Mexico city is one of contrasts. There is no separation of rich from poor, or excess from scarcity. And you wonder why there is such a high crime rate.
On any given street, you will see people selling gum, potato chips, fruit juices or anything that they can get their hands that can be turned around and sold.
You see families arranged where the father plays a trumpet or the guitar while the wife and the kids follow behind asking for a money. Every morning, while I wait for the bus, a man walks by playing the violin while his wife holds out a cup asking for monetary support (the couple has a weak spot in my heart as the violin is my favorite instrument).
At the stoplight you will see people selling junk food, newspapers and cellphone cards, washing windows, juggling, lying on glass, etc. The bottom line is that anything goes when someone is trying to make a buck.
Twice now I have been exposed to these drastic differences at work where I left the public hospital, filled with women who come from low socioeconomic backgrounds, to find myself writing field notes in cafes where an espresso costs 28 pesos or a double espresso for 50 pesos. It is difficult for me to reason drinking a coffee that costs as much as some construction workers make in a day.
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