system. Another was dedicated to Women's achievements in Science. But one display had flashing coloured lights that drew the eye and zapped the mind! (I've no idea what it was for).

But what a room!
The entire ceiling an elaborate frame for a painting. Each door, the frame stretching to the ceiling, was topped with another painting.
Giant, golden candleabras standing taller than myself.
And all this with flashing disco lights! CrazyBeautiful!

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ReceptHallMUNAL.JPG

The next section was art from the 20th Century. With such broad scope it was no surprise that the art was very diverse. There was little that called out to me but a few pieces walloped me.

This one by Diego Rivera (or Mr Frida Kahlo if you prefer😁) had me glued to the floor. Yes! It's hazy! That's the effect, not my camera skills. Each room has a curator to make sure we don't steal or damage the art, but more importantly that we follow the Covid arrows on the floor.
I drove the poor lady demented in that room because I left, returned, left, returned, left, wandered around and returned again.
Her stern reaction faded with each breach of protocol and by my last visit she smiled in welcome.

This one caught my eye too. As tall as me, a representation of Columbus arriving in the Americas, a carving of marble with intricate detail - and they have no idea who created it!

The final section was an exhibition of landscapes, mainly by one artist. If it hasn't been clear up to now, I love the landscape of Mexico. On long straight stretches through desert I haven't been bored, I've been enchanted. It's so different to what I'm used to and if the land seems dusty, dry and dead the sky is alive with movement and sunlight playing off clouds, or the distant mountains change as I move along.
A lot of these scenes seemed so familiar to me that they actually unsettled me - Oh! To get back on the bike and get back out there!
They may have been painted a couple of hundred years ago but not much has changed. I've passed those little shacks, seen that man walking his sheep to better grazing. So familiar, so teasing.

The planners of the museum must have known of my quest because they placed the one and only painting I wanted to see so that it was (almost) the last on display.

The artist was Eugenio Landezio, born in Italy, a teacher of Art here in CDMX who died in Paris. (1810 - 1879).

Let's just take a moment and ponder that.

An Italian travels to Mexico, establishes himself as a teacher in the University and dies in Paris in the 1800's. People often remark to me what a wonderful trip I'm taking and how brave I am. I've got nothing on this guy!
Just the language issues alone! I've got a phone for translations!
What was travel like at that time? A 20 year old MTB is luxury in comparison!
Perhaps I'm politically incorrect, but "Art Professor" does not inspire images of rough, tough intrepid travellers. And this guy finished up in France!

On to the painting.
I've waxed on about the Palace of Fine Arts but I haven't really talked about the Capilla de San Padua. It's not much to look at, located beside a very busy road and on a shallow, stinky river. It's not in the best state of repair and has graffiti.
I've visited this church weekly (even though it's closed) since I happened upon it on my first few days here and I can't explain why.
It's not the prettiest. It's not the calmest. It's used. It's rough. It's just …… real.
I sit for a little while on the bridge and just watch the world go crazily by. That bridge was one of the first built in New Spain!

Having found it, I did a little research and found out about this painting. And fell in love.
Painted in 1855 it's a depiction of the church, bridge and river. What is amazing to me is the rural scene of the painting in comparison to the scene these days.

Ah, feck it. Here's the painting. And the modern view.

To me, that simple painting tells an epic tale! From an empty road with a church and a bridge, this city has grown into one of the biggest on our planet! Yet, yet with a tiny bit of effort, with a closing of the ears to block out the traffic, with a squint of the eye, with a tolerance for the graffiti I can travel back to the day an Italian artist set up his easel and saw the same view.

Magic!

Dirty, grimy, beside a busy road, atop a stinky river, graffiti on the sides....​

The Museum
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Museo_Nacional_de_Arte_(Mexico)

Aside from that, google images of this beautiful building. You won't be disappointed!

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day Whatever, Tuesday, November 24, 2020

The Poem

I haven't posted a daily entry in months and it wasn't my intention to do so until I was back on the road. But today had one of those events that should be recorded, marked and remembered.

I read something disturbing over my morning coffee and on a figary, decided to take the day off and go for a walk. Nothing like wandering up and down these streets for calming the mind.

I had no destination in mind, just two aims - try to take new (to me) streets and follow whatever interested me. As a result, after a few hours I was close to the centre and took a break in a park. As I sat there, enjoying the sunshine a man approached me.

He stood a respectful distance away from me and handed me a child's copy book, opened on a page.
It was a maths notebook, with those little squares and some very faint handwriting.

It was hard enough to read the handwriting without the squares, faint ink, lack of punctuation, and, oh yes! a foreign language!
I tried, but there was a lot of word play - lots of dogs and buts (perro & pero). In the end, I asked him to tell me what was on the paper. He sat down beside me but didn't really speak.
I asked a few questions. Nada. I explained I was only learning his language and needed some help. Nada.

He had amazingly bright, lively eyes, in a pale, gaunt face. His clothes were smart and clean but well worn.

I knew he was angling for money, but I couldn't for the life of me work out what his method was. A Colombian friend of mine has warned me to be careful of all the scam artists. If she could have seen me she'd have been going nuts!

There was nothing bad, evil, malevolent or even slightly off about this guy. If I could get him to talk we might pass a pleasant half an hour on the park bench.

In the end, I asked him if he wanted some money and he smiled.
I gave him enough for a meal and his face lit up in what I saw as happiness, not triumph.

Then he surprised me. He took the copybook back and started flicking through some loose sheets, pausing at some before moving on. Almost with a triumphant flourish he handed me one sheet, told me it was for me and left.

This is what it says; (my translation from Spanish!)

I would like to escape and travel the world
To cross a thousand seas and be a vagabond
To love people and offer my best to erase the wounds that pain causes
To leave my world but not the world
To leave my life, but not life
To find a love, at last, to finally make me calm
To cradle her face and lose myself in her gaze
To feel that the world is ours and not wish for anything else.

Cradle and gaze fecked me up! There was no punctuation and the handwriting is hard to decipher. By the time I'd translated it he had melted away.

México, if I haven't said it in a while, is feckin' great!

Some pictures from the walk.

The caption reads: If you want a happy life tie it to a goal, not a person nor an object​

The Spanish Park

The light in the trees can be captivating

What an amazing feckin' tree!

​

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

​

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day Whatever.....

There are vanishingly few things I can claim to be good at, but picking places to eat is one of them. I remember one time in Spain, cycling past a restaurant that caught my eye and hours later when my travelling companion was becoming dangerously close to a starvation induced rage I led us back to a magnificent meal in a lovely, friendly environment. They made their own chorizo! De-feckin'-vine!

I'm becoming besotted with these types of views, taken from underneath the tree. Light, shade, the green of the leaves and now an almost always bright blue sky. I find it so relaxing​

Well, I still got it!

Alex's place is nothing to catch the eye. He has something that could ungraciously be called a hole in the wall that contains a tv, a chest freezer, a little cashier area and a table with a plastic tablecloth on which resides the accoutrements of Mexican cuisine - salsas (red and green) a tomato/onion/coriander salad, potato cubes, beans, cucumber, chopped limes, tortilla chips, one or two other dishes I haven't been brave enough to try yet, repurposed margarine containers for cutlery and some salt shakers. Behind is a tiny space that holds a fridge for cold beers and soft drinks.
Out front, on the footpath is the burning heart - a metal grill on one wheel (the other is awol) that has seen better days. He has a total of three tables on the path, one shopside, two roadside. A battered canopy stretches over the path and a rough, branded tarpaulin drops from its edge to defend against traffic noise and fumes.

This is an actual footpath! You've gotta love this place - everything has a whiff of adventure to it!​

They say the three most important factors in a hospitality business are Location, Location and Location and Alex is located on one of the ugliest streets I've come across in this town. Take Alex's place out of it and it has nothing, absolutely nothing to redeem it - just an almost treeless, traffic clogged street.
I've no idea what made me stop there the first time. Hunger, I suppose, because when you smell what's coming from that grill there's no getting away!

They do like shiny buildings here!​

My first meal was a take-away, a couple of beef-from-the-grill tacos. When I got home I knew I was on to a winner!
I don't do takeaway anymore. I'll sit, eat, savour, have a beer and enjoy the whole experience.
There's always two or three regulars, sitting down, enjoying a beer, shooting the breeze. Of course, anyone walking down the path walks right through the middle of his business and Alex seems to know them all.
There are always tardis cars parked in front so there's a buffer between me and the rumbling, honking traffic. I call them tardis cars because the traffic may as well be miles away.
Alex used up all his English on the first day, so now we do it all in Spanish. It's really not difficult - Alex could be a deaf mute and it would take no effort to understand him.
He's 60 if he's a day, a big man, lean...ish and strong, normally wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and a soft, serious look on his face. Soft, because he's naturally friendly, serious because he takes his work seriously. On arrival I get a big smile and then the face becomes focused as he gets his disinfectant spray and wipes down the table and all four chairs. Once done, the smile returns, a little chat, then serious face returns as he gets to work.

Can you blame me for wandering around, planless, when I come across this…..​

In a former life I had the blessing and curse to work and play with some great chefs in some fantastic locations. I've surfed the service wave with them, drank the post service lull away, laughed with them, fought with them, dodged sauces, spoons, even the occasional knives and downed tools and refused to work with them. Alex is nothing like those guys and girls except in one way - everything he does he does well and with a deceptive attention to detail.
If you're vegetarian, there's nothing for you here. He does tacos and steaks. Each item is cooked to order, the cheapest taco or the most expensive steak. If, like me, you order two tacos, the second one doesn't go on the grill until the first is finished - a little eye contact is the signal to fire up the grill. There were restaurants in the US with high tech systems who couldn't manage a gap between courses.
If I treat myself to a steak it comes with two tortillas. As I'm finishing the second two more appear on my table. I haven't had a t-bone in years - these melt in my mouth.
The first time I ordered the steak, Alex nearly fell over himself trying to encourage me to make full use of his little buffet. Nothing is refrigerated on it, but the delicate items are kept low and topped up frequently from the fridge in the back. Simple, but delicious.
When I forget to bring a teaspoon to ration the salsa on my taco one will appear, as if by magic. I dropped a fork one evening and while I was bending down to pick it up its replacement found its way to my table. For a big man he's surprisingly nimble!

Believe it or not, that is someone's front door!​

His salsas are deliciously lethal! The first time I ate there I rushed away. Big mistake! Walking home I burped and thanks to the facemask effect a concentrated blast of hot salsa breath swept up and over my eyes, leaving me to weep all the way home!

That's the original, unedited photo. Dark clouds all around but what a reflection!​

For all my skills at finding Alex's place it's also an opportunity to display my deficiency in navigation. If I try to go there directly, I will get lost! I know where it is on a map - just damned if I can translate that into the real world.
The best way to approach Alex's is by stealth. Go for a wander. When close enough I'll recognise some landmark and be able to cover the last block. By then, my appetite is raging!
Ha! I still harbour dreams of Tierra del Fuego and I can't even find my favourite place to eat!

Alex's place will win no prizes for its appearance, and someone without a working nose could stroll by and be unaware of the unpolished jewel they're passing, but he thinks on a different level. He has glasses for the beer, his own, branded, tankard style. He's had at least two batches of them, each with its own artwork and lyrics from Led Zepplin, Sting and Metallica amongst others. Best of all, they're stored in the freezer so the beer stays cold. Whenever I'm there I'm the only one using a glass.
The bill is presented on an old, battered wooden plate and change is returned with a few sweets. A taco for €1,50 or a steak for €6,50, it makes no difference. A tip is accepted with such gratitude that you'd think it never happened before. Try leaving without taking a sweet and you risk causing great offence!

I've been walking past this for months and only noticed it last week!​

His customers, his regulars, are friendly, welcoming and respectful. One chap left his table and stood at the edge of the canopy to have a smoke while I ate. Of course, it made no difference - the smoke still blew my way - and it really wouldn't bother me anyway so when I suggested he should sit back down with his friend he politely declined. Like Alex's place, the motivation, the objective, was pure enough to outshine any physical limitations.

Alex's place:
El Embrujo. Luis Spota 97-F CDMX.

Lately, there's been something interesting going on with the light, especially early in the morning or near sundown. The sun is filtered by buildings or trees creating wonderful effects of bright sun and dark shade side by side​

Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day BlahBlahBlah

*Enhanced

It's funny the way things work out.

I'm coming up on a year in this country. I thought I'd get to Mazatlán, get a grounding in Spanish and head on south. Honestly, I thought it would be a pretty brief affair. I'd contemplated doing an extensive Mexican itinerary, hadn't settled too much on anything at departure, felt a growing dread with every warning of imminent robbery and murder in the US, then did a full 180 when I actually crossed the border. The Land of Smiles.

*Enhanced - but not by much!


Then Covid hit.

I wasn't that long over the border when it first started to surface.
And that there is my luck.

Had I been in the US when Covid got serious, there's no doubt but I'd in Ireland or Holland now. My US visa would have counted down and I'd have had to leave.
I would not have had the balls to make a run for the border, to a country I didn't know, with a language I didn't speak.

Instead, I was in México when things got serious. A land that doesn't just say that everyone is welcome, a land that puts that into action. Whether that's the guy who pulls me over on the road to give me cold water and a jar of honey, the woman who wanted to tow me up a hill or the Government who puts a system in place so that people like me can stay beyond their initial 180 days.

They stopped extending the visitor permits in September and as the calendar has been ticking down I've had to look again at my options.

*Enhanced

The reaction from my Embassy has been silence this time. Official advice is to "go home". It's such a contrast to my earlier contact that I'm left wondering if I've done something to really pee them off.

Option 1 is to hit the road. The border to Guatemala is open again. However, Central America is a series of borders. Covid tests are required to cross, assuming they don't get shut down again. If Covid has taught us anything, it's the futility of assumptions and plans.

Option 2 is to leave the country temporarily and return, thus "claiming" another 180 days. Given the myriad of complications, from the unreliability of air transport, the ever changing rules to do with tests and the (admittedly small) risk of getting stranded somewhere else it's not an easy option. Nor cheap.

Option 3 is to do nothing. Let my permit expire and deal with any fallout at the border. That really doesn't sit well with me. It seems like an abuse of hospitality. Disrespectful.

Option 4 is to go to the immigration people and explain my story.

Sometimes it's good to ask!
I have some hoops to jump through, some money to pay, a letter to write (again!) and the possibility of an interview. Fan-Bloody-Tastic! I get a chance to practise my Spanish!

I particularly like this building. Every time I visit it looks different.​

*Enhanced

Yesterday was my day of action. To find a place to escape to for a few days I figured a Travel Agent was best. Apparently, Costa Rica was the best place for a few days. Not cheap.
Then I went to immigration. They only see people in the mornings and I was already too late. The security guards were hospitality personified. I returned today, different guards, same friendly attitude. We made jokes! Armed to the hilt and we're laughing together.
Inside, the most patient lady explained everything then answered my questions.
She made everything so simple. Explained it all. Not a sigh. Not a frown.
Trying to explain to a bureaucrat in NL that I was leaving the country on a bicycle was a whole different experience! "What do you mean you don't have a ticket?"

So, I have some work to do, some forms to fill in, a letter to write. It is not guaranteed. I may still have to leave but I've no reason to fear that day.

Not for the first time, I find myself looking upwards and thanking whatever Touring God is looking down on me for having me in this place when this damn Pandemic struck.

The interior of the Post Office in CDMX. Magnificent!​

That should have been the end to a very good day! But this trip keeps reminding me that I don't know what's around the next bend.

I'd written that up at a little restaurant/café I'd spotted. A fancy, trendy spot. They had tables and chairs on the street, a nice place to sit, relax, watch the world go by and treat myself. "Feck it", I thought to myself, "I'll break the budget a little". I had a sandwich and some coffees. Wrote up the first part of this on my phone and just generally let the hospitality of this place seep into my bones.

I meandered home, in no rush, relieved but excited to be having more time. Chatted to some friends at home.

The National Art Museum seen from the Post Office​

*Enhanced

The Palace of Fine Arts​

*Enhanced

Later, at home, I started to feel unwell. Later I was really unwell. Food poisoning, I reckon. Wiped me out for the entire weekend! Couldn't move on Saturday, Sunday neither. Went out for a walk on Monday and the normal delicious smells of these streets had me rushing home! It might not seem like it, but that's a really good indicator of how poorly I must be!

So, back on track, I'll be applying for more time to stay. All going well, they'll grant me another 180 days. That will give me time to see how the vaccine situation starts to play out further south.

Dodgy belly or not, México is pretty great!

This wonderful building is now a clothes shop! It's on a roundabout and I had to keep jumping in and out to get the shot. Until a guy in a pickup blocked the traffic! For me!​

*Enhanced


Chat away!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/