The Palace on the Hill

Today we walked through Chapultepec park, within which is a hill and, on top of it, the Castillo de Chapultepec. It's not really a castle, more a palace, with commanding views of the city, not least east along the broad avenue that is now Paseo del Reforma. The building dates from 1775 but there were stops & starts along the way - the War of Independence from Spain (1810-21), the war with the United States (1847), a brief sumptuous period when Emperor Maximilian and his wife, Empress Carlota occupied it, then a period of disuse, before a number of presidents made it their home... until finally it became a museum in 1939. 
Lovely interiors, including elaborate stairways, stained glass windows and the inevitable murals, but what I liked most was the roof garden (see pic).  

A Barber with a Difference

Another city, another barber to find... In Tokyo I used to go to a barber in Iidabashi near the office where we talked football in (my) broken Japanese. In Bangkok it was just round the corner from our home, cheap & cheerful with a shoulder massage thrown in. In Beijing it was a few blocks away, where the young & big-haired coiffeurs (clearly influenced by Korean K-pop) must have been frustrated by my three quid "short trim". 
So I've found a barber in Mexico City, a block from the office. At £15 it's surprisingly expensive, for me anyway, but you get a wash, a drink and - get this - a copy of Playboy... which I flicked through nervously, pretending I was reading the car and fashion features. 

It's Me, Kathy

Meanwhile in London, hushed expectation, disbelief and then reality befell those lucky enough to witness Kate Bush in concert, 35 years since she last performed live. 
Whereas many would have chosen a few mega shows at Wembley or O2, Kate, ever contrary, has gone for the more intimate experience of 22 shows throughout this autumn at the Hammersmith Odeon (I refuse to call it anything else). 
The reviews are good, polite, respectful, even if she didn't play the early hits. But she did perform Running Up That Hill, Cloudbusting, even the whole (?) of The Ninth Wave, as well as more recent stuff including a fair chunk of Aerial. And typically, there are weird bits - a mini play in which her teenage son appears, a short film, dancers dressed up as fish skeletons... A quiet triumph by all accounts. Ah well, I await the DVD.
KB's early years coincided with my late teens, but did I have Kate on my bedroom wall (so-to-speak)? No, it was Debbie Harry for me.

Back to School

First day at school for our girls. I felt for them as we took them, wearing their new uniforms, to the bus stop, still dark, off to a strange place. The bus was late, their names were missed off class lists and the lunch arrangements were a bit weird, but they got through it. Poor things: they looked exhausted this evening as they recounted the experience. But all part of life's rich tapestry, as they say.

Old Friends

A strange thing. Our Austrian neighbours from Bangkok, Peter & Anke and their three children, are now living in Mexico City - in fact have been for two years. They live out to the south west in a nice house with a tree stuck in the middle of it. Today they invited us over and we got the low-down on living in Mexico. Good to see them again. And nice for our two to have some non-adult time in preparation for the big day tomorrow. 
Although hardly an old friend (I met him once), respect to Sir Richard Attenborough who died today. Six decades an actor and director. I particularly liked him in Brighton Rock and I'm Alright Jack, although my two remember him for The Miracle on 34th Street. Whichever era you choose, he had a hand in it. 
Why I met him was through a mutual interest in Charlie Chaplin. He was in the middle of directing his biopic and I had just written & produced a small exhibition. Dickie came to the opening.  Nice, effusive chap. A total lovey, grabbing my arm, saying all the right things.

The Centre of Mexico

Time to explore the city and the obvious place to start is the Zocalo, the main square in the historic centre and according to Aztec beliefs, the centre of not just Mexico but the universe. 
It's big, though not as big I was expecting (a quarter of the size of Tiananm'en Square for example). On the north side is the Catedral Metropolitana, on the east the Palacio Nacional and in between, just out of view, the remains of the Aztec Great Temple. The Zocalo has been a gathering place for Mexicans since the 15th Century and now plays hosts to a massive great flagpole, demonstrations and the occasional rock concert. Paul McCartney performed to 250,000 here in 2012. We took it easy, dodging the 'Aztec' dancers, mariachis and organ-grinders.

A Stroll in the Park

A few hundred yards from our temporary home is the Bosque de Chapultepec, one of the largest city parks in the western hemisphere (and two and a half times the size of Hyde Park in London). Bosque means forest, and Chapultepec is a Nahuatl (Aztec) words meaning 'grasshopper hill'. On Sundays the park is alive with strolling families and stalls selling stuff, the main Paseo de la Reforma avenue is shut to traffic, and the Museum of Anthropology, Museum of Modern Art and Tamayo Museum are free. We wandered through it all, pondering what on earth we were doing here.