Neither kaleidoscopes nor rainbows prepare you for the blinding bursts of color that explode at Xochimilco, a series of drainage canals cut into the basin on which Mexico City sits at an altitude of 7,500 feet. Although they were once used to ship goods, today the canals carry mostly families and tourists partying on weekends. Gondola-like boats, known as trajineras, rent for ~ $30 an hour and easily can accommodate a dozen people.
Note the name of ours.
Photographs just can't capture the insane energy of the scene.
Young Kiki, perhaps a neophyte (he needed help navigating the crowded, narrow docks) poled us around for two hours. It would have been a lot more fun with other members of our Pines crew, no strangers to day drinking.
If you've forgotten your picnic lunch, don't worry, you can purchase whatever you want from floating vendors.
Many revelers hire mariachi bands, sometimes towed behind in separate boats.
Our early arrival provided us a few quiet moments.
This on-shore mariachi band had just begun setting up.
Flower markets and greenhouses line some of the canals, along with homes, cafes and trinket stores.
Narrower boats without seating serve residents and workers.
We heard "Guantanamera" more than once.
No doubt tipsiness contributes to impulsive souvenir sales.
Little Frida Kahlos everywhere!
After about an hour, I caved and overpaid (~$7) for pulque, a yeasty drink associated with the lower class perhaps because of its indigenous origins.
It went down like a super-size smoothie and the mild buzz produced by fermenting the maguey or agave plant did improve the experience, ever so slightly.
This lame and nearly blind terrier had been patrolling the banks for a long time. How many times had he heard "Guantanamera?"
I was tempted to buy a flower garland but this salesman was too absorbed by his smart phone to close the deal.
Yet another mariachi band serenaded people as they returned to the main landing.
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