Saturday, July 11, 2009

Prologue



I was born and raised in Mexico City. I was never rich, yet never poor... let's just say I had access to certain things. My family could never afford a trip to Russia, but they took me to see the Kirov and the Bolshoi. They didn't have the chance to send me to New York for the summer, but they took me to the Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey, and the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. I didn't have the chance to go to France for a year to learn French so I went to the Alliance Française instead. You get the idea.


All of the above-mentioned events took place in my natal Mexico City... city that I love and that I don't intend to inhabit ever again (but you never know, right?). My life in el DF (as us, the natives of the City, prefer to call it) not only exposed me to the obscenity of living in a megalopolis -along with extreme pollution and insecurity- but also gave me a glance of the world.


It was in Mexico City that I tasted Moët & Chandon champagne for the first time and where I had the [un]pleasant introduction to Siberian caviar and YSL cigarettes. It was in that city that I started my childish addiction to Le Petit Ecolier cookies and Bueno bars and Nutella.


My parents didn't exactly intend to create in me a fascination for foreign cultures and tastes. It was rather organic, yet always supported (and paid for) by them. I think they find me quite interesting; as if I'm this bad -yet terribly charming- son of theirs, who left them in good ol' Mexico to take over the world!


Naturally I don't have intentions to take over the world. They simply paid for enough schooling to make me fully trilingual at the age of 18.


What would you have done -or would do- if you were 18 years old in Mexico City and spoke English and French fluently? Wouldn't you just get out of the city to breathe real Parisian air, instead of the one in the Chanel and Louis Vuitton boutiques on Masaryk Ave? Wouldn't you go to Belgium to eat chocolates and waffles chez Wittamer, and not chez Garabatos (on Masaryk, still)? Wouldn't you rather have a walk in Central Park in the fall instead of just watching it in some cheap romantic American film…?


Well, that's just what I did. And you know you would have done it too. [!]

 


5 comments:

  1. Si Mahoma no va a la montaña, la montaña... eres totalmente la prueba de este viejo y conocido refran. Al leer esto me hace recordad cuan agradecido estoy con mis padres. Papa, siendo yo un niño de aproximadamente 9/10 años, siempre aprovechaba la oportunidad para llevarnos a escuchar coros/operetas, ver teatro, llevarnos a museos, etc. etc. Siendo mis hermanas y yo de una familia regia clase media tal cosa se nos hacia pretensioso por parte de mi padre. Sin embargo esto sembro la semilla para hacernos apreciar cosas que tristemente el ciudadano comun no aprecia o siquiera conoce, las Artes. Leerte es virtualmente retorico gran Emanu.

    I am totally gonna copy you and have a blog called neoregis, of course not, I just wish i had the knack for writing.

    Such a fan of:
    "... exposed me to the obscenity of living in a megalopolis" - Totally true.

    and among the best logical/common sense statements I've read lately:

    "If there were approximately 30 million inhabitants in your city, just face it, many of them would be ugly. "

    LOL

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  2. EEEEYYY!!!... que elocuente. Si no te conociera mejor diria que eres todo un artista. Pero supongo que la nostalgia nos ayuda a todos a descubrir al Leonidas Alfaro que llevamos dentro. Me compenetre completamente contigo con el comentario...

    "I was never rich, yet never poor... let's just say I had access to certain things"

    Y con la facinacion por los bueno y la nutella.

    Aprovechando que este es un comentario, te comento que fui al DF la semana antepasada. Fue un poco deprimente esta vez, en vez de emocionante. Entramos por Cuautitlan Izcalli y rapidito rapidito se sintio el estres del trafico y la sobrepoblacion. El viernes al hotel y a cenar con el pres., por cierto, no conocia a NINGUNO de los que fueron a la reunion, mas que a Galvan, su esposa y Trujillo. el sabado al templo (estresante por el trafico para llegar alla y porque la hermana que nos cuidaria a Kalel no estaba). El sabado en la noche me calme un poco con el devocional del presidente. Aparte que cenamos tacos al pastor bien ricos =).
    El domingo me regreso el amor por la cd. cuando vi caras conocidas Los marichal en el barrio Mixcoac, Mauricio en Olivar, Wilma Wilson en Palmas. Ella nos llevo a otros tacos mas ricos.
    Y el lunes que regresamos cerramos con broche de oro. La hna. Irma nos invito a comer en su casa. =). Asi que vi a la hermana Irma. Saliste a la conversacion cuando hablamos de Harry potter. Me quede con ganas de ver a los demas ricachones, pero tenia que regresar. Pero fue toda una experiencia. Mi hijo lo disfruto mucho. Mi esposa, mas o menos.

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  3. Hey !!!
    Qué bueno que abriste un blog, me gusta lo que escribes y cómo lo escribes.
    Espero estés muy bien, sabes que te estimo mucho a pesar del tiempo y la distancia.
    Visita mi blog!!! jeje

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  4. You're the best Emanuel! The absolute best!

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