before it begins, new photos up from Tulum and Isla Mujeres. See next post for info about those trips in general, and transport to/from said places.
-------
It all started with some shoes. My two pairs were both new when they were brought here to the city---a bad decision from the start. Never underestimate footwear. At home I had grown accustomed, in a delightfully bourgeoisie way, to wearing a particular type of sneaker. And by the time I left for Mexico my latest pair of these particular kicks was kicked. The only downside, they wear out. So they were left behind, and the thought was that if they became absolutely necessary to buy they could be purchased online. Wrong! For some unbeknownst reason there are so many stores that do not ship to Mexico. This is perhaps due to the inefficiency of the post office, but that is besides the point.
So one day this mission was set out upon. It meant taking new metro lines, new buses, and a dash of hope. Two malls later and mission accomplished. Or so I thought. It felt good, but what would have felt even better was to understand the chaotic system of buses that are arbitrarily driven around the streets of Mexico City. Knowing what I do now, it would have been simple enough to take a microbus down the other side of the street the mall was adjacent to (Miguel Angel de Quevedo) and end up at the Tren Ligero station (Tasquena), and mere stops away from home. But instead I tried to get fancy.
This meant buying a carrot juice and circling the Reforma offices more than once. I wandered into a bus terminal attached to a metro station. It seemed simple enough. And in one bus window was a sign: Torres. There is a Tren Ligero stop called “Las Torres”, and so being a curious little person I asked the driver, “Este es Las Torres como el Tren Ligero?”. He assented with a vigorous nod. Pleased, I inserted 5 pesos and took a seat. In hindsight it all did seem all a little off. These were not the usual people that one sees on south-bound city buses. This bus was not even a south-bound city bus in appearance. And this is because it wasn’t. It was bound for...the suburbs. Which midday would not have been a problem. However, nightfall was approaching.
The ride was excruciatingly long. Hours, two and a half to be exact. Why did I stay on? Why did I not hop off at the last metro stop in view on Linea Rosa? Why did I not notice we were very very clearly cresting the rim of the city at dusk? Questions that will never be answered. But the fact of the matter was, after a bizarre and jolting trip I jumped off the bus and found myself on the side of a walled highway. There were no stores, there were no homes. Just a cave of an autobody shop and a woman deep-frying gorditas. Here fear set in.
“Oh my god. What have I done?”. Trying not to seem frantic I marched up a steep street to see if there were any taxis about, a learned behavior from the city. But there was nothing. I had no idea as to my whereabouts. Knowing that it was a terrible idea to flounder about on the side of a highway in Mexico in the dark (it was now past eight) and thinking about all the previous warnings about uncannily fitting into bags, I walked against the traffic and put my hand out. Barely a car passed before a white van with an official airport sign pulled up . “White van! The worst kind of vehicle to get into,” I thought. So pulling on all that DARE training we get in middle school about talking to strangers in cars, I stood away from the door and asked about a taxi. The driver looked at me quizzically. “Get in”, he said with a smile. I wasn’t having any of it, and he could tell. He explained further (and this is all in Spanish), “I am going to the airport, there is a metro station. Really, it’s ok”. He seemed earnest enough. I got in.
He pulled up a few feet and let people in through the side door of the van. It was a shuttle, in essence. He drove about and we chatted about the weather I tried to recover from the shock of being told that we were way out of the city. Anxiety began to set in when all the people trickled out of the van within minutes and he pulled up beside a pool hall. A large man came out, and they spoke languidly. Having already explained the situation, this friend of the driver said that the road I was dropped off on is called “Torres”. Confusion cleared, at least partially. They tried to convince me to play pool with them, but I kept repeating that I wanted to get back in the city before it got too late to use the metro. He started the van again and driving down the street on the way back, presumably, into the city he got stopped by some teens that wanted to know about the tricked out lights flashing around his rearview mirror. They ran up to the open driver’s window and banter rolled rapidly from them easily.
Noé, the driver, explained where the lights were purchased then we were on the way. This ride was shorter and more comfortable than the bus ride, though it took a good hour to get back into the DF. When he picked up passengers it was with a seatbelt attached to the inside handle of the sliding van door. He seemed to know all the stops and where there were people almost by instinct. The inside of the van was decorated brilliantly. Next to his seat there was a bag of pink sugared bread (pan dulce), and all about the mirror were ornaments of vaguely religious value. There was even a blacklight, and he liked how my tongue ring and stripes of my skirt glowed when he flicked it on. Noé explained that everything decorating the van was for good luck and driving safety. The hip hop blasted, and we listened to one song nearly five times. But on the fifth play we had reached the airport metro. On the metro I breathed out heavily. It was unbelievable. Anti-climactic, even.
On the subway a man fell to the floor and instantly opened his eyes. The metal seats are not conducive to sleepers. The night-subway is different from those in the morning or afternoon. Here the people selling math books or opera cds are less insistent. The tabla players are laid back, people feel camaraderie. I wear those shoes a lot now, but they already have rips. But they’ll last a little while longer.
14 April 2009
12 March 2009
Still here
First thing's first, support fellow bloggers-in-Mexico by checking out this lovely piece of work (street fashion blog!)...
http://dflavor.blogspot.com/
Valerie es una buena onda y interesante. Este journal dl estilo en Chilangolandia es la leche, guey. And perhaps you will see someone you know...hint hint.
Down to business.
There has been some talk. Yes, some talk about danger. And this country. And doing what I normally do, the issue has been circulating through all the conversations I've been having.
An American ex-patriate: "Well, the key word is the border."
My mexican housemate (from Morelia): "This was always going on, but then the PRI covered it all up. And now we actually can hear about it."
My Mexican friend (from Jalisco): "It is not dangerous for you. It is only dangerous if you are in a drug ring"
These are just some snippets. Perhaps formal interviews are in order?
The main thing is, my belief is that our government is encouraging us to be reactionary---for a variety of reasons. We, as mere citizens under the representative democracy/democratic republic of the USA, will NEVER be privy to the ACTUAL reasons behind ANYTHING. So if you trust the news, then you are deluding yourself. Sorry, but it's true. Even Helen Thomas will tell you that things are watered down or inflated to a startling degree, and that's an opinion you can trust.
If you are dying to know more, ask my Mom and she can certainly send you some of the emails we have traded.
If you want to see new photos, go here!
A word to the wise: when traveling in the city, never ever ever take a bus you are not 100% certain where it goes. or if you do, only do it in the daylight. Next entry will explain why.
21 February 2009
Mexico City...donde yo vivo/Where I live
Esquina (corner) Transmisiones y prol. Canal de Miramontes
Vista de una ventana en mi edificio/view from a window in my building
Otra vista/another view
Mi calle!/ My street
calle a mi escuela/street to school
14 February 2009
The Word
Some would argue that words should never be our enemies. That if we change our behaviors and attitudes towards some words, thus making them off-limits, we give credence and power to whatever negative connotation the word carries. But in practice this is not always true.
And the word I am talking about is nigger.
Where I come from it is never okay to say that word. My background has been one of extreme care and sensitivity towards the issue of words used by bigots. If I were a person who fell into the category of ‘person of color’ undoubtedly this issue would be of more importance to me. I would probably uphold the values linked with newer and more sensitive phrases like “African American” and “Person of African descent”. Who can it hurt by trying to treat everyone nicely, right? Through formative years of my intellectual development the idea that ‘racism exists and everyone is racist, including you!’ has been conditioned into me.
So coming to Mexico in this respect has been...strange. One of the first days on campus there was an ice cream truck with an ad for a type of chocolate-themed ice cream. The name was, horrifically, “Negrito”. Along with this name, translating to “little negro”, was a drawing of a little boy with an afro holding the said ice cream and looking rather excited. It was shocking. You would never see this in the US, my inner brain proclaimed.
And then I started taking this literature class. And in this class we have read eight short stories, with six of them having the word “nigger”, “niggery”, or some derivation thereof within. Six stories! Maybe one would be ok. Even two or three. The unsettling thing was, we never even had The Talk. You know, The Talk where the teacher sits on their desk and faces the class, and has this real “I’m going to prove I’m a non-racist human” monologue going on. They explain that the word isn’t nice, but at the time of publication it was acceptable, and that the other merits of the book weigh out the use of nigger and make it reasonable to still include in the canon of important literature. That talk we didn’t have. And so I was puzzled.
After asking many many other people of varied races and nationalities about the word nigger it has been explained several times that it is not a wordas highly stigmatized here as in the US. Australians that I am friends with also say that while it is not a nice word, it is not so ‘off-limits’ as it is believed to be in the US. This doesn’t mean that people don’t say ‘nigger’ in the US. On the contrary! But those people are a. black b. some other race, so they feel it is OK to appropriate, c. white people in groups of other white people,
d. people who seconds afterward get verbally berated/beaten up by others, not necessarily black, that are offended, or e. people who get away with it but are secretly (probably) looked down upon by at least one person who was around to hear.
But just because Mexicans feel that they can say nigger it did not make me feel like I could say nigger. And here’s why:
My problem is with what the word represents. This is a word that rose up during and after slavery. It represented an inhuman form of oppression solely executed based on the color of someone’s skin and their assumed inferiority because of it. To me the word nigger represents saying “ok” to racism, kind of like someone who seriously owns a confederate flag. By using it as a word, as a viable word, aren’t we allowing all those outmoded and incorrect attitudes about skin color to have an avenue, to further permeate our collective unconscious? A thought experiment of sorts---if we didn’t have the word war, would it exist? It seems as if this notion of making words ‘unsayable’ is tied to the idea that if the word doesn’t exist then all the bad shockwaves that are connected to the word will wither and die as well. I certainly hope this to be true, but it seems an impossible experiment.
My professor who had assigned all the stories with the word nigger has explained his reasoning for not having The Talk as, “it would do more harm than good”. If it is not a contested word, then why make it one? The jury is still out on this reasoning, namely because this professor is from Texas, US of A. Which is why it was such a huge deal to me in the first place.
Why would an American want to allow this word, signifying ignorance and hatred, out into the air and young people’s minds? This idea about culture and the cultural naysaying of certain words within specific groups and classes of society is a bizarre notion indeed. Because the word nigger is said all the globe round. It is in so many rap and hip-hop songs where the context seemingly makes it ok to say. Not only does context allow or not allow an utterance, it changes the meaning entirely.
Is it possible that a white American, after spending time in Latin America, could become utterly culturally desensitized to such a word? Not only that, but is it possible to insinuate oneself into another culture enough so that the old context and definition fall away and that a new context and meaning take the place? If it is not an offensive word to say in Mexico, does this negate how offensive it is to say ‘nigger’ in the United States?
Please friends, what are your thoughts?
And the word I am talking about is nigger.
Where I come from it is never okay to say that word. My background has been one of extreme care and sensitivity towards the issue of words used by bigots. If I were a person who fell into the category of ‘person of color’ undoubtedly this issue would be of more importance to me. I would probably uphold the values linked with newer and more sensitive phrases like “African American” and “Person of African descent”. Who can it hurt by trying to treat everyone nicely, right? Through formative years of my intellectual development the idea that ‘racism exists and everyone is racist, including you!’ has been conditioned into me.
So coming to Mexico in this respect has been...strange. One of the first days on campus there was an ice cream truck with an ad for a type of chocolate-themed ice cream. The name was, horrifically, “Negrito”. Along with this name, translating to “little negro”, was a drawing of a little boy with an afro holding the said ice cream and looking rather excited. It was shocking. You would never see this in the US, my inner brain proclaimed.
And then I started taking this literature class. And in this class we have read eight short stories, with six of them having the word “nigger”, “niggery”, or some derivation thereof within. Six stories! Maybe one would be ok. Even two or three. The unsettling thing was, we never even had The Talk. You know, The Talk where the teacher sits on their desk and faces the class, and has this real “I’m going to prove I’m a non-racist human” monologue going on. They explain that the word isn’t nice, but at the time of publication it was acceptable, and that the other merits of the book weigh out the use of nigger and make it reasonable to still include in the canon of important literature. That talk we didn’t have. And so I was puzzled.
After asking many many other people of varied races and nationalities about the word nigger it has been explained several times that it is not a wordas highly stigmatized here as in the US. Australians that I am friends with also say that while it is not a nice word, it is not so ‘off-limits’ as it is believed to be in the US. This doesn’t mean that people don’t say ‘nigger’ in the US. On the contrary! But those people are a. black b. some other race, so they feel it is OK to appropriate, c. white people in groups of other white people,
d. people who seconds afterward get verbally berated/beaten up by others, not necessarily black, that are offended, or e. people who get away with it but are secretly (probably) looked down upon by at least one person who was around to hear.
But just because Mexicans feel that they can say nigger it did not make me feel like I could say nigger. And here’s why:
My problem is with what the word represents. This is a word that rose up during and after slavery. It represented an inhuman form of oppression solely executed based on the color of someone’s skin and their assumed inferiority because of it. To me the word nigger represents saying “ok” to racism, kind of like someone who seriously owns a confederate flag. By using it as a word, as a viable word, aren’t we allowing all those outmoded and incorrect attitudes about skin color to have an avenue, to further permeate our collective unconscious? A thought experiment of sorts---if we didn’t have the word war, would it exist? It seems as if this notion of making words ‘unsayable’ is tied to the idea that if the word doesn’t exist then all the bad shockwaves that are connected to the word will wither and die as well. I certainly hope this to be true, but it seems an impossible experiment.
My professor who had assigned all the stories with the word nigger has explained his reasoning for not having The Talk as, “it would do more harm than good”. If it is not a contested word, then why make it one? The jury is still out on this reasoning, namely because this professor is from Texas, US of A. Which is why it was such a huge deal to me in the first place.
Why would an American want to allow this word, signifying ignorance and hatred, out into the air and young people’s minds? This idea about culture and the cultural naysaying of certain words within specific groups and classes of society is a bizarre notion indeed. Because the word nigger is said all the globe round. It is in so many rap and hip-hop songs where the context seemingly makes it ok to say. Not only does context allow or not allow an utterance, it changes the meaning entirely.
Is it possible that a white American, after spending time in Latin America, could become utterly culturally desensitized to such a word? Not only that, but is it possible to insinuate oneself into another culture enough so that the old context and definition fall away and that a new context and meaning take the place? If it is not an offensive word to say in Mexico, does this negate how offensive it is to say ‘nigger’ in the United States?
Please friends, what are your thoughts?
11 February 2009
Quick Update
Just so everyone knows, I love it here and am never leaving.
Workin' on an entry that will knock your socks off.
Stay classy.
Workin' on an entry that will knock your socks off.
Stay classy.
24 January 2009
Money makes the world go around?
So.
It all began with a party. A wonderful, beautiful party. It was not too hot, not too cold, visible half-moon and plenty of strangers. A lime tree, a fig tree, lots of Spanish. Fun, yes? Mix with slightly-naive-trusting-young-woman from a very different sort of Valley, and you get a Missing Purse. Yes, it’s true-I got my purse nabbed. Full responsibility is taken, and now I have learned from the mistake of leaving it behind an armchair as opposed to bringing it to someone’s room.
There are pros and cons to the situation. The only huge items of interest lost were my ATM card, phone, some cash. But from this slip-up I have entered a scary, frightening realm that is: talking with Bank of America on the telephone. It is hellish. It is awful. So here’s some advice:
Don’t lose your debit card.
But if you do...
1. IMMIDIATELY have it blocked. Don’t wait, do it as soon as humanly possible.
2. IMMIDIATELY ask them to send you cash, and lie about how much of an emergency it is. They will wire it to a Western Union, so something a super-prepared traveler would do is scope out the barrio for one while first getting acquainted. Alas, I have not earned my badge yet.
3. Make sure you are drinking during this entire process. This is something I have not been doing, but it sure would make talking to the majority of BoA people so much more fun and interesting. You know, just to take the edge off.
Please, learn from this kid’s mistakes.
And now that we’re on the topic, I have been gathering some other money-related advice through the richness of first-hand experience.
Always have spare cash tucked away in your abode. More than one currency, if possible. This will make you happy if something was to happen to an ATM card.
Remember, banks like Santander want a passport or other Federally-issued ID when selling pesos for a foreign currency. A State ID will not be recognized as official. Do yourself a favor and ask for small denominations. Some taxi drivers will not give change for large bills or simply will not have the change (not all taxi drivers deserve the vilification received), so 100 peso bills are probably the biggest you should be carrying around at one time.
Metrobuses and Microbuses also enjoy exact change (and pretty much require it at night) and there you will need 50 cent, 1, or 2 peso coins. The ‘taquillas’ (ticket booths) in metro stations will change 5 and 10 peso coins, but I have never tried anything beyond that. It probably depends on the line.
Also, banks will occasionally be willing to trade you clean, unmarked bills for any ripped ones that you have. Open-air markets, tiendas, and restaurants of all types will not take ripped bills. If the bank won’t take them, try passing them at a big store like a Mega or Wal-Mart. If you say that you got it from the bank or look clueless/fierce enough they usually will take them with not much of a problem. To paraphrase The People’s Guide, smaller business owners and artisans simply cannot afford to take questionable bills. When thinking about this, it makes sense. But as a traveler you can’t either-so if you are even in a position where you are receiving change and get some funky cash do not feel bad about asking for a different bill. It doesn’t hurt to ask!
Pricing of things:
I have found this is be variable and strange to the US mind. Here is a list to give you and idea of the way pricing is scaled. All following numbers signify amount in pesos!
Metro, one way-2
Microbus-2
Pan Dulce-3 to 6
Sponge- 5.50
Used books- range from 7-60
‘Boing’ fruit juice in a glass bottle-10
Torta w/out meat-12
Torta w/ meat-17ish
Beer in a bar-15 per, maybe less
Box of juice-15
Corn with chili and lime-15
Museum Visit-15-45
Plants-on average 15, huge range
Coffee Americano (black coffee) from cafe-16ish
2 tlacoyos or quesedillas w/out meat -20
Coffee from SevenEleven-20
1.5 oz Indio-29 (with bottle return only 20!)
Cigarettes-around 25
Cappuchino- around 30
Magazine- in a supermarket 35ish, newsstand around 60
30 min. taxi ride-35-60 (10 pesos more after 10 pm)
Loaf of sliced bread-40
Cajeta-40
Crepe-50ish
Good Flan-55-60
Olive oil-70
Blanket from Dept. Store-79
Bottle of Wine-80ish
Leather purses- 150, upwards from Ciudadela (where the locals shop)
Pitcher of beer -240 or less
Antique jewelry- range from 250-2000
Food from the market is a whole different story. You can manage to get a surprising amount for less than 150 pesos. This is totally a new experience from the Farmer’s Markets in Amherst/Hadley, where it is as if one must be either privileged or buying in bulk to buy produce from a stand. Supermarkets are markedly less fun and more expensive, this is a point that will be continually repeated!
The way things are priced also seems to differ from the way things in the US, particularly in the Valley, are. Here the things that are equal-access are good food, alcohol, and cigarettes-some for better, others for worse. And thinking about pricing makes me think about privilege in a new way. Privilege, pricing, and access are interlocked-this much can be said as true. What does it say about a culture that makes a loaf of bread from a supermarket more affordable than a pound of carrots from a local farmer, or a magazine less expensive than book? Or a bottle of wine less than a blanket? All three of these questions stem from actual prices assigned to stated discrete objects within the United States. I have little concrete idea how prices come to be assigned, but a guess would be that it has to do with production costs, availability, existence, and reach of industry within that particular locale. But that can’t be all of it, there’s got to be something else.
The downside of not having money is that for the moment my going-out-at-night has decreased. The upside is that I have been getting up earlier and utilizing the cheap public transport as a means to explore this amazing place! What a reward, and a wake up call, for getting ripped off.
So far I have explored the Zocalo and Centro Historico, Alameda, Juarez, Roma, Zona Rosa, Coyoacan, and the outskirts of Tlalpan. Yesterday and today have consisted of Centro de la Imagen, La Opera Bar (where Zapata used to go), Paseo de la Reforma, Plaza Rio de Janiero, and other charming little parks and green places. This city has so much to look at, there is so much more to do.
Tomorrow if all goes well it will be the Museo de Diego Rivera, Printmaking Museum, and the inside of Bella Artes (all free on Sunday!).
It all began with a party. A wonderful, beautiful party. It was not too hot, not too cold, visible half-moon and plenty of strangers. A lime tree, a fig tree, lots of Spanish. Fun, yes? Mix with slightly-naive-trusting-young-woman from a very different sort of Valley, and you get a Missing Purse. Yes, it’s true-I got my purse nabbed. Full responsibility is taken, and now I have learned from the mistake of leaving it behind an armchair as opposed to bringing it to someone’s room.
There are pros and cons to the situation. The only huge items of interest lost were my ATM card, phone, some cash. But from this slip-up I have entered a scary, frightening realm that is: talking with Bank of America on the telephone. It is hellish. It is awful. So here’s some advice:
Don’t lose your debit card.
But if you do...
1. IMMIDIATELY have it blocked. Don’t wait, do it as soon as humanly possible.
2. IMMIDIATELY ask them to send you cash, and lie about how much of an emergency it is. They will wire it to a Western Union, so something a super-prepared traveler would do is scope out the barrio for one while first getting acquainted. Alas, I have not earned my badge yet.
3. Make sure you are drinking during this entire process. This is something I have not been doing, but it sure would make talking to the majority of BoA people so much more fun and interesting. You know, just to take the edge off.
Please, learn from this kid’s mistakes.
And now that we’re on the topic, I have been gathering some other money-related advice through the richness of first-hand experience.
Always have spare cash tucked away in your abode. More than one currency, if possible. This will make you happy if something was to happen to an ATM card.
Remember, banks like Santander want a passport or other Federally-issued ID when selling pesos for a foreign currency. A State ID will not be recognized as official. Do yourself a favor and ask for small denominations. Some taxi drivers will not give change for large bills or simply will not have the change (not all taxi drivers deserve the vilification received), so 100 peso bills are probably the biggest you should be carrying around at one time.
Metrobuses and Microbuses also enjoy exact change (and pretty much require it at night) and there you will need 50 cent, 1, or 2 peso coins. The ‘taquillas’ (ticket booths) in metro stations will change 5 and 10 peso coins, but I have never tried anything beyond that. It probably depends on the line.
Also, banks will occasionally be willing to trade you clean, unmarked bills for any ripped ones that you have. Open-air markets, tiendas, and restaurants of all types will not take ripped bills. If the bank won’t take them, try passing them at a big store like a Mega or Wal-Mart. If you say that you got it from the bank or look clueless/fierce enough they usually will take them with not much of a problem. To paraphrase The People’s Guide, smaller business owners and artisans simply cannot afford to take questionable bills. When thinking about this, it makes sense. But as a traveler you can’t either-so if you are even in a position where you are receiving change and get some funky cash do not feel bad about asking for a different bill. It doesn’t hurt to ask!
Pricing of things:
I have found this is be variable and strange to the US mind. Here is a list to give you and idea of the way pricing is scaled. All following numbers signify amount in pesos!
Metro, one way-2
Microbus-2
Pan Dulce-3 to 6
Sponge- 5.50
Used books- range from 7-60
‘Boing’ fruit juice in a glass bottle-10
Torta w/out meat-12
Torta w/ meat-17ish
Beer in a bar-15 per, maybe less
Box of juice-15
Corn with chili and lime-15
Museum Visit-15-45
Plants-on average 15, huge range
Coffee Americano (black coffee) from cafe-16ish
2 tlacoyos or quesedillas w/out meat -20
Coffee from SevenEleven-20
1.5 oz Indio-29 (with bottle return only 20!)
Cigarettes-around 25
Cappuchino- around 30
Magazine- in a supermarket 35ish, newsstand around 60
30 min. taxi ride-35-60 (10 pesos more after 10 pm)
Loaf of sliced bread-40
Cajeta-40
Crepe-50ish
Good Flan-55-60
Olive oil-70
Blanket from Dept. Store-79
Bottle of Wine-80ish
Leather purses- 150, upwards from Ciudadela (where the locals shop)
Pitcher of beer -240 or less
Antique jewelry- range from 250-2000
Food from the market is a whole different story. You can manage to get a surprising amount for less than 150 pesos. This is totally a new experience from the Farmer’s Markets in Amherst/Hadley, where it is as if one must be either privileged or buying in bulk to buy produce from a stand. Supermarkets are markedly less fun and more expensive, this is a point that will be continually repeated!
The way things are priced also seems to differ from the way things in the US, particularly in the Valley, are. Here the things that are equal-access are good food, alcohol, and cigarettes-some for better, others for worse. And thinking about pricing makes me think about privilege in a new way. Privilege, pricing, and access are interlocked-this much can be said as true. What does it say about a culture that makes a loaf of bread from a supermarket more affordable than a pound of carrots from a local farmer, or a magazine less expensive than book? Or a bottle of wine less than a blanket? All three of these questions stem from actual prices assigned to stated discrete objects within the United States. I have little concrete idea how prices come to be assigned, but a guess would be that it has to do with production costs, availability, existence, and reach of industry within that particular locale. But that can’t be all of it, there’s got to be something else.
The downside of not having money is that for the moment my going-out-at-night has decreased. The upside is that I have been getting up earlier and utilizing the cheap public transport as a means to explore this amazing place! What a reward, and a wake up call, for getting ripped off.
So far I have explored the Zocalo and Centro Historico, Alameda, Juarez, Roma, Zona Rosa, Coyoacan, and the outskirts of Tlalpan. Yesterday and today have consisted of Centro de la Imagen, La Opera Bar (where Zapata used to go), Paseo de la Reforma, Plaza Rio de Janiero, and other charming little parks and green places. This city has so much to look at, there is so much more to do.
Tomorrow if all goes well it will be the Museo de Diego Rivera, Printmaking Museum, and the inside of Bella Artes (all free on Sunday!).
18 January 2009
And it’s true, you can’t put your arms around a memory.
Food review: Initial impressions
There are so many great foods that Mexicans regularly eat that people in the US have no knowledge about. Being someone who enjoys eating and trying new delicious delights, I have begun to try the local cuisine. Here are some reactions, in alphabetical order (of course).
-Cajeta
Oh my goodness, yum. This is a sweet concoction not unlike caramel. It is made from sugar and goat’s or cow’s milk, with delicious results. People here mix it with tamarind paste and chili to make candies, or just spoon it warm on top of things. Cajeta crepes are especially divine. Goes really well with a nice dark beer like Indio, Bohemia, or Victoria.
-Frijoles Refritos
Admittedly, this is not so unique. Refried beans are common in the states, but here they are eaten for breakfast. This is a really good way to get some non-animal protein (but watch out, a lot of brands use animal lard as part of the canning process).
-Jícama
Hard to describe! This is a root, but is passed off as a ...fruit. It is beige, and has a skin that can be peeled off like an onion. Mexicans serve it with lime juice and chili powder, which is a really super way to flavor the otherwise bland taste. The texture is what gets me-like a juicy radish. Apparently it is seasonal.
-Mango Nectar
The brand Jumex makes it with the nectar, and the nectar only. Before coming here I had only had a small glassful one other time, acquired from the eclectic and hit-or-miss store in Northampton, MA called Steals and Deals.
-NesCafé
Some would argue this has no place on the list. But hear me out: instead of drinking drip-coffee a fair amount of Mexicans heat up milk, milk and water, or just water, and spoon in this instant coffee. The taste is mild and sweet. A cultural phenomenon and a product of globalization. All the amazing Mexican coffee beans get shipped to the US and other countries, completely bypassing those that have grown it and are closest, physically, to it.
-Nieve de Tamarindo
This would translate to tamarind shaved ice. Slightly spicy and cool at the same time, this turns your mouth red and the corners upwards into a huge smile.
-Nopal
The sacred cactus! This kind of tastes like a slightly slippery broccoli stem. It is a lovely consistency, and really feels quite exotic to eat a cactus. This is tied in with the Aztec myth about the founding of what is now Mexico City, and is on the Mexican flag. I recently bought 11 leaves, de-spined, at the weekly market near my house. Very good boiled or fried.
-Papaya
Wow. This is my new favorite fruit, and a reason to love the color orange. Supposedly it aids digestion, typically eaten at breakfast before the rest of the meal. Soft as butter with a pleasant, mild flavor. The best papayas are bought at outdoor markets.
-Roasted Corn
This is a street food of slightly under-cooked corn kernels in corn and chicken broth, served with chili and lime on top. You can also have it with mayonnaise if that’s your thing. There is a traditional name for it in Spanish, but I don't remember and can't find it online-possibly idiomatic and Mexico-City related. First had it on a rainy day and it is warm, filling, and healthy. If only this was sold in the States, people would be all over it (especially in Amherst!).
-Tamales
The ancient Aztec food! I bought these pre-cooked at the grocery store instead of buying ravioli. With a tiny sliver of chicken inside, surrounded by corn dough (masa). These are heated by steaming or covering with a wet napkin and popping them in the microwave. Best with copious amounts of hot sauce. I am eager to try tamales served at an open-air market, as they are usually served hot.
-Torta
This is a sandwich on soft, crusty bread. Bought at a little stand near the Taquilla station and served fresh. I bought one with salsa rojo and quesillo, another name for Queso tipo de Oaxaca (see below). The best part about buying street food is the unpretentious nature of the whole event. I ate this reading a book and sitting 5 inches away from the grill, separated by a small glass window. It was really nice being able to take in the Spanish, people watch, and support a local biz.
-Tostada
Like a hard tortilla, these are typically served at breakfast in a variety of ways. People can be seen eating them with sour cream, tomatoes, and avocado on top, or they are served to scoop up refried beans for breakfast. Also good with eggs.
-Queso tipo de Chihuahua
I bought this on a whim, and it was a great decision. Very sharp and tangy flavor, medium consistency. Great with a tart green apple, especially when you are ‘rushing’ (people don’t really rush here). Yellow in color.
-Queso tipo de Oaxaca (Oaxaca Cheese)
This is a Mexican mozzarella with a slightly different texture. I have bought it both from the Mega (grocery store across the street), and the tiangui. Much much better from the tianguis because you get to
a. practice Spanish
b. have a free sample of whatever cheese you want before buying
c. experience fresher and more nuanced flavor
d. support local merchants. Who says in a big city you have to support chains tied to NAFTA? Only the uncreative minds! I have a problem with this because I eat it every chance I get. It is served in a round ball ranging from a small fist to a small head in size. A good way to get your dairy. This also melts really well and will usually be a part of any quesadilla you buy on the street. White in color.
There are so many great foods that Mexicans regularly eat that people in the US have no knowledge about. Being someone who enjoys eating and trying new delicious delights, I have begun to try the local cuisine. Here are some reactions, in alphabetical order (of course).
-Cajeta
Oh my goodness, yum. This is a sweet concoction not unlike caramel. It is made from sugar and goat’s or cow’s milk, with delicious results. People here mix it with tamarind paste and chili to make candies, or just spoon it warm on top of things. Cajeta crepes are especially divine. Goes really well with a nice dark beer like Indio, Bohemia, or Victoria.
-Frijoles Refritos
Admittedly, this is not so unique. Refried beans are common in the states, but here they are eaten for breakfast. This is a really good way to get some non-animal protein (but watch out, a lot of brands use animal lard as part of the canning process).
-Jícama
Hard to describe! This is a root, but is passed off as a ...fruit. It is beige, and has a skin that can be peeled off like an onion. Mexicans serve it with lime juice and chili powder, which is a really super way to flavor the otherwise bland taste. The texture is what gets me-like a juicy radish. Apparently it is seasonal.
-Mango Nectar
The brand Jumex makes it with the nectar, and the nectar only. Before coming here I had only had a small glassful one other time, acquired from the eclectic and hit-or-miss store in Northampton, MA called Steals and Deals.
-NesCafé
Some would argue this has no place on the list. But hear me out: instead of drinking drip-coffee a fair amount of Mexicans heat up milk, milk and water, or just water, and spoon in this instant coffee. The taste is mild and sweet. A cultural phenomenon and a product of globalization. All the amazing Mexican coffee beans get shipped to the US and other countries, completely bypassing those that have grown it and are closest, physically, to it.
-Nieve de Tamarindo
This would translate to tamarind shaved ice. Slightly spicy and cool at the same time, this turns your mouth red and the corners upwards into a huge smile.
-Nopal
The sacred cactus! This kind of tastes like a slightly slippery broccoli stem. It is a lovely consistency, and really feels quite exotic to eat a cactus. This is tied in with the Aztec myth about the founding of what is now Mexico City, and is on the Mexican flag. I recently bought 11 leaves, de-spined, at the weekly market near my house. Very good boiled or fried.
-Papaya
Wow. This is my new favorite fruit, and a reason to love the color orange. Supposedly it aids digestion, typically eaten at breakfast before the rest of the meal. Soft as butter with a pleasant, mild flavor. The best papayas are bought at outdoor markets.
-Roasted Corn
This is a street food of slightly under-cooked corn kernels in corn and chicken broth, served with chili and lime on top. You can also have it with mayonnaise if that’s your thing. There is a traditional name for it in Spanish, but I don't remember and can't find it online-possibly idiomatic and Mexico-City related. First had it on a rainy day and it is warm, filling, and healthy. If only this was sold in the States, people would be all over it (especially in Amherst!).
-Tamales
The ancient Aztec food! I bought these pre-cooked at the grocery store instead of buying ravioli. With a tiny sliver of chicken inside, surrounded by corn dough (masa). These are heated by steaming or covering with a wet napkin and popping them in the microwave. Best with copious amounts of hot sauce. I am eager to try tamales served at an open-air market, as they are usually served hot.
-Torta
This is a sandwich on soft, crusty bread. Bought at a little stand near the Taquilla station and served fresh. I bought one with salsa rojo and quesillo, another name for Queso tipo de Oaxaca (see below). The best part about buying street food is the unpretentious nature of the whole event. I ate this reading a book and sitting 5 inches away from the grill, separated by a small glass window. It was really nice being able to take in the Spanish, people watch, and support a local biz.
-Tostada
Like a hard tortilla, these are typically served at breakfast in a variety of ways. People can be seen eating them with sour cream, tomatoes, and avocado on top, or they are served to scoop up refried beans for breakfast. Also good with eggs.
-Queso tipo de Chihuahua
I bought this on a whim, and it was a great decision. Very sharp and tangy flavor, medium consistency. Great with a tart green apple, especially when you are ‘rushing’ (people don’t really rush here). Yellow in color.
-Queso tipo de Oaxaca (Oaxaca Cheese)
This is a Mexican mozzarella with a slightly different texture. I have bought it both from the Mega (grocery store across the street), and the tiangui. Much much better from the tianguis because you get to
a. practice Spanish
b. have a free sample of whatever cheese you want before buying
c. experience fresher and more nuanced flavor
d. support local merchants. Who says in a big city you have to support chains tied to NAFTA? Only the uncreative minds! I have a problem with this because I eat it every chance I get. It is served in a round ball ranging from a small fist to a small head in size. A good way to get your dairy. This also melts really well and will usually be a part of any quesadilla you buy on the street. White in color.
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