{January 2008}

About two weeks ago I heard that Cultura Profética (a Puerto Rican reggae band) would be here in D.F. to do a tribute to Bob Marley. Since I like their music and I had nothing better to do, I decided to check them out… Here’s the drama…

I got to El Ghetto (yes, that’s the official name of the venue — I’m not being a jerk) around 10 p.m. and within 10 minutes of being there, I was offered beer and a few puffs of a little something by a random party-goer. I declined, but was glad to see my previous ideas about unfriendly Mexicans were being challenged.

The opening act did a few instrumentals but they were pretty forgettable so I won’t bother looking up their name online and wasting valuable blog space. Amilcar Nadal (from Argentina) was on next with Afrika Sound System. Nadal’s performance reminded me of a Dave Chappelle skit. He acted the way Dave would have acted to imitate a stereotypical white person dancing to reggae — except Nadal’s a brother. I was not impressed...

Then came Gondwana (from Chile), the band many people had come out to see. They started off their set by hailing up Haile Selassie, and the entire crowd erupted. I never really got into their music. I remained distracted through most of the set, wondering how long it took the lead singer to perfect his Bob Marley imitation. They were on for over an hour, and I was starting to go slightly insane.

Next a fight broke out just as Gondwana was finishing the set and security didn’t seem to help the situation much. Nice.

By this point it was about 3 a.m. and I told myself I was just going to see one song in Cultura Profética’s set because I couldn't take it anymore. I was irritable and tired. My back was killing me, my eyes were being assaulted by smoke, the dude in front of me stank and I had had enough of the hippies in their red, gold and green. It took about 30 minutes between each group to set up... it was ridiculous (in a bad way). But I couldn’t take knowing that I spent 200 pesos and five hours of my life waiting for Cultura Profética, only to leave before they came on. So I waited...

Finally, Cultura Profética took the stage. They began with two Bob songs that they had interpreted and switched back and forth between the tribute songs and their own stuff during their set. They were working it...really, really working it! The music felt like it was coming from some place genuine. I don't know if I would go as far as saying it was worth the wait, because five hours in hell is a long time, but they were incredible. When they went on I forgot about how tired I was and was able to really appreciate the show. I did, however, leave before they finished because I wasn’t about to fight hundreds of kids for a taxi on the street at 4 a.m. in Mexico City. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to see them again, at their own show, where I won’t have to endure hours of bullshit beforehand.

Check Cultura Profética at www.myspace.com/culturaprofetica

Alison Isaac
Contributing Writer

{October 2007}

Shortly after arriving in Mexico City (Distrito Federal, a.k.a. DF) on August 7, I received a text message from a friend. It said, simply, “Welcome to the most chaotic city in the world.”

I won’t say that truer words have never been spoken, but I admit that my presumptions about Mexico were set straight by the madness of the city. Not bothering to do my research about the place where I’d be living resulted in somewhat of a culture shock. Yes friends, it does get cold here. And no, I do not live near the beach.

And even though DF has a population of about 20 million, I still expected people to always say “excuse me” when they needed to pass, “sorry” when they stepped on my foot and generally exhibit that Latin warmth we’ve all heard so much about. But people aren’t always polite — although they aren’t always rude either. Just like Toronto, DF has its good and its bad.

After about two months I’m finally learning to accept the contractions that make DF what it is. One minute I’m riding through a ritzy neighbourhood, blinded by the sun as it reflects off the glassy skyscrapers, and the next, I’m watching a man cut down the grass in a “futbol” stadium with a single machete. I notice the proud celebrations of mestizo culture but am annoyed by an adult directing a child to “sit like a little Indian.” And I can’t help but feel conflicted as the indigenous woman on the street begs for change with her children, while I cruise past in a Mercedes Benz “schoolbus” with my high-society students.

I was surprised to find that products long ago considered environmentally harmful or unhealthy in Canada (such as aerosol deodorants and coloured toilet paper) are readily accessible. Consider the implications of trans-national companies setting different standards for different markets. I am inspired to hear about the protests that take place frequently around my block and respect those who continue to speak out against injustice.

So this is DF; the beauty and the beast, the people and the “powers that be” all in one chaotic city. Toronto is missed, but DF has its own scene to be explored. Other cities, museums, historical sites and hip hop…

Alison Isaac
Contributing Writer