I’ve already learned that life in Mexico is juxtaposed between being a place of convenience and being a place deserving of “developing nation” status. Cast in point: We have high-speed internet service, but the tap water is not safe to drink.
Last night, we ran across another uniquely Mexican high-low moment as we dined at the super luxurious Aguila y Sol in the upscale (think Upper East Side of Manhattan) neighborhood of Polanco. The restaurant, located next to Hermes, Gucci, Tiffany, and Louis Vuitton, specializes in “new” Mexican cooking, using elements of millennia-old recipes (tamales, for ex) in a new (gourmet) setting. We read about Aguila in this NPR article, which MOST IMPORTANTLY, has the wrong address, an error that forced us to arrive a half-hour past our reservation, although we managed to get a table. The address is 227 — not 127 — Emilio Castelar.
As we tried the ceviche de pina colada, and sipped our margaritas made with fruits I’ve never heard of, it started to storm outside, complete with lightning and thunder. Jeremy and Nancy, our dinner companions, told us how, in many parts of the city the electricity goes out from even relatively mild storms. How it’s basically a fact of life.
Not long after, the lights began to flicker, although they never stayed off for too long while we were eating. We took the elevator down to the lobby (and I tried not to envision us stuck in total blackness, suspended between floors), and once we got to lobby, the power went out completely.
While alarming, it also was a little bit fun (I think they call it schadenfreude) to watch Mexico City’s extremely rich (and beautiful, I might add – wow) get ushered from their Range Rovers to the front door, only to walk into complete and mysterious darkness, standing by us — lowly journalists — as they waited for the elevators to start working again.
And, happily, we were able to call a taxi and get home quickly in the rain, and watch the Red Sox win.