An ode to Leo.
I don’t know how you people with children manage this love. I can’t even imagine the intensity of that love. I adore him. I dislike people who don’t smile on him. I would cut a bitch if they sought to harm him. I think too much about the example I set, the environments I expose him to, and the world he interacts worth. I want so much for the world to be good for him, to take care of him, to allow him to shine in his little self. I think about how to teach him to respect cars without being scared of them. I’m frustrated by unthoughtful behavior that causes him fear, cause I want him fearless. I want him polite, but to know his own value, and to move through his world with confidence. I want to make everything safe for him and give him challenges he can handle. I want him to have friends, but only the right friends. I want him to not need me (but secretly, I want him to need me).
I suspect this is a deeply fucked up relationship with a pet.
On Wednesday I went to my first CDMX Writers’ Group. My insistence on making Mexican friends (and therefore not expats) has faded entirely and this group seems very international, so that’s exciting. The format is simple, write for 30-40 either on a prompt or on something you’ve been working on. It’s immaterial is this is a story, a novel, an essay, a journal entry, an academic work, a poem, an article, etc. After writing break into small groups and you have the option to read and receive feedback. So for now at least, I’d decided to try to use this space for fiction. I do a lot of writing at work, I’m in grad school, and of course I have this, so felt like that was the missing link. I have not written fiction in a long time. It was rough, but felt good. I did not read. There are some really talented folks in this group, several of whom write professionally.
This week I have had so much joy. Just happiness. I don’t know if it was some corner turned, the fun of a flirt, the Lexapro or more sun, but something has shifted. And I am so grateful and so relieved and so happy. My friend Michelle, the one who practices energy work, posted a video a bit back saying that when you expand your level of consciousness, when you recognize that every thing in the world is part of you and you are part of everything, that the entire world becomes your ideal partner and your heart is opened and everything feels like romance. I feel that. I don’t know that any one gets to hold it forever, but right now I feel like the world is my partner and working in my favor. It’s giving me what I need. It feels like Mexico city is here to support me, to love me and cradle me. That all these things and pieces and places and people have conspired to help me. It’s giving and generous and incredibly ego centric all at once. I feel so full of love and like every part of my mind is leaning toward seeing beauty everywhere. And it feels so delicious. It feels like everything has been on mute for so long and the volume finally got turned on. It’s overwhelming and beautiful and I’m so fucking grateful. I feel like me and okay in me for the first in a really really long time. I am so excited that I get to eat this grapefruit right now. Like, lump in throat, warm fuzzy heart feeling, thrilled about this grapefruit. And it’s like that with everything. There’s a reasonable chance we should all be on Lexapro.
Friday I swung over to Mercado San Juan Pugibet, which is a fancier mercado about a mile away. This is where I must go for Italian basil. They also have a number of Asian vegetables, passionfruit pulp, edible flowers, and endless supply of heirloom tomatoes. I haven’t ventured in the fish section, but have heard it’s good.
Saturday was a cold day here. It never go to the mid 60s and stayed grey, although no rain, all day. It was also my first day of the new semester. First class was 2 hours of housekeeping. It was beyond boring. But the faculty seemed great and classmates seem really eager to engage. We have a whatsapp group now.
More excitingly, I got to see Fran’s new apartment! Gus and Fran have been apartment shopping since last Sept. This is the culmination of quite the effort. And they finally signed on Friday. She’s a tiny bit closer to me now in a very modern building with all the amenities including a rooftop pool, billiard room, and a gym. After checking out her new digs, we headed south to Gus’ family’s home, stopping for tacos on the way.
Then I spent an amazing afternoon learning to make tamales from Gus’ mom, Toni. She is a matriarch. Her apartment is in a non descript building that makes me think of the USSR from movies, that sort of square 60s/70s mass housing with 3 or 4 identical towers, uniform windows and close proximity to neighbors. Her home is warm and full and absolutely loaded with kitsch in a manner only a grandma can pull off. A Jesus figurine and bag of doritos are shoved above a pink blanket all atop a thick dark wood armoire in the hallway. Toni lost her husband some years ago and has raised three children, of which Gus is the youngest, but perhaps the most responsible. She is lively, loud, warmly energetic, waving around a wooden spoon for emphasis. Her eyes sparkle and she cracks jokes constantly.
We made sweet tamales with pineapple and sweetened condensed milk that were somehow not too sweet and actually quite lovely. We made veggie tamales with finely chopped spinach & chard, shredded carrot & zucchini and a slice of mozzarella. Toni used to do this all by hand, but her eldest son, Christian, has moved in with his two daughters and they have brought a Kitchen Aid to Toni’s life. First step, whip your fat into a frenzy. And then she eyeballs like all of it. I did come away with this important ratio 1/4k lard to 1k harina de tamal. From there everything is texture and feel for her, the speed at which the batter plops from the spoon or the tackiness between her fingers. Toni was a teacher for 30 years, her children have never bothered to learn tamales, I think she was happy to have two attentive pupils. We got gold stars.
Then the rest of family just started showing up. First Christian and his daughters, Isabella and someone, who are 11 and 14, the eldest speaks beautiful English. Then Toni’s sister Barbara with her fat chihuahua in a sweater. Then Gus’ sister. Then Barbara’s daughter and granddaughter came bearing carnitas from one of the most famed carnitas in the city, El Gran Abanico. I’m told there’s a half an hour line for to go orders, forget about eating there. And these were maybe the best carnitas I have ever had.
Everyone crowded round the table handing out plates, passing salsa, there weren’t enough seats, so half of us ate standing or sitting on the sofa. There is a sense of abudance and whether it’s because too many people and too much stuff are in a small space or whether it’s actual abundance, there was such a sense of camaraderie and fullness, everyone talking over everyone. This is not a home for minimalist ideals, there is not space, there is not order and there is certainly not pretense. And as dramatically as my personal style radically differs, it was really lovely. It also made me miss y’all.
Sunday I was responsible and got about half my reading for class done, cleaned up a little, and then trotted over to help Fran with her move for a bit. On the way over I stopped at Mercado Medellin to grab her some flowers and a vase. I’d forgotten how much I love this mercado. It’s actually a little further, closer to 1.5 miles, and none of these are prohibitive walks, but they do put a bit of a cap on how much you wanna buy.
Mercado Medellin is in Roma Sur and is known to have a more international Latin American vibe. It’s actually the first market I ever went to in this city. It’s sprawling, but the ceilings are high and it feels airy. Here you can buy fish, meat, produce, yogurt & cheese, legumes, mole, arepas, pinatas, kitchen items, dog food, bouquets & house plants, get your laundry done, a new key made, frame some art or just have lunch.
Fran’s new fridge has a big hole for where the water dispenser system goes. I find this to be relatively useless tool since 1. her fridge isn’t plumbed in. 2. She doesn’t have a reverse osmosis system to have safe water anyways. However, the whole does need to be plugged. I have suggested and strongly believe we should put a baby doll head in to plug it so that whenever a stranger opens her fridge they are confronted with a doll head.
Fran is going to put the water system in.
Heading home I decided to try to hit some of the early opens for Art Week. In classic Mexico City fashion, the first two were a bust. The third I had to order a free a ticket for and then show up at my time slot. Fortunately it was pretty close to my house and I needed more parmesan from the good parmesan place anyways. Having secured my cheese, I wandered past a giant replica of David currently half wrapped in plastic while the plaza undergoes restoration. This is a people who know their way around cellophane.
“Hello Love! You are about to attend the first experience of Algo Más de Lola, ever in history.
Before you go, remember: We do not sit outside of our culture. We actively shape it through our participation in and attention to the worlds of others. By attending Algo Más de Lola, you are already part of the story we are co-creating.
Slow down. Step in. Let Go.
Presence is our medium. “
This is what my entry ticket said.
I was checked in by 3 lovely, very cool humans who let me know that the next sound performance was just about to start, so I had perfect timing. After being checked in and tagged with a fancy fabric wristband that reiterates the importance of presence. It’s red and has a heart on it and I can’t figure out how to get it off without cutting it, which I don’t want to.
I was directed to the elevator which opens on the top floor in two directions. You go the wispy white way. Mist spills out from somewhere, large white curtains line the walls, the ceilings, everywhere. The cement floor feels less cold. Suspended from the ceiling are 4 half circles, each set of two creating a room of sorts, ending a good foot above the floor with light shooting gently down from the center. You’re bathed in ambient music. You enter in a circle room and are surrounded by the art. You feel ensconced. This is the point, enter the art. It’s very effective. The music is a little trance inducing, you must spin yourself to see the panels surrounding you, which rather adds to the effect.
Looking forward to a lot more art this week! And a show! And a hike! Oh my.
Tacos of the Week: El Borrego Viudo
Gus now knows about my taco challenge and he is enthused. There’s a current trend in this city of favoring Northern style tacos, so in the hip parts of town (Condesa, Roma, etc) you see a flourishing of barbacoa and costilla on flour tortillas with beans. And they are delicious, but they are not Mexico City tacos. Accordngly, on the way to his mom’s we stopped at this local staple. Open 24/7 since 1969, El Borrego Viudo offer carside service or has a restaurant. This is another menu of Mexico City classics, pastor, suadero, cabeza, bistec, etc.
They do a different pastor (featured on the right), served without pineapple, onion or cilantro, this meat features a deep and delicious crunchy char before yielding to tender meat. It’s onion heavy in flavor and delicious. The spicy red salsa tasted vaguely like ketchup solo, but that profile disappeared and really enhanced the meat with a little heat and a little acid. They were freakin’ phenomenal.
Year One Project 
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