Mexican Friends Show Us Mexico City

Mike in the lobby of the Hotel Gillow

Lunch at the Coyocan' Zocolo

We had a wonderful time on our trip to Mexico City, quite frankly only because of our friends, not because of any successful planning on our part, nor thanks to the demonstrations!  We did learn to negotiate the Metro quite well and are pleased with ourselves about that.

Well, actually there was a bit of a glitch . . . We were on the Metro on Tuesday on our way to Xochimilco.  Mike read the station name where we were to get off to change trains and said, “This isn’t right!”  So I turned to sit down, at the same time he stepped off.  I whirled around only to find the doors closing.  I tried to stop them (like an elevator).  No go.  So, I stuck my hiking pole in the door, thinking they would reopen when they couldn’t close.  Not.

Mike and I look at each other with distress as I’m speeding away with my pole stuck in the doorway!  The pole is only sticking out about a foot, but it stuck something and I immediately tipped it downwards closer to the door.

At the next stop, I got off, went to a wall in full view of the train door and thankfully, Mike did show up on the next train.  Crisis averted.

The other problems came about because of the many police with riot gear lining barricades on many of the streets. We had no idea what their problem was but it created a huge problem for us:  They closed the Metro station closest to our hotel.  We had to walk nearly an extra mile each way going to and coming back from Xochimilco, and later the museums. This was hard on my back. (The demonstrators were teachers from Oaxaca, with other teachers from around Mexico joining them. The police were limiting where they could go!)

Sunday.  Now, to the wonderfully bright side.  Our friends, Frida and Franscisco, picked us up at our hotel after an uneventful bus and Metro ride into the city that morning. We met in Palenque four years ago when Mike helped Franscisco with some electrical problems on their bus. “We are taking you to Coyocan'.  Do you know it?” Frida asked in English. 

Frida teaches English in secondary school (I believe) and Franscisco knows much more English than he did four years ago when we met.  As a result, we all spoke both Spanish and English, often in the same sentence.  On a complicated explanation, Frida would have to translate.

Frida and Franscisco Maass

Coyocan' is an upper middle-class, lovely neighborhood southwest of the center of the city.  It is long-time home of artist Frida Kahlo and, after they were married, Diego Rivera.  The brilliant blue house is now a museum.  As we drove up, the line to get in was quite long, even doubling back on itself.  I thought it would take forever, but we had a good time visiting and were soon buying our tickets.  

Mike and I learned that we are now of a “tercera edad” — direct translation?  Third Age!  Which means we get “senior” prices — $35 pesos instead of $140.

The house itself is a rambling group of small rooms alongside a stunning garden with many shade trees and plants, all enclosed, of course, by a high, solid wall.

Naturally, many of her paintings and drawings were on display.  A brief history:  When she was a young girl of 6, she contracted polio, leaving one leg weaker than than other.  Then, as a young woman, her trolley was struck and wrecked.  This ruined her back for life.  She spent much of her time in bed and a wheelchair, and was always in pain.  

She did many self-portraits, and her physical and emotional pain became the main themes of her paintings. Her pain was evident in these hard-to-view artworks. Her tumultuous marriage to famous Mexican artist, Diego Rievera, was cause for much of the emotional pain. . . 

A dress of Frida Kahlo

La cocina de la casa

Kahlo's studio.  Wonderful natural light.

A small portion of the garden with the
beautiful blue color in the background.

A photo of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo on their balcony. 

From the museum, we went down to the Coyocan' Zocolo or town center, complete with park, sidewalk restaurants and many people. We sat down at one of the few empty tables; ordered beers and lunch.

As we were sitting there visiting, nearly a half dozen couples broke out in choreographed dancing directly in front of us.  As the crowd watched and cheered, they stopped and circled around, as a young man led his fiancé to the center, dropped to one knee and proposed!  Of course, the crowd went wild!  Such a fun event to watch.

The Zocolo in Coyaocan'

Just the girls of our talented dancers.

The happy couple with parents behind them.

The bride and groom-to-be and best friends.

The exquisite interior of the 16th century
 Parroquia de San Juan Bautista in Coyocan'

We walked around, saw the church, then Francisco and Frida drove us around to some of the important sights and monuments on the way back to the hotel.  An absolutely lovely day, and something we would not have done on our own because of the difficulty of transportation to that area.

A Siqueiros mural on a downtown building.
Note traffic light on left for an idea of scale.

Gorgeous colored lights in an entire high-rise!

One of the lovely monuments along Paseo de La Reforma.
(My apologies for forgetting which one.)

Monday.  All museums are closed on Monday, so we planned to go to Xochimilco, the floating gardens I had always heard about.  This was the day mentioned above where Mike and I got separated on the Metro.  We had to walk quite far to get to the second Metro station, (because the first was closed), then our train rides were quite long, (changing trains several times).  After walking more, the total journey had taken two hours and fifty minutes. I simply had no idea that it was that far or would take that long!

After we got off the final train and began walking, men would direct us to the Embarcardero.  We were on streets of a small town with no signs of where to go.  When we arrived at the Embarcadaro where we were directed, it  looked terrible; dark and narrow.  Not at all like we expected — no big gate; no vendors lining the path. . .

I was quickly becoming uncomfortable.  I asked about a bathroom.  A man led us up a street, opened a door into a shack of an area and pointed to a decrepit “bano.”  I refused, having the feeling I was going to get mugged the moment I set foot inside that gate.  “Let’s get outa here!!” I hissed at Mike.  We left quickly; grabbed a taxi back to the train station and began out trip back to the hotel, with men calling after us as we fled.  (We later learned there are several entrances.  The men were simply directly us to their boats.)

Returning downtown, the Metro again stopped way short of our destination and we began walking.  No taxis were available at this time of day.  Close to our hotel we stopped for a beer.  When we finally reached our hotel, we walked into the lobby and there stood our friend, Alicia.  Three years ago in Palenque, we spent New Year’s Eve with her, her adult children and others from the Mexico City RV club.

Mike talking with Alicia Espinosa

She had been waiting 40 minutes, but we didn’t know that she had decided to drive to downtown to meet us!  Absolutely, she made a wonderful ending to a somewhat difficult day. We walked to dinner at a roof-top restaurant overlooking the Templo Mayor.  This is an Aztec site that they are currently excavating right beside the old cathedral, Caterdral Metropolitana facing the Zocolo.

We caught up on her children and their careers, and her travels to the US and Canada. We also heard about her visit to Norway in the wintertime to see the northern lights!  It was such a lovely meal and a wonderful evening.

A lovely view from our rooftop restaurant.

Bellas Artes at night.

Tuesday. It was quite chilly on Tuesday morning.  After all, the elevation here is close to the same as home — 8,300 feet.  So we put on our long-sleeve shirts and vests and crawled back into bed to read awhile after breakfast.  “Of course our hotel will have heat!” we told ourselves.  Wrong — again!

Around 11, we checked at the front desk trying to locate the “Turibus” which runs a circuit around to the historical sites and museums.  However the police still had so many streets blocked off we couldn’t locate pickups stops.  So, we began walking.

Only six blocks from our hotel we found the Bellas Artes with murals and paintings by some of Mexico’s most famous artists — Rivera, Siqueiros, Orozco, Tamayo and Cameron.  We paid the entry fee only to learn  all exhibits were closed in order to set up a new show.  Only the murals on one floor were open for viewing!

Another block away was the old post office and museum.  It was a wonderful, huge old building with stamp displays and photos of postman in their different conveyances over the years — foot, horseback, carriage, etc.

A mural in Bellas Artes by Cameron, my favorite
because of the vivid colors.

What a grand old building for a post office!!

Another block of so was the National Museum of Art. It was a fabulous old building with high ceilings and windows.  Unfortunately, we first went to the wrong floor which had numerous old religious portraits.  Quickly boring. Then we found the more interesting (to us) landscapes. But, by this time, we were tired and left without seeing many. (Also, I had used my walking pole to point at something in one of the huge paintings.  I was several feet away from it, but from the guards reaction, you would have thought I pointed a gun at it!)  Time to leave.  

We went back to the hotel, rested a bit, then went shopping for a suit jacket for Mike.  (We figured that here in Mexico, there are more men his size.)  Apparently they are called “chamaras”, a word I can’t find in my dictionary.  Found two; bought one.

Had wonderful dinner of camerones caballos (bacon wrapped shrimp) and seasoned smoked marlin. Later we did the “mall crawl” on a street with traffic blocked off.  Shared ice cream at one spot and coffee at another.  A lovely last evening in Mexico City, or D. F. “day-effey; district federal) as the locals call it.  

Without our friends, this would have been a way less successful trip into the city.  They were the key.

The Metropolitan Cathedral, on the Zocolo, began in 1573 and took two and a half centuries to complete.