The Delights of Mexico City

Lunchtime in Mexico isn’t a sandwich at your desk affair, at least to the managers. Every day for about two hours they would go to “The Club”. The first day, after we were seated at our big table they, my hosts the managers, being very gracious, told me I should order first. I felt like a big shot so I ordered a steak. They all looked at me and said with  incredulous voices and said “And before?” I asked before what. They said before the steak. I found out quickly that lunch to the managers of Mexican industry is a two hour event. It is like dining in Italy or France. Lunch is at least four or five courses. I was afraid of getting sick by eating too much in Mexico and one of the managers suspected so. I forget his name now but I remember his English was limited but his Spanish accent was nothing short of beautiful. I asked him why that was so and he told me he studied at the University of Lyon at Guadalajara Mexico and acquired a slight French accent. He told me that his company sent him up to Canada on business about twice a year. He told me that at first he would get sick as a dog in Canada. Not unlike Montezuma’s revenge. The Canadians explained to him that all fresh uncooked produce has bacteria on it. If you eat a salad or something else with raw veggies in it, the local bacteria on it will dual it out with the resident bacteria already in your gut. He told me to wait a few days to give your innards time to acclimate to the new germs in town and I would be fine. So I did and so I was.

I became pretty close to Ulrich down there. Ulrich was the corporate process engineer for Celanese Mexicana. When he first introduced himself to me I asked him “Ulrich?” He replied “Si”. And you’r Mexican and again he replied si.  Of course he was screwing with me. He explained that his father had emigrated to Mexico but never mastered the Spanish language so his family spoke German at home. He had an Electrical Engineering degree from the University of Texas so he spoke English like a college graduate and of course he spoke Spanish where he lived. I asked Ulrich what language he thought in because I read that without language there is no thought. He chuckled and said “Let me think about that”. He told me that being a Mexican living in Mexico his everyday thinking was in Spanish. He said however that German was a far better langue for science and engineering and English was the best language for business thinking. Sometimes when working, we would switch from Spanish to English to German. We did it to mainly to keep the locals a bit off balance.

On my first trip I flew down on Western Airlines. The good folks said it was too bad, that I should have taken a Mexican airline. On my second trip I took their advice and flew down on Mexicana. I would go down on Sundays so I would be sharp and not jet lagged. When I boarded, I was greeted by a gorgeous, smiling flight attendant. After I was seated a girl came by and asked whether I  wanted a Mexico City newspaper or a Sunday LA Times. As an aside, being Mexico is a “very democratic country” the airplane is a classless configuration. The whole plane has a first class feeling to it. After I was handed my paper, I was asked if I wanted a complimentary beer or wine. After the plane took off we were served a very nice dinner with more beer or wine. Included with the meal was a four pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Being I was still a smoker back then I felt that this was  a very nice touch. After the meal a gong was heard and the Fasten Seatbelts sign came on. I thought oh shit this damned Mexican plane is going down. It was, however it was supposed to as we were landing already. I could have enjoyed a few more hours up there. I was put up at a hotel in the Zona Rosa, The Pink Zone, across from The Palice of Fine Arts the home of the Ballet Folklórico de México. After that, it was adios Western Air.

On weekends Ulrich showed me the sights of Mexico City of which he was very proud of. Mexican architects back then were some of the most creative in the world. In his Celanese office building for instance the elevators only stopped at every fourth floor. This was because when you walked to a corner of the floor you were on there was either a few steps that went up or down depending which way you were walking. This continued all of the way up the building. If you were on a north facing floor you had to go up four times before you were facing north again. Hence the four floor skipping of the elevator(s).

The Mexicans were the best hosts ever. Every night they would take me out on the town, either alone or in mass. One night it was an indoor Mexican rodeo with an intermission of two piano players playing black and white grand pianos on tall pedestals. The guy playing the black piano had on a white tuxedo and the guy in the black tuxedo played the white piano.

Each evening they would endeavor to out do last night’s outing. I had some of the best times of my life in Mexico City. One day I went to lunch with one guy who wanted me to taste the pork knee at this German restaurant. When the waiter brought the menus there was a card printed in Spanish paperclipped to the menu.  My host looked at the card and smiled and told me he knew what he was having. It was what was on the card. I asked him what it was and he told me I wouldn’t be interested. When the food came out, his dish looked like it had Rice Krispies on it. He put some Rice Krispies on a tortilla put some raw onion and hot sauce on it and devoured it with great obvious pleasure. OK, I asked, “What is that?” He explained that very occasionally when harvesting  agave they find worms in a plant.