Memories of Mexico 1

We stayed in the Historical Centre of Mexico City. I spent lots of time around the colonial architecture neighborhood, enjoying the world’s heritage. What I saw, as frequent as the street Tacos shop, was the policeman.

They often appear in a group of 3 or more, in full uniform, equipped with bullet-proof vests, armed with guns, patrolling and preserving peace with pride and fearsome eyesight. Walking down the block, a van with at least 15 more manpower arrived providing even more security to the highly-policed area.

Small objects like toiletries or stationery are stored on shelves barricaded with display counters and helpful staff who make sure that you pay for the requested goods. 24 hour convenient store pull down metal shutter at night restricting any transaction to a doggy door sized hole, which made life a little more difficult for new comers like me. All these practices that I am not accustomed to contributed to my demographic image of the city.

Our 3 weeks in Mexico flew by smoothly, without any unexpected mishaps. But in a city that policemen are visible every 50 metres, I am not quite sure how to feel about it. Orders that suppress the intangible constantly raised my self-awareness. The scent of unrestfulness vaguely dissolves in the air that is shared between 40 million pairs of lungs. It also fills up my already polluted lungs.