poling in public

When I return to Mexico City, I will give the boat rides of Xochimilo a pass.


The people of Mexico City love the place.  They often show up in groups to celebrate an event and are poled about in long covered boats – to the sounds of mediocre (if they are lucky) mariachi and vendors of beverages, scarves, rugs, and who-knows-what.


To my surprise, most of the people on our bus tour thought this was one of the highlights of the trip.  I really did not get it.  I still don't -- even after thinking about it.

 

Most of us remember from our history classes that when the Spanish arrived, they discovered the capital of the Aztec empire, Tenochtitlan, was built in the middle of a lake in the Valley of Mexico.  Several other lakes were part of a vast network that joined parts of the empire.


When I first heard that story, I thought of Tenochtitlan as being an island in the lake.  It wasn't.  It was much more than that -- a series of small islands divided by canals.  The Aztecs not only lived there, they farmed there.  (You can see the canals in the model.)


You can still see the remnants of that massive inter-lake system in Xochimilco.  The islands were formed by driving sticks into the lake bed.  Fill (garbage, dirt, excrement) was then dumped into the staked area to create an island.  A particularly fertile island.


There are still farms on this canal-crossed area.  And often the only way to get from one island to another is by boat.


Here is the sad part.  The canal system -- and the ecosystem associated with it -- has been dying since the 1950s when water was pumped out to feed Mexico City’s needs.  As a result, the water level of the canals is dropping – even with efforts to pump more water into the system.


I found all of that interesting.  Learning about the canals and the people who lived there was new to me.

 

But what made it less than enjoyable for me was being crowded onto a long boat to sit around a table that left little mobility.  I had no trouble with the people.  They were pleasant.  But it was crowded.


We were then boarded by musical pirates disguised as a mariachi band.  I say disguised because they looked like a mariachi band.  But they certainly did not sound like one.  I suspect some grade school was missing its entire teaching staff for the afternoon.


What they lacked in talent, they tried to compensate with volume.  It didn't work.


We were then plagued by a flotilla of Liza Dolittles – to be replaced by merchant after merchant of every imaginable trinket  All available at almost any street corner in Mexico City.  (I would like to see a story one of these days about the fellow who supplies all of these vendors.)

Anyone who has read my blog knows I am a big defender of the free market system.  And I applauded each vendor for amazing persistence and initiative – in principle.


But, for me, it was just a bit too much.  I suspect I was starting to feel the effects of my approaching bout of stomach explosions.


I love boats.  I loved the history.  I was enthralled with the people working the fields – mainly plant nurseries.  But I would not want to relive the experience.


At times I wish I could be more like the residents of Mexico City who truly love the place. 


When they come in groups, they will often hire a series of boats, tie them together, and have a great time.  It may also be a way for them to pay homage to the Indian side of their heritage.


OK.  I got that out of my system.  It was the only less-than-satisfactory experience I had on the trip.  And I feel a lot better for turning lose of it.


Now, let’s talk about the things that will bring me back to Mexico City.