Abuelitos in Mexico III

But, as they say, the night was darkest just before the dawn. I was perhaps so busy worrying as I drove steely-eyed onward (though trying not to show it, of course) that I failed to notice the rain had begun to diminish. Finally, we could all breath a collective sigh of relief. Now, it was just the time between us and San Miguel, so I suggested we should play 20 Questions. This is a game I love and one in which I engage with a great of focus and seriousness. But, these three were amateurs. At first, my dad didn’t want to play at all. “How can I say yes or no to that question, not possibly being able to know everything about that person?” My mom and Ale played along willingly, but they played along, “Has this person ever been to Iowa?—ha, ha, ha!!" Normally I would have been more annoyed, but I was happy to get us all involved in an activity that was taking our minds off of the road. And, mercifully, within an a couple of hours, we were coming over the ridge and looking down onto the quaintly cobble-stoned streets of San Miguel de Allende. And even more mercifully, we very quickly found a reasonable hotel one block off the main square, at none other than: “Hotel San Miguelito.” I shit you not. Hopefully, this had to be an auspicious sign.

Ale said she was tired and would stay in with the baby. My parents said they thought they would stay in as well. Ale has been to San Miguel on several occasions so she could afford to miss this part of the agenda. Her excuse that she was too tired to come out would stand. (Plus she’s my wife and I always go along with what she says.) But, blisters, soaking wet, long day, old people—none of these excuses were going to fly with me! “I really, really think you should come on out for a little bit, at least. After all...we came all this way.” (As if they needed reminding.) And come out they did. Weren’t these the people that always used to make me do things? I really thought they were going to tell me to buzz off at this point. But, they were real troopers and came out for a stroll on the town and a drink at the very classy Tio Lucas restaurant. As we sat relaxing, listening to jazz, snacking on some delicious appetizers, chatting and sipping our whiskeys, the whole long, scary, crazy drive seemed to melt away into the distant and harmless past. Or did it? It was during our tranquil time at Tio Lucas that my parents decided to share with me that their trip to Mexico had prompted them to rewrite-up their will right before they left, and that I would be the executor of such. Geez, I laughed uncomfortably, what could have made them think their lives would have been at risk by coming to see me in Mexico?

The next day we woke up relatively early and I took my folks on a daylight tour of that most delightful of Mexican cities that is San Miguel de Allende. We had coffee and molletes off the little zocalo before strolling through the town, taking a peek at some cathedrals and parks before strolling through the market and buying some fruit. By mid-day we were back on the road, headed toward Guanajuato by way of Dolores, the town where Mexican Independence was born. Dolores is nothing particularly special, but it was cool to stand in the very spot of the original Grito de Independencia. Plus my folks got to see me bribe a cop in order to secure prime parking on the street. I’m not sure what they thought of that, but they definitely appeared to enjoy the extremely scenic drive over the mountains to Guanajuato, where we got out several times to snap some photos.

Guanajuato: the picturesque European-like city that would surely impress my parents of the wonders of Mexico. This would be a hit for sure. Of course, it can get a little busy and crowded on Saturday. And my parents had experienced a rough couple of days, so, I hoped it wouldn’t be TOO lively there. But, this tour was apparently about suffering, not hope. So, it was only fitting that we should arrive in Guanajuato on the last Saturday of the Cervantino Festival, a month long theatre, art and DRINKING bonanza that every Mexican teen and twenty something pilgrimages at least once in their lifetime. Just looking at the crowd made me ill. This would be the point where my parents said, “enough!” But, it was time for a bit of luck. Making our way through the obscenely crowded streets would have been unbearable—I’m not sure my parents would have survived—except for the saving grace of having the stroller with us. Contrary to intuition, the stroller is not a hindrance in situations like these; it magically serves as a Moses-like staff that parts the Red Sea of even the most crowded and drunken crowds. People see you coming with a baby in a stroller and they make way without any complaint. Using this method, we managed to get through the mob, check out the beautiful town, and find a seat in a nice restaurant in the Jardin Central, where we enjoyed another tasty Mexican meal, including pozole. I bought my mom a snazzy poncho and we even squeezed in some silver shopping before heading back to the Jeep for the final leg of our journey.

A four and a half hour long leg, in the dark, over the mountains to be exact. I too was beginning to feel the wear of such action-packed four days; but the circle needed to be completed. And besides, my friend Micah was having a Halloween party that night! So, I drove like a man possessed for the DF. This time there was no apocalyptic rainstorm—oh no—only some ridiculously blinding fog throughout the windy, mountainous roads. Once again, I drove through it all with unyielding focus, playing it cool without letting on to anyone of my own fear and self-doubt, squinting through the fog and somehow managing to get us all to our destination in one piece.

And even though we arrived home in time for me to technically make it to the party, I decided to stay in and hit the hay. Tomorrow would be the last day of my parents trip, and I wanted to be in shape to enjoy it with them. Sunday ended up being like a day like we would have had at home in NJ. Ale, my mom and I went shopping in the morning which allowed me to take a detour and show her the ASF campus. While we all pitched in a bit on the cooking in the afternoon, my dad and I watched the Eagles beat the shit of the Giants. (Sweet!) “Dada” and “Nana” took the opportunity to goo-goo, gah-gah with their newest grandson on the bed. It was everything I missed about not having them around. It was a relaxing and refreshing day of quiet family time that I hoped would leave them rested, refreshed and ready to catch their plane the next morning after a good night’s sleep.

But, I already told you that this trip was about suffering, not hope. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised one bit when I came out of my room, ready to head to work Monday morning to find out that my mom was having another “spell.” She was lying on the couch, pale and quiet. She then confessed that she normally doesn’t do great getting up in the pre-dawn hours and that she’d felt lightheaded on several mornings in our apartment. It then occured to me that I had not seriously considered the well documented draining effects of the high altitude of Mexico City on my newly-arrived, aging, parents as I drug them all over tarnation. (Did I mention that I am an idiot of sorts?) We had been planning on putting them into a radio cab and sending them on their way, but suddenly that plan was out the window. Ale quickly seized control. She’d go with them to the airport and I’d stay home with Miguel, work be damned. Luckily, when Louanne hit the cool air outside the airport, her system rebooted and she was able to board and fly home without incident.

Of course, I didn’t find this out until much later in the day when I received and email to that effect. In the meantime, I spent the day thinking, "Dude, what is wrong with you? You practically killed your parents with this trip!" And even though I was thinking that mostly tongue-in-cheek (I was pretty sure, despite the frenetic pace, that they had had a quite a good time) I then found myself taking this a step further, allowing the most dreadful scenario to play out in my head. What if this time my mom did not recover from her spell on the plane and make it safely home to NJ? I spent the day pondering what I already know to be true, that these two most special and important people in my life will someday come to the end of their tour here on earth. The hollow and ugly feeling was practically unbearable, and yet I know it is only a smidgen of what the real feeling will surely be when the awful time comes. I love them both so much I can hardly continue typing these words right now. In fact, I couldn’t. I had to stop and cry for a few minutes.

It is quite obvious as I type now, that I spent so much effort trying to show my parents a good time because I love them more than I can possibly describe. And because I was eager to share with them what a good life I have here in Mexico so they can know for certain that I am happy, because I know that’s important to them. I can only hope that they enjoyed their visit to Mexico more than they endured it. I'm fairly certain that is the case. I know I am definitely glad they came. And Mom and Dad--next time you come down--I PROMISE, we’ll take it easy.

Little Miss Sunshine Tours Mexico City

As you know, I really love living in Mexico City. Sure, it’s got its quirks and hassles, but they are mostly outweighed by the museums, sculpture, restaurants, parks, nearby colonial towns and beaches, pristine nature, and the overall freshness of living in a new environment. I relish the opportunity to show my friends and family from home around my new city, and even put them up while they are here. Regretfully, I haven’t been able to extend that hospitality as much as I would like, the lone visitor to Mexico City so far being my very well traveled friend Nik. That’s why I was totally pumped when I learned that we would be hosting Bob and Yoonhee, and their beautiful daughter Sunshine, for the first part of my spring break week.

The first benefit of having visitors from back home is their impending visit lights a fire under your ass in terms of getting things in order. First, we went out shopping for a crib and stroller/car seat for Sunshine to use. Honestly, though I am going to have a baby of my own living with us in four short months, I have given little practical thought to how we will accommodate the little guy. This foray into the world of actual baby items brought me to a new level of “wow, this is really going to happen.” I also went out that week and bought Ale a desk to put in the unused quarter of the open area of our apartment. Staying up late putting it all together for her to wake up to made me also feel like I was preparing for fatherhood, as I will likely be doing similar late night preparations of Christmas gifts for Miguelito Jr., or “Beto” (short for Alberto) which we think we may call him. We have a second bedroom in the apartment, but it was mostly being used as an unceremonious storage closet for the many boxes we’ve accumulated over the past three moves. The night before they arrived I scrambled to sort and consolidate, locating many a lost article—“oh, so THAT’S where that’s been!” Having found as much as I did, I am now committed (no, really!) to spending all day some upcoming weekend to a more thorough and complete job. I also managed to do some last minute replacement of kitchen tiles, mount a shelf for the toaster oven and hang a large picture that had long been on my to-do list. Finally, after several days of preparation, we were ready to welcome our friends to our (relatively) new (to us) apartment.

Things got off to a scary start when the traffic down the main highway to the airport, Viaducto, was uncommonly jammed at 10 pm. Ale figured the construction of another east-west artery in the northern part of the city may have been the culprit. My anxiety grew as it took close to 45 minutes to reach the airport and we had not discussed a contingency plan of contact if we were not there to greet them. My worry was for naught, as Bob, Yoohnee and Little Miss Sunshine appeared out of customs about 30 seconds after our arrival! The ride home took less than 10 minutes, so they missed the opportunity to experience a staple of Mexico City life, stiffling traffic. As we drove home, Bob commented on the experience so many have when flying over the city at night—“It’s SO huge!”

My buddy Jim Weathers was leaving the next day for the Dominican Republic, so he stopped by to meet my friends. He arrived in a state common to those who know him: inebriated and elevated. Despite the presence of the baby, he carried on in his jovial manner, complete with “fuckin’ ‘ell” this and “mother-fuckin’” that. We all got a big laugh when Bob, miming for Sunshine seated on his lap, began moving her arms, pointing at Jim and saying, “Hey, who is that crazy mother-fucker over there?!” Jim’s girlfriend Laura soon dragged him away (I suspect) for some last chance lovin’ (she would not be joining him in the DR) and Bob and Co. headed for bed after a long day of traveling.

While I had managed to get the day off, Ale had to work, so I decided to take our guests on a general tour of the city. We began with a walk up Nuevo Leon where we soon encountered a Friday street market on Campeche. Yoonhee took advantage of the cheap fresh juice available and I shared with them the common Mexican treat of jicama, a sweet root covered in lime juice and chile pepper. As we meandered our way through the side streets of La Condesa, we discussed the perfect weather conditions, and how “surprisingly nice” the neighborhood was. La Condesa, named after a countess who once owned the original hacienda, was developed as a neighborhood beginning in the 1920’s and features an array of art deco architecture. It was home to the rich and famous of Mexico City until the big earthquake of 1985, when those who could, fled for newer (earthquake ready) upscale neighborhoods. This left Condesa in decline for a brief time, only to become the trendy revitalized area it is now that so impressed Bob and Yoonhee. Finally, we arrived at the nexus of this trendy little neighborhood, the intersection of Atlixco, Michoacan, Tamalipus and Vincente Suarez where we had a delightful brunch at café Buena Tierra. Bob ordered some Chilaquiles, a very traditional Mexican breakfast dish consisting of tortillas covered in a red or green sauce, cream, onions and your choice of chicken or fried eggs on top. Yoonhee ordered another Mexican staple, though I can’t remember what it was. Both loved their meals. (I specifically remember what Bob had because he asked me to repeat the name of it to him 50 times over the next few days: “CHEE-LAH-KEE-LEHS”)

After eating, we headed over a couple blocks to Parque Espana, the smaller of two fairly large parks in our part of town, where we made our way to a shady bench. Sunshine was too young to make use of the enormous jungle gym contraption that sits at the heart of the park, but she was very much entranced with the sights and sounds of the fountain near our bench in a small pond. Her excitement practicing her walking also garnered her smiles from the old man seated next to us, enjoying the shade and eating fresh oranges. Next, I walked them through Roma—my old neighborhood—where I showed them my old apartment building and introduced them to my old favorite street taco place. (Yes, it had only been about an hour and a half since brunch, but Bob doesn’t need much of an excuse to eat!) I ordered an Alambre, a mix of steak, pork, peppers and onion, which he and Yoonhee devoured. We then headed further north to the beautiful Diana fountain, where we turned right for a stroll down Paseo de la Reforma, the “Champs Elisee of Mexico City.” A flower market lined the wide pedestrian promenade, offering visual and olfactory stimulus to the already beautiful, tree-lined thoroughfare. When we stopped at the golden Angel of Independencia, the most famous landmark and de-facto symbol of the city glimmering under the blue sky, it was time for a few comments on Mexican History. I explained why, unlike in America, there is a difference between the war of “Independence” and the war of “Revolution” in Mexican history. Independence refers to the war against the Spanish Crown, between1810-1821, and Revolution refers to the civil wars and political upheaval against the ruling elite, and between competing political factions between1910-1921.

The boulevard on which we walked also draws its name from another major period of political transformation in Mexico’s tumultuous past. La Reforma occurred (for the most part) under the beloved indigenous president, Benito Juarez, between1854-1876. These liberal reforms stripped the Catholic Church and the military of their many privileges and undemocratic political influence. The reforms also provided further protections and considerations for the average Mexican citizen established during the revolution, including a “Mexican Bill of Rights.” Paseo de la Reforma, the boulevard now honoring these improvements, was ironically constructed by the “Emperor of Mexico” Maximilian I, as a gift for his wife, Empress Carlota. Maximilian I assumed the throne of the Mexican Empire in 1864 with the help of French Emperor Napoleon III, who was looking to expand his influence in the Americas. (His blue coated troops were the bad guys in the Zorro movies.) Rather than retaining the name of the Empress, the boulevard Reforma now honors the democratic changes of the man who deposed her interloper husband and had him executed. Ha! Take that PUNK! (Sadly, his last words were, “Viva Mexico!”)

Next we hopped in a cab and headed downtown to El Centro, another area teeming with history. We jumped out at the beautiful Bellas Artes, a palace built as a cultural arts center at the early 20th Century. It houses a theatre, concert hall, and galleries for exhibitions, such as the Frida Khalo exhibition I saw last year. As it was awfully bright out, we headed over to the adjoining Parque Alameda for some more shade, where Sunshine got some fresh mommy-milk and Yoonhee and I had some icy treats. We then strolled down Avenida Cinco de Mayo (which is not the date of Mexican Independence or Revolution) toward the imposing Zocalo, the enormous central plaza of the city. All Spanish founded cities have such an arrangement, and even small towns have a modest version, but there is none that I know of larger than this one. It is the site of many traveling exhibitions, such as the Nomad Museum’s photographic exhibit, Ashes and Snow last year, as well as the site of many types of demonstrations, celebrations and events. At one end of the square lies the Metropolitan Cathedral, the largest and oldest cathedral in Latin America. It took over two hundred years to complete and is an amalgam of styles, though mostly Baroque. On the other three sides of the Zocalo stand the massive colonial structures that once served as the Palace of the Spanish American Viceroy and the seat of the colonial government which ruled from this location on behalf of the Spanish Crown from 1535-1821. (The other New World viceroy was the Viceroyalty of Peru, seated in Lima, which governed from Panama to Tierra del Fuego before being broken up into smaller viceroyalties due to problems with communication and transportation.) Today the National Palace is a museum, housing the original legislative rooms of the young Mexican Republic, as well as the famous murals of Diego Rivera depicting the history of Mexico. The only actual governing body remaining on the Zocalo is the city government. Perhaps the most famous annual event that occurs here is “El Grito”, a ritual re-enactment of the original call (or “grito”) for independence by the mestizo-sympathetic priest, Miguel Hidalgo. Tens of thousands gather under the palace balcony on September 16 to hear the president proclaim, “Viva Mexico!!!” thus signaling a burst of fireworks, singing, dancing and general Mexican revelry. I haven’t attended it there. I felt nearly crushed among the crowds at The Grito in the relatively small town of San Miguel de Allende two years ago, so don’t think I would appreciate the hording masses attending the event in the Zocalo.

There was an event planned that day in the Zocalo, though nothing of any national historical significance; a mass Quincenanera of 300 young debutantes, celebrating their “Sweet 15,” as it were. As we enjoyed some more Mexican delights—“sopes y sopa” from a hotel restaurant overlooking the Zocalo (did I mention Bob loves to eat?) we looked down upon the dress rehearsal of these young girls on the stage and listened to the music bouncing off the colonial walls. To top off the day, and to offer my guests another authentic Mexican perspective, we took the metro home. The Mexico City subway line is one of the most dependable things in the city, though it can get sardine crowded at times on certain lines. Since this was my first time heading home from the Centro to my new apartment, I couldn’t guarantee the passenger volume would be baby friendly; however, the cars were only half full and there was no need to go look for a taxi. In fact, Sunshine’s unique beauty got her noticed quite a lot, earning her more smiles during the ride home. (People smiling at this kid would be a theme for the weekend.) That night we were visited by my buddy Will, who stopped by for some wine and a feast of Mexican sushi, filled with (a strangely DF tradition) Philly Cream Cheese. I was happy to have two very good friends, one old and one new, finally meet.

The next day it was up and at ‘em with a long list of other things to do and see. Or so I thought. I was learning that the morning routine we had experienced the day before was the norm: Sunshine waking up at the ass crack of dawn, hanging out for a few hours, then laying down for a midmorning nap before we could effectively get out of the house for the day. So, the Turibus ride I envisioned would not happen. Nor would we get to do more than take a drive around the outskirts of Bosque Chapultepec, the “central park” of the city. Here there are lakes, museums of modern art and the Museum of Anthropology, an amusement park, and Chapultepec Castle. This castle, now the national museum of Mexican history, has served as residence to both presidents and emperors, but mostly as a military academy. It was from the bluffs surrounding the castle that the famed “Los Ninos” wrapped themselves in the Mexican flag and hurled themselves to their deaths as the Americans took the city during the American invasion of Mexico, 1846-1848. As we drove along the iron fence surrounding the park, we saw an exhibit of Nordic photography, “Norway: Powered by Nature” that accompanied the recent visit of the Norwegian Prince and Princess last month. (Ale was a principal organizer of the PR campaign related to their visit!) I’m sorry Bob didn’t get to spend more time enjoying them, as he’s quite a good photographer himself. But, these wouldn’t be the only photos we would not have time for; we’d also have to shelve a tentative trip to an exhibit in the Centro by David La Chapelle, “The Delirium of Reason,” the following day in order to make time for a day trip out of town.

Before getting on the road to San Angel on Saturday, we stopped into Califa for some “tacos al pastor,” by far one of the tastiest types of tacos found only in Mexico City. They unique nature of these tacos is that they are filled with meat shaved from a rotisserie spit, in the same way as the Greek gyro or Turkish kabob. This technique of cooking was brought to Mexico City from Lebanese immigrants. (Carlos Slim, one of the top 3 richest men in the world, is a Lebanese Mexican.) Tacos al Pastor include juicy pork shaved from the spit, parsley, onion and a slice of pineapple, topped with lime juice and salsa. RIDICULOUS is how good they are. Just writing about them now is making my mouth water. Again, Bob and Yoonhee were having a fiesta of the taste buds. Afterwards, we finally made our way to San Angel for our Saturday afternoon. We meandered through the weekly arts and crafts market set up in the two little parks located in that old cobblestoned neighborhood. This neighborhood, like nearby Coyoacan, was originally a suburb far beyond the city center. Now, these quaint neighborhoods are more like a colonial oasis in the midst of the urban jungle. While there, Ale bought a blouse and Bob bought a couple of wall hangings from the locals. We headed back and had to select a restaurant again for dinner—not always an easy task in a city full of great offerings. We settled on Il Postino, a lovely little Italian place with and outdoor café seating on the Cibeles fountain at the Plaza Madrid. There Bob ordered some giant mutton on a bone. The pictures of him digging into this thing will crack you up. (Did I mention Bob is a confirmed eater?)

Our last full day consisted of a trip well outside the city limits to a little village called Tepoztlan, about an hour away. Since Mexico City lies in a basin in the middle of a mountain range, it’s necessary to do some windy mountain driving to get out of the city. Once up there, Bob and Yoonhee were a bit surprised, as I first was, at the beauty of the countryside outside the city. Giant pine trees lined the highway, reminiscent of the outer limits of Yosemite. Tepoztlan is also cradled in a small basin surrounded by a wall of sheer rock face. It is such a nifty and magical place that it was the site of native life as far back as 1,500 BCE. More recent inhabitants, from ca. 1,100 CE, constructed a temple pyramid on the top ledge of one of these nearby craggy mountains. The high perch kept it from being destroyed after Cortez and friends razed the town below to the ground when the inhabitants refused to submit adequately. Taking the hour hike up the mountain side to the pyramid is one of the premier attractions of the town, along with the many shops, restaurants, and local “spiritual” offerings—“want your aura read?” White-robed, beaded hippies can be seen wandering the streets, waiting for a message from the Great Spirit of the Mountain (or some such shit). The small temple park at the top features a glorious view of the surrounding rock formations and the town below. It’s a great place to have a picnic and read a book for the afternoon.

After parking, we visited the grounds of the old convent in town, built in the late 16th Century, then stopped for a coffee and snack, before strolling down the main road toward the pyramid. When they looked up and saw how high and steep the climb was, doubt began to set in. Though this is not excessively physically challenging hike for the healthy, the unfortunate fact was that by the time Sunday had rolled around, Bob had taken on the brunt of the cold virus that had been plaguing Sunshine and Yoonhee days earlier and he was feeling pretty darn lousy. After we got to the foot of the mountain under the trees, we decided the pyramid would have to wait another day. Instead we sat in the shade and ate our packed lunches, chatting and people watching, before heading back into town and back into the big city.

The best meal of all, if I must say, was our dinner that last night: Miguelito’s secret special NJ-Mexican pasta sauce with salad and garlic bread. Unfortunately, Bob was so stuffed-up he couldn’t taste a thing—though this did not prevent him from eating! He was coherent enough to help me organize my music collection onto a back up drive, which was much appreciated by a technical idiot like me. Sunshine didn’t have the easiest time getting to sleep that night and wailed for quite some time. At times during the visit, Little Miss Sunshine behaved more like Little Miss Crankypants, but I think she still enjoyed her tour of Mexico City. I’m sure her having a cold didn’t help. Still, her antics certainly gave Ale and I a wake-up call as to what we need to expect in the coming year. The joys of parenthood await!

The next day we parted, Ale and I for a week in Nicaragua, and Sunshine and her ‘rents back to Philly. Details of Nicaragua to follow…