While we're on the subject of Mexico, check out this essay from C.M. Mayo, "The Essential Francisco Sosa or, Picadou's Mexico City" - an account of a stroll with her pug through her Coyoacán neighborhood in Mexico City. Excerpt:
"Picadou is padding through a litter of purple bougainvillea blossoms, so bright on the dark, just-washed flagstones. At the edge of the sidewalk, a squirrel spots her and scrambles up his tree. Picadou says vile things to that squirrel, but she's drowned out with the wooshing by of a tour bus, paneled to look like a trolley, its guide droning into a microphone, a mini-van, a motorcycle, and then a rattling, battered, blue bug that putts out a cloud of exhaust. A trio of policemen passes, bikes swaying as they pump their pedals. Their backs look square, funny turtles, in their bullet-proof vests. They need them. I know several people who have been shot at, including my brother-in-law's father, as he was driving on the main expressway (luckily, the bullet lodged in the dashboard). I have, at last count, 11 friends who have had guns pointed at their faces: some car-jacked, others kidnapped. No need to be wealthy; anyone who looks like they might carry an ATM card can be picked off the street. It seems no place is safe..."
Don't worry, I'm not going to Mexico City!
(Found via Moleskinerie. You can also hear the author read her essay by purchasing the audio CD, proceeds of which go to a Mexican dog and cat rescue organization.)
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