A Fat Purple Fig

Mexicans are LOUD. They shout, blow whistles, honk their horns incessantly, and use animated pre-recorded spiels to tempt people into their stores. Even the roadside tamale bikes have a recorded voice that just repeats, “tamales, tamales, tamales” in a sing-song voice.

The police have their lights on all the time, and their sirens on most of the time. This made me look repeatedly to see what was going on. They are also very intimidatingly dressed, and look like they are perpetually about to attend a riot.

Drivers have little respect for pedestrians. I imagine they lose vast numbers of them.

The traffic is so bad in Mexico City, there is a job-of-sorts for those individuals who elect to help drivers make their way through it. There seems to be a whole army of traffic assistants, notifying drivers if anyone is coming on the uber-narrow streets, or holding a car still whilst another goes…all working for tips.

Mexicans can look quite surly, however, upon learning of their shyness from our guide, Alvaro, I started to smile a lot and say “hola” all day long. It opened up a whole world of friendliness.

Mexico is bit behind when it comes to electronic money. There are about four ATMs in the whole city centre and, on the day I needed one, each had a queue of about 12 people waiting to use it. There was nothing for it but to wait.

Wine is not a common choice of drink here. Despite there being two wine-making areas, Mexicans rarely drink it, preferring beer and tequila. According to Sergio, it is seen as being “a little bit fancy”.

Areas of the city are devoted to different sale items. For example, our home is in the music district, and there are districts for electrical items and lighting and so on. When we first arrived, I figured just about every Mexican must be a musician, in order to have that many stores.

Their “Happy Birthday” is vastly superior to ours…and lasts about four times longer.