On my first day walking through the city I was approached by an old beggar. His countenance was sturdy, a cathedral spire moving through the crowd. His face dark with deep crevasses etched from acid. When I handed him a few pesos he conferred the blessing of some patron saint on me. I have no doubt I got the better end of that deal. It is difficult to summarize a city. The streets are old. The paint is new. In the old town windows in the foot thick walls are either few and far between or on the second floor. Considering stories Ive heard of entire families that eventually gunned each other down I can understand how bullet proof walls are more important than sunlight. Ive heard Mexico has a family oriented culture. Carlos and his family own a smoothie shop and a sign making shop next door to the language school where I work. When I asked him how he was doing he hitched his thumbs in his suspenders, pumped up his chest and said, If my family is well, I am well. He proceeded to introduce me to various sons and daughters. His grandchildren were evident running under foot, through the small spaces and emptiness. When I pointed to Carl, my employer, and told Carlos he was mi jefe, Carlos quickly retorted, There are no bosses. We all work together. One only has work and wealth because the other does.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Jul 2014 03:11:53 +0000