To paint a room

I have a love-hate relationship with new apartments.  Not the ‘new’ as in ‘new construction’, but more like just, well, ‘new-to-me’.  For example, the apartment I just moved into was built in 1952… the locals seems to refer to such buildings as being “earthquake-proof”.  I really hope they just have a perverse appreciation for irony!

I love ‘new’ apartments because moving is like an expedition… everything is new and fresh, from the local neighborhood haunts to the way the 56-year old floor boards creak.  This ‘new’ apartment is on the second floor of a 4-story, 8-unit building on Avenida Progreso, in Colonia Escandón (zoom in on the map below), a mix of blue collar families and ex-pats (como yo) too cheap to pay for the trendier digs one and a half blocks north in La Condesa.  So it’s close to the strips of buotique-y bars and clubs, for an occasional excursion, but surrounded by little markets and garage-door restaurants, full of people on first-name-bases.  If you know the kind of neighborhoods I like… then you know I’m in heaven. 

But living in a new apartment, any new space, really, always leaves me feeling a little wanting for the familiarity of previous comforts.  It makes me feel so… soooo… like I’m intruding on some other life.  Like I don’t really belong.  And being in a foreign culture… well, doesn’t help!

So to help the transition, I though it might be nice to paint my room.  In part, it’s because I’ve always wanted to paint my room, but never quite had the ___________…. opportunity?  But more so, in that it always makes me feel more at home if I invest some time and effort in changing things to suit… even if only a little.  When I moved into my last apartment, I rearranged the living room.  I don’t know if the new arrangement was any better, but it made me feel as if it was ‘my arrangement’ and, thus, my apartment.

So a-painting I will go!  The paint store just down the street (it’s the colonia!) has one of the custom paint color systems.  So what color should I choose?


Avenida Progreso, México, D.F.

TSA = ?

This amusing story brought to you by your friends at the DHS…. (I’m crying so hard I’m laughing.)


(Linked from…

Hurry up!

Woah — time is a-wastin’!  

I’ve already been, ahem, ‘in country’ for a week and have yet to write a single note.  So to begin….

This blog is a part of my nine-month trip to Mexico City, where 20 million souls bustle about in a grand dance, always running, racing (except when stuck in traffic!) and I have a Fulbright grant to study, hmm, well, things.  I’m still narrowing down exactly what, per se…. but the exact subject of my research (‘things’) is secondary to the experience, the sights, sounds, and smells of México, D.F.  

I plan to use this blog as a record and a filter, a means of preserving and synthesizing everything around me.  I don’t expect to write down any grand conclusions, but maybe these notes will help me to see the ‘big picture’ about México/the U.S., research/work, friends/family, life/death(?).  If there is an answer, a key, a logic — an ‘it’ — out there, I hope these notes help me find it sooner rather than later (I mean, life, like my time here, is just flying past!) perhaps later this year, or perhaps some day many years from now.

It’s possible that my random musings might offer something to others, too.  Though I don’t expect it, please feel free to read, and think, and comment… all I ask is that, if you do figure ‘it’ out… please let me know!  After all, time is a-wasting!


México, D.F.