Where I go I just don't know

One of the things I'm trying to love is that things don't always go according to plan. That's what "lo que pasa es que" is meant to be all about - that which happens is that. It is what it is, que sera sera, however many other cliches you want to shake this particular stick at. Being unemployed as I am, I have all the time in the world, and so I'm trying to let whatever happens, happen. My nature is to plan, I like my color--coded travel agendas, and I like my carefully planned budget. My love of planning is why I was good at my job, but I do recognise in myself the need to just roll with the punches sometimes. 

This morning, I was doing my best to put this, and my other rules of engagement - slow down, and look up - into practise, by taking a long, leisurely stroll to school. I could hurry out the door and take the orange line 3 stops, efficiently switch to the pink line for 4 stops then walk the remainder of the way to school within the space of 42 - 47 minutes. But that, arguably, might be slightly over-planned, so a wander through the park was a good option.  

I was really excited for my walk. It was to be the highlight of my day. In the 6 months or so I've spent in this City I have, for various reasons, walked this route a lot, and I love it. The early morning walk through Bosque de Chapultepec before anyone else is around is a rare treat - in such a heavily populated City, having the park to yourself is quite a novelty. 

early morning in Bosque de Chapultepec

The quiet, undisturbed lakes of Chapultepec

The early morning walk down Reforma catches the beautiful monuments in a stunning morning light, and it brings back some very happy memories of walks home during my previous stint here. In both cases, I can liken the experience to walking (often home) across Charles Bridge in Prague in the small hours of the morning, before the people all turned up. There's a beauty about the quiet calm of this City in the morning. 

precious Diana catches the morning light

As I emerged from my leafy green suburb onto one of the main passageways of Mexico City this morning, two things happened. Firstly, Soul to Squeeze shuffled its way onto my iPod. Secondly, I was approached by a Mexican man. Neither phenomenon is particularly new or exciting, but I really, really wanted to just enjoy that song and my solitude and my delightful morning walk. It was not to be. After my new friend started talking to me, I was compelled to respond, and nek minit, I'm engaged in a conversation I didn't particularly foresee, a superb song going to waste on my unlistened to iPod. 

I recently read this amusing recollection by my terribly clever friend, currently working in Cambodia, about the point at which you terminate a conversation in the hope of regaining your solitude. Like my friend, I consider myself a polite person, and this dear old man meant me no harm. I also, to some extent, think we as foreigners have a certain obligation to our hosts; while it's sometimes frustrating for me to answer the same questions about my home country's economy / politics / culture / history, at the same time, isn't it wonderful that people are still interested in these things? Isn't it great that this kindly gentleman saw me, identified me as different, and wanted not only to welcome me to his country, but also to learn about mine?  

So after some minutes of frustration - and, I am slightly ashamed to admit, one attempt to turn off, at which point I was simply followed and the conversation continued - I realised that my Great Plan To Not Have A Plan was going to be disrupted, and I needed to just roll with it. In the eventuality, I spent 20 minutes keeping an aging man company as he walked his way to make an honest living, we had an interesting conversation about the differences between our respective countries, and as he politely farewelled me, I turned onto my very favourite section of the road, stared at my beloved Diana, and turned the Chilis up loud. Bliss. 

I might end up somewhere in Mexico