Sunday in Coyoacán

Although we wake up early we linger in bed, our bodies still wan after yesterday's huge walk. Around 9 we manage enough energy to shower and call Abel for a walk down Centenario in search of breakfast. We find a quaint organic bakery with tables on the sidewalk and with young hippie-type women serving biskets (robust whole-wheat buns) with butter and jam, along with such coffee choices as cappuccino with soy milk.  

As we have now gotten to expect several people asking for money trail past our seats, children, old ladies, a blind man with a lovely patient Labrador. (When I later take a picture of the dog I have to catch myself wanting the show the owner the picture – whoops!)

It’s become quite sunny and Oswaldo and I head towards the street fairs on Jardín del Centenario, but it turns out to be too early, people are still setting up for the big family Sunday. We continue on to the Mercado de Coyoacán, where I decide to squeeze into a tight dress inside an airless stall. That brings on my first feeling of being at a high altitude and I am reminded of Bhutan and my shortness of breath and fatigue there. But a bottle of water settles things and we walk on to the Trotsky residence located not far from the Frida Kahlo house. He too lived in a lovely quinta surrounding a shaded garden,

although in this house you really feel the tragic destiny of this man, bludgeoned to death right here in spite of being surrounded by guards. You can see one of the guard towers in the picture above. His whole family died violent deaths back home while he was in exile and it is sad to contemplate their pictures on the walls. We eventually leave and head towards the Viveiros de Coyoacán, which from the outside looks like a lush Jardim Botanico. It turns out to be not so, rather a drier bosque, which serves as a family outing and jogging area, where a lot of squirrels seem to feel quite safe. The sun is high by now and we head home for a short break - and to take off our shoes, ahhhh.

Later we revive to head back to the Jardín, where Oswaldo knows of an excellent Italian restaurant, the Ave Maria, where we sit in the deep shade of a varanda, watching the area, which by now has become quite crowded by local people enjoying the day off with their families and dates. A lot of them are quite robust and eating tostadas and enchiladas off styrofoam trays. 

Our thoughts go to the Huntsman family, important donors to the Univeristy of Pennsylvania, whose fortune was made in chemical products, which included....styrofoam trays. Meanwhile we've gotten going on a big jar of Clericot, chopped up fruit in some sort of juice topped up with a whole bottle of red wine, while we wait for Abel. When he arrives we proceed to have a lovely meal - I eat angel hair pasta, alio-olio, cooked with big shrimp, mushrooms and artichokes, and Oswaldo has Jumbo shrimp flambéed with Tequila. We have plans for market browsing when we leave, but big raindrops start falling and we hurry home through the increasing rain - to a big nap, as it turns out.

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