Food, Glorious Food!

Mexicans seem to eat almost non-stop.  There are restaurants, cafeterias, luncherias, cafes, tables and stalls in the mercado to buy meals and snacks, and street vendors.  The street vendors sell everything from cotton candy to snacks to drinks to tiny pancakes to ice cream to entire meals.  One day, Ken's friend came over to study.  Afterwards, he insisted we get ice cream.  That was fine with me....I can go for an ice cream cone any time.  But shortly after that, he saw a street vendor and had a little "snack".  And I swear it wasn't much longer before he suggested tacos.  He led us to a sit-down restaurant and introduced me to a wonderful new food: chicharones queso....fried cheese!  After our delicious tacos al pastor (which include pieces of fresh pineapple) we shared an amazing piece of chocolate cake with cafe de olla...a traditional Mexican sweet coffee.

Since I arrived at the end of January, Ken and I have had dinner at two "nice" restaurants. One is our old favorite, "Cafe Tacuba", in the Centro Historico.  The food and service are always excellent, but the real reason I love Tacuba is that mariachis play there most evenings. We also went to a new branch of "Azul y Oro" (blue and gold) in the trendy Condessa neighborhood.  Many people believe that all Mexican cuisine is spicy and hot.  At "Azul y Oro" I had a delicious pear and blue cheese salad, perfectly cooked steak with mashed potatoes, and tiramisu.  Had I wanted a "picante" Mexican dish, there were plenty available.  The variety on the menu was amazing.

You always can tell when you are nearing a subway station on the street because the amount and variety of food stands become staggering.  Mexicans can't seem to get on or off a subway without some sustenance.  If there is an empty square on the sidewalk, someone will find a way to sell food.

So, why aren't all the people in Mexico City huge?  I have read that Mexico is second only to the U.S. in obesity. However, I believe this may be due to the introduction of McDonald's, Burger King,  Domino's, Starbucks, Pizza Hut, Krispy Kremes,  and Kentucky Fried.... with their foods that are filled with fat and sugar.   Here in Mexico, the food sold on the streets is generally made right in front of you, and made to order.  You can have your snack covered with  fresh avocado and chopped onions, tomatoes, lettuce, beans, or cilantro.  And, of course, most Mexicans walk far more than Americans do. They don't just hop in the car to run errands, they walk to the farmacia, the mercado, or  the pesero (little bus) stop or metro stop.  They love to stroll in the parks, and spend Sundays in the town squares, dancing or walking with their friends.

Those strolls often end at the bakery.  Seeing  independent bakeries again has been one of the most wonderful parts of living here.  When I was growing up, there were bakeries galore.  Then, as places like Dunkin' Donuts, Panera, Pricechopper, and other chains began to bake cookies and bread, the independent bakeries that had once been in every town couldn't compete.  Here, the bakery is crowded all the time.  You enter and take a big silver tray and a pair of tongs.  Then, you browse through cookies, cake squares, cheesecake, flan, fruited jello, rolls, bread, pastries, chocolates, brownies and so much more.  I love to sit in the park  among the happy families in our neighborhood on Sunday afternoon or evening and I love to make our last stop the bakery.  I choose a couple of wonderful cookies or a "concha" (a sweet breakfast roll topped with a crumb mixture in a shell design) to take home.   I am also  very thankful that I have to walk everywhere.  


When we first began to travel to Mexico City several years ago, we immediately discovered "Sanborn's".  This chain has been in Mexico for years and years and is currently owned by one of the richest men in the world, Carlos Slim.  Each Sanborn's is the same, from the menu to the traditional costumes the waitresses wear.  

The very first morning I was here, Ken and I had breakfast at our local Sanborn's.  We went to Sanborn's for our Valentine's Day dinner.  I am addicted to their frozen lemon pie topped with meringue.  To me, sitting down for a meal at any Sanborn's brings a feeling of contentment and happiness.  They aren't fancy; the food certainly isn't gourmet, but being among happy people in a familiar setting makes me feel at home here.  And that is one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever had.

Home away from home...

When we knew we would be living in Mexico City for a while, Ken came down with a friend to find us a place to live.  Mexico City is, by most accounts, the third largest city in the world, and has about a million more residents than New York City.  Mexico City also covers an enormous amount of space.  When you fly in for the first time, the city below seems to go on  forever.  This city is not just old....it's ancient, and one civilization simply built atop the other.  Just as in New York City, there are many neighborhoods (here, we call them colonias) that are extremely different from one another.

Centro Historico, where the huge square (zocolo) and the main cathedral and government buildings are, is crowded, but filled with some of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen.  Polanco is upscale; that is where you can buy an Hermes bag or a Chanel jacket as you venture from your suite at the Intercontinental or "W" hotel.   San Angel is a neighborhood of charming homes, cobblestone streets, and art galleries.  Santa Fe reminds me of Tuscon.  The Zona Rosa used to be cool, but is now kind of seedy.  Condesa used to be really cool, but now the place to be is Roma, which looks and feels like many cities in Europe.  Xochimilco is an amazing neighborhood filled with canals, where boats decorated with floral canopies take people for rides on leisurely Sunday afternoons.  But Ken, luckily, chose Coyoacan.

Thanks to the amazing film made by Salma Hayak, "Frida", many people worldwide now know about the neighborhood where Frida Kahlo spent much of her life.  Coyoacan has one of the most beautiful and lively main squares I have ever seen in Mexico.  Anchored, of course, by a huge church, the square here is really a series of three or so.  There is an unusual fountain, green shrubs cut in a design, wrought iron benches, and all you might need in terms of food and music!  Coyoacan has its own mercado, where you can buy fresh fruits, vegetables, meat and fish or enjoy a declicious Mexican breakfast, lunch or dinner.  There are also modern food markets, an upscale mall, and plenty of museums, including the Frida Kahlo house, just five blocks from where we live.  Coyoacan has theatre, films, cultural centers, gyms, restaurants galore, and any service you might need.  However, what Coyoacan also has is a sense of community.  On Sunday afternoons, in one of the many parks, older couples dance to son music.  Artists display their paintings for sale.  Balloon sellers and organ grinders and countless street musicians bring a bit of cheer for just a few pesos.  There are at least three artisan markets every weekend.

The casita Ken found is perfect for us.  Like all houses in this neighborhood, it sits behind a thick wall, and a locked gate.  Our landlady's home is in front of the three casitas she owns.  Each casita is unique in style and design.  They share a path lined with tropical plants and flowers.  Our house is made of white brick and cement.  It is three stores tall.  On the ground floor is the living room and kitchen.  Twenty steps up a wrought iron spiral staircase is our bedroom and bathroom.  More steps lead to the rooftop patio, from which you can see some of the mountains that surround Mexico City.

  Ken and I make it a point to stroll in the main square every Sunday evening. It feels as if every family  from Coyocan is in the square, too...grandparents, moms, dads, teens in love, children running and playing, and babies...always held in someone's arms.  The people  buy ice cream cones, balloons, tortas,  fresh fruit drinks, tacos, and wonderful Mexican coffee.  There is the sound of laughter as people meet up with their families and friends. 

Then I think about Sunday night in upstate New York.  Most families are home, in front of their own TV's or personal computers.  Sadly, many people are dreading the upcoming Monday morning and the return to work.  Obviously, people in cold climates can't stroll around their cities in the winter months.  But somehow, I think that even if it snowed in Mexico City, the people here in Coyoacan would find a way to get together, have something delicious to eat, and make Sunday night one of the best times of the week.

Tienes usted esta camisa in extra large?

There are three kinds of shopping here in Mexico....street, mercado, and stores.  People buy and sell all day long and far into the night.  What a place for a shopper like me!

  Every walk down the street here in Mexico City is a shopping expedition.  There are little items made of wood; colorful dolls, sparkling scarves,  every kind of beaded jewelry imaginable, colorful home decorations, handknit items, and then there are the shirts....camisas.  One is more beautiful than the next.  Most shirts for sale in the street are white or cream with colorful embroidered yokes.  They might be just one color...a deep coral or a sea green...or they might be embroidered with flowers in every color under the sun.  There is just one problem....Mexican people are smaller than we giant Americans.  Often, when I try on a shirt from a street vendor, it won't quite fit.

In the mercado, there are some clothes, but generally not the type I would want to wear.  They are sort of the stretch waistband kind of pants with the wild print shirts.

So, that leaves the stores.  For all the restaurants, food stands, beauticians, dry cleaners, paper stores and bookshops, my neighborhood is very light on clothing shops.  And I don't have to tell you that the clothing stocked is all....yes, too small for me.

Now, I can sniff out a mall without even trying.  There are two big malls fairly close to our house...one is within walking distance and is anchored by a branch of El Palacio de Hierro, which really is a palace.  In this department store, Ralph Lauren is the LEAST expensive brand you can find.  I don't buy anything at the Palacio, but I walk around and marvel at the clothes....European, Latin American and U.S. designers are all represented.  However, an item like a t-shirt might be 850 pesos...around $70.  I wouldn't pay that price home, and I won't pay it here.  Other malls are anchored by Liverpool, which is not as upscale as the Palacio.  However, much of the clothing at Liverpool is dowdy; the kinds of "outfits" I often wore to work....and never want to wear again!

In these malls, which are as big as any in the U.S., I find a lot of clothing stores for people in their teens or twenties, but not many for women like me....women who won't accept the fact that they are not in their twenties anymore!  At home, women like me buy our clothes at Express, when we look our best, or Chico's, when the pounds appear FOR NO APPARENT REASON.

But there is one store that is always crowded with women of all ages, in every mall...Zara. Zara is a Spanish chain that brings out new, affordable clothes every week.  What a great concept!  There is just one tiny problem, however.  Since they order constantly, they do not order a lot of each piece.  Guess which size gets sold out first?  I'll give you a hint...it isn't XS, S, M, or even L.  It is XL.  You can find the most adorable shirt, at a price that is not crazy, but chances are, that XL is gone, baby, gone.

I actually went back to Zara three times today.  I am sure security was watching me.  I kept thinking that I was somehow missing the perfect shirt in XL.  I came home empty-handed.  The good thing is....there will be brand new XL's at Zara within a week!

Siente se, por favor...

The first time it happens, you think it's just a fluke.  You get on a crowded subway car and a man looks at you from his seat, stands, and says "siente se, por favor."  (please, be seated).  And you wonder...do I look really old or extremely exhausted?  But you take the seat, naturally  First of all, you WANT the seat, and secondly, it would be insulting to say no.  People are polite here.  They say good morning, good afternoon, good evening.  They ask how you are, and listen when you tell them.  They say please, thank you, enjoy your meal.  They ask your name, and tell you their names.  They shake your hand.

So, after a few weeks in this country, you are no longer surprised when a gentleman offers you his seat on the subway, or a bus.  You start to learn to say "con permisso" when you want to get in front of someone, or "passole" when you step aside to allow them to go ahead of you.  Sometimes, the narrow sidewalks become a little dance of politeness...passole...no usted passole....no usted....until finally one of you takes the plunge and goes ahead.

It is the same on the road. For such a huge, traffic-clogged city you rarely hear the blaring of a car horn.  Many of the busy streets have no traffic lights or even stop signs.  Being from New York, I imagined the streets would be chaotic, with accidents, beeping horns, swearing, and even fistfights.  Right before I came to Mexico, I was in the parking lot of my local drugstore.  A lot of cars were in line for the drive-through window.  One guy tried to get ahead of another.  Both men ended up screaming the most obscene words in the language, oblivious to me and the senior citizens I was with ( one using a walker).  The men actually got out of their cars to fight each other.  I called 911.  That kind of behavior is typical in the northeast of the United States.

Here in Mexico City, traffic moves a lot more slowly than it does on the parkways near New York City, but it moves.  People let each other merge into  the lane where traffic is moving.  Police officers stop traffic so that one person can cross the street.  "Gracias," I always tell them.  "De nada...." they reply..."it's nothing..."  But, to me, it's a lot.

The wheels on the bus go round and round....

I received an e-mail asking if I wanted to go on a bus trip on a Saturday.  Ken would be studying and the two destinations sounded interesting....one was a butterfly sanctuary (monarch butterflies come down here to Mexico yearly from Canada....), and the other was a city on the edge of a lake called "Valle de Bravo", often described as the "Switzerland of Mexico".

I wanted to meet people.  I love bus rides in Mexico.  As they say here,"porque no?"

Being 100% American, I arrived very early.  There was another Type A American woman  already waiting, so we had coffee together.  We both seemed to have similar goals here in Mexico.....doing less, expecting less of ourselves, relaxing from years of job pressure or self-imposed pressure.

The group began to gather and people got on the bus. Being Mexico, everyone introduced themselves.  We were from about ten different countries.  I immediately made a friend, a Mexican woman named Nancy.  She spoke much better English than I spoke Spanish, but we were both interested in improving our language skills.  We sat together and shared cookies.  I liked Nancy right away....she had a big, beautiful smile....she laughed at my feeble jokes....she loved to talk...and she loved cookies.  

The bus didn't leave on schedule.  This is called "Mexican Time".  The group leader said we were waiting for a family.  That's the way it is here.  And when the family came aboard, no one grumbled or looked at his watch.  Everyone called "hola!" and the bus got underway.  It seemed great for a while.  And when we pulled up in front of our first destination, I was filled with energy and ready to see butterflies.  Except...it wasn't our destination.  Directions were asked for and received and we were told we would be at the butterfly place in twenty minutes...."mas o menos"....(more or less....).

We somehow ended up at our second destination instead of the butterfly place....more directions...more confusion...and we were off again....and again....the road was hilly and very twisty.  After a very long time, we had to stop for traffic.  The road was FILLED with butterflies!  I had never seen anything like this.  The sky was cobalt blue, and the monarch yellow and orange bodies looked so pretty against that background.  Nancy and I got out of the bus and walked in butterfly lane, snapping pictures.  I loved this!

But....we weren't yet AT the butterfly sanctuary.  We finally arrived and broke into two groups.  We started up the path to see the butterflies.  Up, up, up, up....I am at an altitude here in Mexico that my body is not yet used to....and I have never been in good shape...up, up, up....the path is filthy...dust fills my lungs....and finally, I can't move.  My legs are cramping and my lungs are on fire.  I sit down.  The group leader comes and sits with me.  I try to explain to him that it only makes me feel worse to have him waiting with me.  He urges me on.  I try, oh how I try.  But in the back of my mind is the promise I made to myself when I came to this country.  I would NOT push myself too hard.  I would NOT try to succeed, the way I have been trying my entire life.  I would do what felt good.  I would stop punishing myself.  I firmly told the group leader that I was heading down.  And I did.

While I was waiting for the group, I sat on the bus with some of the Mexican women around my age who had wisely opted not to even try the hill.  When Nancy and the others returned, they shared their photos with me.  So, I feel as if I did see that butterfly sanctuary after all.

The bus now brought us to our second stop...hours late.  I told Nancy that as much as I wanted to explore the town, I was thirsty and hungry and just wanted to have a nice, relaxing very late lunch.  Nancy and an interesting guy from Canada and I found a lakeside table at a beautiful restaurant on a floating dock.  We talked, laughed, ate, drank....we simply enjoyed the day and the company.

On the way back, Nancy and I dozed and talked and told each other how nice it was to have met.  I hope to see her, and some of the other people from the trip, again.  We were late getting back, because the driver let anyone off where they wanted.

I thought about how the trip would have gone over in the U.S.  I can, sadly, imagine people asking for their money back or writing nasty comments.  But here in Mexico, it is understood that people try to do their best.  No one is perfect, and no one is expected to be.  At the lakeside, we all posed for a picture.  We smiled, put our arms around each other and said "cheese" in ten languages.  We were a happy group who had a nice day together.  And, really, wasn't that the whole point?

A blond walks into a restaurant....

It all started when I walked into Meli Melo, a restaurant that is part of a cultural and arts center in Coyoacan,  Mexico City.  I went to sit down and order breakfast when a woman began to speak to me in Spanish.  I smiled and let her know that "no hablo espanol", but she would not be deterred.  She led me to another, larger table, filled with Mexican women around my age.  She gestured to me and spoke to one of the women.  

"So you want to take dancing with us," the second woman said in English.

"Oh, no," I replied.  "I just want to have breakfast here."

"What a shame.  Martita thought you were interested in our dancing class."  She spoke rapidly in Spanish to the other women, explaining that no, I didn't want to come and dance with them.  They all looked disappointed.  

"Well, sit down anyway, and have your breakfast with us," the woman said, and all of the other women agreed, nodding, and gesturing to chairs near them.

What could I do?  I sat down.  They wanted to know my name, where I lived, where I was from, how long I had been in Mexico, why I was here, and of course, if I liked their country.

In my terrible Spanish, I attempted to answer....I had been in Mexico for about three weeks, I lived in Coyoacan,  I was currently retired but intended to work again, my husband was studying economics at ITAM, a Mexican University, I was from New York, but not New York City, and I loved, loved, loved Mexico.  And oh yes, my name was Jo Anne, a name that doesn't exist in Mexico.

And then every single woman began to speak...some in English, some in Spanish, many in both languages.  They wanted me to know how happy they were that I loved their country, they wanted me to at least TRY the dance class...it was fun...and they didn't worry about the steps, they just did it for exercise....yes, I could wear sneakers....the first class would be free anyway, why not try it?  The class was two mornings a week, Monday and Wednesday, 9:30 to 11:00.  They hoped to see me.  And was my name really "Jo"?  

I was overwhelmed and couldn't think of any Spanish...or even English!  I explained that I had to have breakfast and study my Spanish, but really, I just didn't want to bother this happy group.  I felt that if I sat with them, the one woman would be forced to translate and people would stop having so much fun.  So, I had breakfast at a nearby table and watched them...laughing, gesturing, telling stories, talking on their cell phones, drinking coffee, eating pastries.  

When they finally got up to leave, they each came and kissed me!  "Goodbye, Jo," each of them said, kissing my cheek.  The woman who spoke the best English urged me, again, to come to dancing the next time.

And that's how I ended up in a Latin Rhythm dance class in a gorgeous old house in the middle of a lush garden across from a very old church in the beautiful Mexico City neighborhood called "Coyoacan", where Frida Kahlo once lived. That is just what Mexico does to you.  It reaches out and grabs you.  It lets you know that you are welcome.  That you don't have to be perfect, you just have to want to enjoy yourself.  That there are people just waiting to become friends.  And it always leaves you with a kiss.