Little Colombia

The Colonia Roma Sur has in recent years emerged as an enclave for Colombian exiles. They have opened a bunch of restaurants, bars and gift shops -- perhaps appropriately in the streets surrounding the Mercado Medellín.

I am hoping to hang out here in the coming weeks. I'd like to know more about this expat group.

I guess a lot of people get homesick for the products of their country. I remember a store in Greenwich Village in New York that sold all sorts of gruesome things to English expats -- canned beans, lemon curd, wine gums, Marmite and such. For a non-Colombian the wares are underwhelming, and include yerba mate, sweets and cookies, soda pop, beer and malt beverages. Colombia is not precisely famous for its exports. Except, of course, that export.

However, I thoroughly enjoyed this combo plate at Pollos Mario, which doubles as a bakery and a luncheonette. It included roast chicken, two kinds of sausage, rice, beans, salad, fried plantains and a slice of avocado. Mario is on the corner of Medellín and Tapachula.

The notorious Colonia Doctores

As the rents in Colonia Condesa and Colonia Roma climb higher and higher, speculation among certain chilangos grows about which neighborhoods will be the next to be discovered by artists, bohemians and incipient yuppies, and experience a form, however tentative, of gentrification. In previous posts I have written about Colonia Santa Maria la Ribera and Colonia Tabacalera. These neighborhoods -- like Condesa and Roma, conveniently central -- little by little are at least beginning to show signs of overcoming the dodgy reputations of their past and attracting residents with more disposable income.

One neighborhood that I fear will never live down its fabled past is the Colonia Doctores. It is admirably located between the Colonia Roma and the Centro Histórico and, if it is not uniformly prepossessing, has a decent housing stock and plenty of idiosyncratic neighborhood characteristics.

There are some great cantinas here, such as the Salon Casino at Calle Dr. Vertiz #199, and the Bar Sella, about which I have written previously.

There are also a couple of idiosyncratic small museums, such as the Antique Toy Museum on Calle Dr. Olvera #15, and the Indianilla Station Cultural Center on Calle Dr. Bernard #111.

It is even sprouting some sidewalk cafe action.

And, as this bus indicates, tourism. What exactly is being sightseen outside this housing project is anyone's guess.

But unfortunately, Colonia Doctores has an almost comically bad reputation, perhaps due to its proximity to the Colonia Buenos Aires, long a hotbed for stolen car parts.

From time to time I have mentioned to other chilangos an idle idea of buying a building in Doctores as an investment, thinking that its great location will inevitably lead to the neighborhood's ascendance. They have all looked at me as if I were suffering from a rare form of delirium.

Next Thursday in New Haven

If you happen to be in (or anywhere near) New Haven, Connecticut, on Thursday, September 20, I will be speaking about my progress as a writer in Mexico, my work defending Mexicans who are facing the death penalty in the U.S., and reading from a novel-in-progress at Yale's Beinecke Library on 12 Wall Street at 4 pm.

If you're still in New Haven on Saturday the 22nd, at the 251 Gallery on 251 Greene Street there will be a showing of watercolors by my brother, Marc Lida, who died of AIDS at the age of 35 in 1992. The above image is Dora in the Garden, part of a series he did based on Freud's case studies. Maurice Sendak described his work as "sharp-witted, erotic and gorgeously robust." I will be on hand for the opening reception between 5:00 and 8:00 pm.

Down under

Anyone who has money in Mexico City -- and some people who don't -- drives a car because of the status they think it brings them. However, owning one doesn't get you where you are going any faster during rush hour. At only three pesos per ride, the subsidized-by-the-government metro is the cheapest and fastest way to get around Mexico City. About four million people ride it each day.

It has some problems. As the city grew much more quickly than the metro system, it is hardly comprehensive, and at rush hour you feel as if all the four million are in the same car with you. Women have to be on red alert for guys trying to cop a feel.

But if you ride during the off hours it's a much less fraught experience. On any given journey you can watch a woman applying eyeliner despite the seismic movement, lovers in a passionate clinch, or a blind and lame beggar crying for alms. The staircases and platforms are a souk, and so are the cars themselves, as an endless procession of enterprising salespeople comes and goes, hawking CDs, candy, calendars, flashlights, coloring books and cough drops.

The apartment where I have lived since October of 2010 is two blocks from a metro station. In all my years here I had never lived so close to one. I can't say that it solves every single transportation problem in the city. But it sure helps with most of them.