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Mexican Looking Glass

Mexican Looking Glass

Tuesday - 30 May 2000
Mexico - Mexico

The journey begins...

As soon as we stepped off the plane, the oppressive heat hit us in the face. I turned to Louise and Bobby and shook my head in disbelief. From the subzero temperature of Wyncote to this humidity… the heat scorched my throat with my first breath, perspiration started to drip from my every pore.

We walked down the stairs of the plane, much to the relief of the other passengers who were standing behind us waiting for us to move on, and we boarded the bus to take us to the terminal. Louise and Bobby sat down. I was way too hot so stood near the window and looked around to the other passengers. There were your typical tourists, Mexicans returning home, backpackers, and the rich holidaymakers. There were average Joes around too. Louise was sitting next to this really goofy-looking guy who was also blessed with a dopey smile. Lou was looking at the Berkeley's Travel Guide trying to decide where we should go. Goofy looks over her shoulder and starts to read her book – she shoots him one of her best "what the fuck are you looking at" faces and turns back to the book.

In a perfect imitation of Bill and Ted's accent he said "Hey dudes, where ya headin to?". Louise gave a sardonic smile and said "If we knew I wouldn't be looking at this fucking book". The comment flew way past him and he said "Well, I'm cruising to a really cool place called Zipolite man… it's like a real hippie commune, lots of weed, relaxed cas(ual) atmosphere, cheap booze, hammocks and really cool cabanas". Now that caught my attention. "How far is this place?" I asked. "Well babe… about 14 hours outta Mexico City, hey, my names Brian… stoked to meet you guys". I barely looked at him as my mind wandered to this place that was called Zipolite, imagining this idyllic haven where I could spend the next 8 weeks.

We finally arrived at the terminal… Brian nattering away (all I caught every now and then was "dudes") and the heat was giving me a headache. Brian disappeared as soon as we got off the bus… he was flying and we scum were catching a train. My favourite way of travelling!!!!! I walked over to the Tourist Information Desk and asked very politely and very slowly (using my Spanish book) Donde es el tren? The two ladies behind the counter looked at each other, smiled, looked back at me and shrugged with completely bewildered looks on their faces. I tried again "Donde es el tren?" Aaaahhh they finally deciphered what I was trying to say. They rambled off directions in Spanish and then put the "Out to Lunch" sign on the desk and walked away. Oh okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder and using sign language pointed out directions on how to get to the train station. Relief swept over me "Gracias, gracias" I repeated over and over again. Louise and Bobby just stood behind me, mute. Could see this was going to be fun!

We arrive at the Metro. Picture this… here I am holding up a queue of about 20 angry Mexicans who were ready to turn into a mob… trying to ask how to get to Zipolite. Was on the verge of tears as I looked around helplessly for some kind of assistance from Lou and Bobby. No help was forthcoming... they looked even more confused than I. I looked at the crowd and could see their eyes penetrating into me, telling me to hurry the hell up... they had places to go, people to meet. This elderly gentleman must have seen the look of sheer desperation on my face and he stepped forward. He walked straight to the counter and ordered 3 tickets for us and one for himself. I paid and thanked him. He spoke English fluently, with an American accent.

Threw my backpack over my shoulder and started walking along with this guy... he was a sportswriter from Texas, who was Hispanic American.... lived half the year in Texas and half the year in Mexico City. He was going to the same place where we were, the main train station and said he would stay with us to ensure we got there safely. He said that on the Metro we could be susceptible to some of the rough nuts who travelled the lines. Humberto, Bertie, was his name and he was 64 years old. Still was writing the sports but not like he used to, more like a habit now rather than making a living.

He conversed with fluidity and with animation in his eyes, his grey hair falling softly over his temple and the wrinkles around his eyes, more there because of laughter than the years that had caught up to him... he was enjoying the conversation and asking me all about life in Australia. Then he pulled out a little Spanish English dictionary (a hell of a lot better than the one I was carrying) and said "this is for you joven, it will help you to be more self-sufficient". He winked at me as he said this and I couldn't help but smile. "Gracias Senor" I smiled at him. Louise and Bobby at this stage were frozen in fright unsure of what they had gotten themselves into. They were very quiet.

We arrived at the Main Terminal to begin our trip to Zipolite. I kissed Humberto goodbye on both cheeks, hugged him and said "Gracias mi amigo". He shyly smiled back, blushed and waved as he walked away.

Now it was time to wait... we had 6 hours to kill before our train left. I sat down, leaning on a wall, pulled out my notebook and pen, lit a cigarette and began to write. Louise and Bobby sat fairly close to each other (and me) and just talked to each other and read.

Time dragged on and on..... at 8pm at night it was still incredibly muggy and humid. The sweat was pouring out of every pore of my body and all I wanted was a nice cold shower.... even a glass of cold water would have sufficed but nothing was COLD!



Mexican train ride

Eventually, 2 hours late, our train was ready to depart. I dragged my backpack along behind me and shuffled with such weariness to the appropriate carriage. Along with many others we climbed aboard the rickety old train, if it was less than 50 years old I would have been surprised. We found out seats and prepared ourselves for the 14-hour train ride. To say this train was dirty, smelly, crowded, steamy, hot and putrid would be a gross understatement, yet I couldn't contain my enthusiasm at being aboard. I sat alone next to the window. Lou and Bobby in the seats across the aisle from me. With a huge lurching movement the train commenced the journey. It was excruciatingly slow moving out of the station, giving ample time to set up for sleep, ensure baggage was kept well "tied down" to prevent movement and thieves and to ponder on the journey itself.

As the train picked up speed, the adrenalin kicked in.... I stared out the window. Lou kept trying to catch my attention, but I did not want to be "inside" the carriage... I wanted to build up the speed and move along with the outside of the train. We moved through Mexico City. I stared at the cement buildings, everything was cement, the dusty streets, nothing green and the heat leaving a film over my vision (like vaseline over a camera lens). The setting sun showed the stark coldness of a city filled with people with no hope. And noise, the noise of the train, clickety clack, clickety clack and loud, god it was loud. There was noise from the traffic filtering in through the window, louder and louder as the train went faster and faster. The dust from the streets filled every pore and my eyes, red rimmed and sore, strained to see what kind of life lay on “the outside”.

People around me talking in a language so strange yet was wildly intoxicating. They kept talking rapidly, loudly, all except me were oblivious to the chaos that was surrounding us. My eyes darted from outside, and the cement, to inside and the strange people within the carriage. Capturing every detail, I was holding it all in, trying to digest it all but to no avail... panic set in, I was frantic, it was disturbing, it was getting too loud, my eyes were burning from the smog and pollution, my ears were in pain, I needed to remove myself from it all, I was losing it rapidly. I needed some kind of silence, I needed to stop looking.... I squinted, I shook my head, I jumped up .... I looked around wildly.... then ran to the section which was between the compartments and just stood there, dazed, breathing deeply, I couldn't stand properly, leaning on the railing with my head out the window. I was just standing there (barely) like that and Louise walked over behind me. She placed her hand on my shoulder and I jumped. I turned around and slowly started to focus on her... I smiled. I was okay now, I was back.

She passed me some water and lit me a cigarette. What the hell happened? I had completely lost it there... I had felt like my sanity was flying out the window, mingling in with the cement of this strange city.

So I took the cigarette from Louise, took a long drag and looked out the window.

Slowly we started to move way from the city limits. The cement sidewalks were being replaced by dirt and the tall cement buildings were being replaced by small shanty houses on the side of the railway line. These houses were made of bits and pieces of wood, old signs, cardboard boxes, old wire, anything that these poverty stricken Mexicans could get their hands on. They also had tapped into the electrical wires above their heads and connected themselves to electricity. One bulb for the entire "house". They sat outside cooking on small gas cookers.... the adults with defeated faces, drawn towards the dusty, dirty ground, going about their chores, and on the other side were the children running along with the train, dirty, no shoes, tousled hair and friendly smiles.

Sadness with a smile enveloped me.... clickety clack clickety clack the sounds of the train beginning to sound like a melody. For an hour I just sat there regaining my sanity... trying to understand what had happened to me, questioning it all, was I losing my mind, was it already lost, where was I going, what the hell was I doing here. Racing thoughts, rampant and wild.

Then, as the train started to slow down, my thoughts followed suit... we approached a small station on the outskirts of the city... as the train stopped Mexican women jumped on the train with baskets on their heads or buckets in their hands selling tamales, quesadillas, iceblocks, water, juice and sweet peanuts. They walked through the carriages yelling out what they were selling... men, also, selling leather strappy shoes, cigarettes, lighters, hats, blankets.... I looked closely into their faces as they passed me by.

Leathered by the sun, creases which were synonymous with rings around the tree trunk depicting age, eyes dark and brooding showing pain and joy of the like I will never experience, dark brows which mystified their eyes, lashes long and dark which added beauty to the eyes, teeth strong but stained, lips full but not moist or supple, weathered by life... slightly cracked, strong chins showing strength of character... a defiance and pride, sculptured cheekbones evoking images of strong lineage, hair black speckled with grey.. sometimes long.. sometimes short.. coarse yet smooth and shiny in appearance. And yet I knew that all these observations could not possibly depict the lives which were lived by these people, the moments they had experienced, the poverty they lived, tenderness shown to their children, anger which has come to the forefront of their lives as a result of innumerable injustices towards themselves and their families past and present.



Through the Window

How could I ever appreciate the kind of lives these people have sometimes wished they were not a part of? How could I possibly understand them when I, the privileged White woman, will never encounter their suffering, their pain or the exhilarating moments of their joys, simple and pure?

It is easy to describe the physical characteristics, yet I will not even attempt to explain or write about the emotional aspects of these people, for I cannot.

I looked back out of the window as the train started to move again, with tears in my eyes I pondered on what kind of "awakenings" I would have on this part of my journey. As we continued forth, the countryside turned to lush green. There became a sudden chill in the air and I walked back to my seat, picked up my blanket and moved back to my place of sanctuary. I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket and stood there, smoking cigarette after cigarette. From the dusty dirty streets and houses, I now faced an image very similar to a tropical rainforest. My eyes wide in wonderment as I watched the transformation. I suddenly felt refreshed, awake, and more alive than I had been for days.

Then just as suddenly as the euphoria approached, weariness overtook all senses. Walking slowly back to the seat, I plonked myself down and observed my fellow passengers. Fathers reading the papers looking worn and tired but with a little excitement because they were going home after a week in the city working, children talking and playing games, laughter ringing out, squeals of delight if they were winning and groans if they were losing, families heading off the weekend all packed up with bags and baskets, grandmothers preparing meals from the goodies in their packs, for the rest of the family, elderly men playing cards together, women lying in the aisles trying to get some sleep, mothers breastfeeding babies and Louise and Bobby.... asleep over each other. I started to create stories for everyone on the train, imagining what kind of lives they would be living, determining the relationships between each person.

Women were still walking through the train selling food, when a small elderly woman with a deformed arm approached me.... asked Tu quieres cafe con leche..... that phrase I made sure I knew! Si, si, gracia.... she poured me a nice big cup of coffee, I gave her 5 pesos and she went to give me the change. I shook my head no, she smiled, touched me on the cheek, bowed and said "Gracias signorita"..... I felt blessed for some reason. I couldn't move. This woman who had nothing in life and got paid 5 pesos for a cup of coffee gave me a gift…..she made me feel special, she just gave me everything and yet nothing. A tear rolled down my face, confused as to why I would be feeling this way, but did not really try to find an answer.

I took another deep breath, retrieved my pack of cigarette, still wrapped in my blanket, took my coffee and went back to entrance of the train compartment. I was taken aback by what now faced me. There was nothing but flat country in front of me, where had the lush green rainforest disappeared to? I was looking at a wild, dusty desert. It was straight out of a spaghetti western. The moonlight shining down from the sloping mountains, a breeze blowing the prairie grass around, dust swirling, the moon hanging precariously over the horizon, tumbling weeds rolling and cactuses laid wild over the landscape. Spooky is a good way to describe the feeling of what I was looking at. The air was now biting cold. The wind harsh against my skin. It was haunting, enchanting, Mexico was a mystery.

With the mixture of landscapes, atmospheres, temperatures I had experienced my mind was a mixing pot of emotions.... the tears kept running down my face for no apparent reason.

And it continued like this all night.. .people bustling in and out... the conductor checking to see if faces were familiar and if not requesting to sight your ticket, me getting up and smoking to sitting down and staring out the window, kids running up and down the corridor, Bobby and Louise sleeping one moment, arguing the next, people talking in their melodious Spanish language.... clickety clack clickety clack.

I felt like I had entered a different time zone, a dimension that I had never imagined could have possibly existed. I looked back to issues I had been hiding from, I had to develop strength to return home, but knew not where to find it, how to achieve it or if I could achieve it. I continued to write all night.... scribbles that made no sense, that made some sense, that seemed to be written by a hand other than my own. I was removed from who I was, there was no way I was going to find answers here. I realised then, for the first time in 10 months that I was not going to find any answers and the decisions I would make would probably be on the flight home.

This was not the time to think about me, this was a time to drink in the atmosphere, to live Mexico.

As the sun was coming up I saw this barren land and the houses that still lined the train tracks. Children were up washing their faces, bathing their bodies with the water that was in buckets, eating sitting outside the shanty houses, mothers washing, fathers reading the paper.... as we slowed down a group of children ran up alongside the train and started waving at me.... I stuck my hand in my daypack, pulled out a huge bag of sweets I had been given and threw them out at the children. The squealed in delight and screamed and stopped and collected their sweets, a little girl was standing a way back , just watching.... then I noticed that she had been burned on the side of the face.... she was staring straight at me.



Beauty waves at me

The train came to a complete stop.... I grabbed a stuffed highland cow that I had been given by David and jumped off the side of the train..... I ran over to this little girl and handed her the cow. She looked at it, looked at me, smiled a semi-toothless grin, hesitantly put out her hand and gingerly took the cow from my hands. I gently brushed stray hair from her face and looked into the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. "Gracias" she whispered as she turned around and ran back to her house. I quickly jumped back on the train and looked back at the children. I looked at where the little girl had run to and saw her standing behind a sheet hanging on a line. She smiled at me and waved with the cow in her hand. That smile was the greatest gift I have ever been given.

I went and sat back down feeling like I was about to experience real enlightenment, of the kind that could do nothing but evoke passion, acceptance and love within me. I knew I would find a sense of self here, I already felt responsible for the injustices of the people here, I felt like I could help, I would learn about me and who I was and how I could help these people. I smiled at Louise and nudged my head towards the "smoking" section, she smiled and joined for me for yet another cigarette. She lit hers and then mine and said, "Why are you looking so happy? This has been such a shitty uncomfortable train ride.... " Just then another woman walks past offering more coffee... I purchase two and we both lean on the window, our heads poking out just a little, we stare outside at Mexico in all it's glory.... sip at our coffee and smoke our cigarettes in a comfortable, companion-like silence.



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