1913issue6online

104 PAS DE DEUX I carry a green duffle bag and a yellow and black striped backpack, one I still use, to Casa de T., where we have agreed to meet. First step is over a wooden panel—part of a doorway, that is part of a wooden wall, that is the front wall. Inside, the first open room of the bar extends upwards so you can see sky. To the left, the bar L. sits behind. He shows me where to rest my bags. I ask R. if he is planning to go to the WTO protest with us in Cancun. A confused boy/man asks if I am against the war, and begins to talk about how surprising that is, a woman of the U.S. coming to protest the practices of the U.S. L. says there is always the people and the people are not the state. He says of course, this is what you should know. I ask where my Valedor is, and they say he has gone to another town, just a few minutes ago to buy something or do something or anyhow he has been swept along. They ask where will you go tonight and then, what about the dogs? He hasn’t cleaned the house yet. You shouldn’t wait here and you shouldn’t wait at the house. The cousin as if translating, explains to R. she wants see him. We enter the next room, where there are musicians playing, and wooden statues are decorated in jewelry and walls are covered in messages and drawings. Chairs are wooden stumps. Beyond this room is the room with bathrooms, which I visit. A thin hallway that used to only have curtains, and now has doors. The room where people go when they don’t want to share their drugs. When the place is closing, a tin riveted wall pulls the bar into the line of screens covering the first floor buildings at night, along this street, so close to the heart of the city, a block and a half from the main plaza. -Christine Vega-Westhoff

1913issue6online

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