Buildings with
tilted walls, crumbling facades, rusting metalwork, broken planters, cracked
and bulging sidewalks are common sights in Mexico City, the effect often
heightened by proximity to some gleaming new high-rise. There is a notable
tendency here to let things go to wrack and ruin, financial investment be
damned. Depending on the mood I’m in, I can see it as a charming reminder of
the temporal nature of life, or an indication of a complete lack of civic
pride. But there's no denying that decrepitude is one of the characteristics
that defines this city. Learning to appreciate this quality, like one would the nicks and scars on a piece of antique furniture, is necessary in order to fall in love with Mexico City.
Among the
most remarkable examples of this phenomenon is the high-rise Edificio Insurgentes (Insurgentes 300, between Zacatecas and
Guanajuato), known by many here as the Canada Building, for a huge sign that once adorned it. Inaugurated in 1958, it was the most fashionable address
in its day for the offices of politicians, doctors and lawyers. Now its a veritable urban ghost town.
Its heyday
lasted about 10 years, and then things started to go downhill. The earthquake
of 1985 was the nail in the coffin, but a fire, and the murder of a tenant didn’t
help. Spirits of those killed in the fire supposedly haunt the 15th and 16th
floors.
Elevators no
longer work, graffiti covers much of the ground floor, and upper floors are a
hodge-podge of slapdash additions and makeshift alterations. In 2012 the city
ejected the remaining tenants and closed the building. Rumor has it that it was
being used as a halfway house for illegal immigrants from Nicaragua.
Take a look from
across the street to fully appreciate the weirdness of this once grand edifice.
I think all this physical instability helps create a flexible and resilient culture. If you can't trust the ground under your feet, you must seek security elsewhere, preferably from within. Mexicans
are the most Buddhist-like of westerners, embracing instability, change, decay and
death as normal parts of daily life. Perhaps the remarkable calm one experiences here (at least as compared to my former hometown, New York City) is a result of this acceptance. The phrase ni modo (literally “no
way,” sort of a resigned shrug) is more often heard in response to situations
beyond one’s control than anything more aggressive or confrontational. A popular song by the beloved ranchera composer José Alfredo Jimenez has the refrain “no vale nada la vida” (life is worth nothing), sung to a sweet and
lilting waltz melody. Mexicans of all ages know it by heart.
More images of decay in Mexico City:
Calle Puebla in Colonia Roma Norte
Insurgentes and Niza in the Zona Rosa
Abandoned penthouse in the Zona Rosa
Abandoned store, Calle Bucareli, Centro
Broken sidewalk
A FEW HOURS AFTER I WROTE THIS BLOG POST, THIS SHOWED UP ON FACEBOOK: http://www.demotix.com/news/3904354/demolition-threatened-historical-building-mexico#media-3904337
Here's the address and great photos: http://franciscocanedo.com/ albums/el-numero-6-de-la- plaza-alonso-garcia-bravo/
Torre Insignia (abandoned)
3 comments:
I really enjoyed this post, especially your summation. I agree.
Hey! I know that spot on Calle Puebla. It's where first, the Vietnamese food truck, and now, the "Yucatecan" food truck park. It's also where Calle Puebla starts to get sleazy as it runs west to Av. Insurgentes. East of there, particularly from Calle Orizaba eastward, it's pretty nice.
It's not all bad, just menos elegante. A favorite Super Tacos de Guisados stand is in that black, on the other side of Calle Puebla, halfway to the corner of Calle Jalapa.
Saludos,
Don Cuevas
I have almost finished Elena Poniatowska's, Nada, Nadie based on many testimonies of survivors of the terrible 1985 earthquake. It is giving me an unforgettable perspective on the still visible aftermath of that time. Available in English translation too.
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