Post 10: 4 Gals and a Guy in Mexico City
4 Gals and a Guy in Mexico City
“Una chica en un moto!” shouted a little girl with glee from her outdoor table at a hot breakfast spot in La Condessa, Mexico City. She had seen me whirr past on Celine, my motorized scooter. This made me happy because 1) I understood her (a girl on a motorcycle!) which is exciting when you have minimal use of a language, and 2) She thought it was cool. This was one of many ways I felt less stigmatized than back in the US.
Celine was a true game changer on our trip. We traveled to Mexico City with our dear friends Stephanie and Leah, in celebration of Stephanie’s birthday. I had read and heard it was relatively accessible. Relatively is accurate, and something I could work with. Celine would cruise happily on a sidewalk, and suddenly be thwarted by a demolished portion, a hole, or surprise step. Turn around, cruise in the road. And so it went, until we discovered the extra wide bike lanes where I basically was a moto, zipping for miles to other neighborhoods.
Mexico City is really making an effort for accessibility…it just misses the mark at times. Like covering a step with a concrete ramp, only the ramp is so short and steep to use it would land one on her face. Or the restaurant that assured us they were accessible and had an elevator, only to arrive and see a step leading to the elevator. Nearly every store and restaurant had a step to get in, but no matter as there are outdoor seating and markets everywhere. Turns out I was more in the action there than in widely accessible USA.
We did get burned badly - we made tattoo appointments, knowing there would probably be a step, which we would work around. We didn’t think it might be up a flight of stairs however. The tattoo man offered to carry me up the stairs, which triggered an automatic no and disappointed departure with blank skin. I later regretted not accepting his offer, as dignity is subjective.
Why is Celine named Celine? you ask. Last year we threw a surprise combination Canadian thanksgiving/new job party for our favorite Canadian, Stephanie. We all dressed like her, in all black with red lipstick. I enjoy unexpected elements at parties, and had not told anyone about my new scooter. Most new equipment is met by me with a combination of repulsion, avoidance, and begrudging acceptance. The scooter was more of a fun new toy. So, I secretly got on the scooter, donned a plaid 70s cape from Stephanie, and surprise drove around the corner and up a ramp to the party deck while Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” (because she is Canadian) blasted. Thus Celine was born.
Canadian Thanksgiving/Stephanie’s New Job/Celine Reveal Party
Our girl Celine has been to Florida and Chicago, but this was her first time out of the country. She (i.e. me) did it all: mercados selling things that look infinitely more fascinating because they are in Mexico, street food and upscale restaurants, the main Zocalo, an ornate cathedral, mezcal cocktails, and a private tour of the theater at the Palacio de Bellas Artes. She was a fearless traveler, and left with minimal injuries - some scuffs and a bright blue wheel from when she sped through wet paint. The airline proved too much for her though - she landed in Nashville with her horn badly mangled and an occasional involuntary sustained screeching beep. I like to think it is her screaming to the world, “Move aside. I’m on a mission to live the hell out of this life.” And so we will.
