Mexico

I feel we all carry ideas of Mexico—and I think a lot of people forget just how large a country Mexico is. Fourteenth largest in the world. I mean, besides early memories of making tacos at home, when I think of Mexico I think of the Aztecs. I think of 90210 and the Mexican Standoff with Brenda and Dylan versus Jim Walsh. I think of Frida Kahlo. I think—yes, I’m ashamed—of sombreros. I think of cacti. See? Every word I write I’m either revealing my ignorance or reinforcing the ideas you already have. Well, except maybe the 90210 thing. Let’s celebrate Mexico a little, though—on 16 September 1810 Mexico declared its independence from Spain. It took Spain just over 11 years to recognise this independence, but hey—it’s better late than never, right? Independence Day! Before the recognition arrived, they had to fight the Mexican War of Independence.

For two years, Mexico was part of the First Mexican Empire—which was huge. It stretched down to Costa Rica, and into parts of what are now the states of Wyoming and Colorado in the United States. The emperor was deposed after two years, and the other Central American countries left the empire. There was a Second Mexican Empire in the mid-nineteenth century—also shortlived.

There are mountain ranges in Mexico—and, yes, there’s snowfall if you’re in the right place. And then there are deserts—the Altar desert in Sonora looks amazing. And we know about Baja, because that’s where Brenda and Dylan went on that ill-fated trip when Brenda forgot her passport. Mexico is also megadiverse: it has the world’s greatest biodiversity in reptiles (now that’s a claim to fame…) and second in mammals. I think that’s pretty amazing. I’m sure birders prefer to head down to Costa Rica and Panama, but as I prefer mammals and plants (and I don’t mind reptiles, with guidance) I think Mexico and I would get along wonderfully. And I loved Costa Rica and Panama.

The indigenous people of Mexico were lucky enough to have access to chocolate for years before the rest of the world came to experience chocolate-induced euphoria. Not to mention tacos, quesadillas, enchiladas, burritos… I love Mexican food. There’s something about frijoles that makes me oh-so-happy.

Mexico also has a Octavio Paz. As in, poet, Nobel Prize winner for literature, and diplomat. Just in case you don’t believe me when I saw that he’s amazing, here’s a poem to prove it.

Return

You spread out beneath my eyes,
a land of dunes—ocher, bright.
The wind in search of water stopped,
a land of heartbeats and fountains.
Vast as the night you fit
in the hollow of my hand.

Later, the motionless hurling down,
within and without ourselves
With my eyes I ate darkness,
drank the water of time, I drank night.
Then I touched the body of a music
heard with the tips of my fingers.

Dark boats, together,
moored in the shadows,
our bodies reclined.
Our souls, unlashed,
lamps afloat
in the water of night.

In the end you opened your eyes,
You saw yourself seen by my eyes,
and from my eyes you saw yourself:
falling like a fruit on the grass,
like a stone in the pond,
you fell into yourself.

A tide rose within me,
with a weightless fist I beat
at the door of your lids:
my death wanted to meet you,
my death wanted to meet itself.
I was buried in your eyes.

Our bodies flow through the plains
of night: they are time wearing itself out.
a presence that dissolves in a caress;
yet they are infinite, to touch them
is to bathe in rivers of heartbeats
and return to the perpetual beginning anew.

—Octavio Paz
from Modern Literature of the Non-Western World
translated from the Spanish by Eliot Weinberger