Globe Corner Blogs

Monterrey, Mexico is a geodesic prism of youth culture that lies under the radar of foreign tourists. I arrived after three ten-hour days of driving in the desert in a van with no air conditioning. My glasses had broken at the onset of the trip when the van broke down in New Mexico. Rather, I broke my glasses in the broken van and it all seemed so fitting – Murphy’s Law or some other idea that can be referenced in situations where everything is spiraling in a direction you’d rather not see it go.

Two hours into a month-long trip through seven countries, the van broke down. Parked at the closed mechanic’s shop, I practiced yoga in the back of the van. When I got up from a shoulder stand, my glasses were absurdly looking back at me in two pieces. Like a pug whose eyes look in two different directions. Maybe I shouted, or maybe I laughed, but in either case I was frustrated, and continued to be playfully frustrated for the next three days as I wrestled my broken glasses onto my face with duct tape.

Now in Monterrey, the same city blocks had been looping our frustration for an hour. The heat was melting the glue of the duct tape and the glasses were falling off my face. This furthered my inability to see either the map or the streets we were trying to navigate. This feeling of frustration at being lost shrunk the physical space of the car. In losing the road and losing my space, I lost my patience. I bolted in a 7-11 parking lot, telling Stosh, the driver, that we would meet back up in an hour.

Time had been marked by miles driven and state lines crossed, each day characterized by ambiguity, openness, and indeterminacy. Dreamscapes gave way to landscapes and the lines of Mexican city-states blurred. Now that I was outside of the car, I was able to get outside of my head and enjoy my surroundings. Cobblestone roads were lined with college students sporting dyed mohawks and Converse. Abstract murals with ethereal creatures and The Beatles were on virtually every block. It was the first time in Mexico that I had seen something counter-culture or global. The students haunted vintage shops and retro vegan restaurants. This I could dig.

I met a man whose small, dark eyes were framed by a gaunt face. He called himself “Kone,” which means “rabbit” in Spanish. He illustrated his name to me by pointing at a homemade tattoo of a rabbit on his forearm. He lead me to Monterrey’s Museum of Pop Art, where there was a photography exhibit on Mexican wrestling – luchadors. I didn’t understand much, though I did glean the immense celebrity these men (and some women) hold. Their personal lives, costumes, and life drama was chronicled in photographs that were described by a young volunteer. As she took Kone and I around the large single room, they gossiped feverishly. Which wrestler had won which match when, how they had to accept wearing a different mask afterward, a faked stunt gone wrong. They were talking the way I could imagine talking about Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, or maybe Lady Gaga. I nodded politely, pretending to understand more than I actually did.

See Part II

Read more: Art & Architecture, Mexico, Monterrey, Road Trips, Travel


Sarah M. is a writer and artist whose training in yoga and reiki inform her creative process. With a background in anthropology, existentialism, and the esoteric she seeks to understand the meaning of how humans connect (or disconnect) in the present moment. When she’s not seeking adventure abroad, she works with artists to help fulfill their vision - fundraising, overseeing production of public art works, and organizing concerts and festivals.

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