Mexico #3

I am losing track of the days. I thought today was going to be Saturday; it turned out to be Monday. Fortunately, it doesn't matter much!

I am facing some confusion with this blog. I didn't start it to be a journal for an audience of one (me), but I feel like that's what it's becoming with this trip. Anyway, I hope you all find more interest in it than not. And by the way, if you're reading, hello, Uncle John.

Yesterday was Saturday. We went to Lucha Libre with Sara, who is a year ahead of Patrick at the U of C; Rebecca, a friend of Sara's from the US who is studying anthropology on the Mexico-Guatemala border; and Dan, who is Rebecca's husband. It's nice to have friends here.

So what is Lucha Libre. It is the Mexican version of WWF. I don't ever watch WWF, though, so it's hard for me to compare. These are things you need to know about it:

• There are good guys (tecnicos) and bad guys (rudos). Sometimes fighters can switch sides.
  
• Many luchadores wear masks, especially the tecnicos.
  
• Everyone goes to Lucha Libre. Mexicans go with their families, like Americans go to a ball game. People make signs to cheer on their favorite wrestlers.
  
  
• The rules are confusing and clearly stretched to favor the good guys. (I have never heard anyone almost count to three as slowly as the ref when Dos Caras Jr. was down)
  
• According to Sara: 1) Many luchadores get into it through family. Dos Caras Jr., for example, is probably the real-life son of the original Dos Caras. 2) Few luchadores make enough money to support themselves solely by wrestling, though there are stars who manage to do it.
  

We were lucky to go to a show at a smaller arena in the city, one with only 15 rows or seats (plus the balcony). It was only about half-full, too, so we got to move up from the 14th row to maybe the 7th, which made a big difference. (Sara estimated that at the other arena, where she usually goes, those seats would have cost about $30. We paid $8.) From that distance, I decided that even though a lot of the moves--and the "winners"--are choreographed or fake, there are real injuries, real danger, real strength, and even a few moments of real grace.

It's also full of drama. Some of the wrestlers are incredible hams. One curious example: Marco Corleone, whose picture is here. His real name is Mark Jindrak, and he is from the US. Lourdes Garcia-Navarro did a piece for NPR about foreigners in Lucha Libre, with a bit of an interview with him. He was in the 3-on-3 fight, just before the headliner, and so funny to watch. First of all, he's probably a foot taller than anyone else on stage--I mean, in the ring. Second, the ladies love him, and he has a habit of putting his hands behind his head and grinding his hips to their adoring screams. The best part was when his opponent, Sangre Azteca, did it to make fun of him. Ah, good times.

Dos Caras Jr. almost lost the title fight to Ultimo 2000 (who for some reason, had a horseshoe/cowboy theme?). Ultimo had a mean growl, which he kept flashing at the crowd as they cheered on Dos Caras (the good guy in the fight). I have no idea how he became so popular, but the entire stadium (which was, admittedly, small) was for this guy. There was a woman in front of us, there with her husband and kids, who just went crazy for him. The crowd started chanting, "Si se puede," which was a little weird for me; I learned this phrase at rallies, and in the US, it dates to Cesar Chavez and the UFW. I don't know what its connotations are in Mexico. It translates literally as, "Yes, it can be done!" I guess the spirit of it would be something like, "You can do it" or "Yes, we can."

We finally went to the grocery store. No peanut butter, but they do have Nutella. Nothing too remarkable about it. We'll have to go to a real market, probably, to get good produce. We're just starting to cook here at the hostel. It's a challenge. I miss having a kitchen--my own, clean, orderly kitchen--as much as anything else. I have been pretty impressed with the cleanliness of the city, though. Public transportation is not only cleaner but also far more convenient than in Chicago. Buses come every five minutes, it seems, and trains come more often than that. And they're still crowded. Interestingly enough, they reserve cars on the Metro just for women during rush hour. I guess because they get so packed.

We got some work done today, with Patrick's first visit to some archives. The people were very friendly and helpful. We also went to the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, the Plaza of Three Cultures. There are Aztec ruins right next to a colonial-era church, across from the modern Institute for Foreign Relations. I can't get over how the Aztecs built their temples, in layers and layers; there's no interior space, because they'd leave the old structure intact and build solid new walls over it, to make it bigger. So different from how I think of buildings. Anyway, part of why they're ruins is that some of their stones were taken to build the church, which also explains why the church and the ruins look eerily similar.

Our last big event of the day was the Palacio de Bellas Artes. Oh and how can I forget, a great lunch of street gorditas. I wouldn't buy a drink from one of those carts, but for less than 80 cents a person, you can eat pretty well. So, Bellas Artes is having a big celebration of Frida Kahlo, on the 100th anniversary of her birth. The place was PACKED. I couldn't believe it could be so full, on a Monday afternoon in the middle of the exhibition's run. The cult of Frida really started to get to me. She was a good painter, fine technically and very creative, very expressive, but her painting was so self-absorbed. But people need their idols, even if they have to invent them ... did I ever post my Photoshopped Kerry as Che? I'll have to look for that; I guess it was on my old computer.

Anyway, Bellas Artes is a pretty impressive place, and I decided it was absurd to say that Siquieros is so much better than Rivera. But Rivera's mural in the Bellas Artes, the one that he originally painted for Rockefeller but which was destroyed due as Communist propaganda, freaks me out. He was so wrong about the Soviet Union, the future of human society. I guess they all were.

I've given up on finding yarn here. Remind me to pack a whole lot when we're here for that year.