Market sunday

Sunday, of course, my body woke me up at 9. No rest for the wicked.

I went to the street market out north of the Garibaldi station. Actually, it's a unbelievable conglomeration of several markets including several permanent market halls, merged into a continuous market covering what feels like a kilometer and several intersecting streets.

Architecturally and urbanistically, its in an inversion of space- during the week, the street is a void bounded by the occupied buildings on either side. During the market weekends, the street becomes entirely filled with stalls, enclosed on all sides with tarps, protected from the elements. The buildings on the side of the street disappear- they either become invisible because the pedestrian is inside the market and their street facades blocked by vendors, or it its absorbed by the market, with visitors flowing in and out in the continuous market space.

I was there because I wanted to see a recommended antiques market. It was a bit like the old markets in Beijing, and a bit like a flea market. Lots of antique brass, records, rocks, carvings, paintings, housewares, jewelry, collectors toys, clothes, hats, ad nauseum. Not many tourists, looked like a real place Chilango's go for their old crap.

The antiques market flows along one side of a major street and entirely fills an intersecting street. Plunging down this antique market street, it slams into a more typical street market of clothing, shoes, CDs, haircuts, aguas, beer, watches, etc. If you turn left and follow the major street market, you'll come to a part where the antique market intersects it again. The antiques market literally wraps all the way around the block, so I followed the antiques away from the street market back to where I started, and looped in again, this time going right. The street market took me all the way back to the metro station and a massive collection of market halls selling almost everything that is possible to buy. Hungry, I stopped to eat some cochinita pibil, a kind of pit roasted pork. There was a stall selling tacos between two the three aisles and a small table so I plunked down and ordered two tacos under the yellow cast of the tarp above. The tacos were lovely, served with delicate pink diced onion and green flecks of cilantro.

Once I got out of the market, I was tired of dealing with masses so I hopped a metro down to Xochimilco.

Xochimilco is a small village which is at the southern edge of the city, where one may find the last of the canals and the remains of the lake that used to fill the valley. There is also a famous art museum there. There was a wealthy socialite named Dolores Olmedo who owned a large mansion on extensive grounds, and she was good friends with the art community including Diego Rivera, Frida Khalo, and other famous muralists and artists from the times. It's actually the largest and best private collection of Diego Rivera's works. After she died, the house became the museum to exhibit the works. It's a beautiful place to visit, filled with peacocks walking around the grounds and Xolozticuintles, the black, hairless Mexican dogs kept by the Aztecs.

Not easy to get to, of course. Two long train rides and a 15 minute walk, but worthwhile.