I guess this is a month! This will be a long post, but I suggest reading it, some cool stuff for sure happened. So I woke up about 8, did some computer stuffs, and talked to Allison a bit; she gave me some cool places to go, and a guy from Couch Surfing who couldn't host me gave me some ideas, so I put them all together and Allison helped me pretty much map out my events of the day leading up to 6 o'clock, at which point I would meet with her, Gabz, and one of Gabby's fellow teachers. I decided on the Frida Kahlo museum and the surrounding area of Coyoacan, then Chipultepec Park, then meet at the Bellas Artes. Feeling superbly Mexican, I had a bagel and cream cheese before heading out the door, made my way to the green line, and cruised down to Viveros, which is a park (this place has acres and acres of parks!) much akin to Central Park in that tons of people were running around it, and none of them were even half-way decent--ahh, some things are just universal! At least now I know it isn't just Americans who have trouble running prettily, it's pretty much everyone who isn't me ;). Anyway, this park was cool, and racially segregated into different sections of trees, like a conglomeration of little same-sex forests or something. Speaking of which, I hadn't noticed any homosexuality my first day here, but today I found plenty of gays and plenty of mentally handicapped (particularly Down's Syndrome), so I feel infinitely more comfortable! The three most common "things" in Mexico City: kissing, kids on leashes, and calculator watches. If this isn't my kinda place then I don't know what the heck is! Seriously though, it's like Ciudadito Paris or something. Freaking everyone is making out everywhere, and not just young people; all people: all ages, sizes, attractivenesses (as rated by me). Right, so I'm in this forest park, cruising through, taking pictures, trying not to focus on the excuses for running that keep parading past me: so I then exit the park and am in Coyoacan, which is pretty cool; I passed a restaurant which sounded great (I think on Madrid and Mexico), but I'm sure is too expensive for me this trip.
I have decided! I will go through this continent indulging in the carnivorous which present themselves at every corner, and then do another trip through on a vegetarian diet. Should be fun. So I cruise around the area, stumble upon Londres, which is the street on which the Kahlo museum is located, and head toward it. The museum was quite nice, though most of it was not photographable. There were a few pieces that really caught my eye but, to be honest, have since evaporated due to the awesomeness of the events to follow.
So I exit the museum, cruise some more, back through the park, way too obsessed with photologging the graf in the city, make my way to the subway and head toward Chapultepec, which was supposed to have some great museums in addition to being a huge freaking park. I get out, see some huge monument
Keep cruising, see the Museum of Modern Art, which has some cool sculptures but is closed, find a big pond which has paddleboating (take that Central Park!), walk by some dude performing in the middle of a huge crowd, turn around, and am roped in by this dude. He's wearing fake muscles and talking through a clip-on mic. He asks if I'm a tourist, and from whence I come, then ushers me up, has me drop my things and start fondling him. We pretty much spent 30-45 minutes pretending to hump each other: talk about great! Most of the time he was making homosexual comments or making fun of my English slash making linguistic jokes. He brought a couple other people into the center as well, but sent them all away basically without doing anything: I was the Special One! At one point he brought some guy up and we were apparently going to have a dance-off; he also brought a girl up, who "taught" me to dance something, maybe Salsa, then sent her away and exchanged the guy for an older guy, and we were supposed to do some dance together, but the host dude did this other guy's part instead, then I guess the guy and I had a dance-off and I won. Or something. Tons of people were taking video and pictures of the proceedings and it's almost a shame I won't be able to get them, but I guess if you ever see something posted somewhere in Spanish involving me and a dude in a muscle suit or black and yellow striped shirt, enjoy! Toward the end he gave me a prize: tons and tons of balloons. I had...a hat thing, a sash, a sword, a belt, a machine gun/mini sword, a purse, a flower made up of maybe 5 balloons, and a monkey. I think that's it. Oh, and a little pink wand that wasn't a balloon.
So from there, ballooned to the nines and trying to pawn them off on little kids or girls without boyfriends, I go back to the metro station and ride up to Bellas Artes. Wowzerz, this building is gorgeous.
I cruise around the "3rd St Promenade" (as Allison and Gabby refer to it) area for a bit and it's packed with people and with food vendors in particular, which reminded me of my Labor Day introduction to the 135th St neighborhood. I walked around a bit more and got a little bit of an Oxford St/Chelsea feel, but with more culture and art. Some of the food looked delicious, and, being that I hadn't eaten since my breakfast bagel, I was pretty excited to get something once the festivities began in earnest. Around 5:30 I made my way back to the Bellas Artes and through a little market area and a couple churches, then just kinda made laps around the building, counting the non-kissers since trying to count the amount of people kissing would lead me to numbers hitherto uncounted. One interesting interaction I witnessed (and unwittingly walked right past, through the stares of many) was a stilt person altercation. I don't know what their deal was, but this stilt woman kept crying and this stilt dude would take turns soothing her and...berating her? or something, being frustrated, who knows the secret language of the stilters. I found Allison and Gabby and we commenced the waiting game. It stated raining around maybe 6:30/7, so we went under the main Bellas Artes portal deal and sat it out until Steven and Angelica arrived, at which point we headed down toward the Zocalo. I was able to leave my backpack at Gabby and Allison's, which was a huge help, but I brought my camelbak (equivalent!), stuffed my pockets with important stuff, and had a 1.5 liter bottle of orange juice/soda stuff and a little bottle of water Allison was going to leave at the Bellas Artes. So we arrive at security checkpoint numero uno and I'm told we aren't allowed to bring liquids in, so I try to dump as much water as I can into my water backpack and leave the two bottles near a building (the juice was picked up almost immediately). I then try the line again, the guy asks what's in my bag and I tell him solamente agua and I pass right through, so I guess just bottles aren't allowed...or something. Viva Mexico! So from there we join the huge line of people entering the Zocalo; actually, 2 lines, segregated by sex, which then turns into 3 lines: one for personas con mochilas (como yo!). The mochila line is actually much faster, they scan my backpack and of course find nothing, but I also had on my person a camera and a knife, both of which (and the backpack, actually) were not permitted, according to the signage. My sly move was to hold out my camera while I passed through the metal (I'm guessing) detector so they didn't go hunting for other pieces of metal (I also had metal on my belt and a clip on my belt loop, so the detector was pretty much a waste of time). Once in I was flabbergasted: right in front of us was a gargantuan gold glittery lit-up bell (not real) with "1810" down one side and "2011" down the other. Turning around to look at the buildings between which we arrived, there was a huge light display depicting flags and wheels which spun and other stuff, one on each of the two buildings. Then looking down to the South end of the Zocalo, again two buildings, each depicting the eagle with the flag waving in the background; and between these two buildings was a lighted picture of an eagle what was supposedly not George Washington crossing the Delaware. To the East was the Palacio Nacional, where the Grito would take place. To the North was La Catedral, which was cleverly lit with alternating red (pink) and green lights and in front of which was a stage.
We apparently arrived at the exact right time, because moments after entering we were treated to a 10-minute introduction of Espinoza Paz, our musical diversion until the Grito began (11pm). He did his thing, whined about lady troubles whilst wooing those of the fair sex, and mariachied his boots off, though I must admit his composing and arranging skills were pretty good. At one point it began raining quite hard, so everyone fled to the relative safety offered by the verandas of the enclosing buildings; it was strange to see the Zocalo empty so quickly, and to see it remain so for so long. The rain let up, people returned to the square, it poured again, we fled under the verandas, and then, despite the rain, we congregated for the Grito. The Grito was hardcore to say the least and I was "Viva!"ing with the rest and the best of 'em. It was certainly the most nationalistic I have felt and was far and away the most fun I've had at a large-scale celebration of any sort. I plan to attend again! So after the Grito the crowd dispersed, Steven and Angelica went one way while Gabby and Allison escorted me through the teeming throng to the nearest functioning metro station and I had their house to myself, so I tried to dry myself and my clothes and get some pinche sleep!
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