Totally Unauthorized

That’s the Easter Bunny to us gringos.  And I’m still looking for him.  Easter is a really big deal down here, but mostly as a spring vacation time.  I haven’t seen an Easter bunny, the kids weren’t all dressed like pastel ice cream cones, there wasn’t an Easter bonnet to be seen.  Just empty streets and busy restaurants.

(Looking back at the last paragraph, I thought that only a bridge player could come to a semi-exotic foreign city and write about what he didn’t see.  The search for negative inference has colored my entire view of life.  I’m here to let you know if there are any dogs not barking.)

We started the day going to the Jardin de Arte, a city-block size park downtown where there is an art show every Sunday.  The artists seem to need to bring only their art, as the city provides hundreds of easels to set the work on. Except for one sculptor and one photographer, we thought the art was pretty second rate.

One thing that has always intrigued me are city parks that are poorly maintained.  Labor is cheap and plentiful here, yet there wasn’t a single functioning fountain among the 8 or so we saw.  Concrete benches are cracked and broken and not recently painted.  Graffiti isn’t painted over.  It doesn’t take much to make things right, but it just doesn’t happen.

Lunch was at the San Angel Inn, which would be walking distance from the house if you could walk downhill on cobblestones in heels.  It’s a beautiful, huge establishment.  Pulling up in front, there are 6 guys working the valet park. Lunch is at 2:30, and we were there until almost 5:30.  Service isn’t slow, this is just Latin America and meals are to be savored, not rushed through.  After an hour of cocktails and an old-fashioned relish tray, we moved on to escargots (lucky me, Gail loves them and I get to dip my bread in the garlic butter) and gazpacho.  Slowly, we proceeded to the main course–Chile Rellenos for Gail, Steak Tartare for me.  All the while, musicians played quietly in the background, birds flew in the courtyard, light clouds scudded overhead.  We finished up with floating island, another classic rarely found on US menus anymore, strolled the gardens and headed home.

Home only to change shoes and get a sweater, for we were off to the Ballet Folklorico de Mexico. What a spectacle!  Held outside in front of the Castillio de Chapultapec  (a site on the highest point in the city, first used by Montezuma with a castle built by Maximillian and Carlotta), we lucked into front row seats for a spectacle of light and color and dance.

Handome men, pretty girls, beautiful location. Dance is good.

You get there by shuttle bus.  Not a big shuttle bus, not a tram like Disney world, but an ordinary 10 passenger van.  6 or 8 of them, racing up and down the hill.  It’s not an efficient system, but it’s the system they have.

The show started only 6 minutes late, which is early even by San Francisco standards.  Almost 30 dancers took the stage in what might have been traditional Aztec costume, if teal, chartreuse and hot pink were traditional colors.  The music was a heavy drum beat, and the dance was a tap/stomp combination.

From Aztec dance, the program moved to the Spanish influence.  There were many numbers featuring handsome men in high-waisted pants and pretty girls in very full skirts accompanied by a 10 piece Mariachi band. Something I have never heard before was a harp solo, played entirely pizzacato. There was an interlude for costume change where we were entertained by a 5 man xylophone, surely one of the world’s largest.

One large piece began with a vaquero twirling a rope, then roping in the girl, then many other dancers joining them on the stage.  That poor man was stuck twirling the rope around himself and the girl for 10 or 12 minutes, changing twirling arms as one got tired.  The longer the piece lasted, the more frequently he had to change arms.

The highlight piece was back to an Indian theme, with a loincloth-clad dancer playing the part of a deer hunted by two bowsmen.  It was, ironically, the most modern piece in terms of dance, and just riveting.

There was a big flashy finale, but we were busy making our way out as quickly as possible to avoid the inevitable eternal lines for the few shuttles.  The Ballet Folklorico was just a delightful way to complete our trip, and today we are coming home.