Chilango

I'm slowly working out where I am.  There are a number of forgettable large arterial roads that criss-cross Mexico City, all of which are lined with the sort of soulless buildings that quickly erase themselves from the memory or else cause your mind to avoid them altogether.  However, just a block off of my own personal intercity super-highway, Insurgentes, the cinderblock structures give way to more sturdy neighborhoods.  Cracked streets turn to tree lined avenues.  Avenues converge at lush parks with elaborate european fountains, which in turn are surrounded by crowded cafés serving culture as much as coffees.  It is easy to dismiss DF as just another enormous and polluted environmental disaster, but such an assessment ignores the seeds of city aspiring to grow into something better.  A closer look reveals roof-top gardens and people pushing for social change that will influence the rest of the nation.  It is a place that is so undeniably international yet absolutely Mexican.  A crepe is just as likely to come with blue cheese and walnuts as it is with queso oaxaca (string cheese) and nopales, sautéed cactus.  It is not easy here, but if you have the energy, what you will find is worth the effort.  


In what seems to be a common thread throughout the country, Mexico City suffers from a concentration of like-merchandise.  You may travel across a whole city looking for tupperware only to peak around the corner and discover an entire neighborhood devoted to the preservation of left-overs.  The system is infallible if you know where to look, but often times it has the opposite effect and you find yourself dedicating entire days to locating an item as simple as a towel.  The Chilangos (people from Mexico City) will tell you, with pride, that this is a system inherited from the Aztecs, who no doubt decided it would make the most sense to put the guitar and keyboard street next to the computer hardware zone.  While there is a certain charm in that they have preserved the city planning of their ancestors, it should be noted that pre-colombian people are known to have gotten things wrong on occasion.  There is no denying that they were master astronomers, however, these people also believed the gods needed a steady flow of human hearts for nourishment. 

That said, my neighborhood is locksmith themed, a geographical advantage which proved itself extremely convenient within a day of moving house.  After I locked the keys inside my bedroom, the local cerajero quickly picked my lock in a flourish that was at once impressive and entirely unnerving.  He slid the deadbolt back, disassembled the entire latching mechanism, and dropped my foolproof security system into his backpack.  An hour later, with a smile and a wink, the man returned bearing two new keys and reinstalled the lock.  An hour after that, I moved my wallet, passport, and computer into Amelia's room.