In Mexico City, the blind leading the blind is not precisely a figure of speech. It is fairly common to see one unsighted person walking with a cane, followed by two or three equally visionless cohorts, each with a hand on the shoulder or waistband of the person in front of him. I found this threesome on the metro, and asked the leader if I could help them up the closest staircase. He refused, saying he would prefer to go down the aisle to find the escalator. "Soy medio güevón," he explained, which means, more or less, "I'm kind of a lazy bastard."
Tall drink of water
This photo was taken at the Centro Cultural Xavier Villarutia, an art gallery inside the Glorieta de Insurgentes, a traffic circle cum subway entrance, where an exhibition about transgender issues is taking place throughout August.
Insurance
Could it be that Mexico City is hard-up for travelers? The other day the Minister of Tourism announced that, as of August 1, any visitor to the D.F. will automatically receive a free medical insurance policy, which includes coverage in case of swine flu. But that's not all: the policy also covers any kind of illness, accident, dental emergencies, shipping of dead bodies to funeral parlors, and legal assistance for stolen or lost documents. At the same press conference, the president of the Mexico City Hotel Owners' Association said that members reported occupancy at 60 per cent, more or less the level before the swine flu scare. The insurer is the Spanish underwriter Mapfre.
So nice they made them twice
I saw these two cuties while walking around Colonia Juárez, and asked if they would be so kind as to pose for a foreigner's perennial photo montage of Mexico City. They don't make them like they used to.
Bye bye cabaret
Readers of my book FirstStop in the New World may remember the chapter about the Savoy, the last cabaret in Mexico City, with its live orchestra, plump dancing girls, a mariachi who sang to piped-in music, and the Euterpean talents of Claudia Tate, who had been the star of soft porn comedies in the 1970s. The Savoy is still here. But sadly, the floor show is gone (except for the warbling mariachi). It has become a table-dance and fichera joint, where you can cut the rug to live salsa with one of the women on the premises for a modest fee, and perhaps negotiate other services for proportionately higher honorariums.