Totally Unauthorized

My friend George Harris puts a quote Facebook every day, and I thought today’s was particularly apt:

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Mark Twain

My maternal grandmother reputedly said “the only things in life you’ll ever regret are the things you didn’t do.”  I’m sure she wasn’t reading Twain, I wonder if he was talking to her?

In any event, this really is going somewhere.  Today, we went out early to see a local Passion Play.  With Boy Scouts in charge of crowd control, the local priest, many costumed students and one very over-made up Jesus walked a few blocks around the neighborhood church, stopping at various properly adorned houses to make the Stations of the Cross.  It ended back in front of the church, where Christ was crucified yet again, more blood was poured from a Coke bottle to improve the image, and everyone got blessed whether they needed it or not.

Mexico has always been a heavily Catholic nation, but I can’t say I felt the crowd was either particularly large or particularly devout.  Perhaps 200 people, most of them just along for the ride like we were.

Then off to the Frida Kahlo museum, which is in her actual home.  And what a home.  Originally her father’s, who was apparently a successful photographer.  It is just immense, with multiple outbuildings.  Filled with her art and that of her lover and double spouse–she married Diego Rivera twice.  It is beautifully kept.  Lots of museums don’t allow photography, but this one doesn’t all hats, either.  There seems to be a limitless need in the universe for perverse and arbitrary rules.

You’re still wondering about the original quote, aren’t you?  I’m getting there.  Go slow, this is Mexico.

After Frida, we went off to visit the Museo Diego Rivera-Anahuacalli, which had been recommended by a friend of Max and Barbara’s (our hosts, if you’re not following along).

Couldn’t find the place, of course.  We passed a sign with a left turn arrow, turned left and ended up right back where we started.  The driver was persistent though, and called the Museum and finally we got there. (Mexico may have GPS units, but not our driver.  Macho Mexican pride, I should think)

Then the guides told us we had to go on the guided tour, which wasn’t starting for 30 minutes, and would take an hour.  Gail isn’t one to wait, and I’m not much better.  An hour is too long for most museums, in any case.  So we were ready to throw in the towel.  Fortunately, the intrepid Max applied some world class wheedling and prodding, and they said we could go in right away, but would have to be out in 30 minutes for the proper tour.

And here’s where that going and doing it paid off.  The place is utterly spectacular!  Fantastic, incredible, mind-boggling wonderful. One of the great museums in the world, and you’ve undoubtedly never heard of it.

This is what I looked like with hair.

It turns out that Diego Rivera was a great collector of pre-Columbian art, back in the days when it was readily available and not illegal to possess.  He designed this museum as a store house for what must be one of the largest collections in the world.

The building itself resembles a Mayan pyramid, and is completely constructed out of indigenous lava. (Sharp-eyed Gail noticed a fire extinguisher in every room, although there was nothing combustible in the entire structure.  See above about pettifogging rules.)  In many rooms there are “windows” of what seems to be thinly sliced onyx, beautifully translucent.  Even the ceilings are mosaics.  The second floor contains an immense studio for Rivera to create his murals, with an entire north-facing glass wall to provide perfect light.

The more than 1000 pieces are displayed beautifully, and not cluttered with little labels telling you something you wouldn’t remember anyway.  None of the artists is known anyhow.  You get to just enjoy the depth and variety of this phenomenal collection emotionally, as it should be.

Construction began in 1940, and continued until 1963, 6 years after Rivera’s death. It is a monument to the man and his vision.

I don’t regret a minute of the time I spent there, and neither will you.  It’s a good reason to come to Mexico City all by itself.