REFLEXIONES

October 12, 2024

A WHIFF OF GARDENIA

CODE SHARING IS A HEADACHE FOR TRAVELERS because the airlines, in order to attract the biggest number of potential passengers to their carriers, offer flights to common destinations with their own websites, although the flights are on different airlines. The same flight on Delta to Mexico City ends up being a flight offered, indeed, by the airline although it is serviced by Aeromexico on its equipment. Therefore the passenger checks in at Delta and then has to walk around 1.5 kilometers to the International Terminal to board the Aeromexico flight. Somehow the LAX airport always has ramps going up even if you are on the top level. Go figure. I arrived early and then had to wait for 2 ½ hours for the flight. Although my ticket was labeled Sky Priority I did not see, or have access to, any special priority at the airport, on boarding or in the plane. Because it was an early morning international flight the terminal was rather quiet and not many passengers. The big news is that Cartier is building a gigantic store inside the duty free terminal and the wallcovering at the construction site has a very impressive painting of its symbol – a panther – looking, over the edge of a mountain top, at Los Angeles. Very appropriate icon of “stalking the customers….”

I WAS SEATED ON AN AISLE (WHICH I DETEST) at the front of the plane (which I love) and boarded early, so I had the privilege of having everyone flying to Mexico City standing next to me as they boarded the plane and struggled to the back while attempting to get their carry-ons on top of the bins. Since all this takes time the people would stand next to me for brief moments before moving on. As I was sitting there, I remembered flying one time Air India in Coach with the whole plane invaded by the bountiful aromas of Indian food in all its gorgeous varieties: everyone was carrying a bundle of spice-smelling goodies to consume on the plane. This time I had a similar experience, except it was not the aroma of Indian food but of Mexican perfumes and colognes that surreptitiously slithered into my nostrils. They are unmistakable. Ever since I was a small child I remember these aromas because their variety struck me in the buses and the trams, in the stores or the markets, and certainly in the pharmacies. Some, like the Agua de Colonia Sanborns, I cherish and even buy whenever I have a chance. Others come in great varieties and they are not known for their modesty. These are perfumes to announce the presence of who wears them. They are intense, aggressive, all invading and encompassing. The varieties of origins are all there: roses, gardenias, hyacinths, orange blossoms, patchoulis, jasmines, a whiff of gardenia. In the case of men: tobacco, lemon, orange, leather, rosemary, musk (of course). People wear them with pride and in a very nonchalant manner.

They are a burst of flowers that attempt to combine sweetness and sophistication in a masterful way, unfortunately failing often. With notes of jasmine, orange blossom and patchouli, the fragrances seduce with their intense and romantic aroma. They are ideal for the woman who wants to leave a memorable mark. Its floral sweetness intent is, I am sure, an attempt at captivating and seducing. I imagine it makes the user feel like she is wrapped in a dream garden.

I believe these sweet or smoky, seductive scents are not only an expression of personal style, but also a way to evoke emotions and an attempt to create memories. Throughout this journey through the most captivating fragrances, I think I discovered that each perfume attempts to tell a unique story, capable of transporting the user and the receiver to special moments. Whether they choose a comforting scent for everyday or a bold fragrance for a special occasion, the sweetness and seduction of these options are meant definitely to leave an impression on those around the user.

I don’t know the names, as they are all local, not international brands, but I could recognize the scents as Mexican anywhere I go. Just like the perfumes in Arab countries, where stepping into the scent shop in a bazaar or a souk places you immediately in an exotic context.

One reason for splashing on a fair amount of these Mexican perfumes and colognes is that they evanesce rapidly. So, once they were all boarded and seated behind me, the intensity disappeared.

Or maybe my olfactory cells just became anesthetized…

An uneventful flight, where we were pampered with a single one-ounce bag of snacks (28 grams) and a glass of the soft liquid of your choice, with ice, delivered us to Terminal 2 and the Mexican face-recognition passport control that, in my case, tried vainly and repeatedly to identify my face until the machine gave up and I walked to the human immigration officer that barely looked at my passport before stamping it.

THERE WERE SIX BOOTHS TO CHOOSE A TAXI, available to me as I exited the Customs area (where I had to put my carry-on through the X-ray machine and let it glide while the Custom officers happily chatted with each other without looking at their screen) and pondered how I could decide which booth to go to. I went to get some Mexican Pesos from the ATMs, available far away from the exit, and decided that I would go with the Yellow Taxi stand as I had used that on previous trips in Terminal 1. All the booth attendants beckoned me enthusiastically. I went and bought my Yellow taxi ticket and proceeded outside the airport to stand in line near the curb. I noticed it was one line only for ALL the taxis promoted inside the airport, and they were all Yellow ones, belonging to the same company! The puzzle of the six competing booths still evades my solution several days after I returned from Mexico.

THE FIRST TIME VISITOR TO MEXICO CITY MUST BE ASTONISHED at the route that the taxis take from the airport to the Chapultepec area where my hotel is located. After standing in line for 15 minutes waiting for a taxi at the airport behind six people and observing a lady writing down the number of the ticket and the time of departure of each vehicle I boarded my taxi and asked the driver to please lower the volume of the radio. He casually looked at me through the back mirror, said: ”It’s not very loud”, did not lower the volume and proceeded to ignore me the rest of the trip. I was accompanied by a Christian radio station full of songs to Our Savior and to Christ the Redeemer (Cristo Redentor) and homilies about how believing in Jesus would bring everyone peace and comfort and well-being, along with salvation and a feeling of greatness. Go, Jesus!

As we were driving to the hotel, and I was listening to the radio, I imagined that maybe this broadcast was meant to balance what I was seeing. It was around five o’clock in the afternoon, the traffic was heavy in one direction and super heavy in the opposite direction, to the extent that the left-hand lane of the Circuito Vial where we were traveling was filled with traffic coming in the opposite direction to ours. This created two lanes for us, four lanes for the opposite way. Since the Circuito Vial is divided in the middle by fences or by the Metro rails, it was surprising to see the solution to the car congestion afflicting all of Mexico. All of the houses on either side of the Circuito are one or two stories. They look like boxes with small windows. Some of them have walls where the paint is coming down in big sheets but not quite unglued yet. Others are covered with graffiti. Most of them have signs either painted on the wall or on banners or metal marquees announcing the business of the place: Se Cambian Mofles (Mufflers Replaced); Tacos (Tacos); Cristales para Autos (Car Glass); Motores (Motors) Vulcanizadora (Tire Repair); Farmacia; Adelgace (Slim Down); and on and on. There are OXO convenience stores every kilometer or so; gas stations that are no longer only PEMEX but Total, Exxon, BP, Mobil, G500, Chevron. (This last discovery made me wonder how the Party (PRI) created by Lazaro Cárdenas, who nationalized the oil companies in Mexico, allowed the last President (from the PRI) to authorize the foreign oil companies to come back to Mexico.

The Circuito, built over 40 years ago, is sunk in some parts, with high walls or tunnels decorated with large contemporary mural paintings with prehispanic heroes and motifs or social themes. From time to time, astutely integrated into the murals, there are advertising signs for different types of products. Depending on the strength of the community some areas have no graffiti in the facades of the houses; others have many. Sadly all looks very run down and dirty, dark and unkempt. Paper and other garbage lazily floats in the whirlwinds of the season, gray and sad, heavy and overwhelming in its urban ugliness of indifference, poverty, despair and - probably saddest of all - unseen by the eyes of the population, young and old, that has become blind to their reality.

DEPRESSED AND FILLED WITH SADNESS I kept seeing images of the airports roads to center city in Istanbul, Bangkok, even Delhi, not to mention Singapore, and so many other places with similar standing to Mexico, where the visitor is welcomed with clean views, large spaces, landscaped sides, happy outdoor signs, gorgeous plantations of flowers; clean facades, streets and freeways that speak of the pride of place and pride of country that make the governments (and the inhabitants) pour all their efforts into providing the best welcome mat to the new visitors arriving from the airport to their cities.

Have Mexicans lost their pride? Have they lost their dignity? Are they blind and deaf to the vision they present?

I don’t know any Mexicans who do not obsessively clean their homes when expecting a visitor, just out of pride, if not of shame.

Where, oh where has this pride of country gone?

LA HUERTA CAFETERIA AT THE CAMINO REAL HOTEL was a most pleasant place to meet Chris and Alex for “a light supper” that became a feast of Tostadas de Pulpo, Carne Tampiqueña, Ensalada César, Huachinango al Horno, and Alex’s all-time favorite, Taquitos Dorados de Pollo. The food was great but the fun and exciting chat was far, far better. A fine evening that was as warm as the outside temperature was cold and uncomfortable, another sign of the changing climate of our planet.

A MUCH DESERVED HOMMAGE TO AGUSTIN ESPINOSA, my longtime friend, colleague and accomplice in many endeavors, was held at the National Museum of Anthropology the next day. Agustín and his wife Ceci looked fantastic and were as happy as I was to see one another. It was also an occasion for me to see my friends Héctor Tajonar, Nacho Moreno and his wife Irene. Eva Alicia, Luz Elena and Kenny Navarro were there as well. I was joined by Chris and Alex who were happy to come and see everyone as well.

The ceremony was very interesting, with speakers presenting long curricula of Agustin’s lifetime dedication and passion to conservation and restoration and the MC reading testimonies of foreign conservators who sent letters congratulating Agustín. I spoke briefly, admiring his modesty and humility, exceptional traits in such an accomplished professional/

After the ceremony some of us went to the Cantina del Leon for so-so food, loud music, drinks and more conversation with other attendees of the ceremony. I returned early to the hotel, where I had to ask for a heater for my room and prepare for an early start back to LA.

THE BROKEN WINDOW SYNDROME IS A THEORY THAT SUGGESTS that visible signs of disorder and disinterest in a neighborhood can lead to changes in social behavior. The theory posits that when a broken window is left unrepaired, it signals to others that no one cares and that it costs nothing to break more windows. This can lead to a cycle of disorder, where other windows are broken, and the property appears abandoned and uncared for.

The theory can be applied to other types of disorder, such as litter on a sidewalk, which can attract more litter or the state of the road from the airport to the hotel. Over time, these seemingly minor issues can escalate to more serious social behavior. Maybe this is what has happened to Mexico.

ANOTHER, DIFFERENT, SYNDROME THAT HAS NO NAME yet is what has happened to Dia de los Muertos in Mexico. For a long time Mexicans have celebrated Dia de los Muertos with visits to their departed at the tombs in the cemetery, bringing food and mariachis to remind themselves of the departed and let them know they have not been forgotten. They also installed altars in their homes with photos of the departed, food offerings, candles, booze, cempoalxochitl flowers (marigolds) and little edible sugar skulls with the names of people not yet departed as a reminder of our mortality.

The Day of the Dead festival has long inspired artists across Mexico. The iconography of death is part of celebrations; it has also been long used for political satire. José Guadalupe Posada influenced the celebration for over a century and still does. Armed with pen, paper, and a sense of humor, Posada transformed the calavera ( a representation of the human skull) and used it to poke fun at Mexican society. Posada’s humorous illustrations depicted various political topics during the revolutionary period in Mexico and included poems, also called Calaveras, reminiscent of Mexican corridos, songs about oppression, history, daily life of peasants, and other social issues.

Posada’s most famous character is La Catrina, the mother of all calaveras, a high society lady that, evenin death, wears the right hat. The Calaveras-poems that Posada wrote have been integrated, over time, into Mexican society by people in all walks of life. Nowadays, people give each other Calaveras-poems at that time of the year, to celebrate, with fun, their future death. Here is an example of a calavera for a man named Carmelo

Estaba Carmelo comiendo un pedazo de queso

Cuando de pronto se le atoró en el pescuezo

Y en un dos por tres la muerte se apareció

Y muy contenta al cementerio se lo llevó.

Freely translated

Carmelo was munching some cheese with delight,

No time to escape, no chance to take flight.

The cheese stuck fast, and what a fright!

Death whisked him away, deep in the night

These traditions have lasted over two centuries and were always personal and intimate. Essentially the only objects for sale were the sugar skulls; the Pan de Muertos, an egg brioche with applied dough tresses in the shape of bones, covered with sprinkled sugar; little calaveras figurines similar to Posada’s drawings; and miniature skeleton figurines, in little boxes, sometimes engaged in erotic positions.

THEN CAME SPECTRE, THE FILM. The James Bond 2015 film’s writers were fascinated with the Dia de los Muertos and decided to create a scene for James Bond iconic chase scene amid a Dia de los Muertos parade. Never had a Dia de los Muertos parade happened anywhere in Mexico before the film crew arrived. Hollywood had other ideas. With incredible imagination and resources, the film production created a magnificent parade with giant skeleton puppets, fabulous skulls, astonishing people dressed in skeleton costumes with their faces made up as skulls with all the variety of colors, glitter, glow, shine and polish that only a mega production from the creativity of Hollywood minds and techniques can bring to spectacular glory. The Cinco de Mayo Avenue was closed off. Extras were hired. Make-up artists were brought in hordes. The parade was organized. The filming took place. The editing was brilliant. And for the first time the humble and intimate calaveras of Mexico were not only 10 feet tall puppets, they were in IMAX theaters around the world. The world went crazy and adopted this new iconography. So did the Mexican merchants who promptly saw a merchandising opportunity and started copying the film’s parade characters and iconography: T shirts, purses, bags, belts, ties, paper weights, fans, shoes, toilet paper, shirts, skirts, pants, jackets, anything that could have a calavera on it was fair game. And copies begat copies begat copies until the whole of Mexican markets were flooded with this overwhelming array of commercial Dia de los Muertos goods.

What was unfortunate was that there was no other outlet for this copying that went on. And the market was saturated all year round in Mexico with these objects. Crafts stands, tourist marketplaces, airport shops, archaeological sites stores, museum shops all were infected with this merchandise that was a Calaveras virus that still prevails today. It is repetitive, bad quality, overworked, badly copied, without any additional creative dimension and has infected all tourism outlets to the detriment of Mexican crafts, jewelry, textiles, leisure wear and even luxury wear. Year round.

How long will this last? Will the tourism finally tire of it? Will the saturated marketplace collapse of its own weight? Will the Dia de los Muertos return to its humble, modest, intimate, personal origins?

A somewhat similar phenomenon, on a much smaller scale, happened in Mexico sixty years ago. The glazed clay small figurines made out of clay in Tonalá, Jalisco struck the fancy of the world. Everybody wanted one. The craftsmen could not produce enough. The world bought the clay figurines by the millions until the market lost interest, the quality disappeared and the boom collapsed like a black hole in the universe, leaving behind crafts people in Mexico that did not know how to make anything but clay glazed pigeons. There was no re-invention. And slowly all the crafts of Mexico started their downward spiral which has not ended. Fine crafts cannot be found except in museums. Instead of art they have become objects of financial speculation and Mexico is a poorer and sadder country for it.

Will the Mexicans ever learn? Will the Calaveras go the way of the Palomas? Will the glory days of authentic, native arts ever be alive again? Will the ceremonies and respect for the Dead arise from the ashes? Will Mexico take stock, rebirth and learn again to take pride of country?

At the entrance lintel of the first hall of Mexico’s Museum of Anthropology we can read the following inscription:

¿Solo así he de irme?
¿Como las flores que perecieron?
¿Nada quedará en mi nombre?
¿Nada de mi fama aquí en la tierra?
¡Al menos flores, al menos cantos!

        -Cantos de Huejotzingo

Freely translated:

Is this how I must leave?
Like blossoms that fade away?
Shall nothing remain of my name,
Nothing of my glory upon the earth?

Then let there be flowers,
Let there be songs.

-Songs of Huejotzingo