Mexico
get a number of bottles of tequila. lie low on the rooftop of one of the small houses on the side of the volcano near cocoyoc. drink the tequila under the stars. prevent anyone from coming up to sweep up the ash-dust that falls unseen from the still active volcano. wait for day the ash builds up and the thick layer crushes me to death.
Showing posts with label mexico. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mexico. Show all posts
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
goodbye
every journey is like a death and a birth. a woman left london, another one leaves mexico.
i leave my words in mexico. and a little bit of me.
i leave my words in mexico. and a little bit of me.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
seasickness
the city´s sinking. lowering into the mud of the ancient lake.
as it goes down, ancient ruins are discovered.
as you walk in its old buildings, your brain has to make a summersault to identify what look like perfectly straight floors as the insurmountable slopes they have actually become.
incense fills your nostrils, thousands of believers surround you, a black christ looks on, impassive.
you feel seasick, and then, you go.
plenty
markets explode with surrealistic colours. each stall overflows with goodness.
strange fruits lure you into their trap. black mushrooms call you up. sweets tempt you to oblivion.
eat me. pleasure. lust. ripe. plenty.
Friday, September 02, 2005
8am-6pm palenque
insects buzz tinnitus sounds. leaves overblown, damp. butterflies flutter. dragon flies swarm, helicopterharbingers of rain. pyramids pop up from the under/overgrowth. monkeys bark. cascades spring. ancient gods stare. watch water jump down and up, in a loop. back to the bus.
4am-6am palenque
mexican music blares out of the idiot box. a couple and their children sleep on a blanket in the corner, surrounded by their possessions. cockroaches investigate the territory. a passanger nods off, awakes, stares. thick coffee brewed. taxi drivers gossip. sweat pours from the roof, from people, from cars. other insects awake. flurry of activity underfoot. light comes on. a dark shadow becomes a mystical tree. right in front of your eyes. it was always there.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
guide bad karma
the driver bundled us into the van without saying a word. he spoke exclusively to the mexican family. he made us squash at the back for their comfort and convenience. we ganged up on him in many languages. we made a point of having fun in spite of him. we created a chain of linguistic complicity, uruguayan pricks here ears and translates the exclusive commentary into english, austrian translates into french, italian mixes up from both...all the way from the front to the back.
we saw maya pyramids, colourful lakes, lush forests, communities of expulsados. and on the way back, we laughed, with the satisfaction of having won the day against bad karma.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
eternity
no great book will be written about it. no film starring marlon brando. songs about it will not be sung. it won´t be painted, sculpted or otherwise kept for posterity.
it just happened. one day. for a while.
it just happened. one day. for a while.
jazz a la mexicana
on the beach, a recurring moment.
they arrive at night. canciones tradicionales de veracruuuuuz...! and the most tuneless guitar i´ve ever heard breaks the silence. dogs howl, cats scurry away, even the insects disappear and shut up for a moment. in disbelief.
gogo! coco! this song doesn´t make any sense at all, is veracruz so insane? but they make me smile. so with pleasure, at the end, to send them away and wish them back tomorrow, i give them a coin, at la dolce vita.
different scene, different bar. la revolución. cool mexican jazz band. grooving away. the crowd want more. i sit. listen. think. think too much. off to the circus.
live reggae, latin rhythms, frantic dancing, dreadlocks shaking, margarita, caipirinha, you dance so well, don´t leave now, international fraternity, hip-hop queen, mexican madness.
so with pleasure, at the end, to send me away and wish me back tomorrow, they give me a smile, at the circus.
they arrive at night. canciones tradicionales de veracruuuuuz...! and the most tuneless guitar i´ve ever heard breaks the silence. dogs howl, cats scurry away, even the insects disappear and shut up for a moment. in disbelief.
gogo! coco! this song doesn´t make any sense at all, is veracruz so insane? but they make me smile. so with pleasure, at the end, to send them away and wish them back tomorrow, i give them a coin, at la dolce vita.
different scene, different bar. la revolución. cool mexican jazz band. grooving away. the crowd want more. i sit. listen. think. think too much. off to the circus.
live reggae, latin rhythms, frantic dancing, dreadlocks shaking, margarita, caipirinha, you dance so well, don´t leave now, international fraternity, hip-hop queen, mexican madness.
so with pleasure, at the end, to send me away and wish me back tomorrow, they give me a smile, at the circus.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
crosses, coca cola and chickens
a cemetery by an abandonded church built from the stones of a nearby temple.
this is milk-coffee religion. maya coffee meets catholic milk.
the crosses on the tumbs, like the churches, face east, towards jerusalem, or towards the sunrise. take your pick. are you more maya or more catholic?
prosaically, the crosses show the way to heaven. up, of course! and just so you don´t get lost, we´ll add more crosses to your grave every year, when we come to visit on the day of the dead.
come to the town, we´re having a fiesta. you can visit the church, but please no pictures of our holy men.
incense in the air, palm leaves on the wall, pine needles lining the floor. music blaring, fireworks cracking. we´ll drink some coca cola as we say our prayers, so we can burp the bad energy away.
today we won´t kill the chicken. only san juan gets the chicken, for santa rosa, just candles.
a man falls of his chair, children ask for pens, a peso for a photo, drink some holy spirit!, shirts and blankets, fruits, will you buy one?, smoke fills the air, holy men sing and dance, women smile with golden teeth, what do you like?
welcome to san juan de chamula.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
things i have got over during this trip
1 - shyness about asking for directions. gotta keep moving...
2 - fear of street food. delicious.
3 - men, mexican men in particular. they´re a pain in the ass, i´m over them!
4 - lying on the sand while still wet. the sand just washes away, nothing to worry about.
5 - bugs (excluding flies & mosquitoes). they will inherit the earth, might as well make friends!
6 - coming soon
2 - fear of street food. delicious.
3 - men, mexican men in particular. they´re a pain in the ass, i´m over them!
4 - lying on the sand while still wet. the sand just washes away, nothing to worry about.
5 - bugs (excluding flies & mosquitoes). they will inherit the earth, might as well make friends!
6 - coming soon
monte albán
the people lived in the valleys below. the priests wanted to watch over them.
they flattened a mountain, to create a stage. they built enourmous edifices to house their knowledge. the blue astronomy building, the red medicine building, the green religion building...
in the centre an altar. the people from the valleys would come to watch the show. the priests could harness the light of the sun on the 8th of May, they would cure illnesses with the laser-like beam of sunshine.
a field was created for pelota games, the ball representing the stars, the players life, death, gods. the winners would get the ultimate prize: fast-track to the heavens through painless death.
too proud to mingle with the people, the priests only mated with each other. deformed, ill, unsuitable, eventually they all died out.
and the people, in search for religion, abandoned the valley to nature and the uncomprehending conquistadores.
they flattened a mountain, to create a stage. they built enourmous edifices to house their knowledge. the blue astronomy building, the red medicine building, the green religion building...
in the centre an altar. the people from the valleys would come to watch the show. the priests could harness the light of the sun on the 8th of May, they would cure illnesses with the laser-like beam of sunshine.
a field was created for pelota games, the ball representing the stars, the players life, death, gods. the winners would get the ultimate prize: fast-track to the heavens through painless death.
too proud to mingle with the people, the priests only mated with each other. deformed, ill, unsuitable, eventually they all died out.
and the people, in search for religion, abandoned the valley to nature and the uncomprehending conquistadores.
sleepless
insect-fear, crab-fear, theft-fear, wind-fear, waves-fear, rape-fear, mosquito-fear, loneliness-fear,...
one of them is going to get you.
one of them is going to get you.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
zoological findings
walking down the road, and armadillo walks past me in the dark.
try to take the camera out, am surprised by a huge, black butterfly flitting past my head.
a few steps further, a dragon lizard, head like a lady´s red fan, scuttles to the top of a restaurant sign. the restaurant called the armadillo.
as i try to get back home, i surprise a bright red crab, hiding in the bricks.
as i write these words, i am covered in moths, bugs, mosquitos...
try to take the camera out, am surprised by a huge, black butterfly flitting past my head.
a few steps further, a dragon lizard, head like a lady´s red fan, scuttles to the top of a restaurant sign. the restaurant called the armadillo.
as i try to get back home, i surprise a bright red crab, hiding in the bricks.
as i write these words, i am covered in moths, bugs, mosquitos...
cycles
mazunte beach is lovely. the jungle presence behind you. in front, the waves come in, strong, steady.
this water will not pull you in. it will push you out, reject you, protect you from its inner workings. from the darkness within.
this water will not pull you in. it will push you out, reject you, protect you from its inner workings. from the darkness within.
Friday, August 26, 2005
native wisdom
all plants and trees are named in a logical way. the name refers to the function or the appearance of the thing, so noone is left in doubt.
the bark of the amate tree, yellow, smooth and strong is used for making paper. some ancient history was found written in amante scrolls.
the organo liso, tall and straight and thornless is used for making lazy, pretty fences, to keep them in or out, as the case may be.
the mala mujer is potent. it makes pregnant women miscarry.
the agave, maguey, is the core of the dream inducing mezcal. cooked, fermented, distilled, made into enlightenment.
then there´s ichi-tachi, el arbol del matrimonio. this tree is covered in vicious, two-inch thorns, hidden behind innocent-looking leaves.
it flowers spectaculary: passionate, beautiful, breathtaking flowers.
the logic says that the thorns represent the rough times, the flowers the good moments. its flowering season, for now, is over.
the bark of the amate tree, yellow, smooth and strong is used for making paper. some ancient history was found written in amante scrolls.
the organo liso, tall and straight and thornless is used for making lazy, pretty fences, to keep them in or out, as the case may be.
the mala mujer is potent. it makes pregnant women miscarry.
the agave, maguey, is the core of the dream inducing mezcal. cooked, fermented, distilled, made into enlightenment.
then there´s ichi-tachi, el arbol del matrimonio. this tree is covered in vicious, two-inch thorns, hidden behind innocent-looking leaves.
it flowers spectaculary: passionate, beautiful, breathtaking flowers.
the logic says that the thorns represent the rough times, the flowers the good moments. its flowering season, for now, is over.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
water/blood/mezcal
the widest tree in the world sits in judgement by the church. it´s 2000 years old. old enough to know better. old enough not to care too much.
an ancient civilizations leaves its mark on this earth. mitla. the place of the dead. a place where the old elite where sent to pasture, amongst beautiful mosaics and breathtaking views. the walls coloured red, from uranium, not blood. the tunnels are carved so priests can make their fantastic, mysterious appearances, to the amazement of the crowds. the spanish think these people are catholics because they have crosses on their walls. how simple, how different things could have been if moctezuma hadn´t believed the presages...
a mixtec makes a rug, violent colours splashing everywhere. a snake slithers across a slithery road, rain falls, sun shines, a million eagles sore into the sky. hierve el agua. the water boils out from the centre of the earth. this earth that used to be the bottom of the sea, and still looks like it. waves of mountains coming at you, besieging you.
i should have known to worry when the girl put a thousand different chiles in a blender to make my lunch, a nasty bite appears on my foot, bleeding, and my neck develops an incredible rash.
still, i survive, but fall at the next hurdle. the agave, the maguey, core of the drink to end all drinks. straight into your soul, makes you see the things you hide inside.
markets and churches
chile, chocolate, fruits, chapulines, moles, tamales. yellow, red, blue, green, orange.
the market bustled with people selling, buying, begging, singing...you could buy anything you wanted: shoes, hats, shirts, meat, veg, mobile phones.
at the meat stalls, you could point at a slab of meat, have it cooked and thrown in a basket, then you could move on to the next stall to get your playeras, then on to the next for your mole, salsa...
but i was too shy to ask how it all worked, so i just sat down in a corner, very like mercado del puerto, sitting at a bar, eating my lunch, pretending to read my book, and working out the system. next time i´ll be ready.
a child sat next to me and we played hide and seek for a while, him behind the servilletes, me behind my book. children in mexico seem to have a complete fascination with the cover of my book: a gory skull in reds and oranges. it figures, i suppose.
in the afternoon went to a museum in a convent. precolombian art, clash of cultures.
the rain caught me again. i can´t work it out!
the market bustled with people selling, buying, begging, singing...you could buy anything you wanted: shoes, hats, shirts, meat, veg, mobile phones.
at the meat stalls, you could point at a slab of meat, have it cooked and thrown in a basket, then you could move on to the next stall to get your playeras, then on to the next for your mole, salsa...
but i was too shy to ask how it all worked, so i just sat down in a corner, very like mercado del puerto, sitting at a bar, eating my lunch, pretending to read my book, and working out the system. next time i´ll be ready.
a child sat next to me and we played hide and seek for a while, him behind the servilletes, me behind my book. children in mexico seem to have a complete fascination with the cover of my book: a gory skull in reds and oranges. it figures, i suppose.
in the afternoon went to a museum in a convent. precolombian art, clash of cultures.
the rain caught me again. i can´t work it out!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
oaxaca nights
after finding a hotel -- suitably close to the "neuróticos anónimos" society, headed off the the zócalo, for a spot of coffee and people-watching.
the rain started falling, as usual, instantly. as if someone up above just turns a tap and leaves it running for a while, to clear the pipes of the day´s detritus.
a group of men run across the zócalo like a herd of wild horses, laughing and jumping in the rain, direction unknown. children come from their hideaways, selling umbrellas instantly sourced from god-knows-where.
i read my book, and wonder, as ever, if there were hidden intentions in the suggestion i read it. like when "are you ready to be heartbroken" was the first song to play in a tape borrowed long time ago...and my, wasn´t i not ready.
the rain abates. i run back to the hotel for rainproof clothing. fancy going to the cinema nearby, but find the latest showing is unsuitable for nice girls, consisting, as it does, of "nice girls" being "nice" itself. no wonder the sweet drugstore asistant giggled and blushed when i asked him for directions!
deprived of cultural activities, i wondered around, in the drizzle. unconcerned. this town is perfect for suarezes and plesters, i decide. every other shop, a shoe shop. every other corner, a hot dog cart. and what hot dogs! wrapped in bacon, covered in cheese, served with onions, salsa, mole...he´d be in heaven.
myself i settle for a lovely tiny stall, and get tostadas de pollo. a little girl watches me, smiles and plays with the bottle tops of millions of refresco bottles. i used to do that once ago. sit, play, smile. simple things.
the rain started falling, as usual, instantly. as if someone up above just turns a tap and leaves it running for a while, to clear the pipes of the day´s detritus.
a group of men run across the zócalo like a herd of wild horses, laughing and jumping in the rain, direction unknown. children come from their hideaways, selling umbrellas instantly sourced from god-knows-where.
i read my book, and wonder, as ever, if there were hidden intentions in the suggestion i read it. like when "are you ready to be heartbroken" was the first song to play in a tape borrowed long time ago...and my, wasn´t i not ready.
the rain abates. i run back to the hotel for rainproof clothing. fancy going to the cinema nearby, but find the latest showing is unsuitable for nice girls, consisting, as it does, of "nice girls" being "nice" itself. no wonder the sweet drugstore asistant giggled and blushed when i asked him for directions!
deprived of cultural activities, i wondered around, in the drizzle. unconcerned. this town is perfect for suarezes and plesters, i decide. every other shop, a shoe shop. every other corner, a hot dog cart. and what hot dogs! wrapped in bacon, covered in cheese, served with onions, salsa, mole...he´d be in heaven.
myself i settle for a lovely tiny stall, and get tostadas de pollo. a little girl watches me, smiles and plays with the bottle tops of millions of refresco bottles. i used to do that once ago. sit, play, smile. simple things.
Monday, August 22, 2005
in the heart of a family
yesterday, i popped out of the prision like a cork out of a champagne bottle: directionless, but full of excitement.
how much can happen in the space of a few hours! i made a new friend, a met a new family, i fell in love with another city.
at rocio´s house, people kept coming in, staying, leaving, coming back. exchanging gossip, greetings, profound statements amongst the vases, paintings, and clouds of cigarette smoke. and i was part of it for a while. taken in, included.
rocio bided her time, watched, listened, and then, easily, casually, she said i should come and stay with her when i´m back in Mexico City. i´m so happy. it´s little things that make all the difference. and of course now i love mexicans head over heels.
5 hours, 1 cactus forest, 1000 mountains, 10000 tropical trees, and a bus ride later, i´m in Oaxaca. ready to go.
how much can happen in the space of a few hours! i made a new friend, a met a new family, i fell in love with another city.
at rocio´s house, people kept coming in, staying, leaving, coming back. exchanging gossip, greetings, profound statements amongst the vases, paintings, and clouds of cigarette smoke. and i was part of it for a while. taken in, included.
rocio bided her time, watched, listened, and then, easily, casually, she said i should come and stay with her when i´m back in Mexico City. i´m so happy. it´s little things that make all the difference. and of course now i love mexicans head over heels.
5 hours, 1 cactus forest, 1000 mountains, 10000 tropical trees, and a bus ride later, i´m in Oaxaca. ready to go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)