Days 11 & 12: Fear of Flying -US Airways Again

Our likely last day in Mexico City, I opted for a cab. The previous night I suddenly found myself with 800 pesos after a lucky slot machine win.  Despite the fact that a metro pass to the airport is 3 pesos, about 25 cents, I pictured myself struggling with bags up and down stairs, into crowded noisey subway cars, listening to more pitches for products I don’t need and cd mixes that I would rather not hear. 

The cab came almost immediately and cost 150 pesos, about twelve dollars. We were at the airport in plenty of time, and Mexican security was very smooth. They don’t even demand one to take off his or her shoes.  

Once inside the gate, Truckee drew my attention to a bottle of La Famila Tequilla, the one we tasted at the Museo de Tequilla in Plaza Girabaldi.  When I asked the vendor at the show in San Miguel, he pulled down the box and pointed to the price- 1150 pesos. ”I’m not going spend $100, even for good tequila,” I thought at the time. Now my son faced me with the same box, priced at $97 American, roughly the same price as in that store in San Miguel. Turns out that the total price came to 650 pesos and $40 American, precisely the amount I had in my pocket. (Jose Cuervo, Reserva, DE LA FAMILIA TEQUILA, EXTRA AÑEJO,  ELABORADO AÑEJADO EN TEQUELA JALISCO, 100% AGAVE, No 01320, 30-X- 12 [October 30, 2012]) They wrap it up tightly to take it on the plane and across the boarder.

We boarded US Airways flight 828 and rolled to the tarmac precisely at 10:40 a.m. about to take off.  Then there was a delay. “This is the captain speaking, I apologize, but we are going to have a slight delay. Because of the altitude of Mexico City, there is not enough oxygen to start the jet engines. We are going to have to go back to the gate and hook up to a machine and push some oxygen into the engines.” Isn’t it someone’s job to have checked this before?

We headed back to the gate. I watched several men attach a tube to the engine attached to a large white generator with exhaust and a vent.  I saw the vent open and the exhaust come out of a muffler on the top of the device. The engines began to start, then stopped. More waiting in our seats and then the captain made another announcement. “Unfortunately the gate at which we’re parked has a plane next to us leaking jet fuel. We’ll have to move the plane to another gate. We can’t risk that hazard. When it rains, it pours.” 

We moved to another gate, reattached the oxygen tubing. We waited about 30 minutes there when the captain spoke again. “We have someone coming with a part, and as soon as that gets done we’ll be ready to take off.” 

We hadn’t heard about that glitch until then. One of the flight assistants came down the corridor, explaining how the situation was not the fault of the crew and everyone should be calm and patient. "It was science, after all,” said the attendant. 

Truckee thought the words were condescending, especially since most of the passengers were Hispanic. My reaction was not so extreme. Yet a man shouted angrily from his seat, “It’s not science.” This rattled the flight attendant. 

She reacts with the last word, “If we can’t all be calm and patient, we will have to bring in security to remove anyone who is causing a disturbance."

After approximately a 100 minute wait time in all, we headed to the runway again.  Our connecting flight from Charlotte to San Francisco was booked about 2 hours ahead, we knew if we made it, it would only be by a hair’s breath.

At approximately 7:45 p.m. our plane landed on the tarmac, then stopped. Almost everyone on the plane got up. “Please stay in your seats and fasten your seat belts. The plane is not yet at the gate.” Everyone sat down, obviously like us, anxious about missing their connecting flights.  By that time I wa pretty sure that we would miss our flight. Among the inefficiencies of international air travel is the dance of customs and immigration. All passengers, even connecting flights, must pick up baggage, go out of the security zone and reenter the security zone, checking bags in a second time. 

After passing immigration Truckee sprinted to the baggage area, perhaps in hope of catching the plane, but it would be another 15 minutes before we would see our bags. In the baggage area at exactly 8:20 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, Truckee and I took photos of each other, time and place stamped by the marquee behind us. We had officially missed our plane.

 Among the mixed signals of TSA and US Airways employees, we finally stood in line to try and rebook our flight.  In a rare show of anger and desperation, Truckee shouted to the ticket, “We missed our flight, and we are trying to rebook. Where should we stand?” Finally facing a polite booking agent, she told us that we could fly standby on full flight to San Francisco that leaves at 10:30 p.m.

“Standby on a booked flight at 10:30 p.m.? Was she crazy?” I thought.  “We'll take a hotel and food voucher,” I said, “and you can book us for a flight in the morning.” 

“Is this the same flight from Mexico City as last night?” Said the agent. “They waited for four hours- four hours before taking off.”

“Should I now be grateful that it was only two hours?” I thought.

The agent said, “They didn’t used to give vouchers for flights coming from Mexico and Brazil. I guess they do now.” With that she handed us our tickets, a voucher to stay at the Wingate Hotel, a ten dollar dinner voucher and a five dollar breakfast voucher. 

One other thing, I asked. “I bought this ($100) bottle of tequila at the duty free shop. It is still sealed in the bag. Can I bring it through security?”

“No, you’re going to have to put it in your check-in luggage.” 

She booked us on a Flight 465 leaving Charlotte at 7:33 a.m. Exhausted, hungry, and a bit dazed we walked outside into the frigid East Coast air.  After a bit of meandering, we found the pick-up stop for the shuttle to our hotel.  The friendly extolled the virtues of a local restaurant, Carrabba’s.  In his thick Charlotte accent he said, “I just love to roll my bread into that olive oil.” And “Chicken Daniel, that’s my favorite, with that sauce and cheese.”

My mouth watered, my stomach growled. We had not eaten since 9 a.m.- anything! The airplane ran out of food before they got to our seat. I could not even buy a meal.  I am pretty sure that a Federal regulation states that if a passenger is on a commercial airplane for more than five hours, the airline is required to feed them. We never saw even a cracker, but they did give us water. It was 9:30 p.m.

At the hotel the clerk told us that there was really no food in the immediate area. Also no restaurant would accept airline food vouchers. We could call out from a list of take-out suggestions, and she provided us with a list. The list was a who’s who of fast food joints. 

Once in our room Truckee used his iPhone to find and rate the various restaurants in the area.  Miguel’s- a Mexican restaurant –we laughed, of course- was the only real restaurant less than a mile away.  Truckee called and they closed at 10 p.m. It was 9:50 p.m.  

At the bottom of the hotel list was Carrabba’s and it was open. We looked at the menu on line and made our order for delivery to the hotel. I felt like I needed a glass of wine. I could see a Citco Gas Station from our room- actually two of them.  Again I went tramping out into the frigid air to Citco. Entered the Seven Eleven type store.  There was not even an employee in sight,  and I saw only beer for sale.  A young Black gentleman came out from the back of the store and gave me a curious look. 

“How did you get in here?”  He said, “I’m sorry we’re closed.” It was 10:05 p.m.

I asked him,” Is there a place nearby that I could get some wine?”

“Do you have a car?” he said. 

“No, I’m at the Wingate. I just got here about 20 minutes ago.”

“Well, you could walk. Just a little ways up the road is a place called ‘All Imports’. It’s a white building and you’ll see it.”

 I walked about a mile along a four lane road with highway entrances and exits. About a mile on I saw a white building that said “Nikki’s”. Upon further inspection it was actually called “Nikki’s Club.”  I sure it was not a liquor store although liquor was probably available there, along with other pleasurable enticements. 

I doubled back, crossed the highway and went into the Seven Eleven that I had seen on my walk there. Sure enough, they had only beer. I bought two Stella Artoises from the store and came out to see our driver.  He was his usual cordial self and said that he’d be happy to give me a ride back to the hotel.  I said, “Your talking about that Carrabba’s really made us want to try it.”

He said, “I saw their truck pull in just as I was leaving. Your food should be there by now.”

As we pull into the drive way, my cell phone rings. “Hey,” Truckee says. “The guy just delivered the food.”

I replied, “I know.”

The bill was $60, not including the beer.  Unfortunately, we couldn’t even use our $10 vouchers for the meal.  The food was tasty Italio-American fare. We watched the food network until we finally fell asleep at midnight. 

I woke at 4 a.m. to the sound of rain outside my window.  We showered and dressed in time for the 5 a.m. shuttle.

At this moment we are one hour away from San Francisco.

Day 10: San Miguel to Mexico City

Last night I was reading a little more about Bellas Artes and the reasons that the school closed and John had to move to Mexico City to finish art school. Apparently the school wanted a big name to teach mural painting. Rivera and Orozco were well employed. Siqueros was already an unpopular figure with many both because of his short temper and radical politics. He was the most radical leftist of all the famous Mexican painters of that time. I read somewhere that he was implicated in a plot to kill Trotsky. It was the one that succeed, but the one that failed.

At that time the President of Mexico was a leftist and Siqueros with Leonard and Rena Brooks were wined and dined by the President in the National Palace. A man named Castellano, president of Bellas Artes hired Siqueros at the school to help the schools’ reputation. Apparently once hired there were constant fights between Catillanos and Siqueros- over money it was said.  So much so that at times it became physical. There is a story that Siqueros “pushed?”- “threw?” Castillanos down the stairs and from that time it was inevitable that Siqueros would be fired.

In 1949 a convergence of forces led to the mass exit of GIs from the school. The House on Unamerican Activities put pressure on the American Embassy in Mexico to with-hold the GI Bill to those attending the Escuala Bellas Artes because Sequiros was not only a communist, but a radical communist. When Sequiros was fired, the other teachers went on strike. Under pressure from Castillanos the Mexican government sought to kick out all of the non-Mexican teachers. There were ten at the time.

Sterling Dickensen was another central figure in this story. He was an noted American artist from Chicago, hired to be Art Director ten years earlier. He and Siqueros were on a train bound for El Paso, Texas, when the train was abruptly stopped before the boarder. Three Mexican Federales got on and escorted Siqueros and Dickinson back to the school. Apparently a former Mexican general who was a student at the school intervened in their behalf and convinced the President to rescind the deportation order.

By this time most of the GIs had scattered to various art school in Mexico and the United States. John was one of these, who moved to Mexico City to study art at the Universidad Polytechnico.

Day 9: San Miguel Christmas Day

We walked to the highest point in the city of San Miguel. It was off the map, at least our map. At the top there was a neighborhood of poorer houses and young people outside talking.  Now and then we would go by a mansion. It appears that most of the poor here still live at the top of the hill. I don't know if the photo conveys it, but what a view!

I am working on a piece on the history of the Belles Artes and the art revival in San Miguel. Stay tuned and Merry Christmas.

Christmas Eve, Day 8: San Miguel de Allende

On our first full day in San Miguel we began with a walking tour.  The most interesting parts of the tour for me dealt with the problems caused by divisions in social class, the pure blood Spanish, the Malados, and the Indios. These divisions were critical in the outcome of the revolution as well as the evolution of the churches in San Miguel. Last night we went to a Spanish Mass at Templo Oratory of St. Philip Neri. Apparently the native peoples originally the native people had the church next door, but the city officials in the early seventeen hundreds tricked the natives out of their deed. The native built another and that is where Truckee and I went to Mass. 

Earlier in the day we saw dozens of girls coming out of the church with large dolls, beautifully dressed in their arms. At first I thought that they were real babies. Actually they were bringing their little Christ child "El Nino" to church to be blessed in preparation for Christmas.

The town of San Miguel seems a strange mix of natives in their traditional dress, what I would call regular Mexicans, wealthy Mexican tourists, Mexicans who live in town, Anglos who live in town most of whom seem to be retired and American tourists. To put things in perspective, Truckee and I were the latter.  For Christmas the town was lit up and crowded with people. 

The most prominent church in town, Parroquía San Miguel Arcángel,  is across from the main square, zocolo.  Built in th1649 it has a design unlike any in Mexico. Some compare it to a pink wedding cake. The execution was done by the master mason Zeferino Gutierrez who according to legend would come to the church every day as it was being built and would draw the next phase for the masons. Legend also has it that the local bishop gave Gutierrez pictures of European churches from which he gained his inspiration.

Day 7: San Miguel De Allende

Coming here has meant a lot to me. I must explain that one of the dearest persons in my life spent a year here studying art. From the time I came to California more than thirty five years ago, he was the family connection. It is where I spent many Sunday dinners. He and Phyllis met many of my old girlfriends.  My family grew with him. We, as a family, spent all our holiday's there, with Phyllis always cooking a delicious dinner. I particularly remember my daughter, Anna, when she was maybe three years old sitting on his lap. He and Phyllis were my family when I came to California in 1978.

John Lynch, after serving in Europe during World War II, decided to make art a life time pursuit. In the late thirties had a studio with Jim Kelly (the James Kelly) in downtown Philadelphia. I remember fantasizing about that life as a twelve year old.  My dad would say, "Yea, they used to draw the models, then sleep with them." It sounded good to me at the time.  Coming back from Europe he decided to get a degree in art. He graduated from Bradley University in 1948 with his degree.

The Life Magazine in 1948 published an article on how to study art in Mexico and live on practically nothing. I read that this article resulted in more than 1000 applications to Escula Bellas Artes in San Miguel.  It helped that among the photographs of studious art students was a photo of student gathered around a beautiful naked women in a serene outdoor setting. The school accepted less than 100 students from those applications and John was one of them. 

 

His great influence there was Jose Gutierrez, who used automobile enamel to paint highly glossy hard finish. He used that technique for many years. I have drawings and paintings of San Miguel all over my house. And many of the friends he made there he made for life. I have a letter from a friend in San Miguel from a friend in 1956, who tells about who is still left in the community. He mentions particularly Jack Baldwin still teaching at Belles Artes.  I was excited when I received an email from the hotel sign with the name "Baldwin". I was sure that she was related to him and his wife, Bunny.  Alas this Baldwin came from New Hampshire. Nevertheless, I was happy to meet her. 

One of the friends John made in San Miguel was Ray Rice. I remember that he told me that he and Ray painted a mural in one of the churches in San Miguel. He wasn't sure if it was still there. It is one of my missions to try and find out where it was and whether it is still there.  Ray was a great artist and eventually moved up to Mendocino, California. We visited him and his wife, Mariam, several times.  To the end, in his 80s, he was a dynamic artist and a wonderful warm human being. 

In 1949 the teachers at the school went on strike. Since most of the students were funded by the GI Bill, most left for other schools. My uncle move to Mexico City and studies at the Polytechnic Institute. I still have a clipping from a Mexican newspaper with one of his works in the background.

So I feel like it is long overdue that I come here. I know that San Miguel is not the San Miguel of my uncle's time, but I feel that I am finally exploring another piece of the story about a man whom I loved so much. 

Day 6: Xochimilco

I suggested to Truckee that he do what he wanted today, and I do what I wanted. What I wanted was to see both the Museum of Modern Art and the Siqueiros Museum. I had the impression that the town of Xochimilco was several hours away. Actually it is the District stop on the southern border of Mexico City and takes about an hour to get to.  The pull of Xochimilco for me was the fact that its geography matched somewhat the geography of the Aztec city.   My curiosity has been aroused about the exact look of the area. Today I looked for a map and could not find one.

The signs that lead to the Embarcadero are helpful as well as many citizens who point the way to the water.  A young man greets you in Spanish and shows the boat options. We thought that the four hour archeological tour would be the best. That costs $1000 pesos- about $100 American.  I only had 700 pesos in my pocket and Truckee, less than 300.  We took the $500 peso tour.  It was fun, interesting  but in the end, I still wish we could have taken the longer tour. 

We visited Museo Dolores Olmedo in Xochimilco also in the city of canals.

http://www.museodoloresolmedo.org.mx/english/coleccperm.html

There were at least two facets of this museum that were outstanding.  Dolores Olmeda was once a model of Diego Rivera.  There were wonderful pieces from throughout the career of Rivera and Frieda Kahlo.  The very early pieces from 1916 were extremely interesting- cubist pieces that imitated Braque and Picasso.  Anyone would have seen the promise. Nevertheless it was the two pieces that he did while in Toledo. One had overtones of El Greco with three slightly elongated large figures.  A group of ladies danced in the background. It made me recall Picasso’s famous piece of Dancers.  The other piece, At the Fountain of Toledo, both painted in 1913. They were large pieces about 8’ by 9’.  There were several Rivera self-portraits done over about a 30 year period- very interesting. Each had its own character.  The one done in 1921, I thought, was the most interesting.

Other noteworthy pieces were:

1940       Portrait of Rosa Rolanda

1956       Works done in Russia: Russian Boy with Sled and Landscape of Crakova

1955       Portrait of Irene Phillips Omeda 

              

Several large cartoons in preparation for muralsere

The museum had interspersed Mexican clay figurines. I suppose that having visited the Archeological Museum recently had overwhelmed me. There is little written on the pre Columbian pieces.  I enjoyed them, but they seemed to be just more artifacts.

There was a room of family photographs of Rivera and Kahlo.  There was an exhibition of a more modern artist, Kelly, with highly free interpretations of neighborhoods in Mexico City.  Also a Day of the Dead exhibit had 40 or 50 life size skeletal characters. All were colorful  and done with good humor. 

The second aspect of this museum was the grounds- just beautiful. Long stretches of grass, flowers and hedges, all flawlessly groomed. The building itself, although built in the 20 century was enormous, but tasteful, done in a traditional Spanish hacienda style. There were two fenced in areas of native Mexican dogs- an endangered species.  There were peacocks everywhere and various other aquatic birds.