The beginning was simple enough, just a staircase, but after the first major tiered level, the steps became increasingly steep and people were huffing and puffing. I am blessed to be in fairly good shape for doing absolutely nothing to maintain my fitness, so I wasn’t too poor off, but I must admit that after two-thirds of the climb, my beautiful thighs were aching. I mused about how attractive I might be if I climbed a pyramid every day. I think that would be a tremendously amusing fitness regimen. But how many people have access to a pyramid in reality? Very few I suppose.
In tiny, packed hallways, shoppers crowded around small vendors. Each vendor sold a variation on a similar theme: witchcraft. Santa Muerte glowered down from every surface, that wonderfully evocative patroness of the lost and downtrodden. Since I booked my flight to Mexico, I have been deeply intrigued by this heretical icon. She is revered by many people in Mexico, but the Catholic Church has condemned her worship. She’s skeletal and terrifying and considerably menacing to some. Legend says she will appear in your dreams, answer your prayers with the right gifts, and bring death to your enemies. She’s charming. Santa Muerte is not a truly Catholic image, obviously, instead she is the perpetuation of ancient Aztec religious belief.
I thanked whatever god might be out there that I had the opportunity to see this sight and that my thighs were going to look great after that climb. The golden dome of the old basilica glinted in bright sunshine, the green roof of the new basilica reinforced my comparison to Disney’s Space Mountain, and all over, as far as the eye could see, stretched buildings and homes, boulevards and streets. It was utterly beautiful and my breath was swept away. What a charming nation, what a rich culture, and how lucky I was to be here in this moment to experience it.
Monday: Why don’t you get to the cinema and see Coco, the new masterpiece by Disney and Pixar? I saw it this weekend and was delighted by the gorgeous animation, […]
I miss all those people and all these places. In fact, missing things might be the only unpleasant part of travel. Abroad, your existence is transitory; you are an ephemeral presence in another world. I think of these encounters daily, like the waitress at the Café Saint-Antoine that I adored, but they’re surely too busy living their lives to recall a young man who spent a month on their shores. Still, it’s wonderful to have that to remember and reflect on.
I love movies. I have longed to be working in that magical industry for the most of my life. I never really longed to be a star; I don’t think I’m an actor. I’m too much myself to ever become another character, you know? But to direct or write or design would be a dream. Many years ago, famed and beloved psychic, Sylvia Browne, told me that my destiny was in Hollywood as a producer. The older I get, the more I see that she was right. I mean, I’m not on a direct path to producing by any means, but my diverse interests have led me down some strange paths that could end there.
One life is hardly enough. I have no fear of death, but I really am irked that I only have a century here. And that is if I’m lucky. For a lot of people, more than I ever expected, a hundred years is plenty. People are tired and worn down and disinterested in life. I think there’s nothing more thrilling than being alive, seeing what’s around and learning about what has happened in the recent and distant past, so I will never understand this attitude. If I could live forever, I would pay whatever price. I’d make a deal with the Devil if that were a real thing.
The point of travel is to learn about the world, not perpetuate your provincial and ethnocentric point of view around the world. You can do yourself no greater disservice than fail to attempt to appreciate the glorious world around us.
Anyway, I learned how to say ‘sack.’
Monday: Why don’t you adopt the trend that I started (and Kourtney Kardashian ripped off from me) and wear pajamas as fashion? I’ve been doing this for years and regularly […]
I was completely satisfied with my journey to Mexico’s capital. I wish that I had never left. I wish I lived there now. I adored the Metro and the cemeteries and the glorious Catholic churches and the marvelous felines that roamed the streets. Each day I was there, I found something new and wondrous to delight me. I won’t go into too much detail right now because I’m going to start my travel narratives soon, so just know that Mexico City completed me. I miss it with the aching heart I have for Paris and Luxor.