The first post of the year is a chronicle I wrote about my visit to the canals of Xochimilco in 2012. Special thanks to my friend Danilo, who currently lives in Guadalajara. Without you Mexico City wouldn't have been as fun as it was.

It was midday. After diving into the colorful and vibrant world of Frida Kahlo's Casa Azul in Coyoacán, we hurried. Visiting the historic house museum is a must in Mexico City, but both Danilo, one of my best friends, and I, desired to get to Xochimilco. We barely could grasp what we saw in her personal universe, when we started to run towards the subway. "It's already too late", I heard Danilo say. I uttered some words, pulled his arm and continued our way. The sun was blazing over our heads, making it the perfect moment to sit down and relax, but due to the circumstances we stepped up our pace until we got to the Río Churubusco Avenue, where the minutes that took us to cross the street seemed like hours to me. On the other side, the sidewalk was full of little wooden booths, where street vendors made their daily profit by selling tacos, botanas or magazines whose covers showed the faces of popular telenovela actors and actresses.

We took a minute to look at the subway plan. We were at Coyoacán station. According to our plan, we had to take the line 3 and descend at Centro Médico station, then change to line 9 until Chabacano and then switch to line 2 until Tasqueña, the last station. At Tasqueña, we had to continue by train, the only connection to the embarcaderos of Xochimilco. The movement of masses inside a station of Mexico City's subway is constant, it's almost impossible not to get carried away by a crowd and believe me when I tell you, you can feel overwhelmed, considering that this is one of the most populated cities in the entire world.  It is precisely the movement that impresses me.

I pressed my purse against my chest and stayed right next to Danilo, and I saw he did the exact same thing. When we entered the subway in the morning, two very nice policemen approached us. They gave us some advice regarding our safety while using the subway. "Don't loose your friend out of sight and take care of one another", was the last phrase one of them told me. Later on, I understood why they said that worn-out phrase. In a matter of minutes we were far away from Reforma and the Centro, and I remembered that the subway line ends at our destination. The heat inside the wagons was oppressive, leaned on each other, some opened the windows in hopes of catching air, or at least for imagining it's not that crowded.

When we arrived at Tasqueña, insecurity took over me. The sight was terrifying. People crammed at the platform, and the train wasn't even there yet. I calculated about a hundred souls. We ran to make room for us, pressing against the crowd in order to get closer to the yellow line, in such a farcical manner, but I knew that the rest of the passengers that wanted to take the next train would do so, too. I assumed there would be no schedules of arrivals and departures of the train, and I was right. I couldn't imagine getting on that train without Danilo, so I pressed myself against him, with someone else's elbow hurting my ribs. It was the third time that this city gave me a feeling of incredible smallness. 21 million people live here, have dreams, obligations and needs. There is always a place to be. We pushed ourselves in and found a place in the floor of a wagon. The slow motion of the train made us sleepy, and we closed our eyes every now and then.

The sight of Xochimilco was overwhelming and touching, precisely the image I had in my head about the country: that colorful Mexico with its kind and smiling people, street vendors working under a scorching sun, protected solely by straw hats and diligent mothers holding their kids in one hand and their shopping baskets on the other hand. In a few words, the simplicity of every day life in a country full of ressources but with an uneven distribution of wealth, just as Alexander von Humboldt mentioned in his "Political essay about New Spain".

We crossed the street without knowing the exact adress or location of the embarcaderos, but after a couple of minutes of march, we realized that every now and then, signs with pictures of the "trajineras" (the name of the gondols) appeared hanging on walls, so we decided to follow the trace. Finally, we walked down a street where we saw an arch with the words "Embarcadero Belem" and headed right away to the gondols, where we were welcomed by the bursting of a world of colors, the smell of elote and the fresh breeze of the afternoon.

A boy in an orange shirt waved at us and we understood we were his potential clients. He held my hand and helped me jump from one trajinera to the next, until he told us to sit in one that was in the middle of the canal.

Embarcadero Belem, Xochimilco and our friend in the orange shirt

Our trajinero was very nice. He's about 50 years old. He had a calm and gentle look  and was glancing constantly at his adorable granddaughter, the little 10 year old Fernanda. Chubby and with cute smiling eyes, she was dressed in a pink shirt and white shorts and her hair style looked pretty much to that of la Chilindrina, a character in el Chavo del 8, one of Mexico's most beloved TV shows.

Fernanda and her grandfather

At the beginning, we sat at the table and the boat trip was almost entirely in silence. But then, we sat at the prow and before our eyes, characters belonging to a unique scenary started to appear.
We left concrete houses behind and made our way to the inside of the canal, with its remarkable and astonishing nature.


Out of the blue, another trajinera approached us fastly and its passenger jumped to our boat. He carried a box in his shoulder, of what seemed to be little toys. His plaid shirt was stained in the left side, where he was carrying his box. The black hair was shining blue in the sun and his eyes gave us a warm and calmed look.

The man with his box of traditional candies

Eating obleas con pepitas

He placed the box in front of us and started to explain its content. He asked if we knew what "la alegría" was. Alegría means joy in spanish. What he really meant, was if we knew the candy called la alegría, made of amaranth seeds. "Astronauts eat these seeds when they are in space", he added. We decided to buy two colorful pouches of a wafer-like candy. He told us that the name of the candy is "obleas con pepita", and explained to us that its made of wafers, pumpkin seeds and honey.
Fernanda's grandfather quickly bought her one pouch too, that she ate while drinking a soda. She happily sat down and ate her candy in a heartbeat. The man jumped back to his trajinera and sailed away in search of new customers.
Suddenly, I heard Fernanda's voice from the other side of the boat. "Grandpa, I'm hungry". I waved at her and told her to come sit next to me. She approached me in a shy manner and I offered her some of my obleas. Her eyes were shining in a playful and thankful way. "Can I call you Fernandita?", I asked. She nodded. "Tell me Fernandita, what is it that you like to do the most?". There goes the spark in her eyes again. "I like to come here and play and swim in the canals". The sound of her voice is sweet as the honey of the obleas. After a short conversation, I asked her if she wanted to take a picture with me. She hugged me and I put my hands around her little arms, embracing the world that separated us and comprising the space that was between us. That gap no longer existed.

Fernandita and I, enjoying a peaceful afternoon at the Xochimilco canals

All of a sudden, I heard the sound of guitars and trompets. I thought to myself, this can't be other than mariachis. "Ándele, one serenata for the beautiful girl", one of them asked Danilo to pay for one song. "Why don't you pay a song for the most beautiful girl?", another one smiled at us and insisted on the first guys' proposition. I smiled back and they continued playing under the shine of the afternoon sun.

Our mariachi friends

But this wasn't the last visit. As I told you, the most unique characters appeared in the hour and a half that lasted the tour. After the mariachis, one souvenir vendor started displaying his key chains and printed rugs with aztec patterns. I bought two souvenirs for friends, and the vendor was satisfied and kept going in a slow pace. "Are you thirsty?", I heard Danilo say. I hadn't noticed that on the sides of the canal, smaller trajineras with micheladas vendors were waiting to be approached.

Michelada vendors

Fernanda asked if she could drink with us. We had to say no, because a michelada consists of beer, lemon juice, salt, hot sauces and spicy chile. "You're too little for that", answered her grandpa.
The most amazing part for me, was the exchange between the passengers of the trajineras. The narrow canals allow you to chat with others or simply say hello and share the joy of the moment.
I looked at the brownish color of the waters and instantly remembered when Fernanda said she loved to swim in the canals. I asked our trajinero, Fernandas nice grandpa, if the water was clean. He firmly told me that it is safe to swim and that the brownish color is due to the muddy bottom of the lake. "Lake?", I asked. With pride in his eyes, he started to tell the story about the Texcoco lake, that once covered part of nowaday Mexico City, and that the aztecs used these canals to transport themselves from one place to the other. Naturally, all this happened before the arrival of the Spaniards, that altered the surrounding nature. "That is why the Xochimilco canals are so important, because they show us how our ancestors used to live. It is one of the only places where you can actually see how Prehispanic Mexico was".

Danilo in the canals of Xochimilco. In the background a trajinera

 The serenity of the moment is sublime. The explosion of colors made me feel as if I was looking through a kaleidoscope, were the finest colors revealed a world full of energy and simplicity.
Our trajinero turned back and stopped at a garden for us to go to the bathroom. We took a minute to look at the intense colors of the flowers and the surrounding tranquility.

This picture is probably one of my favorites, thanks Danilo!

Before the trip is over, our trajinero dared us to try to row the boat. We tried, but it was all laughter and fun. I must quite say that it is really hard to row with that bamboo pole.

We returned to the point where we started and we looked at all the empty boats that were proof of a not so busy afternoon for the trajineros of Xochimilco. I said good-bye to my little new friend Fernandita and wished her the best at school. As we jump from one trajinera to the next, I saw her little arm waving at me and getting lost between the boat roofs. I took one last look at grandfather and granddaughter, connected by the love to this place.

We wander through the streets of Xochimilco in search of a bus that could take us to Tasqueña, because we didn't want to take the train again. The last sunbeams were filtrating the colorful light, a light that you don't only see, but you feel inside of you.

We stopped at a graffiti wall with the inscription "Je ne sais pas vivre". We both loved that street art with cheerful colors. At that point, we were lost, so we asked a female policeman to help us find the way. To our surprise, she walked us to the bus station, or to what I guessed was a station, and waited with us for the bus. That kind of bus is called a pecera. Just hopping on it, made me understand why its called liked that.
 There was no way to know when we arrived at Tasqueña, so we asked a girl next to us to tell us when to hop off. The bus stopped at a remote sidewalk and we kept walking until we saw the subway station. The last light of the sun shone red at that moment, and that effect made the houses look better than what they actually were. We took the line 2 heading to the Zócalo. Sitting in the wagon, I thought about Fernanda, her smiling eyes and the softness of her voice. I remembered how she said she loved swimming in the canals and the colors of this special place.