I’ve been watching a lot of westerns lately and I’m struck by humankind’s ability to create time machines. I’m a runner so I can travel on my two feet, sometimes faster than those in a car due to traffic. But a horse enabled long stretches to be overcome, such that the pony express was viewed as a giant leap forward in communication, cutting the time to send and receive messages to weeks rather than months. It was leapfrogged by the telegraph. Trains cut the time to travel, and planes cut it even further.
I found myself reflecting on this as I flew into Mexico City this morning. Butch and Sundance had a hard ride to get south of the border; I had TSA precheck.
And so while the world has grown smaller in many ways, even more homogenized as evidenced by my passing Starbucks, 7-11, Carl’s Jr and the like as I walked out of immigration and into the main terminal. There’d be more of that once I got to the city proper – more Starbucks, more Old Navy, more various chains and brands. But thankfully there are also a great many authentic local places, some storefronts, some food trucks/carts. This is true the world over in that I would prefer local fare to the same old, same old… albeit now and again I understand the lure of a comforting familiarity.
I’m not saying anything profound or insightful here. I’m self conscious in foreign lands as I want to try and speak at least some local phrases – hello, goodbye, thank you, and the like. But even when the words are ingrained – hola, adios, muchas gracias – I still struggle to even say those. Part of it comes from my flat midwestern accent. I worry my attempts to essay a bit of Mexican comes across as embarrassing … or worse, insulting.
Take for example the word “Mexico.” Is it more or less offensive for me to try and approximate the local pronunciation? If I say “Meh-HE-co” to honor the accented “e” here is that a good thing? Or do o sound like a complete jackass, like when Donald Trump tries to say, “Po-WHERE-to Rico?” I hope I sound like I’m trying to honor local customs and not that I’m an arrogant, out of touch, ugly American.
In any case, I spent the afternoon heading to the expo to pick up my bib number for tomorrow’s race. It was a mass of people and I wasn’t entirely sure where to go… the first sport expo I found myself at was NOT for the marathon, as swimsuit glad fitness models got sprayed down off stage then flexed onstage to compete for Mr and Ms Mexico. I was not going to be mistaken for a contestant that’s for sure…but I did inadvertently wander into the backstage dressing rooms trying to find the exit to the marathon expo that I could see behind the fence and off in the distance.
Eventually I made it and cleverly they had you walk the entire expo to get to the number pickup. It was an expansive thing, the usual/usual at these sport and fitness expos regardless of country. Crowds went left, right, center and I was always a salmon swimming upstream.
I did make it up the stairs to the numbers room where I was promptly told they had run out of some shirt sizes. The guy got me a small and a large bit wouldn’t let me take them out of the packages and try them on for size. I Indiana Jones’d it, weighing the bags, trying to decide which one to use to swap out for the fertility idol in Peru. I went with the large. Later I tried it on and it IS large on me… so truth in advertising. Still, I suspect the small would’ve been, ya know, small on me.
They had a big banner that listed all the names of the runners. It took me a awhile to suss out it was alphabetical by Christian name. It takes forever to find one’s name… all the more so when one’s name ISN’T there.
I was not alone in being unnamed – a lot of folks had scrawled their Jose Hancock on the side, so when in Mexico…
It wasn’t that I was too cheap to pay the USD$6 uber fare to get to my AirBNB. It was more that I wanted to see how the city’s metro worked. Also, traffic in this town is atrocious. I thought the metro would be faster anyway.
Five pesos and 34 minutes later, I was standing outside my AirBNB. My host, Salvador, was always super responsive and friendly, and I was glad to see he was just as nice in person when he welcomed me inside.
It’s a nice place, and the location seems great to me. This is a whirlwind trip, in and out to run the marathon, and just “un poco” de sightseeing. But as I wandered down the boulevards, ducking and weaving amidst even more people, I was able to soak in at least a little of the local scene.
There are a ton of cars… and a ton of people. But it’s a beautiful day. The weather is just right – a bit warm in direct sun but nice and comfy in the shade. I was worried as we were landing that the smog seemed super thick, like late 1970s Los Angeles smog. But once we landed I found myself barely noticing it. And while many people warned me of the altitude of the city, I seem to be okay. Maybe climbing Pikes Peak last week served an acclimating purpose.
I came to Mexico City because last year it was one of the most corrupt races ever run. Something like 5000+ runners were caught cheating. I felt like it was something I should see. So we will see what tomorrow brings.
In the meantime, a photo gallery of today’s sightseeing by wandering.
It’s raining cats here… which is troubling for tomorrow’s run. There’s not a lot of drainage I’ve noticed.
how do I know it’s raining cats? This is Ikora, Salvador’s cat.
