MEXICO July 2012
There are times I enjoy seeing the natural and urban landscape from the seat of a comfortable, air conditioned, hermetically sealed bus. Itâ€™s rapid fire stimulation that is different than by walking miles and miles by foot through hot streets. Not better, just different.
This is from the patio of a young peopleâ€™s bar/restaurant. Iâ€™d like something like this for our home, but would probably be another surface to avoid scrubbing.
Precolumbian art is fascinating, but impossibly remote. Iâ€™m most interested in how the old ways changed with the invasion of the Europeans. How even generations later the visual memory of the past reflect itself in the details, the lines, the systems of depiction.
My Abidas walk through concert doors and roam all over coliseum floors I stepped on stage, at Live Aid All the people gave an applause that paid And out of speakers I did speak I wore my sneakers but Iâ€™m not a sneak My Adidas cuts the sand of a foreign land with mic in hand I cold took command my Adidas and me both askinâ€™ we make a good team my Abidas and me
Itâ€™s not difficult to see the immediate sensory appeal of these great cathedrals. The smells, the intensely elaborate exteriors and interiors. They really do feel somewhere between heaven and earth.
A family of four from Tijuana was on our tour. A man with a gray flattop and a bikerâ€™s handlebar mustache, his wife and two daughters. After a rough, but beautiful five hour trip, we finally reached the end, the amazing Palenque, they chose to stay behind in the parking lot with the souvenir and taco vendors.
Only a small percentage of Palenque has been uncovered. When you are here you feel as if the jungle is waiting, ready to reclaim the buildings again as soon as the tourists and archeologists leave.
In America, the middle aged men are paunchy, balding and have lost whatever interest they had in dressing fashionably. They are sad because they know they had their day, now itâ€™s over. In Mexico you see the middle aged men, paunchy and balding but with a swagger. An arrogance. Too much cologne. Whatever deluded idea of what fashion they have, they use. I think the difference is that Mexican men have mistresses they have to keep up with.
As I was getting pushed and pulled in a cramped minivan, I saw these two bulls. They were being jostled and thrown with every sharp turn against the hills and mountains sliding around, confused, as they tried to keep their balance.
Last day. Time to go.
Published on Jul 19, 2012