MEXICO February 20, 2010: El Ultimo Dia en Mexico

Escribo en el aeropuerto de Mexico — en la sala de espera
20 de Febrero, 2010

Hola —

OK….
Peter (friend who lives in Mexico City) came to the Casita (del Patio Verde) at about 5, and the three of us took a taxi for about an hour and a half.. meandering (mostly on city streets, because the “freeway” was totally bumper to bumper) from the southern part of Mexico City where Coyoacan is, through Condessa and El Centro, and further north. Eventually we started to climb very narrow, winding streets with lots of activity.. commercial, social, etc. going on all around us. We were in Molina and then Nacaulpan, where Peter had lived some years ago (in a rented room). The larger neighborhood is called Benito Juarez and it is outside of the DF (District Federal, which is actually Mexico City, home to about 22 million people). Benito Juarez is in the area that circles the city.. and is home to another 5 or maybe 10 million people. Pretty much, everyone just refers to all of it as Mexico City, but in terms of governance and other social and political infrastructure, it’s its own locale.

The area is built on the hills that surround Mexico City. (If not for the poverty and the construction and the general conditions, it could easily be an Italian hill town — sort of!) Forty years ago it was all trees and farming, and now it is wall to wall housing – most of it built by the residents, initially as small one room houses for families too poor to afford Mexico City but who relied on Mexico City for employment and goods. These self-help houses (begun with limited available materials and using the skills of the family and neighbors) have grown over the years to three- and four-story houses — mostly with adhoc “design,” fantastic decisions about the color of some of the houses, and all the amenities of any other community: sidewalks (albeit with almost no room to walk, because of the outcropping of shops, especially at night when the town comes to life with dozens of taco stands and vendors on every single street), shopping, water lines, sewers, electricity, etc. (which were not in place at the beginning). Bus lines, taxis, and the home grown van systems enable people to come and go freely, and there is an ever increasing ownership of automobiles in the area (creating all sorts of new jobs to repair cars locally, which is a thriving “on-the-street” enterprise).

The neighborhood climbs and climbs the hillside with stairs leading every which way to get to streets that sometimes go nowhere and sometimes open up to a whole other neighborhood.

This has been very interesting for us since we had visited this area when these houses (if you could call them houses at that time) were first being built — in the late 1970s. At that time, there were dirt roads and a few walking paths, no public transit, jerry-rigged electrical systems (well they are sort of still jerry-rigged, but official now), etc. It was clear then that this neighborhood and others on the other side of the city would become established given the huge population growth..  Basically they were squatter settlements, but not any more.

We walked a while (as Peter reconnected with people he knew when he rented a room in the area).. and then settled onto a bench at one of the hundreds of street-side taco stands and had fantastic (and huge) beef tacos with all the trimmings. We all wanted beers, but the stand didn’t sell them.. But no problema .. The guy sent his son (about 5 years old, maybe 6) down the street to get us beers.. Later, when we paid, the kid had to go back to find out the price and then return again to pay the little grocer from whom he had bought the beers. It was a great lesson in local economics, as obviously the taco guy had credit with the beer guy. Anyway, together we consumed 4 huge tacos and 3 beers for the grand total of 70 pesos ($5)!!

We walked around and eventually arrived at the hair salon run by Adrian/other name hard to understand..  (Adrian is male, but lives her life as a woman). The salon was about 250 sq ft including a bathroom which was behind a curtain (no privacy). Adrian has shoulder length blond (bleached) curls. “She” was extremely friendly to us as well as to all the customers and when I explained my work (in Spanish) — saying something about the fact that I was both a professor (which was easy to say and to understand) and that I had a company that worked “con organizaciones que ayudan los communidades pobres y nosotros trabajamos sobre comunicados y problemas social que afectan los colonias…” (or something like that) she said (in Spanish) that she, too, helped people with social problems.” I agreed that hair dressers are generally very involved with personal and social problems impacting their clients.

Cutting hair is a bit different here in Nacaulpan, as there don’t seem to be “licenses.” I did notice that the same comb was used over and over again without any disinfectant .. (Ah, I am so American.. worried about such details.. )

We had beers with Adrian (sorry I don’t know the name she likes to be called) and joked around about the neighborhood and different people who frequent the shop. (Her family built — or started to build — their house 35 years ago when she was 4 years old. She remembers what it was like at the time and said her parents (with whom she lives) have old photos (which Mike is dying to see)… So Mike will be back to visit when he’s in Mexico again in two weeks (sin/without Fern).. While we chatted, Adrian cut hair.. about four young Mexican guys, and then Peter. She was trying out some new styles — very short on the sides and back and very punky on the top. They all seemed pleased. Peter just got a very close crop cut, no punk — he’s the coordinator of the foreign language department at the universidad, so I think he felt short and close was a good solution. Hair cuts and styling cost 20 pesos (about $1.50).. She wanted to do my hair, but I chose to pass. Apparently the guys who were getting their hair cut belong to a particular gang in the neighborhood, but it sounded like a club and a turf definition.. All of them had jobs (limited education, so mostly delivery jobs and construction). One had lived in Florida for a few years and did odd jobs — everything from McDonalds to house painting. He returned to the colonia because work dried up in Florida with the economy. His English was weak but he understood a lot.

It was very difficult to have any kind of conversation (although they were all talking up a storm the entire time) because of the street noise. (You have to understand that the shop edges directly on the street with about 5′ of sidewalk and trucks and buses and cars are all driving by in two directions on the most narrow street you can imagine.. and the vehicles are not exactly Priuses… so add to all of this, honking horns and screeching breaks and radios and passersby talking .. and there is no door to the shop.. just a garage door that opens when she’s there.. so you are literally on the street.. And then inside the shop there is music playing (loudly).. So, given the sound / noise situation and my weak Spanish, I can’t really say I know everything that was discussed… I do know that Adrian lives with her parents (her father does not approve of her lifestyle, but her mother is very supportive); she’s got about six or seven siblings; several live in the US and the others live close by. One works with computers. She’s been doing hair for 15 years and likes it mostly because of the interaction with the customers who are all regulars by now.

I gathered that some of the gang guys were gay, because when I asked Peter why they come to her for their hair, he said that she was good but also she was gay-friendly.

In any case, Adrian hopes we’ll return (perhaps for a new “do” for me) and it would be fun to visit in the daytime and stay into evening in the neighborhood to see the real life of the place..

We left at about 9 (actually when things were just beginning to liven up on the streets.. so we felt un-cool) and walked to the “sitio” where you can get an “official taxi”.. The taxi dropped Peter off in the Centro so he could party.. and we headed back to Coyoacan. Naturally the taxi driver from that great distance did not know his way around Coyoacan, but by now we are pretty good with directions and were able to help navigate to the Casita.

This morning we headed to the Bazaar Sabado at Plaza San Jacinto in San Angel and meandered through the myriad stalls which had the usual broad array of high quality and low quality goods. It was fun; we bought a few trinkets and stuff, and Mike fell in love with an incredibly fantastic line drawing (pen and ink) with unbelievable detail that was about 40″ by 40″.. He’s made arrangements to see it again when he’s back .. and I think it’s going to find a home in our house. It is quite amazing because of the drawing skill, the embedded stories, and the grand scale of the piece in proportion to the line elements. While it’s not cheap,
I’m certain framing it will be twice the price of the piece. What a statement!

We hurried back to Coyoacan to finish packing.. and now we are officially en route to Oakland, via a three hour stop at the Phoenix Airport.

Adios.
Fern