mexico city: catcalls, mamacitaaa, throbbing neon lights giving view to noche en plaza garibaldi, littered with wandering mariachi playas, fluorescently fantastic bars and midnight delis, swaggering persuasive new strangers, quieres bailar?, mucho sol y muchas sol's, so much sweet bread you get cavities just lookin at it, the smells rise up to greet you as you hit these streets, how sterile america must be after this assault on the senses, frying up veggies and mysteriosas tortillas on the hot stoves in packed streets (yeah you'd probably get sick), jugos on the red vinyl counter where fresh mangoes pineapples oranges betabel line the walls, any kind of juice you want and the blender full of more, the sprawling labyrinthine megalopolis metro subway system (avoid hidalgo- eyes on your purse- doors open and everyone push), the epic journey to coyoacan to stand beside frida's tortured bedside and the aching uneven paintings, a search for good coffee with todays friends (the constantly shifting tides of travelers, new ones in the beds above you and beside you each night, the only thing constant is change), maybe we'll meet again, from the 44th floor of the torre latino-americana you can see out in every direction over this vast mess of a metropolis, the order the chaos, all in perfect aerial almost-quiet, it seems to go on in every direction forever and en el zocalo theres aztec temples that lay sleeping ender the city, under the hundreds of tents and vendors the markets that only pause for a breath a few blocks at a time, the spanish cathedrals piled on top of each other, on top of concrete, mud, brick, plaster, temples, obsidian, jade, treasures, bones, years and years and years and years and years...