Snapshot in the City

This is more of a composite visual tool which helped me to get to grips with the contrasts preponderant in the country, and the general way of life in the capital of this country which I am yet to uncover in its vastness. Picture this: after a 9 to 5 day at the British Council headquarters in the city, a small group of us Brits headed out into the city, in search of Diego Rivera murals and some Mexican air (as opposed to the imported British air in the Council offices). We walked down 3 different roads, and on each road I saw something which I’d never seen before. On the paved road between Cinco de Mayo and Tacuba we came across a live band blasting out Latino tunes at a reasonable volume, their music demonstrating oomph and a genuine musical flair. However, they appeared to be a group of adults with severe learning difficulties, all looking surprisingly uninterested and vacant. But the music spoke otherwise. And the 10 or so older Mexican coupled dancing away beside them, taking it in turns to whirl and salsa, or stand arm in arm chatting away in couply bliss were proof of the Mexican gift for making noise and dancing, at any given opportunity.

On Calle Cinco de Mayo, heading from the main Square to the Palacio de Bellas Artes, all I could see for miles around were ‘taquerias’, taco restaurants, or rather old-fashioned fast-food outlets. Tacos for 4 pesos (25p), exotic-sounding fillings, and locals spilling out of the restaurants like overflowing guacamole were all good signs, and I soon learnt that what we think of as tacos – Old El paso hard shells to be filled with spicy meat and veg – is a far cry from a real Mexican taco, which is soft, and either small and flat, or slightly bigger and folded in half. In either form they’re delicious and could stamp on Mr Old El Paso and his garish stereotypical packaging any day.

Last but not least, my favourite sight of all. On the main Xocalo, between the Palacio Nacional and the cathedral, a train of about 5 imposing police trucks lined the street, and the Policio Federal officers, some in the backs of the open trucks, some leaning against the walls of the arcaded buildings, all in full riot gear, were sipping coke, chatting about football and eating tacos. I’m pretty sure that if I had walked past smoking a joint or spitting on a Mexican flag they would have changed gear pretty quickly. But, as I was only taking pictures of the pretty flags, all 30 or so of these ‘don’t mess with me beefies’ carried on sucking through straws and wiping their mouths as they compared suggestions for improving the national team.

A quick stroll around the centre and I have a taste of things to come in this country of contrasts.