Insurgentes, Mexico City, Day 1
Well, I made it all the way to New York… the street that is.
On the way home from my first day of Walking Stories, I felt light-hearted and content. Strolling along at a jaunty pace, bag swinging at my side, I soon realized that I’d walked quite a long way. Back at my departimento, I spread out an enormous map of Mexico City and drew a green line from my starting point to where I’d left off at Calle de Nueva York. Three kilometers, I’d walked almost three kilometers. Some quick bistro math indicated that I could be done in less than a month! After a moment of flush excitement over my progress, I felt sad to think it might be over so quickly.
I thoroughly enjoyed walking and listening to the people I met on the street. A few minutes into each walk, I felt as if we’d entered a cosy bubble together, the noisy city receding as my focus narrowed in on one person and their words. Their eyes would warm with excitement as they told about aspirations for their beloved city, or become cautious and weary as they explained how hard it is to make a living in a corrupt system that favors the wealthy.
Although twelve people participated, many more refused, saying they were on their way to work or in a hurry. Some simply ignored me as I said over and over in Spanish, “Hello, good afternoon.” This is understandable considering the number of solicitations you get walking down Avenida de los Insurgentes. However, even the people who ignored me didn’t brush me off in a brusque, get-a-life kind of way, but more in an I’m ignoring you because I really have somewhere to go or I don’t want to get into an embarrassing situation kind of way.
Most listened attentively to my explanation and then politely turned me down. A good number accepted my card, saying that they would check it out later. Some promised to post their story on my website. Initially, most people looked at me with confusion or suspicion as I explained what I was doing. I suspect that they thought, why is this very tall nurse (nurses wear all white in Mexico, but I don’t mind the reference) handing me a card and asking me to walk with her?’
My response to “Why are you doing this?” or “What do you hope to accomplish?” was to smile and say, “It is about friendship with Mexico and Mexican citizens.” When I said this, they would look at me again, the confusion and suspicion replaced by a smile and a nod. Still smiling, they would encourage me, “Well, that’s a great idea!” or “I wish you luck.” Friendship is universally understood, and it requires nothing more than open heart and the gift of someone’s time.
That is why I walked home in such a dreamy state. I had offered my time and “amistad” or friendship, and people responded in kind. Some could only offer a few minutes to listen to my explanation, others took time out of their day to walk blocks and blocks with me or show me their neighborhood and invite me into their home. I am always surprised by how far you can get with a little trust and a smile.
May your day be filled with amistad,
-Laura
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