Mexico City has been called a city of survivors, and for many of us who live here, there's a bittersweet pleasure in thriving in the midst of all the urban chaos. Overpopulation, scarcity of oxygen, earth tremors, the possibility of Popocatepetl blowing its top and covering us in molten lava--you call those problems? We're a tough breed here. By necessity, our roots must reach well below the surface of things.
Mexico City's trees represent a constant, slow motion contest between man and nature. Every time I see one of these guys, it gives me strength to soldier on. Slammed, squeezed, pinched, pummelled, hammered, uprooted, chopped off at the limbs, plastered with posters, strung up with electrical cables, pissed and shat upon by passing animals, enveloped in garbage, broken glass, cigarette butts, and sawed off at the base and left for dead if its presence should suddenly interfere with the machinations of the city--such are the trees of Mexico City.
I welcome submissions from my readers and will re-post this from time to time with new additions.
Note the sprouting leaves in the middle of the trunk
Palm tree in Santa Maria la Ribera
Trees painted green in Colonia Roma
In Polanco: your roots are showing (photo by Renny Dale)
A moment of lushness in the city.
"Greener than Warsaw!" our Polish friends exclaimed.