Blueberry pancakes and coffee for breakfast, then I headed slowly out to the centro. I wandered in from a far edge, so I could wind my way through neighborhoods I hadn't really explored that much, and and stumbled across Pasteleria Ideal (Ideal Bakery).
Pasteleria idea is an 85 year old bakery in an ancient mansion in the historic center. For one thing, it's huge, with sunlit courtyards, balconies, and staircases. It was filled with a mind boggling variety and quantity of pastries, cakes, sweet breads, muffins, cookies, danishes, and donuts. The way bakeries work is you pick up a big round tray and a pair of tongs and work your way around, picking out whatever you want, and then you take it up to the counter and they wrap and bag each item for you.
Although I'd eaten a ton of pancakes, I couldn't resist picking up four pastries (17 pesos, or about $1.50) and munched on them throughout the day. I ended up bailing on my intended goal of Museo Templo Mayor since there was some notice about work and being diverted, and instead I worked my way back across the centro historico, which is always an interesting and enjoyable place to walk.
I ended up at the Museo de Arte Popular (MAP) which is a private museum highlighting Mexican popular artesian craftwork, like papier-mache, pottery, domestic items, indiginous clothing, toys, and religious artwork. It's actually a pretty cool museum, inside a 1920s art deco fire department headquarters. It's fascinating to trace the mixing of indiginous with Catholic traditions brought by the Spaniards.
For one thing, there was no conception of anything like a devil before the conquest, so the artwork reflects a kind of interesting native conception of the devil as a surprisingly human figure. There are depictions of a red devil carrying his little devil son on his shoulders, for example. It makes me wonder about Aztec notions of Good and Evil, or if spiritual reality was even cached in those terms.
Amazing gift shop. High quality stuff with high prices. Probably a good place to visit before hitting the local tourist market.
After MAP, I took the metro home, and picked up some groceries for the coming week. I split some pasta with K for dinner, and right after I took off for el Museo del Chopo.
Earlier in the day I'd called my coworker to see what he was doing, and he told me about an event starting at 8 at the museo del chopo near the Buenavista line. I wasn't quite sure what the event was given my grasp of Spanish, but I understood it was a friend of his presenting something at the Museum, so I though, oh, its probably some research or a talk or something, but the possibility of beers afterwards was also enticing, so I basically invited myself along.
Museo del Chopo is a place I need to return to, it's an iron and glass building which I learned features modern art, and performance spaces. I arrived very late, so I hustled into the audiotorium where music was playing. Actually, what I'd assumed would be an academic presentation turned out to be political satirical musical theater, of the highly surreal variety.
Walking in, it was one of those "what the hell is this but I'm glad I came" kind of moments.
I met my coworker J outside after the show and he introduced me to one of his flatmates, whose name now totally escapes me. She's a drummer who is also a practicing civil lawyer. Or the other way around. I'm not sure. Anyway, her trademark expression for the night seemed to be a drawn out "vaa-maa-noooos!" (lit: "let's go" but more used like "allllll right!").
We waited for awhile for all the performers to get come out, chatting and milling around outside the auditorium. I was given a shot of mezcal, which burned like nothing I've ever had before, but had an interesting flavor. It's the kind of drink that burns holes in bartops. What an eclectic group! Old hippies, artistes, university kids, beatniks. Anyway, several of the performers were also roommates or friends of roommates, and as a big group we headed over the metro to catch a train back to the house. On the metro platform, two of the performers pulled out their Huapangueras, tiny guitars almost like ukuleles.
On the train, we rode a few stops, and they played and sang the entire way there. What a strange moment! The gringo in middle of two musicans, playing as the train rocked and swayed through the underground tunnels of the city. All I could contribute was my toe tap.
Anyway, at the house, we caught up with more roommates, which seemed to be all part of a reggae band that also played local Mexican and Argentine tunes. We settled into what was to be a super chill night. In earlier posts, I'd suggested that the drink of choice here was hard liquor and mixers. I need to revise that to the elites. This throughly bohemian gang of musicians and performers was a solid beer group. They also smoked all night. The music quickly and surprisingly turned to salsa. Salsa seems to just be the party style dance of choice where, which I don't mind at all. It looks amazing, its a chance to show off your footwork, moves, and finesse, and on the whole, its a lot classier than the typical American bounce-and-grind dances to electronic pop rap.
The problem is I'd pretty much forgotten how to salsa. I took a salsa class for a semester (the second half of which I'd like to forget anyway) but A that was nearly 10 years ago, and B the footwork and rhythm for Mexican salsa is slightyl different than the Cuban.
In general, I've found the girls here like to dance much more than the guys, so in desperation, the drummer-lawyer pulled me into the middle of the living room an attempted to give me an "intensive lesson". My sense of rythym sucks especially when I'm attempting to control it, but eventually my footwork got a little better, and actually I handled the complex spinning turns really well. The people there asked me if I'd taken classes.
I'm guessing that most Mexicans simply pick up salsa dancing like other forms of socializing, practicing with friends, going to parties, dancing in the corner, that kind of thing. I don't know if salsa is part of middle school physical education or what.
I ended up talking a lot with one of the performers singers, who was wearing a motley striped corset and multicolored leather skirt with a built in zipper pouch. She told me that was a good witch, that she could read my mind if she wanted to, and that ghosts and spirits were always harassing her. She also admitted to being a liar. She was also pretty blitzed.
Successive beer runs (walks?) were financed by the lead Huapanguera player passing his felt fedora.
Anyway, we drank and danced until most people including the good witch left after 3 am and then our small group went to go get some street tacos. It was me, J, the lawyer, and J's roommate A, who is studying the trombone. I love the fact that here, your post-drinking options are great tacos and not just IHOP. And the fact you can walk there.
There was some kind of argument between all the roommates about the tacos which was kind of uncomfortable and awkward way to end the night, and I ended up crashing on J's mattress a little after 4am. The room was warm, and the mosquitoes harassed me at first, but then they let me sleep.
At 4am, its four hours after the last train has departed, and one hour before the first train arrives. A cab ride would have been a little expensive, but more dangerous to try to flag one in the street.
I slept poorly, and finally called it a night around 9:30am, to the sound of the rain. J was still sleeping, but I couldn't sleep anymore and so A lent me a rain poncho and let me out into the cool and drizzling morning and I caught a train back to my neck of the woods.
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