What a relief! The Christmas celebrations are finally over, and with them all that relentless coming and going of cars and people. As I mentioned in my last post, there's this compulsion to have fun by obligation that still manages to surprise me. We couldn't stay entirely out of it, of course, since Mexico is a country with very little diversity in nationalities or religious beliefs beyond those derived from Christ, which means one must celebrate the "supposed birth of said figure."

The remarkable ice rink set up alongside the other attractions at the zócalo struck me as a genuinely good idea, a way for people with limited means to enjoy these kinds of activities. But for some reason, on the day I went and stood there for about forty minutes, not a single person was skating except the employees dressed in their little red uniforms, hired to organize and manage everything. Meanwhile, out in the sun, whole families were standing in line for their chance to skate. I'd like to believe I arrived at precisely the moment when the rink is given a rest so it doesn't melt, but then I have to ask myself: why were the employees skating around, chatting, and carrying on like anyone who'd waited in line and earned their spot? I never got an answer, but the photos I took are testimony enough.

The city decorated itself as it always does, and here along Avenida Reforma the party was laid out for whoever wanted to share in it. Since we live so close to that avenue, and on the recommendation of a few neighbors, we decided to spend the night of the 31st in the company of just one friend who came for dinner, after which we ventured out to see what was unfolding on the street.

After dinner, we set out to watch and take part. There's no question I'm a critical person and that I can't help speaking about the good just as freely as the bad. Seen early in the evening and experienced the way we experienced it (only an hour, maybe an hour and a half), the celebration was actually quite pleasant and family-oriented. People from every social stratum mingled together to share, listen, watch, and walk along the avenue. A stage had been set up where certain artists (not entirely to our taste, it must be said) enlivened the night with music and Mexican songs in general. Some norteño groups we're not particularly fond of, but the illumination of the Ángel de la Independencia was genuinely something worth seeing.

Along the edges of the avenue, stalls had been set up selling fried foods, sweets, all manner of food and merchandise that seemed appropriate for the occasion. People danced and behaved in a remarkably civilized fashion. From the bundled-up families (it was an especially cold night) to the occasional "sexy" woman of the kind who displays her attributes (whether God-given or achieved through the nowadays very fashionable plastic surgery) and who had decided to risk pneumonia in the name of showing off her figure, the whole scene was an interesting and entertaining spectacle.

At midnight the place filled with jubilation, and we all counted down the final seconds out loud to welcome the new year 2009, accompanied by music, shifting lights, and genuinely pretty fireworks. What I do find terrible is the utter lack of consideration for others that exists in this country, because the volume coming out of those enormous speakers must have been audible from quite a distance. Too bad for anyone who didn't want to participate, and worse still for anyone who happened to be sick and unlucky enough to live nearby. We might say this only happens once a year, but if you add up all the celebrations held in this country, there are many occasions on which a few people's fun requires everyone else to endure the noise and the party.

Take us, for instance: we live half a block from the Monumento a La Madre, and we had barely managed to enjoy a couple of weeks of peace and relative quiet on the esplanade (after it had been vacated by the so-called peasants of the 400 indigenous villages) before construction on temporary pavilions began immediately. These tents housed the famous toy fair, which surely gave people of modest means the chance to get toys for their children at very reasonable prices. I went and had a look and confirmed that this was indeed the case, but during the week or two it lasted, we had to endure shouting, music, and general chaos. This was invariably accompanied by the ever-reliable ambulances and patrol cars that appeared no fewer than twice a day, sirens blaring, presumably to give the troublemakers a good head start to run, since I imagine many of them are associates of our thoroughly discredited police force.

The night of the 5th was the famous night, as hundreds of people arrived here to buy the children's toys. Early on, the families were charming to watch, sharing in the happiness of the purchase. But by afternoon, some of those people had apparently paired the family occasion with alcohol, which steadily raised the temperature of the festivities. Not to bore you with the details, I'll simply say that by around four in the morning, the shouting, patrol cars, music, and insults had reached considerable levels. The next day, of course, what was most noticeable was the trash and the silence. Perhaps I am a creature from another planet, but I genuinely cannot understand certain forms of entertainment that take absolutely no account of everyone else living nearby.

Long live Mexico! The Holy Holidays are over, and with them the beloved "Guadalupe-Reyes" stretch (traditionally, one long continuous binge) that begins with the birthday of the country's patroness and dearly cherished virgin, the Virgen de Guadalupe, and concludes with the day the famous Three Kings visit homes to leave gifts for the fortunate Mexican children, since this is still a very poor country and not every child has that luck.

Sanuk