While roaming around in Mexico, I got a better understanding of the men who wrote the canon of Latin American literature. On the one hand, they were orphans if they full out rejected Spanish colonialism. But a part of them also loved their new home with more passion. Their knowledge was a privileged burden. Fuentes, through the voice of Artemio Cruz, suffered; Garcia Marquez suffered. All could compare themselves to the worse off Latin American country, e.g. The traffics situations or the drug sources. And yet American imperialism grew despite them all. What were the men supposed to write?
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| A dysfunctional clock commemorating the Armenian genocide in Colonia Roma |
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| The mexico park adjacent to the spain park; where kids played |
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| A modernist car |
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| A China clock tower commemorating the Sino-Mexican relations. dates back to Qing dynasty / 1800s |
Edgar Allen Poe in public street art
The 20th century was the century of modern literature, and Latin America produced much better modern literature than China, yet they are strangely absent from mainstream institutions of China or the US.
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| Spanish translation of Tahar ben Jelloun's novella inside a cute cafe. He writes in French though his first language is Arabic. |
An art museum in the old city center host san exhibition the new generation of Mexico-based artists inspired by Marcel Duchamp and others' idea of Camp. I quietly note that none of whom are indigenous or black. The guard communicates to me the boundaries of the exhibition through a whistle, a non-linguistic sounds, hiding our mutual ignorance of each other's colonial language. A 40-year old woman and her accomplice try to steal my phone in a bookstore guarded by a suited security man.
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| Mothers of Mexico |
Looking back at the 15-day trip, I did not have a single English discussion about literary books during my trip. Only magazines and a film. What is the weight of Spanish? The handsome pedlar of English language textbooks handed each out to the commuters. I notice the US flag printed on the cover. He scurried around the subway, retrieving them into a backpack like any ordinary contraband. A century of Magical Realism?
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| Selfie with a Che statue in a park with a lot of males, both statues and live ones. We avoid eye contact and soon I am the only living person in the park. |
Dolled-up girls in public notice my attire and compare themselves to me without holding back. Boys are mostly more restrained.
I return to Massachusetts and notice more Aztec themed restaurants in well to do areas. I still have not finished Savage Detectives. The suicidal tendencies of some of the characters are impossible to offer an actual lesson for my trajectory, since the American continent has been so generous to me. I was slightly disappointed by Mexico City's structures, with all the malls, greatly resembling those cities of the US, yet I can still imagine a brighter future there. Just like all the other Latin American exiles. We share the ambivalence towards Europe, yet we all, enjoy our vacations abroad and Nouveau Vague aesthetics in films. We do not care if Spain was the original or copy of Mexico, as long as music keeps us dancing and the food tastes great.
Academic works continue to explore the multiple meanings of
Hispanidad. Online, political controversy surrounding Hispanic issues continues. Latinx authors of the English language continue to languish without much praise while non Latinx authors benefit from their writings on issues related to the borders.
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