My friend Pete, who is smarter than me, wrote me after my last blog to say, "Hey, this is good shit, but I wonder how many people manage to finish reading them when they are so long. Why not issue them in smaller installments." So, I'm going to try that this time. If I get more feedback from people saying this helped them read them and enjoy them, then I'll make it a new thing. If not, then Pete doesn't know shit. I wrote this blog while on a tour of Baja California Sur, a truly amazing place. Mexico is so diverse and incredible. Don't know if I'll squeeze in a blog about that trip, but I'll surely have pictures of it (as I already do of my parents visit) posted at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/miguelito2066/sets/72157622745419733/show/ Check 'em out!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/miguelito2066/sets/72157622745419733/show/ Check 'em out!
My parents came to visit us last month. At the October/November Cusp. Day of the Dead/Halloween. All that. Not that this is why they came then. I needed to use the last three days of my “paternity” leave before November 1st. So, that’s when I told them to come on down. Of course, I’ve been telling them to “come on down” pretty much since I’ve been here. (You know, like for my wedding.) But, circumstances (read: global financial crisis and housing sales slump) and a longstanding provincial attitude about international travel kept them from responding to the invitations. Enter Miguel Alberto. The little guy had only been on the planet for a month and a half and he already had my parents buying plane tickets to Mexico. Well done, Son. I didn’t really care what had pushed them over the edge. I was simply ecstatic that my rents would finally be joining us in Mexico to get a first hand view of our lives. It’s weird that I care so much. At what age do you stop wanting your parents to be proud of you? I know I’m not an old man, but the signs indicate that I am getting “older”—the eyesight is failing, the libido is not as chipper as it once was, the recovery time after intense physical workouts is longer. (The recovery time after intense partying, however, seems to be lessening—this is probably a bad sign.) At any rate, at 43 years old I was totally stoked that Mike and Louanne would be visiting us and I counted the days down until their arrival.
Of course, looking back, it's clear that my enthusiasm got the better of me; I took them on a whirlwind tour that left my mother barely able to catch the flight home to NJ. Of course, she didn’t arrive in the best of shape either. My mother and some of her other siblings suffer from a rare condition that causes fainting at times. I can remember my uncle Patrick (the eighth of eight children, and thus only a year and a half older than me) sprinting away from the Fourth of July parades whenever the fire engines would approach, blaring their sirens. Apparently, for some reason, that would kick off his fainting spells. And I can also remember my aunt Margie being found passed out on the bathroom floor of my grandparents’ house when I was little. In recent years, my mother has developed additional physical quirks, like occasional migraines and something else that causes her to experience uncontrollable rapid heart beats. (I can’t remember the names for any of this stuff.) Not that any of it happens frequently as far as I understand it, just that it happens, sometimes. My mom is a sweet and fragile person, nothing terrible in that. So, when my parents confessed shortly after arriving in Mexico City on Tuesday night that my mom had passed out on the plane on the way to Mexico and given themselves, and everyone on the plane a good scare, it was not all that shocking of a surprise. But, I probably should have taken heed.
But, I didn’t. And the whirlwind tour commenced immediately after dropping their bags off at the apartment by walking them down the street to the Califa taco place. I’ve shared a lot with my family about the delights of Mexican food and wanted to introduce them right a way. This wasn’t the street tacos that I adore, but Califa is pretty tasty. So, we headed over there and had some tacos al pastor and some gringas shortly after they arrived at our apartment at 11pm. They seemed to enjoy them well enough before we went back home and finally put them to bed in Miguel’s yet occupied room at 1am after a long day of traveling. Oops, that was 3am their time. Sorry guys.
Still, the tour needed to continue (like the Milgram experiement), so the next day we got up and quickly started their personalized walking tour of my surrounding neighborhoods—Hipodromo, Condesa, Roma Norte, Juarez. We hit Buena Tierra for brunch, then Parque Espana and Parque Mexico, the Cibeles and Diana Fountains, Reforma, Little Korea. We did stop for a rest at Cafemania off of Parque Mexico. As we headed home after this long first day, I heard some mention of blisters emerging on their toes and “I haven’t walked this far in a long time.” Oops again. (Did I mention my parents are in their mid-sixties?) Sorry again guys. Well, not sorry enough to not schedule a dinner out at the Lebanese place we like so much with 12 of my closest friends. I really wanted my awesome friends to meet my awesome parents. Of course my folks were slightly subdued for the event, given the 3am bedtime the night before and the ten mile walking tour. Even so, we had a nice time, finishing off the evening by toking on the hooka. My friends got a glimpse of the two people responsible for making me me. Afterwards, I’m certain both my parents were asleep the moment their heads hit their pillows.
But, hey man, there is a lot to see in this great city of mine. So, the next day after breakfast we headed up to Chapultepec Castle, which I’d pointed out to them from my 9th floor apartment windows. After walking up the long steep hill that leads to the castle, we toured the residential portions of former emperors and presidents and headed into the museum portion for some more when my mom suddenly decided she needed some air. Too stuffy, she said. Gee, Mom, sorry about that. Ale went outside to sit with her. My dad and I hurried through the rest of the museum in order to catch up with the girls and Miguel outside.
Still, the day wasn’t over yet. Shoosh, it was only 3 o’clock or so. The show must go on and all that! We drove downtown, after a stop for some street quesadillas, to the Bellas Artes Palace to show them the El Greco exhibit that I’d heard so much about. Ale and I had been dying to see this and had waited specifically for my parents’ visit to finally go. When I heard my mom saying, “who exactly is El Greco again?” it dawned on me that Ale the art buff and me the history buff were perhaps not thinking straight when we set up this part of the itinerary. (Still, it was really cool, set up in the dark with highlight lights on the paintings. Better even than the normal showcase in Toledo, or so I’ve been told.) We left the museum and headed down toward the Zocalo, the huge central plaza of the city. (They assured me their feet were up for the mile walk or so through the old weathered buildings of El Centro.) After taking in the wonders of that mighty plaza, peeking inside the Catedral Metropolitana and taking a gander at the ruins of the original Aztec temples upon which the city is built, we headed over to the La Casa de las Sirenas restaurant and enjoyed some truly fine Mexican cuisine, garlic trout, chile enogada, and mole con pollo. It was on this satisfied note that we headed back to the apartment to put day two in the books. Way to hang in there you two!
Installment II to follow...
Of course, looking back, it's clear that my enthusiasm got the better of me; I took them on a whirlwind tour that left my mother barely able to catch the flight home to NJ. Of course, she didn’t arrive in the best of shape either. My mother and some of her other siblings suffer from a rare condition that causes fainting at times. I can remember my uncle Patrick (the eighth of eight children, and thus only a year and a half older than me) sprinting away from the Fourth of July parades whenever the fire engines would approach, blaring their sirens. Apparently, for some reason, that would kick off his fainting spells. And I can also remember my aunt Margie being found passed out on the bathroom floor of my grandparents’ house when I was little. In recent years, my mother has developed additional physical quirks, like occasional migraines and something else that causes her to experience uncontrollable rapid heart beats. (I can’t remember the names for any of this stuff.) Not that any of it happens frequently as far as I understand it, just that it happens, sometimes. My mom is a sweet and fragile person, nothing terrible in that. So, when my parents confessed shortly after arriving in Mexico City on Tuesday night that my mom had passed out on the plane on the way to Mexico and given themselves, and everyone on the plane a good scare, it was not all that shocking of a surprise. But, I probably should have taken heed.
But, I didn’t. And the whirlwind tour commenced immediately after dropping their bags off at the apartment by walking them down the street to the Califa taco place. I’ve shared a lot with my family about the delights of Mexican food and wanted to introduce them right a way. This wasn’t the street tacos that I adore, but Califa is pretty tasty. So, we headed over there and had some tacos al pastor and some gringas shortly after they arrived at our apartment at 11pm. They seemed to enjoy them well enough before we went back home and finally put them to bed in Miguel’s yet occupied room at 1am after a long day of traveling. Oops, that was 3am their time. Sorry guys.
Still, the tour needed to continue (like the Milgram experiement), so the next day we got up and quickly started their personalized walking tour of my surrounding neighborhoods—Hipodromo, Condesa, Roma Norte, Juarez. We hit Buena Tierra for brunch, then Parque Espana and Parque Mexico, the Cibeles and Diana Fountains, Reforma, Little Korea. We did stop for a rest at Cafemania off of Parque Mexico. As we headed home after this long first day, I heard some mention of blisters emerging on their toes and “I haven’t walked this far in a long time.” Oops again. (Did I mention my parents are in their mid-sixties?) Sorry again guys. Well, not sorry enough to not schedule a dinner out at the Lebanese place we like so much with 12 of my closest friends. I really wanted my awesome friends to meet my awesome parents. Of course my folks were slightly subdued for the event, given the 3am bedtime the night before and the ten mile walking tour. Even so, we had a nice time, finishing off the evening by toking on the hooka. My friends got a glimpse of the two people responsible for making me me. Afterwards, I’m certain both my parents were asleep the moment their heads hit their pillows.
But, hey man, there is a lot to see in this great city of mine. So, the next day after breakfast we headed up to Chapultepec Castle, which I’d pointed out to them from my 9th floor apartment windows. After walking up the long steep hill that leads to the castle, we toured the residential portions of former emperors and presidents and headed into the museum portion for some more when my mom suddenly decided she needed some air. Too stuffy, she said. Gee, Mom, sorry about that. Ale went outside to sit with her. My dad and I hurried through the rest of the museum in order to catch up with the girls and Miguel outside.
Still, the day wasn’t over yet. Shoosh, it was only 3 o’clock or so. The show must go on and all that! We drove downtown, after a stop for some street quesadillas, to the Bellas Artes Palace to show them the El Greco exhibit that I’d heard so much about. Ale and I had been dying to see this and had waited specifically for my parents’ visit to finally go. When I heard my mom saying, “who exactly is El Greco again?” it dawned on me that Ale the art buff and me the history buff were perhaps not thinking straight when we set up this part of the itinerary. (Still, it was really cool, set up in the dark with highlight lights on the paintings. Better even than the normal showcase in Toledo, or so I’ve been told.) We left the museum and headed down toward the Zocalo, the huge central plaza of the city. (They assured me their feet were up for the mile walk or so through the old weathered buildings of El Centro.) After taking in the wonders of that mighty plaza, peeking inside the Catedral Metropolitana and taking a gander at the ruins of the original Aztec temples upon which the city is built, we headed over to the La Casa de las Sirenas restaurant and enjoyed some truly fine Mexican cuisine, garlic trout, chile enogada, and mole con pollo. It was on this satisfied note that we headed back to the apartment to put day two in the books. Way to hang in there you two!
Installment II to follow...
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