1. At the Merced Market

A light shower drifts over the city this Monday morning, but the clouds are high, so I can still see from my hotel window the surrounding mountains and the homes on the foothills at the city’s outer edge. Mexico City is still growing, and some claim that if you take in its outermost reaches there are over 20 million people here. Who can comprehend these numbers?

The city was already awake by 6 a.m. with a low rumble that penetrated my room. The sound was not unlike the continuous white noise of surf working a coastline. Today I’m going out to look at how the city goes to work by riding the metro and taking taxis to La Merced, one of Mexico City’s larger markets.

The metro (subway) was full of people, some in suits and many others in jeans or work clothes. Most sat or stood, not speaking or reading, just staring. Jesús López, a Mexican friend traveling with me, pointed out that many spend a third or more of their day either on a subway, bus, or taxi going to and from work. By the time we arrived at Chapultepec Metro Station, where most riders transfer from the metro to waiting buses or taxis, I began to sense that in this incredible flow of people, most give up any personal sense of space. And they accept it stoically. They form long, slow, moving lines for buses. Others wait patiently for an empty taxi.

Nearby, dozens of small food stands offer a wide range of traditional Mexican fare in a sort of pedestrian drive-thru. You are either eating or waiting for your bus, there is little time for anything else. Jesús told me that because of the high unemployment, many have turned to selling from the street. It seems there is very little street left. The reds, yellows, and greens from the stretched plastic tarps that cover these stands add a new dimension to my sense of color balance. Then add the smells of baking tortillas and burning charcoal.

La Merced is one of Mexico City’s great markets. By far it is one of the largest markets I’ve ever seen, with a pallet of color and smell, noise and size that defies description. I can’t figure out how all this food can get into the building, let alone be sold and carried out. The traffic of trucks and taxis, men pushing hand carts, and shoppers can only be rivaled by my boyhood memories of the midway at the Minnesota State Fair. Inside, the fruits and vegetables, fish, poultry, pork, and fish are displayed with artistry that seems out of some Hollywood production. But Merced is very real. Sixteen million people must eat, and for my money this is the mother of all markets. Five or more people man each stall - cutting meat, peeling pork skin, preparing strawberries, cutting cheese, haggling over prices, and probably generating much of the noise that pushes up from the city.

Several of them talk to me about the economy and how it has eroded their sales and their sense of security. Some have moved their shops to other locations in the city. The word resiliency may be overused, but it really describes the workers of Mexico City. In one short day I have discovered that in spite of all the problems this city faces, it is able to keep bouncing back. The people here show up and they do their job.