Nothing fishy (PT.1)

Things have been getting a bit odd around here lately.  The circle of artists, architects and odd historical figures are getting closer and closer.  I do not believe in coincidence, so this is definitely where some odd paths cross…hopefully for a wonderfully weird and fantastic future.

Last time we saw Pedro, it was at his studio.  He and his family were living there temporarily, and he was just prepping for an exhibition of his in the US.  We sat at a small table in the middle of the room, with unfinished works and wrapped pieces waiting to be shipped out all around us.  He had let his bird loose, so while we chatted and ate we got a few loud squawks in our ears…and Tonya got her finger bitten.  I had not talked with Pedro since, but did receive a brief email.

Two days we were out and about and found ourselves talking to an older woman in the street.  She was wondering what we were doing looking lost, and we were wondering who this old lady was eyeing us up.  Stranger still, she just decides to ask us what we are doing.  Next thing you know we find ourselves in her living room.  Tonya looks at the mantle, and there is an old plaque on display.  It has her husband’s name on it, and underneath, in small letters, ‘ARCHITECT’. Tonya gulps; she asks the old lady if that was her husband.  She says yes, and Tonya nearly drops to the floor.  We are talking to Tonya’s favorite architect’s widow, Leonor.  He was a key player in the ‘scene’ of Mexico in its last gasp of history, in the ol’ Frida and Diego days.  She takes us around the house and we end up chatting in her living room for quite a while.  I am fascinated by the house, and in particular the old photos of her husband on the fireplace mantle.  Beside the fireplace, there is a group of Jesuses that have come off of crucifixes.  Old and broken Christs hanging on the white brick wall, a few darkened with time.  The largest of the bunch has a small, beaded metal chain hanging from his hand.  At the bottom of the chain is a thermometer.  I can’t get over this.

Later that day we get a call from Pedro.  He asks us if we bumped into Leonor.  There is some small talk, and then he invites us over for lunch.  He has moved into his new home, and tells us to come and see it.  This is good news to me!

As we drive to Pedro’s house, Tonya and I debate on what to take; a nice bottle of red wine, or a bottle of tequila.  I opt for the wine, because tequila seems like the typical choice.  As we drive to his new home, we debate on what may be served for lunch.  Will it be tacos or meatballs?  Personally, I am curious.  In the few times we have been to his home and dined, I have enjoyed it.  The food and conversation has been entertaining, not to mention his home and studio.  I am sure today will be no different…plus, we get the bonus of a new house to peruse through.

Thankfully, we arrive before the rain does.  He’s got some giant doors now. Impressive.  We ring the bell and stand on the doorstep waiting for them to open.  Someone yells from above.  We look up, and Pedro is leaning out over his balcony.  He waves and flashes his big smile.  He says someone will open the door in a moment.  We stand facing the giant doors and Tonya says, “Is someone behind there…?” and reaches out to try the door knob.  She gently grabs the knob and looks at me.  Just then, the garage doors open and the maids head pops out.  She smiles and tells us to come in that way.

Pedro’s new house is massive.  It is nice and roomy, loads of room.  Pedro meets us in the main hallway and tells us to come on in.  He leads us up the giant stairway into the dining room.  Pleasantries are exchanged and the wine is sat upon the table.  I look around, and everywhere is artwork, paintings, photographs still wrapped and piled in corners, on tables and at the end of the stairs.  They have only been in three weeks, so there is still plenty to be done.  We hear footsteps and a voice says “Hello!”  We turn to the dining room’s main doorway, and Leonor is smiling as she peeps into the room.  Tonya and I are shocked, we can’t believe it.  We turn to Pedro who is laughing.  He invited Leonor to lunch too.  She comes in and we all hug and say hello.  Now that she is here, Pedro thinks it is time to give us the grand tour…and it is grand.

On the top floor, I notice a small framed photograph on the wall.  It is a photo of Pedro from the 80’s.  He’s smiling and obviously clowning around when the picture was taken.  Written along the bottom of the image in ink it says “La Vida Loca. Mexico…” and a date from the 80’s.  It is signed by the photographer.  I like it, and look at it when I pass by it again.  We run in to his son, who is practicing bass in his room.  He comes out and says hello.  He has no shoes on, and some really great striped socks.  I lean over and tell him, “I like your socks” he smiles and shoots back, “Thank you very much!”  He turns and heads back into his room.

We get downstairs and are winding through the main floor.  He leads us into the kitchen where the maid and her daughter are preparing lunch.  It looks great, and smells great.  The maid grabs a hot pad and opens the over.  She pulls out a huge clay dish; you can hear the main course bubbling up with heat.  She sets it on the counter.  Pedro, Leonor and Tonya gasp with delight.  I reel in horror.  It is a huge fish, drowned in some sort of tomato sauce.  It looks amazing on that dish, and even more so when surrounded by a roomful of smiles.  I don’t like seafood.  I immediately reassure myself that I can fill up on rice and beans.  I am keeping it all to myself though, as I smile too, trying to fake excitement for the dish.  Pedro asks what we all would like to drink.  I just tell him I will have what everyone else is having, “What are you gonna have?” I ask.  He looks at me like it may be a tough decision, then he says quite assured, “I Think I am having a beer”, and he nods his head. “Ok, I’ll have a beer too”.

This is NOT the actual fish, but you get the idea...

Everyone goes to the dining room and Pedro tells each of us where we should sit.  Leonor laughs when she is told to sit at the head of the table.  I sit opposite of Pedro and Tonya.  Pedro’s son will end up sitting beside me, shortly after we begin lunch.  The maid wheels out the fantastically giant clay platter with the giant fish.  The others are thrilled beyond belief.  In no time at all, Leonor has grabbed the big fork and spoon, and started dismantling the fish.  She serves herself a big chunk, and asks for my plate.  Before I can say anything, she gives me a quite sizeable chunk from right behind the head.  As I am pulling my plate back, she tells me to wait, and then ladles on a heaping giant spoonful of the sauce.  I smile, and withdraw my plate.  I immediately pile on the beans and rice to serve as my main choices for lunch.  Leonor has already started eating. “Oh my, this is fabulous…” she said, or something close to it.  Pedro digs in and moans, Tonya follows.  I grab my fork and poke at the fish.  I pull a few pieces off my chunk, and insert it into my mouth.  To my surprise, it is ok.  It is not fishy.  I think I will be able to manage my fish.  I must say, the sauce is quite tasty.  On the other hand, the beans are cold…and that is a bummer.

Pedro tells us of some gala a museum had the night before last.  He met a very famous conductor at the gala.  He says he chatted with the conductor a while, then was introduced to his wife. “I could not stop looking at her” he says somewhat exasperated. “Seriously, she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen” he knows it sounds odd, and he laughs at his confession.  He tells of how charming she is and that she is truly incredibly magnetic.  (Later, when we are at home and walking the dogs, Tonya says that she thinks this woman Pedro was going on about is the very same one who told Tonya to clean up dog pee off the sidewalk.  They are our neighbors).  Pedro moves on from the confessions of being stupefied by this guy’s wife, to a story about this guy’s granddad.  He used to live around the corner from Diego Rivera.  One day while taking the baby out for a stroll, he bumped into Diego. “You have such a lovely child” Diego told the man.  “Can I paint a portrait of your son?”  Pedro tells us that Diego hated painting kids.  The man agreed, and Diego did the painting.  He did a portrait of both children from this man.  Pedro starts to laugh as he continues.  He presented the portraits to the parents, who, of course, were thrilled to have portraits done by Diego.  “The funny thing is…” he says laughing, “When you look at the portrait of the boy, he has Diego’s eyes, Diego’s nose….” And we all start laughing. Pedro is acting it out as it unravels. 

I am constantly amazed at how small the world is.  I am sitting here at Pedro’s house learning about one of Mexico’s biggest treasures, and about our own neighbors.  I had no idea that I was in such close proximity to the prima ballerina of Mexico’s ballet.  It is truly astounding at the daily knowledge of how much history has taken place around me.  Lunch would be a volley of stories coming from Pedro and Leonor.

I keep looking to my left, to Leonor.  She is going crazy on this fish.  Every time I look her way, she is serving herself another portion, and complimenting the maid on what a great job she has done on the fish.  Each time she confesses, Pedro echoes her sentiment.

Leonor’s eyes light up, not from another helping of fish, but from the news she is about to tell.  She is aghast at one of Mexico’s most prominent Notaries (similar to a lawyer).  “Oh, he was a truly elegant and sophisticated man.  He was well travelled, superbly styled and knows everything there is to know about music and literature” she says.  He is well travelled, studied abroad and is the epitome of refinement. The problem is, he is now in the headlines for pulling a massive scam on Mexico City’s elite, pilfering millions of dollars from them and a legal scam.  Just as Leonor is in full swing, Pedro’s wife, Carla, walks in.  She is on a break form work, and is wind tussled and full of energy.  She sits beside me, and nods in agreement with Leonor’s latest news.  She taps me on the leg and sits up straight, and makes like she is straightening a bowtie. “Really, he is exactly as she says.  He is truly refined and so proper.  If you want to know about why Rachmaninoff used this timing in this stanza, he is the one who can tell you.”  She also confides that her own uncle fell victim to the scam, as well as a lifelong friend of the scamster.

Leonor continues with an example of just how prim and proper this guy is. She says she invited him over for dinner.  She was thrilled to be hosting the dinner, and was excited about her guest.  She was so thrilled, as a matter of fact, that when he arrived, she wanted to be the one to greet him.  He rang the bell, the door opens and Leonor says hello.  He reels back, gasping with disbelief.  He chides Leonor, and asks why she stooped so low as to open her own door to a guest.  He insists it is the job of a maid.  Leonor explains that she was just so happy and thrilled he was coming, she wanted to greet him herself.  He wasn’t having it…that was soooo low class.

I am asked if I would like some more fish.  I’m good.  I politely decline and spoon on some more rice.  It was good though, but I am just not that big of a seafood fan.

To be continued...