The overnight bus brought me back into Mexico City on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. I took the excellent subway system to the neighborhood of me and Stephany’s old hotel to see if there were any vacancies. There weren’t. I walked to 5 or 6 other hotels but every place was completely booked. It dawned on me that maybe I should have called ahead and made a reservation as it was possibly the most celebrated family holiday in the nation.
I was about to give up and try to find an even seedier neighborhood when I remembered that a nearby corner was frequented by transgender prostitutes. My Spanish was good enough for one essential question:
“Conoces un hotel que las familias no gustan?”
I was directed to the Hotel Ibiza caddy cornered from the Monumento al Revolucion. As soon as I saw the neon hearts on top of the sign and a handwritten placard listing prices for condoms and hourly rentals above the cashier’s window I knew that I would be finally getting a room. I recommend it highly to anyone that might find themselves in Mexico City: the interiors are brightly colored and wind around a central courtyard with a healthy palm garden and plenty of natural light. If you like bad pornography from the ‘70s and ‘80s there are a couple of channels on the televisions with 24 hour loops.
With my suitcase securely stashed I was ready to head to the Zocalo for the evening’s festivities. The Zocalo was the central square of the Aztec capital Tenochtitlan before the Spanish Conquest. They built the main Cathedral directly on top of the Templo Mayor but have more recently opened up an archaeological site to excavate and display some of the former sacred architecture next door. For the Christmas season giant displays of lights in the form of candles, gifts and the like are displayed on top of all the major buildings.
Before and after the Midnight Mass I walked around the square to check out some of the street performers. There are organ grinders, folk and Aztec dancers and metallic statues in the forms of gaudy Bishops and Santa Muerte. I also noticed a scattering of superheroes and kicked myself for not packing my Wolverine costume as it would have been a great way to meet people and hear some interesting stories.
I grabbed a champurrado and waited with the crowd inside the Cathedral for the unveiling of the Baby Jesus.
On Christmas Day I took a train out to the neighborhood called Xochimilco – the floating gardens. I wasn’t planning on eating a big Christmas meal but after walking past several cozy restaurants offering conejo al carbon or barbecued rabbit I gave in to temptation. After that I followed the foot traffic down to the Embarcadero to get on one of the group tour boats to see the canals.
These waters are one of the last natural habitats for Axolotls but I didn’t actually see any. It did seem like interesting trees were growing on the many small islands we passed but it was difficult to pay attention. As soon as we passed the first bend in the canal we were descended on by boats full of playing mariachis, boats selling potted plants of all varieties, taqueria boats with a sizzling plancha in the center and boats offering beers, micheladas and other beverages.
There was one island I couldn’t ignore. The trees hung with stuffed animals and baby dolls in various states of disrepair like The Island of Misfit Toys. When I disembarked and found a group of local teenagers playing house music from a PA system I learned that this was known as La Isla de las Muñecas and was the favorite spot for semi-legal dance music parties. I kicked myself a second time for leaving my drum machine back at the hotel as this would have been the perfect opportunity for a last minute Bleak End set.
At this point I was ready to head back to the train but as luck would have it I wandered into a booming block party for the Barrio Belen neighborhood. The hospitable residents wouldn’t hear of me leaving and made sure I had a full glass of Squirt with tequila and a seat in the clearly honored vicinity of the oldest among them. This turned out to be extremely lucky as the festivities included a type of artisanal fireworks called a Castillo.
A Castillo is a temporary tower covered with what is traditionally known in Europe as a Catherine Wheel. Brightly colored charges cause specially constructed wheels to spin and throw off sparks in the forms of stars, suns and moons and occasionally words and letters. A small group of technicians dressed in head-to-toe protective leather scale the edifice and use their body weight to prevent the centrifugal force from causing it to topple over. Everybody cheered as the sculpted peacock at the tower’s crown exploded into color and launched itself upward into the air:
“Barrio Belen Forever!”
I had just enough time to catch the last train toward Centro and return to my Hotel. I actually did meet up with Stephany one last time but spent the majority of my last two days exploring on my own. I was hoping to see the Leonora Carrington sculpture garden in Chapultepec but it turned out to have only been temporary. There was a large sculpture of hers on Paseo de la Reforma. The National Anthropology and Archaeology Museum did have a couple of her paintings along with the imposing Aztec statue of Coatlicue and too many other wonderful things to list here.
Just go if you ever get the chance.
I spent my final day visiting what may be the largest occult swap meet in the world – the Mercado Sonora. There are separate sections for candles and incense, dried herbs, every type of devotional statuary, amulets and talismans and I found some really nice window decals in the form of the Seal of Solomon to be used as a protective ward. It also has a section devoted to the sale of exotic live animals. While I imagined that things like Chameleons were probably bought as pets I could harbor no illusions about the puppies I saw another shopper put directly into his car trunk.
Those things were getting sacrificed.
On my way out of town I boarded the subway one final time for the bargain price of three pesos and bought a bootleg CD of Jose Jose songs from one of the vendors that walks the trains and blasts the music from a backpack speaker system.
It was time to return to the United States and my life as a married man.
Adventures in the Undiscovered Interior of Underground America 