First steps in Mexico City

 

Our sons have described Mexico City as very cosmopolitan and somewhat reminiscent of Europe but at first glance the similarities were offset by a third world feel (somewhat like in South Africa).

There are streets with apartment buildings all adjoined, between three to five floors high.  

This does feel distinctly European.  Most of these buildings have a roll down door that allows cars into the ground floor parking place - in some cases a car elevator to take cars down to a lower ground floor as well.  In many cases these open garages have been converted into small shops that are brightly lit at night offering street food and any number of services from motor repair to upholstery, pedicures and veterinary care.  

This makes for fairly lively main roads teaming with people for most of the day.

 

Our AirBnb has a small narrow balcony out of a large window wide enough to stand and barely wide enough for a chair.  Wooden stairs take you up to an empty concrete roof that Anne has been using to soak up the warm winter sun.

 

 Most of the apartments have access to a flat concrete roof for hanging out on, entertaining and for hanging clothes out to dry.

The third world-feel comes from peeling paint and graffiti on the walls and from sidewalks that are designed to trip you up as soon as you look down at your phone to see the map.  

There are many  trees in Mexico City.  Great big old trees that have heaved the sidewalk asphalt and cement up in blocks that you have to watch out for.  

Apartment entrances have also contributed to the uneven sidewalk with driveways almost a foot above the sidewalk that force pedestrians to step up to cross them.

There is a distinct smell in the streets during the day.  I think it comes from the corn that is cooked in various forms in the small shops along the street.  Corn in the USA is pretty singular - a sweet corn from what we knew as “mielies” in South Africa - small yellow kernels.  The corn in Mexico is more varied in color and size, and with more distinctive tastes and smells.  
Tortillas - the flat wraps for a lot of street food - are made from corn rather than wheat flour here.  A delicacy is a corn that has a fungus that grows on it - think of it as corn mushroom - that my conservative tastes won’t allow me to try.

The Spanish speaking experience has been unsettling for me.  I was a little cocky after our experience in Spain and I found on the second day how out of depth I was with a short conversation at the reception desk of our apartment block when I tried to ask if they could give us a spare key.

I had rehearsed my question fairly carefully:

     “Tiene usted otra llave para nuestra apartamento” (do you have another key for our apartment, sir)

He didn’t hesitate and said something that sounded to me like:

     “Anwe oirah jak oilklp pwaa aklfl adkflj ppiiw epixaf el airbnb”

I said: “¿Que?” and he repeated the sentence slowly enough for me to catch the “AirBnb” - realizing at that moment how lost I was but at the same time I knew what he was telling me to do about the spare key.  So with a “Gracias” I slinked away to lick my wounds and to tell Anne to contact the AirBnb to ask about a spare key.

 

Two days later I was standing in a shopfront store nor really willing to ask the shop attendant a question in case I had a repeat of the previous experience.  All I wanted to do was to buy a coke!  It naturally turned out to be pretty easy.  I even guessed that the shop assistant had said the price was …. well, somewhere between 20 and 30 pesos!  20 pesos = $1 US at the moment.

I have realized that getting really comfortable speaking the language will come slowly through regular repetition of day-to-day things like greetings and ordering food or shopping for household things - later we might start to practice small talk but that feels a long way away.

Our sons are both so fluent it is scary.  I asked them to try not to help us and they too have waited patiently for us to form sentences with butchered tenses and nouns and then left them hanging there for the waitress to work out with us.

We are a few days in, fumbling our way through making ourselves understood.  So far the people we’ve met have been patient with it.  Some speaking English but respecting our continued attempts to reply in Spanish.   The areas we have been in (Condesa, Roma and Escandon) are very cosmopolitan and the people appear to be accepting of people with different lifestyles - and we’ve been treated with good humor.

Roll with it

 

Extended travel has some interesting challenges not the least of which are travel surprises.  There is a reason you are advised to be ready to roll with sudden unexpected hiccups because these can be really stressful.

Our trip to Newark airport in New Jersey had been great.  We had missed the earlier overland train from New Haven to the magnificent Grand Central Station, and the next one ended up being really packed, but we heard someone in the isle chatting away in Afrikaans and then an engaging couple sitting with us started chatting about travel - the husband is an art teacher and was reminiscing about traveling as a student.  He had taken a lot of heavy art materials with him and then his mother had kept adding “you have to take this” items to his luggage until it had become impossible for him to carry them all by himself!  He ended up having to shuffle the bags in relay two at a time. 

We arrived at the airport at 11:30am for our 1:30pm first leg to Miami en route to Mexico City.  I’ve not had good luck with transit through Newark so it was with sinking hearts that we heard that our 1:30pm flight had been cancelled in September and we had been moved on a 5am flight instead - all of which was news to us.

The American Airlines customer support person (Cynthia) was an angel in a uniform.  She put a hold on two tickets two days later and said she would wait 15 min while we contacted Expedia to see if they could remedy the problem for us.  She was seeing no other options for flights to Mexico for us.

So there we are sitting off to the side - me sitting in the only available chair near an outlet, which happened to be an airport wheelchair, surrounded by our luggage.  I was struggling to connect to Expedia on their web chat using my phone’s hot spot.  You may know that trying to actually call Expedia is the most frustrating way to NOT get your problem solved so web chat has been the go-to, with mixed results.

After 30 min of the person on the other side repeating the obvious - “we see that your flight was changed In September and you were a no-show this morning” - I needed to go to the bathroom and left Anne on the computer chat, never a good idea as she would more than likely rage against the poor impotent faceless person on the other end.  

On my way back I saw panicked messages from Anne who had lost the connection to my hot spot and therefore to the chat! 

I raced back and we managed to reconnect but the person we had been talking to had gone from Dr Jekyll to Mr Hyde: the apologetic “I’m looking into how to help you” was replaced by a “screw you” tone.  We had been reconnected to a new, less sympathetic person under the original name.

Cynthia had been coming over every now and then to say she’d wait five more minutes but by this time we were out of luck with Expedia (“your tickets were forfeited”) and so Anne went to see if Cynthia could get us on the split flights she had found, one the next day and the other two days ahead (they were all full). 

Cynthia in the meantime had been working some magic and in another few minutes had managed to shift someone else’s economy seat to 1st class to get us two seats on a flight the next day.

The net effect was that we had to get  a hotel room in Newark overnight where we had a minor panic at reception because the reservation had been set for the following day!

I insisted superstitiously on getting to the airport 4 hours early the next day because we had heard that the TSA was going to strike.  The upside was that we sat in a small restaurant watching the World Cup final with an animated mix of French and Argentinian supporters.

The downside was that when our AA flight had to pull back into the gate because of a problem in the cockpit, we’d been at the airport for 7 hours and now faced the problem of missing our flight to Mexico in the evening.

All flights were fully booked to Mexico from all of AA's connecting cities but we met another AA angel who found us seats on different airlines to Austin that night and then to Mexico the next morning. 

This time Expedia was out of the picture (thank God) and we left the desk armed with a hotel voucher and vouchers for food and a taxi to JFK (a hectic 2 hours away in rush hour traffic).

The boarding time for the flight to Austin came and went and then the dreaded announcement that this plane was also grounded due to problems.  A replacement airplane brought us to Austin after a 4 hour delay where our hotel voucher bought us 2 hours of sleep before we had to go back to the airport for the final leg to Mexico City.

Not to be outdone, we asked the air hostess during check-in to verify that our bags were checked through and  it looks like they hadn’t been because she contacted someone who found them and loaded them on the Mexico City flight for us.

This last flight was also delayed (no surprise this time,  only resignation) because the pilot didn’t show up until 15 min after we were supposed to be boarding -  it turned out to be a minor delay and we were off to Mexico with this amazing smoking volcano not long before the final approach into the city.

Cosmos what are you trying to tell us? 

 

Lessons:

• If you book a long time ahead check your flight information a week before and again the day before.
• If you changed airlines between legs verify that the luggage made it onto the new airline. 
• Never ever use expedia again.  Always book directly to avoid being told that you have to fix this with your third party booking agent.
  
• Consider your carry-on luggage a safety net for your checked luggage getting lost - a change of clothes, essential medicines etc. should be part of your carry-on where possible.
• People in Austin are really nice. 

Lights

 

Stopping in London in November and early December was illuminating.  The weather is pretty bad - dark clouds most days and rain.  And it gets dark at around 4pm.  Our friend Steve has pointed out many times that there is a reason it is so green in England - rains most of the time.

It is hard to imagine living there for a long time.  I suppose if we did we’d find ways to equip ourselves for the weather and to stay sane (you can get out and be active in the rain after all) but the prospect doesn’t excite me too much - I think we want somewhere with more days of sunshine than most parts of England.

One of the surprising discoveries when we first moved to the USA in 2000 was that people would light up the outside of their houses with colorful lights during the winter months.  We were perhaps a little scornful of the wasted electricity at first but after spending a winter here we realized that these lights bring cheer into an otherwise pretty dark and depressing time of year.  Apparently outside lights for homes have been a feature of America since the 60’s.

Some people start by putting Halloween themed lights on their houses as November approaches and then swap them out for festive lights in December and keep them there through the darkest months.  Some of these homes go completely over the top and create elaborate decorations coordinated  with music that is broadcast on a little short-range FM transmitter.

There is a house in Massachusetts that causes a traffic jam on their main road every year as people slow down or stop to look at their light display.

When we visited our friends Chris and Beth in North Carolina in 2019 they took us to an incredibly impressive house near theirs that has a drive-though of their amazing display of Christmas lights every year.

Of course this is in stark contrast to our experience in South Africa where the longest days are in December and the shortest days are really not that short in mid-winter (July).  No one lit up the outside of their houses with festive lights there - although it looks like the practice has made its way to South Africa now as well based on a search on the web.

In England people decorate the outside of their homes with lights - although I have to admit that I didn’t see as many nor as extravagant displays in the streets of West Molesey.

Lighting displays in public areas is also popular - mostly, in America, town squares will have a big tree that gets adorned with lights and are lit in a ceremony with choirs and perhaps a school band.  In cities there are often coordinated light displays in the Christmas calendar.

About a 30min drive from Molesey is a botanical garden called Wisley that hosts a Christmas light display that was well worth a visit.  At the entrance were stalls selling Indian curries, Bratwurst in a bagel and Hot Chocolate (with Baileys for the adults) and Mulled wine.

The Christmas lights were spectacular - snaking along a path through the park starting with a beautifully lit building with a classical Christmas music backdrop

and then through wisteria

past a somewhat creepy display of a massive tree above an old building

and then a foggy path

and on to a light display with fountains and a series of ponds with large trees, all illuminated in different colors.

The walk was beautiful.

One of our daughters lives in a crescent that has a group chat that they use to organize ways for the street residents to cooperate and they had a planned street lighting on the night before we flew back the USA.

 

The residents congregated in the street to listen to children singing carol karaoke before a countdown to turning on all the lights in the houses on the street at 5pm - already pitch dark and getting cold.

I am no longer cynical about the lights - they bring plenty of cheer while the days are short and cold and rainy.  

London: Kings and soldiers

There are things that stick with you when you visit historical sites.  These buildings that were built hundreds of years ago and in which famous and very powerful people have lived or worked.

The things that stick are usually weird enough that you still can’t dislodge them days or months after your visit.

For example, when we visited the Hampton Court palace I learned that the there were high-born men whose privilege it was to serve the king as his “Groom of the Stool” - a coveted duty that included monitoring the king’s bowel movements and accompanying him when he took a dump.  Some say the duties included washing the king’s butt, however (but?) while the duties did include bringing towels and water in a washbasin there is no documented proof that the king actually bent over to be washed.

The position was coveted.  Henry VIII’s grooms of the stool  (he had 6 of them over his reign) were honored.  They wielded significant power as a result of their close proximity with the king and often controlled the private and secret finances of the king.

This week we took a trip into London to meet Anne’s second cousin and took some time to visit St Paul’s cathedral, an experience that has been lingering for more somber reasons.

I had visited the cathedral when I first passed through London in 2000 and at that time had found myself overwhelmed by its beauty and architectural majesty.  The structure and vaulted dome has a powerful presence.

On this visit I paid more attention to the sculptures and memorials along the sides and behind the altar and was surprised to see how many of them were memorials to soldiers and war.  I’m nor sure why I expected the memorials to be ancient religious leaders and royalty but the first one I came across was commemorating a soldier who died in the Crimean war.   I started to walk around to look at each of them and I realize with my limited exposure to English history that the names might have meant a lot more to me if I had paid more attention in Grade 9 when they were no doubt mentioned. 

Near the entrance to the right I stood for a few moments at the commemorative sculpture that remembers the 4300 souls who died fighting in South Africa - no doubt in the Boer wars - feeling a little odd at the thought of this monument remembering the losses on the English side.   My father reminded me in my youth that our ancestors had suffered at the hands of the English during the Boer Wars.   Each side steadfastly believed that God was with them and the  here I was at the English memorial thinking about the Boers.

At the back of the church behind the altar is a large banner describing the area commemorating the Americans who died fighting with the English during World War II and the deaths of soldiers in the Gulf war.

The web site of the Cathedral has a disclaimer that not all of the memorials would be considered worthy of inclusion today, without saying which,  and that they are a mark of how they were viewed at their time in history.  I suppose these might be referring to Generals who fought in India and in other British colonies a long time ago.

In the crypt there is a striking tomb to Nelson that was originally made for a Cardinal under Henry VIII who fell out of favor and was executed.  The wooden coffin inside the tomb was made from the mast of a French ship that was captured in the Nile.

Christopher Wren, the famous architect responsible for St Paul's, is buried in the cathedral and there are monuments to John Donne and Florence Nightingale - who’s names stood out as we walked around.  I also noticed that Walter De La Mare’s ashes are in the crypt.  He was a beloved poet of my Grade 7 teacher who had us all learn "The Horseman”.

Before we went down to the crypt Anne and I decided to walk up the stairs that take you to the top of the dome for a 360 degree view of London.  

I had noticed a railing inside the top of the dome from the floor of the cathedral and was disappointed to find out after walking up all the stairs that our views would be the city and not into the dome itself.

The famous whispering gallery - about half-way up - has been closed to visitors because of two “incidents" (one in 2017 and one in 2019).   It was sobering to type into a google search “suicides from the whispering gallery” and see auto complete show up various places around the world that are called “whispering galleries” that have been chosen as a last visiting place. 

 

For us, the Cathedral was a remarkable visit with someone playing the amazing pipe organ during the entire time of our visit. 

 

And a verse from Walter De La Mare that I'd never seen before but was somehow drawn to read.

Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him.
He lags the long bright morning through,
Ever so tired of nothing to do;
He moons and mopes the livelong day,
Nothing to think about, nothing to say;
Up to bed with his candle to creep,
Too tired to yawn, too tired to sleep:
Poor Tired Tim! It's sad for him.