I’m going to bed too late, sleeping too poorly, getting up too early, walking too much, eating too little (especially greens!) and the city wears on you, si sabes?
One doesn’t ride the metro here as much as it rides you. Shouldering my way through another artisianal market crammed with stalls and people. The constant state of being On and Alert and Translating takes its toll.
Where was I this weekend, anyway? Saturday morning, I got a slow start, making a run to the grocery store down the street to pick up bananas and harina de hotcakes (pancake mix) and I whipped up a huge tower of banana pacakes while listening to old blues music. I was really missing some good old Americana. I also wanted to give something back to the family which has hosted me so generously. They enjoyed the pancakes.
I set out on a full stomach for the new Vasconcelos library. This is a national library which was opened within the past few years. The exterior is not that exciting- it’s a massive slab of building, with battered sides lined with horizontal fins to block the hard sunlight. In that sense, it is quite militaristic, a vast slatted bunker. But, oh, the inside.
The massive shell of the building is that-a shell, containing a huge continuous vault of a space, six or seven floors high and a block long. This massive space is lined on both sides with floating bookshelves, suspended from the ceiling. long frosted glass catwalks run the length with numerous stairs running up the sides of the catwalks. Occationally, massive slabs stretch across the vault serving as media centers, reading areas, periodicals. I spent an hour running around, shooting photos, generally geeking out. If you can imagine a giant central branch library with seven floors of books, and then you took away the floors but the left the bookshelves intact, you have an idea of what this place is like.
On the lower level, kids practiced dance routines outside, facing the dark, reflective glass.
Myself outside now, I followed a crowd of younger people towards the start of one of the many informal markets of the city- identified by the crowds and the tarps and tents. Mexico City apparently has a major punk youth culture, and I stumbled into essentially one of their major markets catering to it. It was a fascinating niche market- skateboard decks, fedoras, goth coats with buckles, bags emblazoned with The Who, Led Zeppelin, Metalica, the Ramones, black tee shirts everywhere. Pirated DVDs, tons of CDs, looked like actual music CDs on the resale market. Black leather and studs, stalls which only sold mountains of thick-soled boots and Dr. Martins. Punk, Ska, Goth, even a few stalls of Reggae lifestyle wear. I saw a Mexican teenager wearing a full Edward Scissorhands getup including white face. People carrying black roses. It was packed, at the end of the market, a ska band was ska-ing out, or whatever they do.
Ready for something quiet, clean, and with considerably less people, I walked to the Franz-Mayer museum. This was a private home and private collection of European artwork, Mexican artwork, and religious silver objects. It was a nice respite from the market, although to be honest, my favorite part was the lovely courtyard in the center, with the fountains and trees. I ordered an expensive (for DF) sandwich and a coke and sat in the shade of the colonnade around the courtyard, and read more of my book. It was lovely and peaceful and sunny.
Afterwards, I walked into the historic center, browsing stores, people watching, photographing, and finally, behind the ruins of the pyramid, found my way onto a rooftop terrace bar. I ordered an $5 beer and sat back to enjoy the view of the surrounding area. This weekend has really been about finding places to chill out.
After paying my bill, I walked across the backside of the historic district, an altogether grungier place, but no less picturesque in its own way, especially in the late afternoon sun stretching out the shadows on the street.
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