Where D.F. Am I?

I'm sure you all will be happy to hear that I'm feeling much better and I might have actually adjusted to my new settings here in the D.F. For all you monolinguists (squares), Mexico City is not located in any of the 31 United Mexican States, but is a Federal District, which in Spanish is Distrito Federal, or D.F. So it's a lot like D.C., except they have representation and a lot more Mexicans.

I’m going to start this blog on last Thursday, right after I watched LeBron tell the people of Cleveland that God, his mother, and Chris Bosh all hate them. After streaming the self-indulgent spectacle from the Internet, Bryant’s Myth and I decided to take our talents to the restaurant down the street, Villa Maria. As soon as I looked at the menu and saw that they used El Jimador tequila for all their margaritas I knew we were in for a grade-A, fine dining experience. Right as usual, we enjoyed steak in a tequila-cilantro sauce as the waiter showed me different customs of drinking tequila and mezcal, which included sangrita, oranges, and worm salt. From what I understand, worm salt is fried larvae ground with chili peppers and salt. That part was kinda weird. The meal was capped off by a mariachi band performing while the waiters set off fireworks indoors. At least that’s what we thought was happening until we ran over to see they were just whistling and clapping menus together.

On Friday we told Alfredo he could have the evening off and we went out right after work with the other two interns, both Mexican, who we just found out are 29 and 31. I sure hope I’m not interning at that age. Despite their ages, everyone still managed to have a pretty good time bar hopping. The music, people, and jokes were all on point (all key), but the highlight of the night was definitely the late-night tacos. In Mexico they don’t frick around with that Taco Bell, fourth meal buuulspit, they’ve got the real deal. And cheap too. The late-night taco places have a fun atmosphere with the cooks out in the open, grilling like crazy, the waiters hustling around, Frisbee-ing plates onto tables, and the constant chatter of drunk people buzzing about the room. We all ate our fill, and then went back for seconds before piling into one of the intern’s cars to head home. On the way home we experienced our first Mexican DUI (DÚI) checkpoint, but because 31-year-olds don’t get DUIs we passed through without a problem.

Saturday we woke up kinda late and a little lazy so we decided to take the metro to Chapultepec Park, even though it’s pretty close to our hotel/apartment. From there we climbed up Chapultepec Hill to Chapultepec Castle. Though having nothing to do with my boy Moctezuma, the castle contains the “Halls of Moctezuma” referred to in the Marine Corps Hymn. Another interesting fact that I’ve just read off Wikipedia, is that the castle was used as one of the main sets in Leo’s version of Romeo and Juliet. So there you go, there’s your excuse to rent it. It also gives you an excuse to watch this video. I enjoyed strolling around the castle and my favorite part was the garden on the roof. Not only are there beautiful views of the city, but there is a perfectly manicured lawn and hedges that would be perfect for games of boy, waffle ball, and many other activities.

After the castle we strolled through the park, bought some souvenirs (I’ve got a feeling you’ll see them in a future post), and made our way to Mexico City’s world class National Museum of Anthropology. Since we had to get back with enough time to eat, shower, change, and get drunk, we only had two hours to spend in the museum. Once we entered, it was instantly apparent that two hours would not suffice and we would have to return. Not only because we only made it through about one-and-a-half rooms, but because the thing I was most excited to see was inexplicably missing. I was already excited about seeing an Aztec statue of their god, Xochipilli, the god of music, song, flowers, love, games, and basically anything cool, but then I saw this plaque:

Fate. Unfortunately, this is what the statue looked like:

So, we have to go back.

The night before, we made plans with Alejandra, one of the other interns (31), to go see her friend’s band play at this club. She picked us up introduced us to some of the band members as we were waiting in line to get in. We really didn’t know what we were getting into, but I’m so glad we went. The beers were cheap (about $1.50), the girls were easy (es más fácil ganar en México), and the music was really good and so much fun. We spent the evening laughing and drinking and smoking and singing. And dancing. Oh did we dance. There were about biz bands and my favorite was the band we met and were there to see, La Floridita, and they also delivered my favorite moment. The rain was pouring down outside and you could hear it on the roof of the tiny club, while we were inside dancing with a bunch of Mexicans, listening to these young people sing about the current situation in their country, about how times may be hard and a lot of bad things are going on, but they’re not going to give up. I thought it was really cool and it felt really real, not at all touristy. And I loved it. I also loved the last band, which featured the Mexican Justin Bieber on accordion and lead vocals. It was a close second. After the show we hung out in the club for awhile while Bryant’s Myth talked to a group of ugly girls and I entertained a lovely, albeit Humbie-sized, lady while her friend desperately tried to find out what MJB was doing after the show.

To end the night we once again piled into Alejandra’s car and started home. Unfortunately, we saw that cherry flashin’ his high beams and ran into our second DUI checkpoint in as many nights. I can tell you from experience that they have more important things to worry about. Anyway, this time Alejandra looked younger or something so they made her step out of the car and blow, which of course turned out fine because I don’t get in cars with drunk drivers of any age (not even Clare), but we were all nervous anyway. It’s a joke, Mom. Minor incident aside, everyone made it home safe and sound.

For some reason on Sunday I woke up a 9 am. For some reason on Sunday we didn’t leave the hotel/apartment until 1 pm to watch the 1:30 pm World Cup Final that we were so pumped for. …I don’t know. I had picked out a sweet cantina to watch the game in where we could root on the only other country we could ever call home, but, of course, by the time we got there it was already packed so we had to find somewhere else. We found it right across the street in a Burger King. Though it wasn’t what I envisioned when I knew I would be watching the World Cup Final in Mexico, this Burger King did have flat screen HDTVs, comfy leather chairs, and a dessert bar, so I’m not complaining. As you all know, Spain won and we didn’t look like fools walking around for the rest of the day in our Spanish gear. Multiple people actually mistook us for Spanish that day.

After the game we went to the Palacio de Bellas Artes museum, where we saw an exhibit on the Belgian surrealist painter, René Magritte. He’s the guy who painted that picture of the guy with the apple in front of his face. I actually really liked his work and enjoyed the exhibit. After the museum we continued wandering around the historic center and eventually stumbled on this guy:

As sit now, remembering the weekend, I seriously can’t help but wonder how I got here and where I’m going to go. The Magritte exhibit ended Sunday night, but this whole experience has been surreal.

Besitos,

Jim