Chichicastenago and Unexpected Moments

July 23, 2009
Chichicastenago, Guatemala
Elevation 2233m

Chichi is supposed to be one of the biggest markets here in Guatemala. What I have learned from my years of market hunting is that the biggest may not always be the best, sometime the random no name markets in no name towns are better (at least for me) than the ones that drawls the biggest crowds. Some friends of mine loves market day at Chichi, while others are less than impressed. No matter, I am gonna check it out anyways.

The market is mostly craft. I must say that I am not impressed. Its alright, at least I tried.

I end up in the main church here in Chichi. There is still another couple of hours before my bus heads back to Antigua, I am literally seeking sanctuary from the vendors and the sun.

There are these low wooden risers all through the center isle, covered in flower pedals and candles. I watch this old man kneel by one and repeat his prayers over and over and over as he light one candle after another and sticks them on to the wood flats. There are women chanting, there are other prayers being prayed, it all intermingles and it echoes through the church. Yet this old man's raspy whispered prayer some how rises above them all, in the midst of it, I close my eyes and send up a prayer of my own.

I watch him some more and take a photo on the sly (photos are not allowed in the church, lucky for you I don't do too well w rules). He brings out a small bottle of alcohol and pours some on wooden riser, around the candles and flowers. He is finally done, but he is having trouble getting up. Bad knees and stiff joints, I could almost hear them crack. I wanted to go over there and help him but I didn't want to offend or let on that I have been observing.

Something about these last few minutes of watching is old man pray really touched me. This is what I will take away with me from this market day...

Pacayn

July 25, 2009
Antigua, Guatemala
Elevation 1500m

Trekking up and camping overnight on Volcano Pacayn is by far the craziest thing I have ever done, even more so than jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.

A good friend of mine was here in Antigua earlier this year and she had recommended an overnight camp/trek with a group called OX Expeditions. Every tour agency in town can arrange for a day trip out to Pacayn which is what most people do. OX is the only one who does an overnight camp.

We leave Antigua early friday afternoon with everyone carrying a bit of the camping gear in their packs. There is 9 of us in the group plus our guide. 3 young Spanish girls and their sidekick, a lost girl from Portland, OR. A very nice couple from Washington DC, she is in the non-profit sector and he is an earth science teacher. A young Dutchman, an Englishman born in Hong Kong who is also friends with my friend and me. We reach Pacayn in about an hour and starts out ascend. We hike though amazingly dense forsts with an occasional grassy green fields on the opposite side. There are random stray cows munching in the woods and a curious dog or two. There is a bit of elevation gain, challenging but not severe.

We start at about 2000m and we reach base camp in about an hour and half. We have a fantastic view of Volcano Agua from our camp site. Oh, oh, there is a bit of trouble. The spot OX normally camp at is on a road, but there is usually no cars on it, today, there are two trucks. Our guide goes over to see what is what. They are doing some work and wont be leaving until much later, which would mean that we have to camp at a different site and only be able to set up 2 tents or we have to camp in the dark. The lost girl actually came up with a brilliant idea, she suggest that they move the trucks out now, further down the road so we could camp. The 4 girls goes over with our guide to see if they could work their magic a little. At first it doesn´t seem to be working, the Englishman and I actually joke that perhaps we could trade the girls in for our camp site as neither of us cares much for them. Nevertheless, the girls do their job, the trucks are moved and we set up camp.

Around 6:30pm, we start out ascend up an active volcano, Pacayn. At first its full of soft sandy volcanic ash and pebbles, then it changes to larger loose volcanic rocks. The footing is loose and you are always uncertain if what you are standing on will hold. You look up and see all the groups that are now making their descend and you think ¨FUCK! That is Steep!¨ The way up is treacherous to say the least, is it a trail that we are hiking on? Or are we just climbing up the side of an volcano? The volcanic rocks are sharp, there are many who are coming down with cuts on their legs and hands.

After about an hour of tough climbing, its nearly dark and we have reached the lava at 2379m. We are now standing next to a flow of lava that is about 6 foot wide and moving fast. The earth science teacher could not be happier. He even brought a rock hammer so he could stick it in the moving lava to collect some samples. The wind picks up and you can feel the heat coming off the lava. OMG! This is fucking incredible and yet very kinda scary at the same time.

We are standing on crusts, here and there, there are pockets where you can see the red glow of the lava flowing beneath. The earth is alive, the earth is moving underneath you. This particular natural phenomenon is one which I have had very little experience with. I am a little in awe, I am not sure what to think.

Some in the group are super excited, they are trying to roast marshmallows on the lava, collecting samples, getting way too close to the lava as if they are immune to heat. I find a spot to sit and I watch. The lava flow is hypnotic. Our guides points out how the Guatemalans have such a different approach to these kinds of natural wonders than Westerners do. While they are hooting, hollering and whistling, all of us are quiet, beholden by the raw intensity of what we are witnessing. Irrespective to which forms of celebration you prefer, I believe that we are all paying respect in our own ways to the beauty that is before us.

Its time to make our way down. Its pitch black out, all we have is our head lamps and the wind just picked up intensity. The footing is uneasy and uncertain, that plus the gusty wind, I am now having a hard time not getting blown over. We gingerly make our way down and I am a little scared. FUCK! God I pray that I can make it down in one piece and not sustain serious injury. Everything is lose underfoot and you can hardly see. The wind keeps on blowing my bangs over my lamp, impairing what little visibility I have already. But this is no time to stop to put on a hat or anything as I am third in the line on the descent and there are many right behind.

35-45 sketchy scary minutes later, stumbling in the dark, never really sure if I am heading the right way, we finally reach base camp. THANK GOD! We make dinner with stars overhead and the lights of Guatemala city stretched out to our right. We watch the lava flow down the side of the volcano and the volcanic rocks breaking off, flying into the night. I change into dry warm clothes, snuggle down into my sleeping bad, snug as a bug and exclaim, ¨Öh I am so fucking happy right now!¨ ¨That is enough out of your tent!¨The Englishman shouts back at me!

This is by far the craziest thing I have ever done and I would HIGHLY recommend it to anyone with a sense of adventure. It is not for the faint of heart but it is FUCKING AMAZING!

Faith and those kinds of places

July 22, 2009

Antigua, Guatemala

Elevation 1500m



I don't have religion but I have faith. I think those two are very different things. I don't support most kinds of organized religions because well...needless to say, they can cause much trouble for many, on many different levels. Yet, I have been to places of worship for all different kinds of religion and faith, current and ancient. Why are we drawn to them, even if we do not subscribe to their point of view? Is it because its a piece of history? Is it because its beautifully crafted? Is it because we wish to understand what motivated those to kill, to preach, to save, to create, in the name of their god? I don't know...



Some days, I think of these places as places of faith and not as house of god. I think of these places as evidence that all of those who believe or would like to believe (irrespective to my differences to their particular belief.) Maybe that is why we are drawn to them. No matter how cynical we are, I think we would still like to believe in something, anything. Even if we only have conviction in the power of our cynicism and pragmatism, that is still faith in something.



* I would post pictures here but I am having much trouble w/ the PCs in town. I will try again later though.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Pan American HWY

July 21, 2009
Antigua, Guatemala
Elevation 1500m

We are heading south east out of San Cristobal. We lose some elevation and gain a little temperature. On our bus, there is a family of 4, Europeans, but I am not sure what country they are from, and there is a group of 4 Spanish girls as well. Neither groups are really talking to anyone else. I guess when there is so many of you, there is no need to make friends with strangers. There is a young French couple, she is wearing all white (I don't understand woman who could wear all white), they have the naïve conviction that their love would last forever. I hope it does for them. Then there is me and a young Israeli who finished his service a couple of years ago, on the road, trying to forget. There is something off about him, like he is a little sketchy or maybe a little afraid, I can't quiet put my finger on it. Then again, if I were forced to join the military at 18, serve for 3 years in a region of the world where conflict is very real and daily, I am sure that there would be something off about me too.

A stamp in my passport, thanks visiting Mexico, another stamp in my passport (they all look at me funny as I am quickly running out of room in my passport here), welcome to Guatemala. Pink Martini's version of "bolero" ushers me into Guatemala.

There is always something interesting about boarder towns, its a little rough and it doesn't really resemble the country at all. Its like a tapestry that unravels at the edges, you are looking at threads and not the entire picture.

There are endless mountain ranges ahead. The PanAmerican HWY gently winds us from one set of mountains to another. The dogs are skinny, the kids are still tiny, the ethnic garbs change color and patterns, the buses are older but more colorful. There are still cows and goats and sheep who grazes along the road. There are woman weaving out on their porch. There is a kid who is relieving herself in her yard and waves me hello all at the same time. One of the many bonuses of traveling alone, you often get to ride shotgun.

We finally get to Lake Atitlan, it is gorgeous (we will be back here in a few days)! Its late in the day and the mountain tops are covered by cloud and mist, all the while, mists surrounds the lake. I wish this was my destination tonight, but at last, I have another 2 hours head until Antigua.

There are a few brothels along the road, there are plenty of people walking in the dark. I see 4 school girls walking, each with a guitar in their hands. I think to myself, if they are gonna start a girl band, they might need a rhythm section as well.

Welcome to the PanAmerican highway. Welcome to Antigua.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Children...

July 19, 2009
San Cristobal, Mexico
Elevation 2349m

There is some sort of fire department demonstration in the plaza today. The fireman rigs the children up in a harness and they are pulled to the higher end and let go, they are essentially sliding down a zip line. There are these two small boys, selling gum and candy out of the little wooden tray they carry, they stand there and watch the other kids go up and down the zip line.

The haves and the have nots. Right there in front of me, as children.

A few days back when I was at Bonampak, there were these three girls running around the ruins. The youngest (5 years old) would ask for money when people want to take her pictures. I sat down in a shady spot for a little bit while waiting for my group and the girls surrounds me wanting to see what shiny things I had with me.

I don't make a practice of giving anyone money in exchange for a photo but if I have any kind of candy or pen or chap sticks on me, I am happy to give it to them. But mostly, I just talk to them, even if its out of a phrase book. I try to make them laugh and try to understand a little bit more.

As we are leaving, the girls are following behind, saying something to me in Spanish and I don't understand them. This American woman who is part of my group asks me if I gave them any money and then started to tell me about how she turned down leopards in India. How sometimes the parents would purposely hurt the child so the child would be better at begging. I know what she is telling me to be true. I tell her that I know but does she not feel bad for them? She says that she doesn't.

They are FUCKING children. How could you not feel bad? Where the fuck is your compassion? Even if there is not much you can do in the situation, you can at least feel, you can at least have compassion.

She Tried to Throw a Broom at Me

July 19, 2009
San Cristobal De Las Casas, Mexico
Elevation 2349m



San Juan Chamula, a village that is outside of San Cristobal. Its market day. It's 6:30 am, I make myself leave my warm bed, grab my cameras and thank god there is coffee at this hour, I get on a collectivo and head out.

The market is the size of the town square. I am the only foreigner here. You can buy everything here. Pots and pans, live poultry, shoes, clothing, yarn, some sort of animal pelt, bread, produce, shoe polish, flowers, just about everything. This market has no structure or logic in the way that its laid out. I think the vendors just arrive, they find an empty spot and they lay their goods down. As the day wears on, it gets harder and hard to walk through the market. I am constantly walking in between stalls or forced to jump over a pile of chiles so that I don´t get run over by the carts, people and poultry. There are children every where; some are crying, some are breast feeding. There are dogs roaming looking for a scrap off the butcher´s table. I saw this one boy trying to shove a giant piece of salted dry fish into his backpack...it made me laugh so hard as the fish is clearly bigger than his bag.

The shooting today is a little easier than it was yesterday. The people are still resistent but there is so much going on here that they pay less attention to me. Although this one woman did try to throw a broom at me. She won´t even let me take a picture of her chickens. Oh well....

I smile at everyone I see, I greet them good day. The men return my smile and are a little easier with me being there, the children seem to respond to my hellos as well. Howeve, the women just look at me and well....they just look at me. I guess my charm only goes so far here in Mexico.

This town, San Cristobal, Chiapas, it reminds me so much of Tibet, I don´t know why. The market is make shift at best; tables, tarps, ropes and nothing more. All of this choas and beauty will be gone by mid-day. The morning is wearing on and I have done 4-5 laps around, in and out, the tourist are starting to arrive, its time to wrap it up. Just as I am about to finish the last few frames on this last roll of film, I see a pile of red delicious apples imported from good o´US of A. Red Delicious apples sitting pretty amongst fruits and veggies that are just in from the hill side. I guess you can´t stop progress/invasion.

I stop at one of the many ¨stalls,¨ grab a seat in the tiny chair and have a hot horcheta and a tamale for breakfast. The warm horcheta makes me think of porridage and it reminds me of home. I guess when you grow up with nothing, your taste for peasant food (as my mother likes to call them) never really goes away.

Out of Focus Frames

July 18, 2009
San Crisotbal De Las Casas, Mexico
Elevation 2349m

The market today was incredible, bright and lively. I think my favorit thing might be how the women tie the chickens by their feet and wear them around their wrists like they are some sort of bracelets as they stand there selling them. I had a little trouble shooting at the market today. I have encountered resistence before to being photographed, but today it seemed harder. For the most part, if they really don´t want their picture taken, I respect that and I walk away. I have read and heard a bit about how the indigenous tribes here in Chiapas do not like their photos taken so I purposely left the Hasselblad and only went out with the Xpan. I thought maybe a smaller camera would let me fly under the radar a bit more (Yes, me, unnoticed as the only Asian in town.) It was difficult today. I would try to pull focus at something that was close to them but not them and then pan back to them and see if I can pull the shot off, this usually works decently in the pass, but not so much today. I ended up shooting a lot of the same frame hoping that maybe there would be one that would work. I have a feeling that I am going to end up with a lot of out of focused frames here.

Tomorrow I will head out to a near by town where market day is supposed to draw a great crowd from all the villages. I imagine it would be even harder then. But I have to at least try.

For Love, For Faith, For Pure Pleasure?

July 18, 2009
San Cristobal De Las Casas, Mexico
Elevation 2349m

When I think of fresh cut flowers I think of hot houses, first world nations, and florists. I was astounded to find so much flowers for sale at the market today. I wondered do they just grow wild? It can´t be grown in a hot house like it is in the US? Then I wonder who buys them and what do they buy the flowers for? For their wifes and their love? For their god and their faith? Or do the good people of Chiapas just buy them because they are pretty and who wouldn¨t want fresh flowers in their homes?

Recorded Time

July 15, 2009
Palenque, Mexico
Elevation 80m

I joined a tour group today because it was easier and cheaper to get to some of the Mayan ruins (Yaxchilan and Bonampak) I wanted to see. The van picked me up at a quater pass six and we headed south east. I was awake to see the sunrise, then I nodded off from there on.

The driver likes to slow down to nearly a complete stop for each and every speed bump, but he would put pedal to the metal for all the in between. He would drive at full speed and pass all the other tour vans on the road. Is there a door prize for the group that gets there first? Do we each get a howler monkey?

I have seen a lot of ruins in my time and I am sure that I will see a lot more. Seeing these murals and carvings, reading what little Mayan history it be can gather from it, I wonder about our impulse to record. From the ancient murals to every tourist with their cameras (me included), me writing this blog, you and your journals, we compulsively record. Why are we compelled to document what we have done, who we have conquered, what we have seen, and what we have experienced?

Do we record these things so that they don't fade away with time and the decay of our memory? Do we record so that we can ensure our version of the story gets told? Do we record cause we instinctively understand our mortality and want to leave something behind? Does our existence not matter unless it is documented somewhere?

If what you did with your life changed the world, but there will be no record of it, would that be ok? Or would you prefer to live a life that is well documented but didn't matter in the slightest bit?

Wondering Minsterals

July 15, 2009
Palenque, Mexico
Elevation 80m

There are men who get on the bus at random stops, they play you a couple of songs on their guitar and you give them a little money if you like. They are literally wondering minstrels. I took this while I was on the city bus I had to take yesterday to get back into Oaxaca center. The guy in white saw me snap this picture. After he got off the bus, he blows me a kiss waved me goodbye.

Long Distance Bus Ride

July 14, 2009
In transit between Oaxaca to Palenque via Villahermosa, Mexico

What is the hardest thing NOT to do while you are on a long distance bus ride?

A) pee in your pants
B) sing along to your ipod and annoy all
C) fall asleep, snuggle up to the passenger next to you and drool all over them
Charlie Grosso
www.charliegrosso.com
310-592-0895

And back onto itself again...

July 12, 2009

Oaxaca, Mexico



I was at the Centro Cultural Santo Domingo yesterday.



Maybe because it used to be a convent, it was quiet, peaceful. I thought about how much I liked the place for a moment and of course that maybe I should join a convent. But I quickly rejected that thought as I am sure that no convent would tolerate me yet the sense of peace at the place was comforting.



The layout of the place is strange, its all inter connected and it essentially folds back onto itself. As I walk through it, the place keeps on re-framing itself through the windows and arches. It is keep on folding and unfolding all at the same time. One minute you are looking at this one set of domes and the next you are seeing it from a different side. like an Escher drawing except you don't feel like you are lost. Every view is different, it keeps on presenting itself in a different way. Even though you have seen those arches, those windows, that courtyard once before, there it is again and just a little different each time.



I will post pictures once I get back from trekking in Sierra Norte.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Mystery Spice follow up

Its not a spice at all, but ground up grass hoppers. How do you eat it? Put it in a tortilla, sprinkle it on your salad, its very good for you and it has none of the problems of the bigger version where the legs can get stuck in your teeth!
Charlie Grosso
www.charliegrosso.com
310-592-0895

Mystery Spice

July 10, 2009
Ocotlan, Mexico
Elevation 1500m

I went out to a town called Ocotlan, 45 min by bus (no chicken bus yet, severely disappointed) since it is their big market day. The market was vibrant and amazing. There are these two girls selling some sort of spices and they came up and tried to talk to me. At first I thought they wanted their photo taken, but they one of them got shy and changed their mind. We tried to talk some more and then they decided that I could take a photo if I bought some of what they were selling. Mind you I have no idea what it is that they are selling. I asked her what its for (once again, poor poor spanish skills on my part), the girl took some and put it in her mouth. Ok, so its edible. She offered me some, I had a taste, can't say that I could tell you what it is or what it tasted like either. But for 5 pesos, I will buy a small bag of this mystery spice to help the girl out and took a picture in exchange. I hope I don't dream of purple elephants.

Free

July 9, 2009
Oaxaca City, Mexico
Elevation 1550m

I read "A Portrait of a Young Man as an Artist" by James Joyce when I was 17. Something Joyce said has really stayed with me. He believes that a man cannot truly be free unless he can sever the ties of family, religion and country. I revisit this idea every so often as I consider myself to be "free," or would like to be.

At 17, I had no national allegiance as I didn't feel like an American nor did I feel like I was Chinese either. I did not have faith nor religion and family was something that I couldn't wait to walk away from as they have been troublesome to say the least.

I am reminded of the movie "Into the Wild" and a line of lyrics from it, "I got my wish to up and disappear." They both seem appropriate at this moment as I wonder through Mexico and beyond. There are some problems that I have with the movie but the notion of him wanting to walk away from everything and see if he could survive on the land alone certainly holds my imagination. In the end though, he writes as he is dying, "happiness is only real when shared." Which only goes prove Joyce's point in my opinion, that being truly free is not that easy.

As I hyper-ventilated over the temporary lost of my blackberry, my life line to the world, I can't help but think of Joyce and his idea of being free. Which then makes me ask a different question, do I want to be that free? That untethered to the world?

Things have changed and I am not who I once was since I last read Joyce. The question of faith and cultural identity aside I am glad for the family that I have now. Whether be it blood ties or family of our own choosing, I am a better person with them than I would be w/o them. Other than the fact that my blackberry allows me to conduct business while I am on the road, it allows me to share bits of my day with people that I care about. "Happiness is only real when shared."

When I was 17, I thought being that free was something to strive for. Now, I wonder if Joyce's point is more to the impossibility of it and that we are the ties that binds us. Our family, faith and culture defines us and if we allow it, it can make us better. I think I will go dig out my copy of "Portrait" when I get back to the States and have another read.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Moments.....

July 9, 2009

In transit to Oaxaca, Mexico



I am in the middle of a 6.5 hour bus ride to Oaxaca, so I have sometime to share a bit more w/ you.



Tuesday morning I took the subway down to coyoacan again and walked through the Viveros (park/nursery) on my way to the market.



I came upon people practicing bull fighting in the middle of the park. I was hypothesized, I was mesmerized. There was a young man, 15 maybe, practicing w/ the cape and an elder gentleman giving him instructions. There was another young man practicing and the elder guy who had a set of bull horns so they were both mimicking the rhythm and motion. I don't know how I feel about bull fighting as I have never experienced one. So I will reserve judgment until I have had more experiences w/ it. As I watch these guys practice, mimicking the motion of life and death in the middle of the park, under the mid day sun, the care taken in every turn, the articulation of each motion, the ritual, the sacrifice...I came upon beauty that rendered me speechless.



That same day, I spent the afternoon at the museo nacional de antropologia. I consider myself a curious student of anthropology but I am certainly not very well versed in it, my knowledge is skin deep at best. I must confess that I am not that interested in "objects" of the past. Clay bowls, urns, spear heads, they just don't get me that excited. If there is a way for the spears to tell me about the hunt, the wine goblet to describe the drunken debauchery, then I would be super excited.



Yet at the mueso, I found myself enthralled by all the tiny clay figures and their faces. These figures don't really serve a functional need yet they were made and I think that is part of the reason why I love them. All of faces were different, all of them expressive. I found the faces of history staring at me.



Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Hi, my name is Charlie, and I am an addict.

July 7, 2009
Mexico City, Mexico

Its been an very pleasant day, in fact, maybe one of my best days here so far. But as the afternoon gets late, I am tired and just want to go back to the apt for a little while. So I opted for a cab ride home instead of taking the metro during rush hour.

I get back to the apt, half way undressed, thinking about either a shower or a nap, maybe both when I realized that I have lost my blackberry. OMG!!! Sheer panic that sets in! I rummage through my backpack, NOTHING! I call Rebecca and have her call the cafe where I was at last, although I am pretty convinced that I have left it in the cab. The thought of being w/o my blackberry is unbearable when I am in the States, much less now when its my life line! Its not at the cafe, Rebecca calls me back. She then calls my 310 number hoping that someone will answer. The cab driver picks up and says that he will bring the phone back to me in 30 mins.

So I go downstairs, waiting at the curb w/ such anticipation and worry that I am reminded of my mom telling me the story of my first day of school. Of how she waited so eagerly at the bus stop in the afternoon for my return. The sheer anxiety. Yes, I do realize that I have just compared my feelings for my blackberry to that of my mother towards me, her only child.
In the mean time, the security guard at Eric's apt where I am staying starts to tell me something about the apt. The best I could make out is that the bathroom is leaking and its leaking down into the apt below. Ok, so we call Rebecca again to translate and see if they would like to come up to the apt regarding the leak.

Now I am in the apt w/ the maintance guy and guard, and I automatically pull the door to my room shut as there are stuff EVERYWHERE. We now discover that there is no water in the apt. Great! I am getting anxious as we are approaching the half hour mark for the promised return of my phone. I put my hand on the door knob to my room only to find that its LOCKED! Of course I don't have a key to this particular door! OH MY GOD!!! Ok, so now I am climbing through the window into my room from the balcony of the apt which by the way is on the fourteenth floor.

Alright, with the door open and reward money in hand for the return of my phone, we all go back downstairs. One thing at a time here. Miraculously, the cab pulls up 5 min past the promised half an hour and hands me back my blackberry. I gladly hand him 100 pesos in gratitude, and thank the lord!!!

Now, there is still no water in the apt and tomorrow I have a meeting w/ a gallery regarding a potential exhibit here in DF. I am a mess and would very much so like a shower before I attend to my meeting tomorrow afternoon. But all is right w/ the world because I have my blackberry in hand and there is nothing I can't do!

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Big planets, small planets

July 6, 2009

Mexico City, Mexico



I went out this evening to a local cantina with a friend of a friend, an ex-pat of 15 years. He knew the bartender and some of the patrons. Pepe is a local and a friend of my friend. We are a couple of drinks in and talking about how I plan on visiting the museum of anthropology tomorrow after I am done w the markets.



Pepe then offered up his theory of "evolution." From what I could understand, and Pepe spoke the Queen's language well, that he does not believe in Darwin per se, but that there are big planets and small planets. On the big planets, there are very evolved humans who could levitate, practice tele-kenethisis, and alike and they are the ones who reproduce. Earth is too small of a planet for us humans to have evolved from a single celled organism to where we are this fast in such short span of time. Pepe does not believe that there is a missing link.



Pepe believes that we are put here on earth by the humans on the big planets. They drop humans off on other planets and are doing so w the hopes that we will be able to populate other smaller planets in time. But Pepe does not think we will be able to do that because earth is too small of a planet and that we have major disasters coming that will end life on earth. Pepe is predicting a north american tsunami that will take place north of Oregon state.



All the mean while, there is a drunken Mexican lady next to me at the bar, yelling to no one in particular, or yelling at my new ex-pat friend from time to time.



There is always something surreal just beneath the surface.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

Pushy Asian has you beat!

July 6, 2009

Teotihuacan, Mexico

Elevation: 2300m



The ancient city of Teotihuacan with the piramide del sol y luna. Piramide del Sol was completed in 150AD and its the third largest in the world. The base is 222m long and its 70m in height. Its build from 3 million tons of stone without the use of the wheel. Impressive hum?!



What is often more fascinating at archaeological sites such as this are the hawkers who are trying to sell you cheap trinkets. I was fore warned about the vendors here so I came mentally prepared. Let's just say that these Mexican vendors have nothing on the Asian hawkers. There are middle age women offering to carry you up the Great Wall of China since the climb is steep. There are barefooted Cambodian children following you around selling you post cards and what not. There are hawkers in Asia where they will just follow you silently until you relent and part with your money. These Mexican vendors take no for an answer and is rather polite in comparison.



There is this one vendor as he tried to sell you something, he says the word, "jaguar" in English and then you hear a sound of a fake jaguar growl. It made me laugh. At first, I thought the vendor was making the sound, now I think its actually a toy that you blow into.



The Aztec build this giant pyramid by the sheer force of will so they could worship the sun. The hawkers and children stand out in the sun day in and day out just to survive. Is there anything that you won´t do for your art, your faith, your child?

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

As you wish

July 4, 2009

Mexico City, Mexico

Elevation 2240 Meters



Market day. One in particular has all manners of animals for sale. Chickens and various varieties of poultry, baby chicks, pigeons, goats, turkey, rabbits, puppies, kittens, turtle, iguanas, finches and other birds, mice, rats, guinea pigs. Lots and lots of animals all alive and in cages.



Now I am getting confused. Are these animals for sale or for eating? The chicken, poultry and goats seems like they would be for food but the puppies and kittens doesn't seem to be quiet for the Mexican palate. So, I call my friend Rebecca and ask her if she could ask the shop keepers what is the purpose of these animals, food or pets. I hand the phone over to a man who was just trying to sell me a chicken moments before and patiently wait for the answer.



Apparently, the man had told Rebecca, the animals are for whatever you want, dinner or pets. What is most important is that they are fresh.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

A room of one's own

July 3, 2009

Mexico City, Mexico

Elevation 2240m



I went to the Museo Frida Kahlo and the Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera Y Frida Kahlo today.



First of all, there has always been a bit of envy, or desire amongst friends of mine who all believe that the separate but together life style would be the way to ensure domestic happiness. Two house, connected but independent. At the very least, it sounds like a great idea.



I went to the "Blue House" first today and I love it. I walked in and thought,"f*ck Virginia Woolf and her room of one's own, we all should have a blue house of our own."



Then I went to the house and studio where Diego and Frida had lived from 1934 - 1940, before their divorce and subsequent remarriage to each other again. Diego's house was lovely, bright and spacious with a beautiful set of cement staircase and giant windows. In complete contrast, Frida's house was claustrophobic. Tight, small quarters with tiny windows and no main door way in. It felt like a prison with Rivera's house as the gate keeper. No wonder she moved into the blue house after.



Frida Kahol's work is one of the most highly valued of any female painter, she set auction record in 2003 at $1.3 million for "Self portrait with curly hair." I am sorry, but that auction price is an insult. $1.3 million is pittance compared to what her male contemporaries prices are and a drop in the bucket when compared to auction prices for male contemporary artists such as Hirst and Koons.



When will we stand up and demand to be paid what we are worth? For the work to be judged on merit and nothing else? When will we demand for a blue house of our own and not merely be happy with a room?*



*I have gotten fired from many jobs and lost quiet a few commissions because I like to get paid for what I do. Its not a easy road to follow.

Charlie Grosso

www.charliegrosso.com

310-592-0895

My Mexican Father

July 1, 2009
Mexico City, Mexico

I meet a very nice elder gentleman on the flight. He is a professor at the university of mexico, some sort of corn, fungus,research based field. He has been teaching there for 40 years. He first started asking me about my travels (I was reading my LP guide on the flight) and when he found out I was by myself, he gave me his number and his daughter's number in case I ever needed anything. After a long nice chat on the flight, He insisted on taking me to the apt in a cab, paid for the cab fare and also gave me 500 pesos cause he didn't want me to visit an atm at night. He wouldn't even accept my US greenback in exchange for the pesos. He also decided that he was gonna adopt me and be my Mexican father and wanted me to come and stay w him and his wife next time.

Its times like this that makes me think there is still hope for humanity.

Charlie Grosso
www.charliegrosso.com
310-592-0895