holing up

I am a good traveler.

That is convenient.  To say anything else would be a bit like Damian Lilliard saying he hates basketball.  (The reference is for my mother -- the queen of Trailblazers fans.)

Most people seem to dislike hotel rooms.  At least, that is the impression I get from comments like: "Who cares what it looks like?  I don't spend much time there."

Well, I do care.  Not only is it a place for me to sleep, but it is my base camp for touring.  Not to mention my publication center to keep in touch with you.

When I was in Mexico City last month, I stayed at the Galeria Plaza Reforma -- a nice hotel filled with Korean and Mexican businessmen and busloads of Chinese tourists.  The best room attribute, as I told you then, was the bath tub.  And the hotel is near the sights I intend to see on this trip.

So, I booked another week.  That is my room at the top.  A standard business class hotel room.  Last time I had a king size bed.  That simply underscored the fact that I do not have a spouse.  The twin double beds remind me that I do not even have a traveling companion.

The beds can taunt all they want, I am going to have a great time.

What do I plan on doing?  Well, there are no plans.  But I will have dinner tomorrow night with the Mexican wife of a German reader. 

You may have noticed the books on the desk.  Two of them are by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross -- On Brief and Grieving and On Death and Dying.  They are for her step-father.

You might think them an odd dinner gift, but her step-father treated me to a very nice afternoon and evening with their family in Puerto Vallarta almost two years ago.  He mentioned that he would like to read both of the books.  So, here they are.  Ready for delivery.

And I hope to have dinner with another blogger I have followed even before I moved here.  The common thread, of course, is this blogging business -- where we set up networks of acquaintanceship that could not have quite worked in the era of quill, paper, and steamboats.

In addition to eating, there are a whole list of things I want to see: a couple more days at the Anthropological Museum.  A day at the Museum of Modern Art.  Another day at the Rufino Tamayo museum.

I am also going to make a pilgrimage on behalf of a certain northern Mexico blogger.  But the object of that quest will await disclosure until I bag my prey.

While I am in that area of Mexico City, I also want to visit the Plaza of Three Cultures -- the site of the student massacre in 1968.  As the result of several readings, my attitude toward that event has shifted.  I want to visit the site to share some of those thoughts with you.  It is an event that still haunts the reputation of representative government in Mexico.

But, before I do any of that, tomorrow morning I will head over to my tailor for my the final fitting of my white tie outfit.  I may even share a photograph or two of the process.  And really look like a naff tourist.

That brings me back to my hotel room.  Unlike several hotels I have used in the last year, this one is actually arranged as if someone would use it productively.  The computer desk has plenty of space.  And the internet (though slow) actually works where the desk is set.

Of course, as in most hotel rooms, the only available electrical plug is on a blank wall 10 feet away from the desk.

That is why I travel with an extension cord and a multiple-port USB adapter.  The cord is one of the first things I pull out of my backpack when I arrive in a new hotel room -- or cruise ship cabin.

It may look a bit like a rat nest, and no spouse would ever let me string that many wires through walking space.  But it works.  Out of a sense of caution and courtesy, I do pull it all up when I leave the room to the vagaries of the maid.

As you can see, I am all prepared for the week ahead.  And, despite that list of things I would like to do, I suspect a few impromptu events will present themselves.

After all, this is Mexico City.  Where almost anything is possible.