- tons of people. And I mean, really tons of people. There’s like what, 20 million over people here?
- tons of traffic. I read somewhere that you should avoid being in a car during the rush hours as the roads become literally parking lots
- smells. The walk from Coyoacan back to the Metro, I passed by this park with canal / drain running along the sidewalk. OMG. It smelled like the sewage. That kinda close off living in Coyoacan.
- Realization of the meaning/significance of “nice” and “not nice” as used by Ernesto and Yonathan, both mexicans albeit in different cities. When I was in Bermuda, Ernesto said that he would recommend nice areas for me to live and that there are certain “not nice” areas to avoid. Yonathan said the same thing. That the “nice” areas to live in Mexico City is Condesa and Roma (he obviously left out Polanco as it’s seriously expensive to live there). Before arriving in Mexico, I was like what do these mexicans keep mentioning “nice” and “not nice”? I finally realised. After walking in D.F. (D.F. Stands for Districto Federal which is spanish for Mexico City. Both refer to the same place, I think), I realised that there are quite a lot of places where I wouldn’t choose to live in, if I had a choice. They are like ghettos (bad joke). These “not nice” places are old looking, often chaotic, literally doesn’t look nice. I don’t know. Maybe the paints on the walls are coming off. Or the soot from the cars, from the pollutions in previous years, I don’t know. Anyhow, the “nice” zones/neighbourhoods Condesa and Roma are really “nice” in effect.
- I was wearing one of my favourite long sleeved shirts – strips of dark pink, blue, purple. I took a small road to get to one of the main roads in Coyoacan. There were 3 guys hanging out next to a car. They called me to go to them or something like in Spanish. They sounded really weird. Then realization hit me – pink is worn by gays in Mexico. Perhaps this is the masulino culture in Mexico that I have been reading about? Fuck them man.
- I was walking in the metro station, to do a transfer to another line (see, my english is now spanisify… I meant, to transfer to another line). This station has tons of booths selling food stuff. Pizza, mexican bread, pastry, etc. The smell started out all right. It smells like what it’s supposed to be smelling of, of food. Then, suddenly, the smell of mierda (spanish for shit) hit me. OMG. I was confused. Was I really so tired or am I imaging the smell. Since when has food smell like shit? I was seriously puzzled. I continued my walk to the transfer. I saw several cleaners cleaning up this pool of liquid on the floor. There was also a man on a walkie talkie. I guessed someone took a leak or shit on the floor? This reminds me of Chicago. There was a black man who was walking around on the Millenium Mile (the top shopping street in Chicago) with his pants dropping off and you can see his bums (he must have held on to the front part of his pants. Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe his pants was hugging his shins and lower legs?). Gross. Maybe he’s senile or mentally ill. He could be homeless.
- I was waiting for the train to arrive. When it finally did, I stepped into the carriage. Someone behind me literally jumped/pounded on me to get into the carriage. I was shocked. I backed away and got out of the train. I missed another 2 trains because I was too embarassed to sandwich others. It was apparently the rush hour. Since that incident, I got used to this “sandwiching” effect. I might have done to others as well… Well, in Mexico, do what the Mexicans do.
- You have to speak spanish. Seriously, es muy importante.