Intersections

Pulque in Oaxaca

This is only to report that we recently found pulque in Oaxaca de Juarez, the capital of the Oaxaca, a nation unto its own, which happens to exist within the republic of Mexico (1810-2010).

On the Sunday of pre-Guelaguetza festivities we came upon a stand deep in the Central de Abastos where working men came for a shot of mezcal or a glass of pulque or tepache. It was -- I am happy to report for a land known more for its mezcal than any other libation -- refreshing, crisp, and intoxicating. Plain white it was, sin curado, as pure as can be. Two glasses, please.

I made the error of not purchasing a to-go bottle.

* Much more later.

Guerrero and Mosqueta

After a couple hours at El Chopo -- and a couple of liters of pulque -- we went east on Mosqueta till we hit Guerrero, above the metro Guerrero transfer station. Then we had to take a rest on the sidewalk, right in front of a Michoacana.

It's Saturday, 22 May 2010. And yup, it's still hot.

Heading down Guerrero, we met a friend walking an awfully friendly pit bull (pulque spilled on the jeans, teeth marks on the forearm) and some curious kids sniffing mona in front of the Panteon de San Fernando. In all, a good day.

At Chopo I got my copy of "Ciudad Rap," a collection of interviews with Mexican MCs. The MySpace page lists locations selling the independently published book, by Alan R. Ramirez.

* Stay tuned for updates on the upcoming Postópolis DF,  and a piece I'll have out soon in a new media outlet in Los Angeles.

On Earth Day, turning 40, and San Diego

Above, San Diegans watching a group of samba dancers perform before a set by a legend of dub, U.K.'s Mad Professor, at the World Beat Center stage at Earth Day in San Diego. The faces you see are a cross-section of this city's true identity, multicultural and mellow.

It is Sunday, April 18, and we are just below the flight path for jets landing at San Diego International Airport.

Here's the bill for the day's performers at the World Beat stage. Earth Day, held one Sunday every April in San Diego's vast and lush Balboa Park, is described as the largest free environmental event in the United States.

The Union-Tribune says 70,000 people attended the festival, which is officially named EarthFair. (70,000 is about the same amount of people who go to Coachella in a day.) Here's a U-T piece charting Earth Day's 40-year history, with roots I was unaware of: student activism at UC San Diego in 1970. "Earth Day ... has evolved into a more centrist and commercialized event but retains the core element of creating awareness about ecological problems," writes Mike Lee.

The food vendors are always a major draw. This year we had Jamaican patties and a plate of Filipino pancit, lumpia, and rice, and from the Centro Cultural de la Raza, aguas frescas and Oaxacan tamales. I have memories of attending this event since I was little, and I always run into old faces from high school when I drop by now. No difference this year.

A few more photos here, here, here, and here. Yes, it is "played out" in some ways, but Earth Day serves as a good marker for the outside world to re-calibrate its assumptions about diverse and sunny San Diego. In other words, stereotypes related to malls, military bases, and Republicans won't cut it anymore.

* NOTED: First Lady Michelle Obama visited San Diego on Thursday, stopping by after her visit to Mexico City. Mrs. Obama checked out a community garden in City Heights, San Diego's traditional arrival point for new immigrants, and my local hood.

Beers of the world, with quesadillas

Calle Regina, a newly repaved pedestrian street on the south end of the Centro Histórico of Mexico City, is hip. Now, I haven't been to any of those places cited there, but I did have an unexpected Shangri-La moment on Regina while cutting through on business the other day.

At Regina 43, El Black, not much more than a hole-in-the-wall, offers what just might be the best bottled beer selection in Mexico City. (Please correct me if I am wrong.) They pop open Guinness, Kirin, Duvel, Stella, Chimay, even Duff. They've got all the Mexican beers and good artisanal options like Malverde. There's no stylish design elements or moody music -- just a few shelves of sample beer bottles and plastic patio tables.

I spotted my favorite whenever-ale back in the U.S., Newcastle, and had to sit down, in awe. The standard Mexican lagers are good and all, but this how you end up reacting when on most days in Mexico your primary beer options are "clara" or "obscura."

Just inside the door at El Black, there's a quesadilla set-up. When I asked the ladies who hand-make the kekas about the almost unbelievable bottle selection -- "You really have all these beers in here?" -- they just shrugged and looked at me like, 'Are you going to have a beer and a quesadilla, or what?'

Blessed be, I will.

Wrath of the three-day weekend *

One of the great traditions in Mexico City -- "great" like Tax Day, "great" like Black Friday -- is running out of town for puente, a three-day weekend. Ingloriously, desperately, chilangos choke the highway exits from the basin on Friday or Saturday to crowd against one another -- just like in the city -- at the most predictable of getaway destinations: Cuernavaca, Valle de Bravo, Acapulco.

Consequently, going anywhere for puente (and no one seems to ever care what the specific holiday is) can be a hectic ordeal. But we went anyway, to Tepoztlán, to test our three-day weekend survival skills.

Covering Chile: A reporter's diary *

* Above, a view of Avenida 9 de Julio, central Buenos Aires, arriving.

I just spent eight hectic but exciting days in South America. The L.A. Times, where I just started a news assistant and blogging job in the Mexico City bureau, needed another reporter on the ground in the aftermath of the one the largest earthquakes in history. I raised my hand, and got sent.

How was it? Because I believe in transparency, and because all of this was new to me, here's a reporter's diary:

Day 1: The scramble to the South. After an unsuccessful Sunday trying to get a flight to South America, I ended up catching a March 1 morning Mexicana flight direct to Ezeiza, the airport in Buenos Aires. We arrived at 9 p.m. local time and myself and a fellow journalist friend from Reuters who was on my flight decided to share a cab into the center. I'd have one night of rest before trying to get over the border into Chile the following morning. Still no flights direct to Santiago.

Before arriving, a friend from Argentina recommended a neighborhood to check out if I had one night in her city, San Telmo. So me and my Reuters friend did a bit of work then went hunting for dinner at almost 1 a.m. We found an old-school cafe still open, and wolfed down fresh lomo, a salad, and two Argentine beers a piece.

Skull rack on the ceiling

Above, a view of a very life-like (the puns write themselves) tzompantli on the ceiling of Las Duelistas, my neighborhood pulquería. The artist, who is always just ... hanging around, applied skulls and one human-looking face in relief above his painted ones.

The entire pulquería is frescoed in this fashion. It's really a sight to see, and it looks like lately, more and more are coming to check it out. Randomly last Friday on my regular stop-in, I noticed a few wandering gringos in for a fresh curado. The joint was packed, loud, and smelly -- just as it should be.

Las Duelistas, by the way, has a Twitter feed. * Previously, "Pulqueria love."

Beef consomé

Late late night -- nearly morning -- on a marginally central corner of Oaxaca de Juarez, a food stand sent straight from heaven above. It's beef tacos but only as an excuse to offer beef consomé, as seen in the lower right of the image. Savory, spicy, hot, perfect for a rainy night on unfamiliar streets.

* Taken at some point on the morning of Saturday, Jan. 30. I'll be posting more images from Oaxaca, where I spent the weekend on assignment, later this week.

'Tijuana para los de Tijuana'

Above, the spinach and strawberry salad, with iced cafe de la olla on the left, at Cielo, a mellow and crisply designed little restaurant in downtown Tijuana, on Calle 11. I met up last week with my friend Acido Espumo a.k.a. Wonka, a Tijuana native, to check out a bit of the "Tijuana para los de Tijuana" scene, or, 'TJ for TJ people.' This is where we landed for lunch.

Cielo is part of the "hip new Tijuana" phenomenon that sprung up with the worldwide recognition of Nortec Collective and other Tijuana musicians, artists, and writers who have been redefining the city since the early 2000s. After lunch here -- finishing with a nice chicken breast and a potato mash, and a lemony cold desert -- we checked out some of the bars on Calle 6, headed by the newest hot spot, La Mezcalera, and the old stand-by, El Dandy del Sur.

It was too early to party, though, and, sadly, Tijuana felt deadened by its current state of terrifying internal warfare. So after a few beers, Wonka drove me back to la linea.

Crossing north by foot at the busiest international border in the world is always a head-trip. It's almost anti-climactic when there aren't a lot of pedestrians. Sometimes the U.S. customs agents can tell if you've done this, oh, a few hundred times in your life, and they just wave you through. You stick any bag through a scanner, pass through a door, and, 'Welcome to America.'

Here I do not have a car or a cell phone. So from the San Diego Trolley terminus I walked about two miles to my mom's house in San Ysidro, getting completely lost along the way. Hybridity is tiring.

* Looking at my archives, I've posted so much about TJ over the years. Here are some hits: "ERRE pulls out of Tijuana retrospective," "Mapping the bloodshed in Tijuana," "Tijuana nights," "End nears for binational border gatherings," "Leaving Tijuana: Everyone is doing it," "'Literally Hell': The deadly prison riots in Tijuana," "Wednesday night cantina-hopping in Tijuana."

** Tijuas, amor para siempre.

New Year's excursion to Baja

Above, the view from the Mirador look-out on the highway between Ensenada and Tijuana, New Year's Day, 2010. (That's my dad's shoulder.) The shapes seen floating in the coastal waters are fishing nets. We used to stop here so often when we were little and heading south to visit cousins. The Mirador site is now run-down and abandoned. Click on the image for a larger view.

And here's for a view of the old car wrecks at the bottom of the cliff below, artifacts from the time when inattentive drivers on the Camino Viejo would just coast off the sharp road, to their deaths -- at least according to the local lore.

Here's a pulpo and ceviche tostada at a Navolato stand in downtown Ensenada, steps from the harbor. As many of you already well know, Baja mariscos are their own amazing thing. But how is the over-all situation in north Baja right now? I'll be discussing current "security" issues and urbanisms in a later post.

* MORE: See Across the Border for a post about a trip down a good length of the Baja Peninsula, a definite to-do for this and any other self-respecting pocho with a sense of adventure.

Ice cream on Madero

Above, Ashland Mines, aka Total Freedom, and Daniel and Asma of NGUZUNGUZU, having a 10-peso ice cream cone on Madero in the Centro Histórico of Mexico City.

The three were in town to play at the opening party for Animal, a new magazine by the Habita hotel group. Over at The Fader, you can download a recent mix of theirs. Have a good holiday break, everyone!

* Previously, "Christmas in Mexico City: 'Are we in Disneyland?'"

A taco's taco in Polanco

Let's say it's half till 5 -- in the morning -- and you're wandering the streets of swanky Polanco with four friends, because you'd rather walk where you're going than pay an outrageously expensive Polanco cab rate. You're desperately hungry. And not rich.

Ultimate nightmare scenario?

On a corner of Presidente Masaryk, considered the wealthiest commercial real estate strip in Latin America, the gods provide. It is a taco stand operating from the back of a parked van, complete with a gas-powered grill -- as paisa as you can get. The sidewalk is packed with Polanco people rummaging for food after a night in any old antro charging thousand-peso bottle service.

What's going on here? "Mari, Mari," the regulars call to the woman taking orders and collecting coins.

You wander close, inspecting with your nose. Mari and her grill workers are offering not only a good mix of meats -- bistek, suadero -- but a full selection of D.F.-style taco fixings. Beans, cactus, potatoes, radishes, several kinds of salsas. You're rubbing your eyes, unable to believe it. They even have Lulu soda pop.

Saved by the taco, and the lesson bears repeating: Never judge a neighborhood by its cover.

Hello Monday, hello Mexico

I know I said I'd be shutting off for the month of October to finish up the manuscript. Change of plans. I'll be checking in once a week from now on, on either Sundays or Mondays, for the sake of keeping the page fresh. In addition, I'll still be posting at The Faster Times Mexico page, but also only sporadically until the main project is finished. Thanks for bearing with me.

Busy, busy, busier than ever. I'm working on an exciting new multimedia project, similar in some respects to this. I can't wait to tell you more once the first phase is completed.

The writing is coming along, bit by bit. It's back to work now.

P.S. For my desk snacks tonight, readers may appreciate being informed that I'm having Oaxacan peanuts (salted, mixed with chunks of roasted garlic and red chiles), Oaxacan grasshoppers al mojo de ajo, and a Oaxacan manchego cheese made with chile rajas and epazote. Bought it all today for very cheap from a vendor two blocks from my door.

I've also really been getting into sidewalk tlacoyos lately, but more on that later ... Eating in Mexico, consistently a source of refreshing pleasure.

* Photo above, your blogger on a footpath in a protected forest near Ahuatepec, a community between Cuernavaca and Tepoztlan, Morelos, Sunday, 4 October 2009.

Sampling the 'good Chinese place' in D.F.

It's virtually becoming a writerly rite of passage in Mexico City: Finding and dining at the mythical "good Chinese place" in the vicinity of metro Viaducto. Author David Lida first discovered Ka Won Seng, thanks to a tip from a cabbie. "It took years," Lida writes, "but I finally found an excellent Chinese restaurant in Mexico City."

Food writer Nicholas Gilman then took on the case for Inside Mexico, citing Lida's tip. Afterwards, The Mexile went down to verify the news for himself. Yes, beautiful shrimp, tofu and duck dishes could be had there, without a single "café chino" menu item in sight. No chopsticks either, just the home-style spoon-and-fork.

The other night we made it to Ka Won Seng with a crew working in the journalismisms, for a friend's birthday. Plate after plate came our way, each perfectly executed, leaving the table's spinning center pushed and yanked the entire night. I got especially down with a soup of beef and algae. Washed it all down with a few Tsingtao.

It reminded me of the good Chinese I've had in San Francisco and Los Angeles. Now, there might be another place somewhere in the endless concrete jungle of D.F. that matches Ka Won Seng's caliber. Until someone finds it, this is we're we'll go to satisfy the craving.

Eating bunny rabbit

This is me smooching with the last bit of my lunch last Saturday, a crispy bunny head, enchilada. Don't worry, I didn't ingest the tiny toasted brain, eyes or head meat. I did have plenty of meat from its other parts, though. It was succulent, tasty, and tender. Delicioso.

That day we piled into a little hatchback and headed to the far southeast of the Estado de México, in the verdant chilly hills under the volcanoes. There, farms produce the base livestock for the local speciality, guisados de conejo. We shared two whole rabbits enchilado and al pastor, and accompanied them with carnitas and beef marrow soup. Washed it all down with fresh pulque. Mmmmm.

An un-heralded delicacy in the pantheon of Mexican cuisine, rabbit is still big enough to get its own Feria de Conejo, in Xochimilco. Outside the road-side restaurant in San Andres Metla last weekend, vendors sold bunny feet, hides, and scarves. And hopping furry little live ones, too, if that's your thing or whatever.

The tortilla wars: A creation myth

Ever wonder if there's a back-story to the practice in some U.S. Mexican restaurants to offer patrons, "Corn or flour?" Via LA Eastside, here's a mini-movie directed by media artist Esteban Zul that offers us a satisfying mythology over the always fruitful tortilla wars. Wait for when the "reclusive brujo" chants "Tecate! Tecate! Modelo! Sapporo! Asahi! Tecate! Tecate! Con limon!"

Zul co-hosts The Pocho Hour of Power on KPFK with Lalo Alcaraz. Their crew brings its comedy live for shows at the Steve Allen Theater.

Graduation day in San Ysidro

Six hours after leaving the bustle and midday heat of the center of Mexico City, with three hours of soaring through the high blue atmosphere above Mexico, I found myself on the bleachers of Cougar Stadium at the very new San Ysidro High School, facing a breathtaking sight.

The wide golden Pacific on the horizon in front of us, the crumpled beauty of Tijuana to the south, that red sunset, everything in view for hundreds of cheering friends and relatives. Representing: TJ people, South Bay people, Pinoy San Diego, African American San Diego.

Sharp ocean breezes.

A cousin I haven't seen since he was a kid was graduating. I was given video-camera duty. Wild hollers, noise-blowers. The principal talked tough, and people listened. But the families ignored pleas to stay in their seats during the recessional, rushing out to meet their graduates at the gates. There were photos to take.

By nightfall, tables were hard to come by at all the South Bay franchises of Hometown Buffet.

Airwaves: 'A great flight'

What a great idea! Rent an enormous mansion in the Pedregal, a region of Mexico City featuring many enormous mansions, get some DJs, some lights, lots of alcohol, invite people, and throw a party. They called it Airwaves. Yay!

It happened Saturday night, a damp, chilly night. Tickets were made to look impressively like airline boarding passes. Arturo and Lili of Elaboratorio worked the door. "Welcome aboard, have a great flight," said the 'stewardess' standing next to a cardboard 'metal detector.' A few of the Imeca selectors DJ'd: Chuck Pereda, Damian Romero, Puma, along with some Zoe and Molotov associates.

The complex was ... huge.

A healthy mix of the scenesters, models, "nice girls," fashion kids, and Televisa weirdos faithfully partied it up. The music was good, the mood was right, and there was free booze scheduled between 9 p.m. and 9 a.m. the next day. In my estimation, though, it ran dry by 3.

So we went for some Chupas. At 5 in the morning, the stand in Coyoacan was just packed with kids, and someone was playing house from somewhere, so people were dancing. Eating and dancing, dancing and eating.

It's Tokyo

What is a common Mexican euphemism for the farthest, most alien place you can imagine? For a place you've never seen, a source of both unease and infatuation? Carlos Reygadas, in a stroke of genius, is well familiarized with it. From my working manuscript:

The basic obsession that binds them all is the fixation with personal appearance, with costumes and masks, with communicating a culture through their dress. On the surface at least, the tribal scene here is so intense sometimes it can feel like walking in parts of this city must be like walking among the fashion-obsessed Harajuku youth of Tokyo.

That would be Japan's El Chopo. So ... are we almost there?

* Above, between red wine and atole with fashion designer Denise Marchebout, Thursday night, May 14, downtown Mexico City.

The pig conglomerate vs. the villagers

* Above, Waiting to be slaughtered in Veracruz, AP photo via Daylife.

We posted previously about the gross conditions at the Smithfield subsidiary hog farm in the Perote Valley in the state of Veracruz. (Watch this Channel 4 video for the rotting pig carcasses.) On Sunday the Washington Post's Steve Fainaru went long on the ongoing war Grangas Carroll has waged with the old men and women of La Gloria, the village that decided to stand up to the pork plantation.

The paper says La Gloria villagers blocked a highway to protest the awful and potentially dangerous stench that emanates from the farm's football field-sized, open-air fecal pools. And what did the U.S.-based conglomerate's local arm do to its neighbors? It took the old folks to court:

Closing roads and highways is one of the most common forms of protest in Mexico. "Normally, the police arrive and they enter into a negotiation to open up the highway. It usually takes an hour or two," said Franco, the Perote mayor. "But Granjas Carroll, as a company, went to the authorities."

[...]

A month after the demonstrations, around 10 a.m., Guadelupe Serrano heard a knock at his door. He was greeted by a man in civilian clothes and three federal policemen, he said, and was told that he had been charged with launching an "attack" on a federal highway. He was taken first to Jalapa, the Veracruz state capital, then to Puebla, where he was jailed overnight before his family bailed him out, he said.

Serrano, 66, has short gray hair and weathered skin from a lifetime in the fields. "I didn't kill anyone. I didn't rob anyone. I'm not a drug trafficker," he said during an interview in his living room. "We simply raised the voice of alarm that these pig facilities are contaminating our environment and threatening the health of the people."

Read the whole thing there. At La Jornada, here is a crónica narrating the scene in La Gloria under the eye of the international news media.

Meanwhile, Larry Rohter of the NYT argues convincingly in the first-person for more credit for the Mexican government's response to the swine flu outbreak, particularly in comparison to China's response to SARS in 2003. But in a quote, Denise Dresser warns us against getting too cozy with the idea that Mexico is suddenly a mature democracy out of the shadows of the PRI autocracy:

What you've created is a perverse system of oligopolistic elites with vested interests and a willingness to use their veto power to prevent the changes that are needed but which they don't want.

Dresser is referring to Mexico's politicians and moguls, of course. Yet I couldn't help thinking that in the country's new-world bilateral relationship with the U.S., she might just as well be referring to companies like Smithfield, Inc.

Dispatches on the swine flu

Two of the most prominent chroniclers of Mexican society in English had dispatches this past week on the swine flu outbreak in the capital. Author Alma Guillermoprieto did a "Talk of the Town" for The New Yorker:

"We don't see anyone," a very pregnant friend complained. "We're all afraid of contagion." In the days since the news of the epidemic broke, she had caught up on all her work, paid the bills, changed the haircut of her toddler daughter—whose kindergarten has also been closed down—and was about to take some photographs of her own belly. There's a small park outside her building, but, like all the other mothers, she was afraid to use it. "Am I bored?" she exclaimed. "Muchísimo! I imagine people all over the city locked up in their apartments, staring into the mirror, plucking their eyebrows down to nothing."

Author David Lida contributed a mask and cantina vignette for The New York Times op-ed page:

With no success in the pharmacies, I did what I usually do in moments of frustration and anxiety: I went to a cantina. Many were closed, but one called El Jarrito, which could be flatteringly described as a dive, remained open. The waitresses, short and squat, encased in tight skirts and suffocating beige hose, circulated among the customers. The woman who served me a drink lowered her mask to flash me a crooked-toothed smile. Customers laughed, argued, played dominoes and lowered their masks to drink or eat.

Things are thankfully getting back to normal. Today, restaurants and cafes reopen. On Monday, schools are back in session. * Illustration above by Anthony Russo for the NYT, where there's also a really good video up on the homepage right now from the streets of D.F.

** NOTE: Still doing low-impact blogging till further notice.

Escaping D.F. and the swine flu blues *

* Above, bored of the swine flu, atop the Torre Latinoamericana.

First off, links to my radio work today on the swine flu story:

Here's my commentary on NPR. Here's my feature story for Free Speech Radio News, a grassroots network with correspondents around the world. I also spoke with Benjamin Walker at WFMU in the New York-New Jersey area on the swine epidemic in Mexico, and have more call-ins scheduled later.

Now it's time for a breather. Because it basically feels like the whole world needs one right now, even if that earthquake that randomly struck Mexico City today seemed to have been some kind of cruel cosmic joke.

On Monday authorities here canceled school across the country and elevated the number of suspected swine flu fatalities to 149. The 'suspected' there is important. Keep in mind Mexico is not yet equipped to test for and identify the virus. The number could rise, or just as well, it could fall. Also, more than 1,600 people have been treated for swine flu, but the majority of those have been released and sent home. So even if you do catch swine flu, it's more likely you'd recover and live than it is that you'd die from it.

Also, in case you were wondering, it is still perfectly OK to eat pork. (I mean if that's your thing.)

** Monday evening update: Wanted to quickly point out this relevant piece just moved by the AP. Just as some of us expected, the Mexican government response to the swine flu outbreak has so far been deplorable:

In the town of Xonacatlan, just west of Mexico City, Antonia Cortes Borbolla told The Associated Press that nobody has given her medicine in the week since her husband succumbed to raging fever and weakened lungs that a lab has confirmed as swine flu.

No health workers have inspected her home, asked how her husband might have contracted the illness or tested the neighbors' pigs, she said.

[skip]

Elias Camacho, a 31-year-old truck driver with fever, cough and body aches, was ordered out of a government ambulance Sunday because paramedics complained he might be contagious, his father-in-law told the AP. When family members took him to a hospital in a taxi, Jorge Martinez Cruz said, a doctor told him he wasn't sick.

Camacho was finally admitted to the hospital — and placed in an area marked "restricted" — after a doctor at a private clinic notified state health authorities, Martinez said.

We should be seeing more of these stories emerge in the coming days. **

Yes, the swine flu could mutate and become more dangerous. It could spread farther and further. Things could change at any moment. But again, as I argue today, what's more worrisome is the corrosive and contagious quality of the fear, not the flu. And frankly the economic impact of this outbreak has the potential to be even more painful and long-lasting for all of us.

Yet the panicky atmosphere in Mexico City is palpably toxic. So I'm heading out of town for a few days -- before they really do shut down the metro. School is canceled and most 'fun' things are closed. It's time to escape D.F. and the swine flu blues. Check back later for more.

** Photo above by Conrad Starr.

Arte en grande: The seventh interpretation at Jumex

The opening of "La nada y el ser" last night at the Jumex plant was a satisfying success. Shamim Momin's show looks solid, and naturally left some people hot and some people cold. Among the artists represented: Sam Durant, Gabriel Kuri, Alex Hubbard, Eduardo Abaroa, Terrence Koh, Miguel Calderón, Banks Violette, Marco Roundtree Cruz, Monica Bonvicini, Daniel Guzmán, Francis Alÿs, Felix González-Torres, Moris, Jim Hodges, Minerva Cuevas, Robert Smithson, and others.

Eugenio Lopez -- though he rarely makes an appearance in the main hall among the plebians -- is a consummate host. This opening's party set-up was more elegantly designed than previous ones, with extravagant flower arrangements and table service during dinner. People danced, and drank. A lot.

The whole Jumex experience is a dizzying reminder that contemporary art is all about big money, big names, big ideas, and big spending. But one must always keep in mind that the aesthetic is at its essence a flat principle: personally I spent a good deal of time last night mesmerized by this cosmic geometry table ornament.

* More later.

Twenty million people, and no water?

* Our only hope? Water delivery in Magdalena Contreras, D.F. Source.

Mexico City -- the second or third largest in the world, the eighth wealthiest, the mighty megalopolis -- is running out of water. No news in saying so, but right now the situation appears critical. Reserves of the city's largely imported water supplies from the Cutzamala plant are at their lowest in years. Hoping to prevent a larger disaster, for three days a month, the municipal water utility has decided to run the city's supply at 50% its normal flow. March 14 was the first time this measure was taken -- and from what I'm seeing and hearing, the water hasn't been back on yet.

That's 12 days of sporadic, low-pressure water at the tap for who knows how many millions of people. And no water -- none -- for perhaps millions more. That means dead toilets, no showers, panting plants. Some boroughs and specific neighborhoods have not been affected much (you can guess which), and others have been so severely (guess which again). All the info is there in the SACM news section. The Mija Chronicles is blogging it: "The honeymoon is over."

The city still has pipas, or trucks that distribute potable water, and the bottled, treated stuff, which is all we drink anyway. And the problem will never be as sexy as bloodshed and beheadings. But watch this video at El Universal. The reporter says that city and federal authorities have dire forecasts for Mexico City's water this year. "Drastic steps" may be in order, such as shutting off water entirely on the weekends.

Time to make some serious offerings to Tlaloc?

A women-only moment

* Lesbians on march, D.F., 2006. Via COMALa on Picasa.

We tried to go see Cuban female rappers Las Krudas at the Ex-Teresa on Wednesday night, but Gustavo and I were stopped at the door. No men allowed. Even feminist men, which we proclaimed ourselves to be. Friends visiting from L.A., Nefertiti and Ana, are among the hundreds of women in town for the XI Encuentro Feminista de Latinoamérica y del Caribe, and three of us tried to tag along to the nighttime cultural activity. Nuria went in. The other male and I didn't.

Initially, we felt a bit discriminated against. We went and waited it out over Black Label and tortilla at the rooftop bar of the Centro Cultural España, while some jazz trio played. When we caught up with the women after they saw Las Krudas, they were glowing, ecstatic to have experienced the energy, the "freedom" of a rare women-only social space, even temporarily. "We're discriminated against every day," we were told. "Now you know what it feels like."

The Kumbia Queers performed for the conference attendees on Thursday night. Same set-up, I'm told, no men -- except for the custodial boys. Today there is a feminist marcha in the Centro, and on Saturday, the 4th Marcha Lésbica will take place from the Zócalo to the Monumento de la Revolución. "Only women, no buses, no political parties," the marcha's site says.

* Here's a video of the one-and-only Astrid Hadad sharing her thoughts on womanhood this week at the conference. Check out the site for more info.

Sunday in Xochimilco

What if the Valley of Mexico was still dominated by water? What if the conquistadors had not emptied the Lago de Texcoco? What if, instead of Periféricos and Viaductos, waterways still provided Mexico City's primary arteries for transport? Would it look anything like the few canals that are left today in Xochimilco? You lean back on the lip of your trajinera, drinking and enjoying the company of family, and closing your eyes, you conjure a Tenochtitlán you never saw.

What would it look like today?

In a certain future, I picture chinampas growing on rooftops. Maize, legumes, herbs, succulents, feeding us from hanging gardens. I picture fresh water flowing again from the old aqueduct. I picture clear vistas every single day, as far away as the volcanoes. I picture cruising home on Eje Central not in a bus or bocho, but on a water-taxi.

* Come to think of it: We should be careful with what we wish for.

'Pase usted' to lofty discussion, and drinks

There at the mic in the center of this shot is Jose Narro, a surgeon and the current rector of the UNAM, the university's equivalent of a president or chancellor, addressing guests at the third edition of Pase Usted, on the open-plan 28th floor of the Torre Latinoamericana. Pase Usted is a sort of rolling salon where a few distinguished speakers address a general theme -- and everyone else drinks and eats for free. The topic on Thursday night: Health.

With the spectacular views, the flowing mezcal, beer, and bites courtesy of Contramar, you can't expect everyone to come away with enlightened new perspectives on the pressing issues facing contemporary Mexico -- the country is by and large obese and undernourished -- but you can at least hope for a bit of osmosis to happen. Previously, Pase Usted tackled the Mexican republic's upcoming Bicentennial, and Sustainability. The next topic is City. Go the site for more, and to sign up.

Kurimanzutto finally gets a home

"Economia de mercado/Market Economy" is the title of the inaugural group show at the new Kurimanzutto, until March 14. Each of the gallery's artists was given a set space -- a shelf -- to present original work. The stone sphere that dominates above is by Monika Sosnowska.

After almost a decade of nomadically roaming the art world, Jose Kuri and Monica Manzutto decided to finally settle, finding a former timber yard in San Miguel Chapultepec to the west of Condesa between metros Constituyentes and Juanacatlan. San Miguel Chapultepec is an ideal residential neighborhood, tucked away, very quiet, and a likely successor to Condesa. Some top young creatives in the local scene have or currently live there.

The new Kurimanzutto space -- integrated with its offices, book shop, and storage facilities -- is very striking. For a delicious scene report on the faces and events during the lavish November opening weekend, please go read Linda Yablonsky's diary at Art Forum. The Contramar-catered gala dinner at the Museo de la Ciudad de Mexico was the definite highlight.

* Previously, "New at LA Daily: The 'Palm Pavilion' in Mexico City."

Caldo de camaron

That bad boy poking out of his Styrofoam cup is huge shrimp with extra-long whiskers, floating in piping hot soup with diced potato and carrot, size chico, at the always-packed El Caguamo sidewalk mariscos stand on Ayuntamiento and Lopez streets. At 25 pesos, their spicy and savory caldo de camaron is a cheap between-meals snack or a most potent hang-over cure. (Emphasis on the "potent hang-over cure" phrase of the previous sentence.)

Everything at El Caguamo in fact is delicious and priced just right: The empanadas de camaron are especially recommended.

Puebla, city of tile

Puebla, the capital of both the state of Puebla and in some post-border respects metropolitan New York, is a city whose history is tied to talavera, an earthenware they've been putting on pretty much everything in Puebla for centuries. Tile and ceramic talavera is so big here they even put it in the urinals.

There's the food, yes; some say poblano cuisine is the best in Mexico. We found some good pozole, vegetarian food, cantinas (one with a pretty good heavy metal house band), a couple underground drag shows, really great exhibits at the Museo Amparo, local candies, and knick-knacks. The take-home prize from Christmas weekend in Puebla: a small domino set, hand-made in unrefined onyx. Hours of play immediately followed. Check out more photos if you like here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.