Thursday, September 24, 2009

Trial and Error


Out of anger and defiance, or what my mother may call sheer cussedness, I decided that I am walking now, everywhere. Suck it, Santa Fe and your car dominated master planning. I WILL walk there from here even if I have to cross eight lanes of uncontrolled traffic with no sidewalks through dirt, small boulders, assorted garbage and overgrown weeds down two foot wide passages with major obstacles like trees or light poles or gaping holes where grates used to be and over and around several security barricades that only hinder cars. Don't even think I won't walk three blocks hunched over because the low hanging branches only clear three feet. I don't care how many cars honk at me nor how long I have to wait for traffic to slow down enough to attempt a crossing. I will go where I want to, when I want to, if it is actually possible which often it really isn't. So there.

I am reminded now of another phrase my mother is fond of: You can't get there from here. I am not sure where it comes from, perhaps a joke, or a movie quote... but seriously folks, it is the essence of Mexico City. It should be written on the Mexican flag. No se puede llegar allá desde aquí. Due to the fact that much of the city is nestled in the foothills of the surrounding volcanoes, the streets necessarily have been laid out on snaking ridges or valleys depending on where people were able to glue their homes to the sides of the slopes. Perhaps because folks are used to just putting the roads like this, opportunities to make some reasonable intersections are completely overlooked. OR, as I sometimes am inclined to think, it is the intention to redirect everyone in the same manner that a department store arranges it's goods to force customers to pass by the most merchandise before arriving at what they actually came for. Not quite sure, but the result is that you can't get there from here. Don't even try. Everything is indirect and vague.

Other new adventures include social events with expats from the states. In other words, lunching with the ladies. Ah ha, yes. I have mixed feelings about this. The situation of being a woman who does not work, living in DF while attached to a man who does work here, and having left the comforts of the first world for either a) love, b) excessive amounts of money, c) a really good job opportunity that will lead to lots of money or some combination of those puts us all in the same boat, but doesn't necessarily mean we have anything in common. Of course, then, it may turn out that we have a lot in common, you never know. So far, though, I have the least money of anyone in the group. I don't have a husband, a baby or a muchacha. I do not have construction workers in my home, nor a personal driver. I am not even sure if I want to stay. But we all came here, right? We are all the types who would give up everything we know for a man, right? We would all take the challenge of learning a new language and attempting a new way of life, right?

When several of my friends moved to Abu Dhabi, the world of ex-patriotism was cracked open and a little light shined upon it. What was shown was a spirit of adventure, some fearlessness and quite a few situations where people's closets were so full of skeletons they had to find new lodging on the other side of the planet. I tell you it is interesting here. Very, very interesting.

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