Fly the Week Like a Flag

Another Friday has saddled up to my half hung eyelids. Actually, last night I curled up around 9:30pm; I was awoken by a taunting text message at 11:30pm, initially thinking it was my 6am alarm, I smiled at the text attack on my weekday warrior status, and I turned a cheek, adjusted Lucio (positioned between my feet), and went back to slumbering the night away.

The weeks seem to be flying, and I am alright with that. I am okay with the workday disappearing like a fart in the wind--its when it lingers that it begins to stink. This week was filled with essay grading (halfway done), new book introductions, good journals and discussions, and a healthy dose of Elliott and Dog time. I also attended Spanish class twice this week, living up to my two day a week goal. Hector and I meet at a little cafe 4 blocks from our house. The cafe is set in the front of a house, and it is run by a pair of pint sized Mexicana twins--I don't know their names, but they are super kind and have a quirky sense of humor--the way most short, slightly round, munchkin-esque women do. I bring my dogs with me, because they are solid warriors of the cafe scene. The two cherub ladies love them. They walk them down the block, bring them water, make itty bitty cute noises in their face, and in general, grovel over them. Aside from the coffee and good vibes, the Spanish lessons are awesome. Hector is a great teacher. I need to apply what I am learning more regularly, but I am definitely acquiring the solid fundamentals.

So politically speaking, this country is in turmoil. On Sunday I accompanied my buddy Mauricio to a used car lot in a far off area of the city. As we walked through the Centro, I noticed that all the newspapers displayed at the newsstands are adorned with graphic front page images of dead bodies, blood, and assault rifles. Now one could say it is just for publicity, and this is definitely true. However, somewhere this shit is real; this is definitely real in the state of Sinaloa, the current epicenter of the drug war (Note: I will not be driving the coast line this summer as I iintended, for this goes through the heart of the Sinaloa State. Perhaps the gulf shall be my route.) In any event, aside from the bloody pics on the newspapers, I have come to learn that the current president, Felipe Calderon, was elected under much scandal, and in many people's eyes, unfairly so. The opposition candidate, and the one who was popularly elected, was far more radical and in tune with the masses of folks living below the poverty line. In any eevnt, last week Presidente Calderon, during Mexico's World Cup qualifier game, sent armed police into Luz y Fuerza, the main provider of electricity in central Mexico. According to Calderon, the company, which is federally owned, was mismanaging and stealing money. So Calderon and his minions, guns en tow, stormed the building, and it was announced that all employees have been fired. I do not know if this sort of news makes it to the States, but it is a big deal down here. Luz y Fuerza is a huge employeer and this action has put many people out of work.

Over the next few days several picket lines and demonstrations have littered the streets of Mexico City. Last Friday there was a march from La Angel (the Angel statue that stands as a beacon for all social gatherings in DF), to Los Pinos, the President's Palace. However, yesterday was the real deal. Sarah and I took the subway home, because the streets were packed with cars. Fired employees and sympathizers from all over Central Mexico, converged on DF to demonstrate their anger, frustration, and collective action. As we walked home from the subway, La Reforma, the main street holding the iconic La Angel, was a see of red claden Mexicans. Hombres with wide brimmed cowboy hats, were obviously workers from outside the city. Bannars, drums, whistles, and battle cries, all saturated the senses. I know there are a lot of people in this city, but to witness this convergence was absolutely insane. I was blown away by their ability to organize so quickly. Groups from all over the country made their present felt.

Sarah and I dipped out of the fray, and we made our way down San Cosme, via bike. We arrived in the Zocalo, and it was already bubbling over with people. In front of the President's palace a huge stage had been erected. Vendors pedaled their goods amongst the protestors and hanger-ons. The vibe was spirited, but not tense or viloent--the people were peacifully demonstrating. One of the largest flags I have seen waved brilliantly in the late afternoon son. Gold trickled over the tops of the colonial montors that flank the four corners of the Zocalo.

After a half hour of observing we skedaddled home. I stopped a street side burger joint--where for two dollars, I had a Hawaiian style burger. I make this promise: if you come to visit, I will treat you to a burger at this 24 hour streetside haven.

After that, I went home, loaded up illegal episodes of The Office--consequently "The Injury" season 2, as recommended by Gloria, is probably the best episode ever--followed by episode 17, of the same season, entitled "Dwight's Speech".

I closed my eyes at 9:30pm, and it felt marvelous.