I did neglect to write about my first week back in the city. I did some things. One. I texted Mike. Without going horribly, it didn’t go well and actually, that was really helpful. I keep remembering all the good we shared and this was a reminder of what a fucking dick he could be sometimes and so arbitrarily. Forever ago he’d indicated a willingness to talk more about the divorce after the fact. I wrote him wondering if he had anything to share and wanted him to share it via writing so I could reflect, think, incorporate. He responded quickly and readily that he was down for a convo, wondering if I was in Portland any time soon. I can’t overstate how much I was not wanting a conversation. I don’t believe we’ll find some common ground or come to some shared understanding. I don’t know that I want to. But, I would like to just know what he thinks happened. Just like.. for context. But he refuses to write, he says he wants nothing from me nor from a convo, but absolutely insists on a convo despite me laying out my reasons for preferring written communication.
And I don’t know if he’s lying to himself about whether he wants something, if he’s scared to write, if he knows he has more control with a conversation, if he just wants to be adament for no reason or what the hell is going on, but his inability to acknowledge, explain, or accommodate does feel familiar.
So then I went on my first date. I think it was exactly what I needed it to be. Pleasant, we grabbed coffee & a couple beers and hung out for about 5 hours. But I think I’m not interested. Maybe a friend. He’s a reader and works in the music industry. He went to university and graduate school in the states, is pretty content to let me fumble in Spanish, but switched to English readily when we hit a crowded and loud bar.
These things feel like starts, or like shifts. Have you ever had a pain so long that it became just a part of you, but fuck did you just wish it would change? Not even necessarily mend itself, just hurt differently. This feels like that. And as such, it’s very welcome.
So I don’t want to conflate having a dog with a child, but there’s an intensity to how much I love this little beast. He’s so reliant on me. For food, water and shelter, sure, but also for what he knows and how he sees new things and I feel so protective of that and it’s such a blessing of responsibility. But I think the biggest thing is that I’m a little scared of how much love I hold for him. Like it could break me. And I don’t fully know how much of that is a response to recent events, or just a way one loves something so shamelessly in need of them, but it’s there.
Saturday night, I’m tired. A full day of walking yesterday, a hike today. I’m beat. So I heated up some soup. ordered some churros and poured some wine. And I lay on the futon watching TV and felt a little overly full and I missed you. I missed the almost conspiratorial feeling of sharing over indulgence after work. And I thought about it further, cause I keep thinking that all these things that happened in my life with you, weren’t really you at all, but things people do in that era. Buy a house, travel more, – essentially have more fucking money. So why would I think that you’re the only one I could indulge in guilty pleasures with?
And I think you thought I was so special. And then you were so disappointed that I wasn’t magic. Cause I take up space and I do things and I do manage a lot and I do allow more in my life quite possibly than I should and believe more is possible and I do dream big. But that doesn’t mean I’m not fragile, imperfect, and inconsistent. It doesn’t mean I’ll always handle everything well or be sunny, cause frankly with bigger reaches, with trying new things or different things, comes more turbulence. And I do fuck up, because I am human. I’m not anyone’s solution just because I’m stronger than you. I feel like I fell so very far, off such a high pedastol. And it’s crazy that I’m upset I fell, that I couldn’t be enough, do enough, give enough, to stay perched aloft, figure it all out for us. And it’s crazy that I ever wanted to.
At the same time… I think it’s fair to say that we all try to put our best foot forward. And that I managed to pull it off tolerably well for a solid 9 years is pretty good. That you couldn’t deal with me as a person says every bit as much about you as me. My view on you changed and continued to change. But I didn’t need you to be that one thing to love you. And I suspect you needed me to be continually revolutionary for you. And the thing is, who I was just happened to be that at that time for you, but it wasn’t me rebelling, it was just me and what I’d figured out for me. And yeah, we’ll be getting back on our anti depressants soon- cause screw this mess of an emotional shitstorm.
Friday was a highly productive day with school, work, epic walkabout, apartment hunting, new art & friend time all in one glorious action packed day (incidentally also logged about a 15 mile walk).
Ok… and jarringly in an event of deep sadness, wordpress somehow didn’t save all that I had written about Tacubaya and Parque Lira and the Dolores Cárcamo Museum and another week has passed. So now you’re gonna get the quick n dirty version.
The apartment was amazing, the neighborhood was a bust. As a transportation hub, it’s crowded and noisy and extremely concrete, while perfectly safe, it was just not the vibe I was hoping for. But I did get there remarkably early to check out the area and I was so early that I wandered over to Chapultepec to see the Dolores Cárcamo Museum that features an underwater Diego Rivera Mural.
This project united utility and art. The space was a hydraulic water system built in 1951 to connect the city’s main water lines and was commemorative of the completion of the Lerma waterworks system which conveyed water into the city from over 60 km away mostly via underground tunnel. It was the most ambitious public works project of its time in Mexico. Designed by architect Ricardo Rivas, it’s comprised of water tanks, water passages that look like snakes, and a central building, that feels part European part observatory in design, with columns and a domed roof.
In front of the building lays Tlaloc, the Aztec god of rain. He was composed of ceramics and stone by Diego Rivera and features two faces.
The space inside is not large and no longer holds water as the “water proof” of the ‘underwater’ mural turned out to be not so water proof.
The mural is impressive, compelling, and in brilliant color (though I understand it’s been touched up). In it, Rivera sought to express the collaborative efforts of the workers, the engineers, and the architects involved in the Lerma water project and to celebrate the indigenous heritage of Mexico.
In 2010, Mexican artist Ariel Guzik created Camara Lambdoma, a sound art installation using organ pipes and a submersible water sensor to achieve an ethereal sound that is like a cross between meditation and being high. The pipes are two opposed walls of the building, as shown on the left. To explain how this works, I’m gonna straight up steal from another site, cause I don’t fully get it “The Lambdoma Chamber consists of a complex set of painstakingly crafted sonic machinery. The most visible component is an organ made up of two sets of pipes, producing harmonies and sub-harmonies. The work is essentially a sound installation; feedback from a submersible water sensor and a meteorological tower produces sounds by the organ based on the Chamber’s namesake, the Lambdoma Matrix, a mathematical grid developed by the ancient philosopher Pythagoras. Pythagoras’ grid plots whole-number ratios and inverse fractions. In the context of music, the grid specifies ratios, represented by notes, relating to a fundamental tone.” Credit to Public Art Archive. https://publicartarchive.org/art/Camara-Lambdoma/b913d297
The walk out of the Chapultepec had me pass the water tanks and the serpentine waterways and demonstrated that is wildflower season in Mexico. Omigosh. I’ve done this walk several times and it was like seeing it for the first time.
The next day I went for a hike in Hidalgo, the state to the north of Mexico City. This particular hike was in outside of the capital of Pachuca in an area called the Labyrinth of El Contadero. As always with Liz the designation of “basic” is a misnomer.
We started off hiking up through a town with Liz and her friend Carlos who is local to the area and served as our guide. We quickly acquired a dog buddy and began trekking through the forest to the top point of the hill. This is also true of most hikes in the NW, but whenever you’re with Liz and you see the top of something, you can be reasonably confident that’s where you’re headed.
And then we were at the the top. It was a bit cloudy, but the air was delightfully crisp and the landscape a bit sparse, with short trees, cactus dispersed on the ground like anemones, large agave and wildflowers. It was cool and refreshing and still quite early, so onward we trekked. But not exactly upward and sometimes not exactly on a trail. But we kept trekking. Then we came upon a large opening with parking and restaurants (ok, these are very much open air and they feel too common & too organized to be called shacks per se, but it’s not an inaccurate description) and toilets better left unused. We handed over 15 pesos each to continue up the stairs built into rock at one end of the clearing.
At the top was a chapel, cause why not.
And this is where the Labyrinth begins.
This rocky terrain had deep crevasses in it to land below and we trailed our way through the rocks, and down a ladder into the spaces below. Carlos went ahead testing tight cavernous squeezes through rocks for water and access on the aside before doubling back and urging us ahead or seeking a new route. It was super cool. It also involved occassional crawling. Sometimes in water.
We wound and wound and I at least lost all sense of direction. After a solid hour we emerged from the labryinth of stone and begin winding our way back up the hillside toward the village.
After getting back to the cars we drove an entirely different direction to the magic town of Mineral del Chico. This is an old silver mining town that is apparently a beacon of a weekend getaway. It feels like a touristy mountain town with adorable shops, 4×4 hauling people all over the places and various ads for outdoor adventures. It was really freaking cute.
We ate, grabbed some delicious hot chocolate and headed back to town.
The ensuing week represented my last attempt at apartment hunting before deciding to just stay put. Top of the list was to find somewhere with a better kitchen space and some sort of guest area whether a second bedroom or what is called an estudio- which seems to vaguely be office space, so it could privatish alcove like or a bedroom without a closet, and keep an outdoor space. Ideally I wanted to do this by moving out of my hyper trendy area, into a less tourist laden, but still nice part of town, in order to not pay much more rent. But outdoor space is at a helluva a premium here and in the end, after a little false advertising that led me to seriously wildly blowing my budget, I’ve decided to hang out here for another 8 months. So I bought myself a celebration fridge. In case you didn’t know, I’ve been operating with a mini fridge and it’s been an issue.
I’m going to call this sufficiently caught up and focus on next week.
Year One Project 
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