I’m tired of words so here is a random selection of photos from Mexico City.

One of the best things about Mexico City is that, as my mother-in-law-says, "There's a treasure around every corner." I don’t know what church this is and didn’t bother finding out but it’s a stumbled-upon treasure.



The Pyramids of Teotihuacan are the remnants of a civilization that predates the Aztecs, who found this former metropolis already in ruins. The pyramids were spectacular, although we did spend somewhat more time there than I would have liked, what with everything else the city has to offer.



Our guide was knowledgeable and meticulous and had a lot to say about the pyramids.



Random artsy-fartsiness.



The Aztec dog, the xoloescuintle, is a little odd looking, with those big ears and hairless skin like a lizard. These dogs are endangered but we met this one by the pyramids.



This little pack of xoloescuintles (dunno how to pronounce it) lives at the Museo Doloros Olmedo, which I loved.



Dolores Olmedo was friend, lover, patron and sometime model of Diego Rivera. Her collection is housed in her former home, a lovely hacienda surrounded by lawns and gardens. Art ranges from pre-Columbian forward, including numerous artworks by Rivera and his wife Frida Kahlo, and the collection is stunning.

However, I was mesmerized by numerous photos and portraits of Dolores herself—so glamorous, so fabulous. In one photo that appears to be from the 1950s (I looked for a postcard in the museum shop but alas, there were none), she crosses a tarmac from a small plane wearing a pencil skirt with a fur stole around her shoulders, flanked by slender dark-haired men in suits and sunglasses. I have a new role model.

Random artsy-fartsy photo of the museum courtyard.



The gardens are home to a flock of peacocks and the boys were randy this day, showing their stuff.



A different view, in case you wondered.



We also visited the Frida Kahlo Museum, in her former home in the town of Coyoacan. I’m sure it’s lovely but it was so crowded I got woozy and tore through it. I’ll have to return someday. Nevertheless, here’s a photo of her garden.



And in conclusion, another random artsy-fartsy photo from the Frida Kahlo museum.




That is all. And it took forfrigginever to post.

Labels: dogs, Mexico, mexico city, photography, travel

OK, I’m back from Mexico City and ready to stop milling around for a while—I need to hunker down and make some money.

I, of course, have read and heard much about how big Mexico City is but nothing prepared me for the sight of it from the airplane window. (“View from the airplane window”—travel writing cliché #237...) It’s breathtaking, a blanket of city draped over the valley and climbing the mountains. It just goes on and on and on.

I didn’t get to see nearly as much as I would like to in this whirlwind weekend but I saw enough to know the city bears a repeat visit or three. Unfortunately, it’s a tough sell. When I told one editor I was going, he said, “We wouldn’t send our readers there—too dangerous.”

I never felt the least bit threatened, but I didn’t go out alone at night and evidently my companion and I lucked out when we hopped into a cab on the outsized Zocalo—our driver didn’t know where our hotel was but he studied our map carefully and took us directly there without robbing or raping us. Generally, though, tourists are advised not to jump into any old taxi, since taxi crime is a big problem.

This companion was convinced that the city’s reputation was simply Hollywood hyperbole, but a quick Lexis-Nexis search confirms the city’s rep. The U.S. State Department website also warns about street crime ranging from pickpockets to kidnapping.

OK … forewarned, but it’s still a cool city—bustling and metropolitan, as European-feeling as Latin American, chock full o’ art and culture and history and fine dining.

I contend that the greatest danger in travel is not necessarily because one place is more dangerous than another (although of course, in reality, this is true) but that we don’t always recognize danger in new-to-us cultures.

During our first days of a two-week trip to Thailand, my companion and I felt perfectly OK walking around Bangkok at night. Call me racist, but the men were mostly slender and so pretty, we couldn’t imagine that they were capable of doing us any harm. When we returned to the city at the end of our trip, more accustomed to the country and less starry-eyed, we realized that a city with a huge sex tourism industry—which Bangkok has--couldn’t be half as benign as we imagined. We exercised more caution on those last days than we had at first.

I have been mostly fortunate in my travels and can think of few places I wouldn’t go because of crime. However, I am cautious and, when traveling alone in some places, dine early and don’t traipse around at night. It’s kind of a bummer. I’ve often said that the only time I wish I were a man is when traveling alone. Sometimes I’d love to just pop into a bar for a nightcap but in many cases, that’s not wise.

(I said this once among a group of travel writers and a gigantic Southern dude insisted I was being silly. “I took my girlfriend to a rough backwoods bar once and within minutes she was surrounded by barflies having a GREAT time,” he said. “She wasn’t afraid.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You were right there, keeping an eye on her.”

He looked startled. “I never thought of that,” he said. Der.)

Anyway, Mexico City’s crime problem may be a sad reality—but the happy reality is that it’s one hell of a city. I’d go back, crime or not.

Labels: crime, Mexico, travel

My most recent Wandering Mind column, in which a knucklehead act leads to joy, peace of mind and kumbaya. You know, my usual theme.

And looky, once more I'm on-trend.

Labels: Mexico, photography, puerto vallarta, travel

For your St. Patrick’s Day, here’s five seconds of fun on a street in Galway. It’s accidental video so it sucks, but I like it anyway. (I forgot my camera shot video and accidentally moved the selector. All the flailing around is me trying to figure out why the shutter wasn't clicking.) It’s both festive and a little frightening, in a scary clowns way.



This photo accompanied a story in today’s Dallas Morning News about how Mexico tourism is suffering because of drug violence. The article was pegged to spring break, the headline is “Spring-breakers brave Mexico despite drug war threat.”

Note to parents: If that’s your daughter in the photo, you’ve got more to worry about than the drug wars. This scene is grotesque to me.

Obscure news you can use: April is National Car Care Month and The Vinegar Institute joins the Car Care Council in offering motorists advice to keep their vehicles in tip-top condition...Put the power of vinegar into your most beloved ride with these quick tips:
* Wipe the length of wiper blades with full-strength white distilled vinegar to remove grime and keep them clean...* Spray or wipe 3 parts white distilled vinegar to 1 part water on windows to keep them frost-free. Repeat every few weeks to keep windows crystal clear...* Dilute white distilled vinegar with water and sponge it into your vehicle’s carpet and blot up to remove stains, ground-in dirt and salt residue...* Don’t forget those once-prized bumper stickers! Saturate the tops and sides of each sticker with full-strength white distilled vinegar and allow to soak through. Scrape them off with an expired credit card. Use additional vinegar to remove any remaining residue. This also works wonders on those cute little stickers children like to decorate the windows with! (Note: Try on a small, inconspicuous area first.)


I loaded up this video mostly to check my Internet connection, which has been hinky, and got all choked up seeing my late brother Oliver as the conductor. (My brother, Nick, the other guy in the vid, is alive and well in NYC. As is Lyn Byrd.) Handsome bunch, ain’t they? In an oh-so-'80s way?


If more flotsam floats my way, I’ll hurl it yours.

Labels: comateens, drunken behavior, ireland, Mexico, spring break, st. patrick's day, vinegar