car je ne suis pas se déplacer autant , le blog est assez mort , mis à part mexicaine des ligneurs espagnols qui semble l'apprécier spamming mes commentaires avec de belles phrases comme des mouches même ne veux pas manger ici, alors je remercie pour ne suis pas se déplacer autant, le blog est assez mort, mis à part des ligneurs espagnols qui semble l'apprécier avec de belles phrases comme des mouches même ne veux pas manger ici, alors remercie pour mes commentaires. Hey , putain de

merde troll . mes commentaires. Hey, putain de troll. Il est vrai que j'ai beaucoup de commentaires , en plus de la vôtre, qui sont soit très drôle , et la réalité est que ce blog ou " vlog " comme vous dites, n'est pa Voyage histoires à raconter mes gens que je connais . Il est vrai que j'ai beaucoup de commentaires, en plus de la vôtre, qui sont soit très drôle, et la réalité est que ce blog ou "vlog" comme vous dites, histoires à raconter gens que je connais. Je ne fais rien de plus que d'avoir un endroit pour garder mes comptes , alors putain quitter mon blog seul, si vous savez comment faire pour que les deux putamadre blog pourquoi ne pas en obtenir un et envoyez-moi l'URL , la persistance et Je ne fais rien de plus que d'avoir un endroit pour garder mes comptes, alors quitter mon si vous savez comment faire pour que les deux pourquoi ne pas en obtenir un et envoyez-moi l'URL, la persistance et pourrait voir votre blogueur talent. voir votre Oh, pardon , vous passez votre vie en face de votre ordinateur, car vous êtes si dégoûtant que personne ne veut , ou vous concernant .

Chupat la, trou du cul . De toute façon, pour quelques-uns d'entre vous qui lisent mon blog , j'ai commencé à écrire quelques chroniques Oh, pardon, vous passez votre vie en face de votre ordinateur, car vous êtes si dégoûtant que personne ne veut, ou vous concernant. trou du cul.

De toute façon, pour quelques-uns d'entre vous qui lisent mon blog, j'ai commencé à écrire quelques chroniques car toutes les aventures sont en attente , donc si vous êtes intéressé par la lecture sur des sujets qui ne fut jamais blogué sur , jeter un oeil . Partie 1 toutes les aventures sont en attente, donc si vous êtes intéressé par la lecture sur des sujets qui ne fut jamais blogué sur, jeter un oeil.

Partie 1.


shackles of sedentarism.

hello all, from my desk at the buenos aires office of olx.com, aka my new capitalist prison.

it could be worse.

i enjoy buenos aires, so it's ok. i'm still pretty broke until payday on the 4th, but surviving thanks to my chéri Carrycito and occasional beer runs with the teknowankers. I've been pretty calm, not going out very much, practising poi lots, not making much artesania these days.

anyway, not much going on, no adventuring, no travelling, no boli (i still cry about that, i'm pathetic, aren't i?).

just fyi: i'm going to upload some pictures soon of my B.C. and California adventures, so stay tuned for that.

also, this entry was edited to include some pictures. please go drool at beautiful baja beaches.

that is all.




ainsi va la vie qui va

buenos aires.

it's been almost a month.

life has been quite.. uneventful, as far as adventuring goes. hence why i haven't posted anything. i'm sorry.

i go back and forth between the city and the parana delta aka tigre. when the city stresses me out, i go out there, where people live in elevated houses on green jungly islands covered in flowers and dogs. it's a nice place to relax.

i've taken up juggling, with poi and occasionally bamboo sticks. i'm getting pretty good, actually. my next goal is to become a successful traffic light juggler. i set the bar pretty high for my career, don't i?

i'm down to my last 20$, but i'm giving french lessons. mind you, i can barely say i'm living off of them, yet. but give it time.

crafts are nice, but i'd need to spend my every waking moment knotting up a storm before even attempting to sell in argentina - these guys have a level i'll need years to achieve.

i have decided to stay on here for a while, which leaves me with mixed feelings. a part of me wants to keep on going, while the rational part of me says don't push your luck. stop a while, regain strength and courage, hone your skills, be with friends. being alone with a dog is nice, being alone without the dog.. makes me want to cry. i miss my boli. so much. but i know it was for the best. probably.

i miss my mexican friends, but thankfully for the internet, i'm in touch with most of them, which means chances of our paths crossing again is high. pinches wes, los extraño, su mexican curious, sus campechanos. pero no el mezcal. el mezcal, es mal, we.

i wish i could turn off the vagabond switch in my heart. life is different on the road, for sure. i'm not so lazy. i don't sleep in. i watch the sunrise in different areas and my heart is content. i cherish the little things and keep going forward. but since tiago has been gone, i feel like i've just isolated myself more and my energy is gone. i need to recharge my batteries and calm down for a bit. after all, it's been almost a year since i've been on the road, and sometimes, you need a rest stop.

feel free to drop me a line as i can't be sure of my next update - nobody wants to read about sedentary life and routine.


dear santa*

i would like to personally thank you for your kindness this year. you answered my prayer even if i didn't leave you out a pacifico.

christmas this year was better than even as a child, jumping out of my bed and throwing myself on the tree to look at my newly acquired loot.

as i left the airport and overheard upbeat, rythmic spanish punctuated with "che!", saying vos instead of tu, cashay and not cayay, that distinct almost italian sounding singing spanish; the license plates speeding by and the realisation that i had finally made it back to south amerika.

even better the look on carry's face when he looked out the window.

merry christmas, from buenos aires!

(*: santa being the plural form of papa and scott.)


san la muerte, santa muerte

my family on my mother's side is going through a bit of a rough patch, actually no make that a very rough patch. my uncle paul died on thursday, my grandmother died on friday.

it's been quite the death filled week, hasn't it.

i leave mexico city tomorrow. a new adventure begins.

i'm going to miss it here, mostly the people i've met. and mexican curious! speaking of mexican curious, i went to a party last night and behind the dj was a crucifix and a bunch of flowers. very mexican curious.

i look back on my 2 months in mexico and try to think of the good that came out of this trip. i'm kind of amazed i made it to la paz hitchhiking and with no money, it was kind of a test for me to see how far i could make it. a couple months ago, when i left oliver on that rainy morning to go to california, i never would have thought i'd end up in mexico 5 weeks later. but here i am... and i wouldn't be here without all the help i got along the way. all the people who opened their homes and their lives to me, who put up with my boli who was a pain in the arse really, who fed me, who took care of me. i appreciate it immensly, it's thanks to these people that i manage to continue on my journeys.
some people might think it's reckless to just blindly trust people when you're a girl traveling alone, to these people i say: turn off your televisions and go walk around the real world for a second. yes, the world is full of scary monsters but no, not everyone is a scary monster.

i'm going to miss the friends i've made here in d.f., but also the friends i made everywhere in mexico. i now have a home in la paz, in mazatlan, in mexico city. not bad for a homeless girl.

in light of the random acts of kindness i have received this past year, i suggest that this christmas, instead of buying more stuff no one needs, you lend a hand to someone who needs it. feed a homeless person, take in a stray pup. take someone in out of the cold (but keep your laptop locked away, i speak from experience), invite someone new to your table. go out of your way to show a random act of kindness to a random stranger. offer a traveler a home for the night, give the gift of smile to a small child. be human!

and not just on christmas, but everyday.

it's strange being so far away from everyone i love right now, knowing that my mother is going through such a rough time and not being able to be there to comfort her. i feel like a horrible person to be selfishly prancing around latin america when my family is being killed off one by one (that is how it seems, anyway..). christmas time is going to be rough for them... at the same time, i have no idea what my christmas is going to be like. i'm not a very christmasy person, to be honest, but i am wondering if my xmas meal will consist of campechanos, who i will be spending it with, if i actually decide to celebrate it. i really hoped i would be in buenos aires to spend it with you guys, picture on your left. no matter where i end up spending it, or who with, remember you are in my heart.

merry christmas.


life goes on...

... but it's hard.

i still wake up at 8 every morning thinking i need to bring the dog out.

it still feels strange to not be covered in boli hair.

that i don't get my morning abraxos from my puppy - i'd tap the front of my chest and say, abrazame, loco! and he'd jump up and i'd kneel down and we'd hug.

it hurts, a lot. even if i've regained my composure and have stopped crying hysterically, every now and then i feel like breaking down.

i miss him. a lot. ridiculously so. i mean, i had him with me all the time, and i sacrificed a lot for that dog, and it got me... to mexico city, at least.

but enough about the boli. i'm heartbroken, but that doesn't mean i should make everyone else's life miserable.

i've been consistantly bitching about mexico, methico, méxico. let's put the facts down, shall we?

cat's mexican adventure...
(or how cat got her grieve back, a true story! by cat!)

the cops took all my money in tijuana the night i arrived. this should have been a sign. the guy who picked me up hitchhiking expected me to pay for his food, gas, and cigarettes - this meant going up to taco stands with no money and offering to work the food back. while this guy sat in his car and waited. argh. i bailed on him very quickly.

then my fucking wisdom tooth decides it's not happy hanging out with the rest of my teeth, no, he has to go and try and move into my cheek! asshole! luckily thanks to some penicillin he was quickly shut up. let's hope he stays quiet for another while (but now i have health insurance, so it's cool).

i was stuck hitchhiking with a dumbass pathological liar named brad who was, and i quote, a male escort at 14 (must you say I was a male escort, i can see that you are a dude, dude, so the male really doesn't need to be said everytime, just say i was an escort, period, dipshit.) who travelled the world with a sadistic italian woman who would forbid him from leaving the hotel, so he got to go to all of these incredible places but only saw them from a window.

ok, how to shoot this one down: travelling alone when you are 14 is not easy, i know this because i did it a lot. this often happens when one parent lives in europe and the other in north america, yes? ok. so how the hell does this woman who has no parental liability over you manage to just pick you up and HOLD YOU AGAINST YOUR WILL and cross international borders with you? yeah, really.

his idea of hitchhiking was putting on a ridiculous "pity me" face and half assedly sticking his thumb out.
when i hitchhike, i´m usually bouncy and smiling, jumping around and doing pirouettes with my sign. in a way to say, hi! i´m a nice person! i won´t attack you.

brad, on the other hand, looked like a psycho. he looked angry. i wouldn´t have picked him up. no wonder it took me 2 weeks almost to get to la paz.

brad didn´t have any form of id when he crossed into mexico, making it almost impossible for him to go back to the states.. he thought that he would be coming along with me all the way to argentina, which made me chuckle: "You don´t have a passport." to which he would answer, using his angry face ("THIS IS MY ANGRY FACE. GRRR. I AM ANGRY. LOOK AT HOW ANGRY I AM." actually, you look like you´re constipated, and it´s kind of funny. don´t give me that look, it´s giving me the runs.), yes so as i was saying, he would put on this angry face and hiss, WATCH ME. he thought that going to the american embassy and saying he lost his passport would give him a new one... uh, news flash? your passport number is in the system. they can check if you actually had one. i swear, the american government has computers and knows how to use them. not the brightest crayon in the box, are you bradley?
watch you? sure, man, i´ll watch you get your ass deported, and i´ll laugh hysterically.

he also claimed to be a commercial fisherman, but continued lighting cigarettes with candles. what respect for your fellow sailors! oh, and that he would go up to alaska to go crab fishing every year, and yet didn`t know the exact number of days this season goes on for.

and last, he was a marine who had been dishonorably discharged for punching his drill sergeant in the face... and a mercenary!

and yet walking 5 km from the Pemex station to the Malecon in La Paz was too much for him. you were a mercenary, you say? and a marine? but you can´t walk with a 15 lb backpack (mine weighs about 50) for 5 km, and yet i´m practically running it, and i´ve never even been enlisted? oh pschaaaaaaaw, you, i hope our paths never cross again, and that your arm gets stuck in a crab pot up in alaska. oh, and by the way? your plans of stealing diamonds and money from that old dude? so not cool. when ramon told me they stole your dog, i figured, you had it coming for all of the shitty things you did. i still have nightmares of you waking up with that green crusty smile and saying "I had a wet dream about you". YOU DO NOT EVER, AND I MEAN YOU NEVER, EVER SAY THAT TO A WOMAN. how the hell did you make it to 30?!?!?!

i really hope i never see you again. bradley. ugh.

we all know i finally got rid of him, thanks to a beautiful pothead from michoacán.

who was a godsend, really. i mean, ok, yes, i got a little stung, serves me right for opting to sleep in warm bed smelling of lavender and marijuana rather than sleeping on cold tile smelling of bolivian canine, but at the same time it wasn´t so bad.

it was better than hanging out in mexican meth hotel with flying cockroaches and a scheming, lying gringo who looked like the dude from mad magazine and thought he was above the law. oh yes, i´d much rather hang out with mr. cheekbones at the beach and watch him surf while i nurse a cold pacifico and a cone than hang around drinking cheap mezcal from a plastic jug on a dirty mattress with mr green crusted snaggle tooth smile.

it was like being in a bad travel movie, where the free spirited hopeful heroine ends up in a bed and brothel wondering how the hell she`s going to escape, when suddenly the camera spins around and in walks the knight in shining armor. or in this case, pothead surfer with heart of gold. oh, and did i mention, drop dead gorgeous? man, i will never get over that. at least i got to... ahh.. taste.. a little. i would have liked to pig out rather than just have a little bite, but maybe in another lifetime.

and tiago. running away on me. oh god, you fucked up there, little one. i was hysterical, i was crying non stop, and i was freaking out for no reason, not saying much, just drinking and writing, drinking and writing... and then he returned and life went back to normal, consisting of "mija vente a fumar mota con migo" and "mija tienes que comer, vamos a desayunar tacos", and other mija thises and mija thats.

the mau experience was a strange one, for sure. on one hand i was totally blinded by the incredible light and energy that emanated from this man, and on the other was totally disgusted by us being totally smitten one day, and totally distant the next. in the end, though, i don`t regret it. mau really did show up at the right time, taking me out of a really shitty environment, feeding me, letting me stay with him, letting me roll joints and drink beer and pass out half naked in random parts of the house. and calling me "mija" all the time, awww, i miss him. i hope nothing but the best for him. i really think that in the 2 months i´ve been in mexico there are three faces that will stand out - giulia, mau and emiliano.

sidetracked! let´s continue.

i left la paz with my heart a little more broken than when i arrived, as usual meeting people i adore and having to leave them behind, it wears you out after a while. but i left with my spirits higher than when i had arrived in la paz, and confident that tiago and i would make it.

mazatlan wasn`t easy - but at least it was devoid of methicans (my pet name for mexican meth heads), flying cockroaches and asshole gringos. instead, i managed to land on an inspiring little beach, the island of stone, called the island of the stoned by many of the retired gringos who inhabited the island, which is actually a peninsula. john used to tell me to relax and consider it a vacation. a 10 day vacation! tiago loved it there. we'd go for runs, him in the water happily barking at the waves, at the birds, happily chomping away at fish that escaped from nets and washed ashore, and i would twirl his leash and practise my mediocre juggling.

and then one day hector came and forgot to close the gate, and tiago got out, but chris found him a few hours later and brought him back.. and i found my dog lethargic and unwilling to eat, unwilling to go for a run. it was the beginning of the end of the boli.

the rest is too recent for me to elaborate. it hurts too much to talk about the boli.

but through the hard times i notice there was always a silver lining. whether that silver lining be named giulia, mau, ale, john, alan, diego or emiliano (why so many men? why can`t i ever meet women? oh right, i scare them, gotcha. except for giulia la contessa, because i think she´s me in 30 years.), there have always been people willing to lend a hand to pick me up. granted i probably could have gotten up and limped, but it's always useful to have a crutch. and many crutches i have had. from close or afar... my blog readers, my friends all over the world, have also pitched in, without many of you i would probably still be stuck at mau´s.

yes, mexico has been one gigantic pedo. (for the record: pedo means fart in spanish, but in mexico they use it all the time, no hay pedo oue, no problem man, etc) mexico has been full of topes en el pinche camino. mexico has used me as an aztec sacrifice (even though, as emiliano pointed out, the aztec used to sacrifice people so the sun would keep on shining, ok. the sun does keep on shining, but regardless.), mexico stole my money, mexico stole my skirt (DAMN YOU BAHIA DE LOS SUENOS!), mexico stole my dog, TWICE, and gave him back sick, mexico ended up killing my dog, and mexico almost, i say almost, stole my light. it almost took my dignity and my hope.

but these days, even if i am boliless, even if last night i slept on a floor in a huge abandoned house, things seem to be looking up. i´ve made some great friends in mexico city. i´ve been having a blast discovering mexican curious thanks to emiliano, who really should convert himself into guide for non touristy tourists like myself. witches markets and trannies and pepas are cajetas which is actually dulce de leche but that doesn´t mean pepas are dulce de leche.

and i´ve gotten used to the idea of tacos for breakfast.

(actually. tacos are a very important meal. you have your guisanos, your campechanos, your nopales con queso, your chiles rellenos. you can turn anything into a taco. in fact, i told emiliano about poutine, and he thinks that poutine tacos would be great. so do i. then again we´d just smoked a fattie, so that would explain it.)

mexico, i´m sorry. i take it all back. you are a beautiful, amazing country, albeit fucked up like i´ve rarely seen... you have some serious issues, but then again..

don´t we all?



the road is bumpy, full of obstacles and problems, little things that i can get through and horrible things that made me want to break down and smash everything. but through the good and bad, i had tiago to help me pull through, my luz boliviano that shone through the mexican darkness...

i must admit that right now mexico has left me not with a buen sabor en la boca, oue, like foca once told me, but with a rather bitter and foul taste. like marmite. like meat gone bad.

i´ve overcome many obstacles on this trip, but this is one i think i might never get over.. the obstacle of being boli-less. no more tiago. no more girl wandering alone with her dog. just girl wandering alone.

i met tiago some 8 months ago, in a little mountain village covered in jungle named Samaipata in Bolivia. 8 months ago i had written in this very blog that never again would i have to wander alone.

how wrong i was.

i sincerely hoped i could give him a better life than out in the dirt streets of this tiny andean village. from the moment i got him, we were never to be apart more than a few hours when i was out picking cherries. he came with me to parties, he came with me to the peruvian amazon, he crossed canada, the us coast with me, and crossed part of mexico.

how was i to know he would never make it out of mexico alive.

his thirst for freedom ended up taking his life, when he escaped from where i was living in la isla de la piedra.. he was never the same after that, and as i watched my baby boli convulsing and twitching in the hospital yesterday, i knew i could not let him go on suffering.

at 14h20, as i held him and sweetly cooed that i loved him in his ears, he left this world.
i love you boli. and for some reason, i feel like you're sitting right here. i hope you had a good life with me. i tried, i really did. at least you got to see a bit of the world in your short 8 month life span, you saw the ocean, the rockies, the andes, the amazon, you went to california, you went fruit picking.

in those eight months i came to know a rebellious dog, who had little regard or respect for the rules, an affectionate dog who would go nuts whenever i would come near, a protective dog who would watch over me and our home (monstro the backpack.).

he had many names, amorcito, che boli, el boli, puto boli, and of course tia-goo. he was my best friend these past 8 months, something to anchor me down to the real world, someone to hold, someone to keep me warm, someone to talk to while waiting for rides.

i feel so bad for what i did, but i had no other choice. if i had been more selfish i would have kept you alive, but i figured i could not let you suffer, i couldn't bear to see you like that, twitching in an artificial coma.

i think i did what i could, and i think i gave you what i could. i went hungry some days so you could eat.

also, i wish i had a usb cable to show off all the pictures i have of you.

i had hoped to bring you back to samaipata. that you could see where you were from. alas, things are different... but i will bring you back there. i will have your ashes tomorrow or thursday, and i will rub some of them into my new skar (morbid? i care not.), and bring you with me until i can return to bolivia, and i'll scatter you in amboro, near a pretty little waterfall with colourful jungle flowers all around.

i´m sure you´d love it.

i hope you're up there with pi, and squat, and luenlai, and snarf, and all of my dearly departed animals. i know you're all pigging out right now and i hope you find some wonderful legs to bite, cause i know you loved biting people almost as much as you loved me.

te amo, puto boli. descanse en paz.


the universe vs. cat

so, the boliviano has been sick, as my holey pockets have been able to attest for... but now it's escalated. he had 7 seizures in 24 hours, is currently hospitalized, on some crazy meds and has ivs sticking out of him.

and my friend has had to put up with it. i feel so bad right now. i am so sorry.

my boli. my baby. don't die. please don't die.

this is a call for help.

this is a call for help.

this is a call for help.

i need to be out of my friend's by thursday, and i have nowhere else to go, no one to turn to. can't leave without my boli, can't just leave him to die.

i can't deal with this right now. he is my only fucking friend in a world of instability, the only thing i have that's real in a world where my reality exists only in my head.

the universe is being cruel. the universe wants me to fail. the universe wants to break me into a thousand little pieces, and then maybe a steam roller will come through and pulverise what little is left of me. yes.

FUCK YOU MEXICO, you hurt me so much. so much. i was ready to leave you, and here you are, sucking me right back in. why do you keep doing this to me? i eat your tacos, dammit, for breakfast, lunch AND dinner, so WHAT GIVES?!?

just... rip that heart out of my chest, go on and throw it in the fire, that's right. oh and crush it a little bit more? ahhh, perfect. now throw that mushy muscle that looks like ground beef back into my chest, and i will function normally.

i feel like an aztec sacrifice.


cut me open

i ventured down to kaustika yesterday to go and meet miguel, an artist here in d.f. whom i've been in contact with, and who knows friends of mine down in buenos aires. i conacted him about doing my skar, my maya kin of the skywalker.

we discussed size and placement, and he went off to sterilize his work area, and finally got to it.

after my last skar experience, i was expecting this to hurt. a lot. i mean, i love my stomach skar, and it reminds me of friends and of argentina, but i'll be honest - it hurt like a motherfucker.
but this didn't hurt. i barely flinched. miguel works fast, and this is a small skar in comparaison to my catamarca frog.

this is my maya kin. it represents the skywalker, the one whose mission is to join the celestial heavens with the earth, the one whose mission is to constantly observe, learn, and walk the roads of life.

okay, now ... it's a bit off. the lines aren't very straight and my kin looks like he's biting his lip. but since when am i a perfectionnist? it was a gift from him and i appreciate it all the more that it was free, and that now i will have something to remember my tumultuous passage through mexico. because let's face it - it hasn't been a piece of cake, and the ups and downs have been many. thankfully the ups have ended up outweighing the downs.
it also serves as a bridge between my past life and my current life - you see my maya kin has a little circle on top of it. instead of having miguel make one, i had it placed directly under an old cigarette burn, branded into me by mathieu the evening before i left for lima, when he proclaimed "this way, you won't forget me." i chose to incorporate this old scar into my new scar because it is a part of my camino, old meets new, learn from the past and go forward with your future.

a lot of you might think, why the hell does she do this to her body?

well, i like to remember things, people, places. that's one reason why my hair is the way it is - full of people i've met who have given me dreads, talismans and gifts given along the way. i describe my dreads as my photo album, they give me strength, not unlike samson. cut off me locks and you cut off me strength.

my body is my canvas, but i choose to decorate it at certain moments in time, rather spur of the moment, with things that seem appropriate in meaning and in context.. my dots i'd wanted for quite some time but getting them done coming back from ushuaia seemed like it was necessary. my catamarca frog i got done before leaving argentina to permanently bear the mark of this country that marked me so deeply, this country i had dreamed of and loved since early adolescence. also to wake up my immune system before embarquing on my trip to bolivia.

my maya kin was deciphered for me in la paz. i loved it from the minute i saw it. and the phrase caminante del cielo often came up in conversations, used to describe me. it seemed fitting, but would have been out of context to have it done anywhere else than in mexico.

the work i do to my body is for me a way of remembering who i am and what i've done. where i come from, where i'm going. in a maori meets memento sort of way, i hope one day to be able to look at my body, not only as a piece of art, but as a recollection of travels past, all the different times and phases of my life. each step taken, each cut in my skin, a constant reminder of my path through this world and through this life.


thoughts on d.f.

while diego is sick (sorry man, my fault) or working on school papers, or off interpreting for some hong kong banker, i've taken to night time wandering around the city with a young chilango named emiliano. i met him two days ago when he walked right up to me and asked what my name was. we ended up spending a couple hours together, just going for a ride.

fact sheet:
emiliano, born in london of mexican parents (with some brasilian thrown into the mix, somewhere), smokes a lot of mota and has a kind smile, with cafe au lait skin and honey coloured eyes. he looks younger than his 23 years, studies biology and kung fu, and takes me out at night to find the travestis and prostitutes, helping me see the seedy underbelly of this city, stopping every now and then at a taco stand to savor the different varieties of campechenos to which he is a self proclaimed slave.

these night time lurks have been fun, seeing parts of the city that come alive when the sun goes down.

i wrote a few lines in my notebook about the city which i will share with you , in french. sorry to the english speakers, but for once my francophone readers will have a bit of a breather!

"La Ciudad de Mexico, c'est une ville ou Paris rencontre Calcutta, d'apres la legende.
Une ville ou notre place de la Bastille a ete Mexicanisee et rebaptisee Plaza de la Independencia, ou des rues qui evoquent notre Lutece s'appellent Moliere, Anatole France, Alfred de Musset.
Une ville ou les foules Pekinoises se ruent a travers avenues hautaines dignes de Buenos Aires mais dont l'etat tristoune des maisons colorees en ruine rappellent Lima.
Des vestiges d'epoque coloniale sont stationnes dans des rues aux noms Azteques, Chapultepec, Mixcoac, Cuahtemoc. Cette ville aux multiples facettes, cultures se rencontrant au coin de la rue..
Azteque. Espagnol. Capitalisme.

Ce sont des visages de chiquitana et des nez aquilins, des trapus au visage ride par des annees passees a labourer trop dur pour une paie minime, des jeunes fardees de blanc pour paraitre d'une autre race, des levres rouges et dents manquantes, culs bondes et jambes flasques.

Une ville ou la region totale englobe le Canada au complet, 32 millions de visages, de battements de coeur, de vies en parallele.. 32 millions de reves, de peines, de joies, d'odeurs corporels emanant de tous ces ames se bousculant pour y trouver leur place, leur paix, leurs voeux les plus intenses.

Dans cette ville c'est tout, ou rien. Ou peut etre bien tout et rien a la fois."