TJ CHALLENGE #37Try to figure out
the spaghetti snarl
beside Puente Mexico& across the river.
It goes over and under,
up, down, around, into
and out of downtown.
TRAFFIC GLORIETASAt the head, some turn
back, unwilling to go on.All the rest plunge forward
-- ! ADELANTE ! --Left, right, straight, bending
'round each monument circle,
embracing a gigantic paperweight
set down upon the living citymap like reminders of who
rules here : technocrats
from Tenochtitlan .Or perhaps you'll just go
round and round and round
the endless traffic circle
forever, never stopping, ever?Wrong. They put up stoplights.
Introduced me to her co-workers. Our growing friendship (maybe more?) seems to have caused a little stir. They all kept coming in while I sat and chatted with her. One by one, shaking my hand, chatting briefly in Spanish with me, checking me out, wondering if I'm worthy of her. She's never been married, never had but one boyfriend, back in Nuevo Laredo -- where she worked with the same import/export company -- and well, yes, they're watching out for her, I guess. I like that. I also like that I seem to have passed their first test.
They're right of course, since she's a pretty classy lady, my Maria de Jesus. All the more reason not to rush into anything. Let everyone get used to it -- most of all, us.
But there's more.
I found out yesterday she has roots in a spot I've dreamed of visiting for years and years. Real de Catorce, a ghost town (pueblo fantasma) in northern San Luis Potosi state. While we talked, I was mentioning that I've always dreamed of walking up the moutain from the railroad station at its base, and she smiled and said her mother grew up there, her grandfather had been a farmer on the mountain above the abandoned mining town.
I stuttered in surprise. You could have knocked me over with a feather, right then. I'd figured she'd know about the place 'cause I knew she was from Potosi, but... to find out her mother's family was from the mountain, itself, holy Wirikuta where Huichol go on pilgrimage to gather peyote....
It's uncanny when dreams and reality suddenly merge like that.
We left around 5:30 (after I'd been there an hour). Got a ride down to the towers (exactly where we met night before last) and hung around the taxi stop for a while, unwilling to part. Sat on the bench, our arms around each other. A few small kisses on the cheek, here, there, and then, for the first time, on the lips. It came, sweet and soft and....
Lips still closed, but... a kiss hinting at so much more, and so willing the way she took hold of my face with one hand, turning me toward her, and briefly, yet longingly....
But now I won't see Maria for four days. My mom's birthday party is this weekend and I'll be staying in San Diego until Monday. It hurt to say goodbye, but... how good that it hurts!
We may be falling in love. But, please, not so fast, Lord. If it is to be, let it be suave, y suavamente... not a rush of anger and fury like with my ex five years ago....
After she finally got into a taxi, I walked home, along almost the same route as Tuesday. Second night in a row passed that cafe between Torero and Cacho neighborhoods, that coffeehouse that looks like it could have dropped out of San Francisco, with its potted plants in the window, and its steps up to the front door, and the block of buildings on the hillside street, with the fancy-house hills of Chapultepec in view, behind, oh yes. Looks like San Francisco right there, except for the huge Mexican flag floating in the view, up on top that western hill....
Want to see it for yourself? Look on Governor Balaresco between Alvarado Rodriguez and Esteban Cantu, off the free road from Rosarito, only a block up from the boulevard of hot water. Near the muchacho who juggles flaming torches for tips. Yes, that's right. Ain't no dream, that. This.