Weather

Years ago I saw a TV interview with the actor Robert Vaughn, who said that he had moved to Connecticut because he wanted his children to experience the change of seasons, rather than suffer the monotony of continuous sunny days in Los Angeles. Vaughn spoke with a priggish mid-Atlantic accent, and I remember thinking, What an unbearable snob. It’s as if he believes one kind of weather is morally superior to another.

I’ve written before about this time of year in Mexico City. Although climate change is making weather less predictable all over the world, it’s still my favorite season — the hottest time of year before the rains begin in full force, usually in late May or early June.

Even though Mexico City has a temperate climate, we do have markedly different seasons, even if they’re not the same as they are in Vaughn’s cherished Connecticut. Between February and June, when the rains begin, it’s “spring,” with jacaranda, bougainvillea and other flowers blooming. (By the time you read this, the jacarandas, pictured here, which shed their petals after two or three months, will be mostly nude.) It’s the hottest time of year (although not unbearably so), going up to about 80 degrees Fahrenheit (26 or 27 Celsius) most days. 

During the rainy season, from June through September, there’s usually a downpour for a couple of hours in the afternoon (with more at night from time to time). The rain cools things off, especially on cloudy days. October and November tend to be sunny and a little cooler, and during the winter — from December through more or less mid-February — it can go up to 70 degrees (21 Celsius) during the day, and on some nights down to about 40 (4 or 5 degrees Celsius). Homes in Mexico City don’t have central heating, so you need to wear a sweater inside, and lay on an extra blanket when you sleep. To hear people around here complain, you’d think we were living in the North Pole.

It’s what I consider a privileged climate, and has truly spoiled me. When I’ve had to travel to places of extreme heat and cold for work, I wonder how people survive a life there. I cannot imagine what it would possibly take to get me to move to Connecticut.

Vote early, vote often?

Raw Story

I’ve been in Mexico for almost thirty years, and in all that time I’ve only been impressed by one politician: Marcelo Ebrard. Mayor of Mexico City between 2006 and 2012, he took some steps to turn Mexico City into a progressive, contemporary capital. Among the initiatives in his administration were making first-trimester abortions legal and available, a law allowing same-sex marriage, and a shared-bike program that today has 444 stations and 6,000 bicycles. Sadly, after the end of his term, he disappeared from view after political rivals leveled unsubstantiated charges of scandal against him, about corruption during the implementation of the city's twelfth subway line.

As for the rest of the politicians, notwithstanding on which party’s ticket they’ve been elected, they all strike me as cut from the same cloth. Left, right and center designations don’t mean much any longer. The supposedly leftist PRD and Morena parties may throw a few more crumbs at the poor to buy their votes. The right-wing PAN may be the most oriented toward business. And the PRI — the National Revolutionary Party, which has been in power for all but 12 of the last 87 years — has distinguished itself by sinking corruption to its lowest, most heinous levels. 

Mexico News Daily

But no matter who is in power here, the wealth remains scandalously distributed. Mexico has a GDP of $18,535 per capita, making it the 14th highest in the world. Yet the wealthiest one per cent of the population owns 43 per cent of the wealth, and four people make up nine per cent of the GDP. Needless to say, the distribution of goods and services works a lot better for people with money than for everyone else. Since I arrived in 1990, about half the people in the country have lived at or below the poverty level, and poverty has been increasing in the past few years under the current administration. Mexico City has been listed as the eighth-wealthiest city in the world, yet more than half of the working population survives through the underground economy.

On July 1, Mexicans will vote for the person who will be their president from 2018 to 2024. According to all the polls, the front-runner is Andrés Manuel López Obrador, the candidate for the Morena party. He makes a lot of noise that makes him sound like a populist, and indeed, when he was mayor of Mexico City (from 2000 to 2005), he gave out gift cards that could be spent at supermarkets to senior citizens, single mothers, and the disabled. But he was actually pro-business and his most notable projects benefited people with money more than the poor. Here’s a link to a nuanced and even-handed article about him published in Dissent, co-written by Mexican and U.S. academics. It’s a long piece but well worth reading if you want to know about the man — known as AMLO and sometimes as el peje, short for el peje lagarto (a grey freshwater gar common in his home state of Tabasco) — who is likely to be Mexico’s next president.

I have no confidence that López Obrador will make a good president. But neither do I feel he would be a substantially worse one than any whose administrations I've lived through in the past 28 years. What's more, Anaya and Meade, the candidates postulated by the opposing parties this year, are so ludicrous that I'm not going to waste your time writing about them. 

Grupo Rivas

The level of hysteria in the public discourse coming from those against AMLO is disarming. His enemies paint him out to be Hugo Chávez, Fidel Castro, and Donald Trump rolled into one. He has certainly has demonstrated tendencies toward demagoguery. Like Trump, he responds to criticism with tendentious insult rather than considered rebuttal. He has seldom traveled outside Mexico and speaks no languages besides Spanish. But I believe that, on a conscious or unconscious level, many of those who are against him simply don’t believe that he looks or speaks like their conception of a politician (white, patrician, by preference technocratic and foreign-educated). There are hints of racism and classism in the criticism against AMLO. For those who read Spanish, here’s a link to what I believe is a provocative reflection.

My mother, my father, Miami ...

Image: Birds and Blooms

I remember from childhood when some of my aging Jewish relatives described Miami as the true Promised Land. What could Israel possibly have over a territory where, according to my Aunt Sadie, grapefruits the size of basketballs drooped from the trees, ripe (I imagined) for clandestine plucking by any passerby?  I will be in Miami Beach next week for events about my novel ONE LIFE. On Wednesday, March 7th, I will be speaking at the Galbut Family Jewish Community Center, 4221 Pine Tree Drive, at 12:30 pm. This event costs $36 and includes lunch. If you prefer free and open to the public, on Thursday, March 8th, I'll be at the Miami Beach Regional Library, 227 22nd Street, at 6:30 pm. More exact details are on the Events Page. Please spread the word to anyone you know there who might need a break from grapefruit pilfering.

Image source: Wrightslaw

Does anyone read blogs any longer?

You may notice that after a long hiatus, my web site was recently renovated (by the talented, eagle-eyed and economical designer Mennlay Golokeh Aggrey). Now that I am a little more animated to contribute to this more frequently, I have been told that blogs are passé, having been entirely supplanted by Instagram, Pinterest, Snapchat, and Twitter tweets written by people as odious and reprehensible as the current POTUS. I'd like to know what you all think: Shall I continue to post? Is anyone out there reading anything longer than 140 characters?

Versailles in downtown Mexico City

I've written on several occasions about why I like cantinas. A few afternoons ago, I was at La Vaquita, a traditional watering hole on the corner of Mesones and Isabel la Católica in the centro histórico. Lots of botanas were on the menu that day, among them paella, breaded cauliflower in tomato sauce and tuna croquettes. I was with a couple of friends who pointed out, almost as an afterthought, that there was a mural of Versailles along the back wall. I have visited La Vaquita literally dozens of times and had never noticed it before. I wasn't sure why -- I'd noticed the altar to the Virgin of Guadalupe, the old talavera tile, the juke box. But never the mural. Was it because I always position myself facing the swinging doors to the entrance, rather than the wall? Was it because I, um, drink a little too quickly when I'm there? In any case, I asked my friends to take a picture of me with Versailles in the background. Diego, the exemplary waiter who took care of us (and who is a lot more cheerful than his expression suggests) asked to get into the photo with me. Happy New Year, everyone.