further (Feb. 6)

Breakfast this morning at the Casa de los Amigos: the table seats 12, and it's a completely different dozen every time I join them. Today there is a curious division -- on the left, three white people talk in English about activist work. On the right, three black men eat silently, two of them gazing at cellphones. The first conversation sounds out of my reach already, so I turn to my right and ask the usual question at this table of travellers, "Español o ingles?" One of the men replies, "Frances". It's quite possible these men are newly arrived refugees making a start in Mexico, for which the Casa reserves several private rooms. On another visit I talked with some guys recently arrived from Africa, who said they liked Mexico City, only it was way too cold. I'd love to hear something of these men's story, so I offer half the French I know, "Bon jour". "Bon jour!" all three repond immediately. And then no more. I try one more time, with the guy on my near right, "De donde es?" He smiles, and repeats, "Frances". If they're actually starting their entire world over from scratch here, I surely wish them well. Puts my current alienation in perspective. Always somebody further from their homeground than I am.