"It's like you're a different person," he says. "Hurry, we better get out of here before my girlfriend gets back."
I snort.
"No one would even think there was anything wrong. You just look like someone who is..."
But Mike didn't have the second half of that thought planned out, so it didn't have the exact impact he was going for.
We get breakfast and my stomach is still a little fragile but I manage. I am very brave.
We uber over to the Frida Kahlo house in the Coyoacan district. The line is ridiculously long. In Spanish there's a sign that says something about buying our tickets online. Mike thinks that means we absolutely have to. I tell him that's unlikely, that we can probably buy our tickets at the door, but he is adamant.
We buy the tickets, wait in line for another 40 minutes or so, and then I finally read the sign myself. I don't remember the exact words, but it seems pretty clear that it doesn't insist on us buying tickets online - it just means we could move to the front of the line faster if we've already bought them online ahead of time.
We waited another 40 minutes for no reason. At least we got some bomb churros out of it.
I don't know very much about Frida Kahlo but she's fascinating. The house is a must-see just to learn more about her as a person. She got polio when she was six and as a result, her right leg was shorter than the other. Then, at 18, the bus she was in got hit by a tramway and she almost died. Her injuries left her barren, and she got kind of obsessed with the motherhood she would never attain. Her husband, Diego Rivera, was probably more famous during their lifetime, but he was also a fat lecher and how are you gonna have an affair with your wife's sister like that? Frida had affairs too though, and after divorcing Rivera for sleeping with her sister (fair), they got remarried just one year later up in San Francisco. Some of these great love stories sound very exhausting to me and I don't think I'm up for all that emotional labor. How do people do it. Just be nice and stuff.
Not Frida's work exactly but some cool sculptures.
Dope courtyard at Casa Kahlo.
Eyes still recovering but a beautiful home.
There is also an exhibit relating specifically to Frida's clothes, and that was probably my favorite part of the exhibit. Frida required corsets because of her injuries, so she turned them into art in of themselves. She embraced the fashion of her mother's ancestry from southeast Mexico and covered her injuries and weaknesses with long skirts and beautiful jewelry to distract the eye. Her fashion became a source of strength for her. It was very interesting.
After the museum, Mike and I decided to wander around Coyoacan to see if there were any Day of the Dead celebrations happening. And you know what, there were! It was a carnival! All of these tamales and enchiladas and chicken sticks and chocolate and ferris wheels and wooden roller coasters. There was a mime act that Mike and I watched and really enjoyed. We got our faces painted. Mike wasn't sure he wanted to do it, but he got talked into it pretty quickly.
Setting up another altar.
The woman who paints Mike's face doesn't do a typical Catrina make-up look. She puts some purple in his beard and eyebrows and adds some glitter.
"Do you like it?" he asks me.
"Yes!"
"Me too. I look like Daario Naharis."
"Um. Sure."
"Dark. Mysterious. Dangerous. That's me, babe."
"Yes. Yes it is."
"Thank you. I knew you'd agree."
"Like you'd totally be able to get Khaleesi to bone you."
"Exactly. Yeah. Exactly."
"I think you look more like a deer version of a werewolf. Because of those antler things. Like a were-deer. You turn into a majestic deer at the full moon."
"I like Daario Naharis better."
"I like weredeer. It's elegant."
"I'm sticking with Daario Naharis."
La Calaverna Catrina in more modern clothing.
Daario + Catrina = <3
It started raining while we were getting our faces painted, so we had to buy ponchos. Mike is obsessed with umbrellas. He keeps talking about umbrellas. I suppose somewhere in the world is a place where when it rains, the water falls straight down, but after spending four years in Boston I do not trust umbrellas. When rain falls it falls sideways onto your face and into your mouth and your umbrella is just going to turn inside out and now you have an inside-out umbrella to carry on top of everything else. This is a bias I don't anticipate going away. Boston has ruined umbrellas for me.
Mike and I grab dinner nearby as we wait out the rain. Dia de los Muertos is interesting. There's so much of La Calaverna Catrina (the skeleton lady in the outfit from the 1910s that is associated so heavily with the holiday) but there also seems to be some straight up Halloween. Kids go trick-or-treating for three days straight and wear superhero costumes and pumpkin costumes and Monsters Inc costumes in addition to the typical Dia de los Muertos fare. It's pretty cool seeing two cultures come together. I am also jealous these kids get three days of trick-or-treating and I only ever got one but I suppose that is just a truth I will have to live with.
Mike and I order margaritas and some food. A guy with a guitar starts playing a Spanish version of "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps." I hum along because that song is great. The guitar player notices and asks if we would like a song. 60 pesos for one song, 100 pesos for 2.
"No, gracias," I say just as Mike says "si."
Mike wants to buy me a song. He tries to think of one his dad likes but he can't remember the full name of it. It's a nice little serenade.
"You're my dream girl," Mike says.
"Want a little wine with that cheese?"
"You like it."
I do kinda like it.
Dinner is saffron risotto and filet mignon stuffed with mushrooms. Still thinking about how good that risotto is.
Mike is pensive in the kitchen while wearing his poncho.
When we get back to the room we talk about which bar we'd like to go back to. I check Facebook and realize it's the 9th inning of Game 7 of the World Series and the Cubs and Indians are tied. I do not care about baseball. Baseball is boring. But the Cubs haven't won a World Series in 108 years and this is a big deal and I kind of like watching American sports games at bars in different countries.
Within five minutes we're back at the Irish pub. The game is on, but they're doing something with a tarp, and someone changes the game IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NINTH INNING to a soccer game. I wonder if this is real. We came here specifically because the TVs were showing the Cubs game and now we're watching soccer?
But it's clearly a shootout, so I know there's no point in asking them to change the channel until the shootout is over. Once it is, I ask an employee to put the baseball game back on.
"No," he says, like he can't believe anyone would care about baseball.
"It's historic!!!! This team hasn't won in over 100 years! It's game 7 of the World Series!" I am not a Cubs fan or a baseball fan but I'll be damned if I'm not a part of this moment in American history in even this very small way.
I remember I am getting excited about this and also I'm still wearing all my Catrina facepaint and I probably look pretty silly.
I ask a second person, and she says no, and then I ask a third person, and he says they're already changing it, and now we're at the top of the 10th inning and we get to watch a player steal second and there are cheers in the pub so I know we're not the only Americans here.
Mexico City. Irish pub. American baseball.
A live band plays some covers of American pop hits and it's pretty great and then we go to a second bar and there's a live band playing American pop hits and they are not quite as good and then we go home.
Great day.
I am very good at ending these posts thank you.
Sounds great - glad you went to Frida's house - I'm a fan. Also I do like baseball - not always boring...
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