I arrived in Mexico City and took a taxi to Aggi's house. She was the best friend of my grandmother. I was very close to my grandmother who died in 1999, right before I moved to California.
My taxi passed through the poor neighborhoods near the airport, the skyscapers and plazas downtown, and finally into the tree-lined streets of Colonia Polanco where she lives. The nice neighborhoods in Mexico City are among the nicest I've seen in the world. They are lined with trees, and the streets are very wide. Often they are divided by walking paths. It's more elegant than Beverly Hills, to say nothing of the treacherous streets of Cuernavaca.
I arrived at the gate in front of her condominium and the doorman spoke to me before I had a chance to press the button. I walked up the stairs and Aggi had the door open for me. We later figured out that they only time we'd met I was 3 years old, yet her home felt familiar to me. She had the same sense of style as my grandmother and, as I looked around at the paintings, sculptures and furniture and listened to her Hungarian accent I felt transported to an earlier time in my life.
As I admired her elegant but small apartment she fixed me some breakfast from the same kind of smooth spreads and patés that my grandmother used to make. She asked about my family, particularly my aunt Georgie and my sister. She showed me a small Irish goat bell that my sister had given her when she visited New York over 30 years ago. My sister was too young to understand her situation, she told me, but could tell that she was sad and wanted to comfort her. She said she kept the bell in her kitchen where she looked at it every day.
I asked about the circumstances that lead her to stay in New York at my grandparents. Her Mexican boyfriend had been doing real estate development in partnership with the government, she explained. The business deal was going too well and the government decided they wanted him out of the deal and fabricated charges against him. He went to jail for a year and half and his lawyer said it would be better if Aggi disappeared so she would not be forced to testify against him. "I knew more than anyone about what was going on", she explained. So she stayed with my grandmother for 9 months. Since that visit, she spoke to my grandmother on the phone every Sunday.
I asked about her book and she brought me a copy to look at. "El espejo de Agui" means "Aggi's mirror".
She is making a movie from her book and was traveling to Cuernavaca to go to the birthday party of an important film maker there for the afternoon. I asked if she had a copy of her book -- I wanted to next practice my spanish by trying to read a book -- but she said she had a problem, that there not enough copies of her book for the film production so she couldn't give any away.
I told her that it was years after my sister produced documentation that showed that her maternal line was Jewish that it occurred to me that this meant I too was considered Jewish. I said I found it difficult to answer questions about that when people asked me from time to time. I told her I felt uncomfortable saying I was Jewish since I was not raised with that identity or culture, and that I felt uncomfortable saying I was not since to do so was to deny my ancestry. She said I should give whatever answer is most convenient given the situation. I wasn't sure how I felt about that response because it seemed to me that there was some truth that I should present consistently to everyone.
I asked about her first husband, who she was married to during her 20's, more or less. She said that he pushed her to have a different life than she would normally have had. He was older than her, and she told me some other details of his life. This idea of being pushed kept coming up so I asked her what she meant. She answered a little cagily the first time, telling me that she had a more exciting life because of her husband. But why? Well, she became much more frank and explained to me that her husband was not attracted to her (she said he preferred bustier women with dark hair...) and eventually suggested to her that she meet other men for fulfillment. I think I was expecting something different, like that he had pushed her to write her book or have a career or something.
Her hairdresser arrived and I heard her describe me as a "muchacho muy guapo", which was flattering. I had lost weight so far in Mexico and am more concerned about my appearance than in the past. I took photos of her apartment as she had her hair done in the other room. (I later asked her if I could have a photo of her and she said "no": it is enough that she has to look at herself in the mirror as an old woman and she doesn't want any photographs.)
Then I read a little of her book. I started the chapter about Aushwitz. With her family, she was being herded into a building. She went one direction and her aunt and uncle went another, directly to their death. She was lead to place where they shaved off her hair. She was behind a friend of her whose beautiful long hair she had always envied and the had the strange experience of watching it fall to the ground limply and then seeing how weird her friend looked without hair, like a worm. (She would later tell me that she learned not to be afraid there. If she was hungry she had two choices: become weak and probably die of starvation, or find a way to get some bread. She couldn't accept being passive in this situation nor in any situations thereafter.)
Aggi had to go and she suggested I take the Turibus around the city. She'd never taken it, but it went by her condo every 10 minutes, she explained. Her driver called and got the information and they dropped me off at one of the stops. I got off at the Bellas Artes, but decided not to go inside since I'd surely be able to go there another time. I went to the main square and stood at the base of the gigantic Mexican flag. I also went to the Aztec ruins that had been excavated next to the Cathedral.
Afterwards I walked around the market area which was uncomfortably crowded. I saw an American or European outside a youth hostel wearing a Mexican wrestling shirt with the masked wrestler face and name (Dr. ... something?) and realized how cool it was. I needed to get one of these for my friend Lateef, so I tried to find one but couldn't. In those markets those stores are all alike, each with the same shallow inventory.
I headed back to Aggi's. The tour bus had no audio this time, and there were these two American men sitting behind me with coiffed hair and waxed eyebrows looking like they were ready to go to a club having a retarded conversation about electric vehicles: "They should replace the gas engine in hybrid cars with another battery so that the first battery can recharge the second battery".
Aggi and I went to dinner together. She needs to take a taxi to go even short distances, I later learned, because she has emphysema from smoking her whole life.
She loved telling stories and, from what I gather, her stories were a key part of her relationship with both of my grandparents. I asked her to tell me one. She has a knowing look she gives as she describes each surprising situation. She told me about a business trip to Milan regarding a sweater factory she was running. She had some extra time and decided to get some ice cream near the hotel. As she walked toward the revolving door, two gentleman approached her. They explained that they had a mutual friend and they'd like to take her to see him for lunch. With one of those knowing looks, she recounted with indignation, if you'd like to have lunch with me say so, but don't make up a story about this mutual friend. They said ok, dropped the pretense, and invited her to a place for lunch that they insisted was much better than the ice cream place.
Next, they hailed a cab. She said she was surprised at this bold step, but that she'd get into a taxi with them because she knew that they could kill her, but otherwise no harm would come to her. She said this as a matter of fact, even though it seemed to contradict the reality of the situation. But, the thing is, it was not her judgment of the situation... it was her will.
They took her to a building which was clearly not a restaurant as they had promised. They asked her to go inside. She said, "I think you've made a mistake" but, again, she allowed herself to be persuaded. Then an elevator to the top, which she allowed herself to be persuaded to take. At the top floor a woman in an apron opened the door to an office with two strange men -- definitely not a restaurant, and definitely not a mutual friend. Again she protested but was persuaded to enter. The woman left so she was now alone with 4 men.
In a few minutes, the woman brought lunch. She had a pleasant lunch with all of them. She particularly liked the greek man who was one of the two who initially picked her up. When lunch was finished she said thank you and that she'd now like to go home. Again, she allowed herself to be persuaded to go to a movie with the first two men. It was an American Western and she hated it. She and the greek left the other man in the theatre and she wanted to hail a taxi outside. The greek insisted that this was not a safe place to hail a taxi, and that she should go to his apartment nearby and he'd call one.
In his apartment he made drinks and took out a photo album. She asked him to call a taxi but he insisted he already had and that she had forgotten. She gave me a look that made it clear that she knew he was not being honest.
I was a little confused following the story at this point. I couldn't imagine being like this to a woman, I could see she didn't buy any of it, yet she was telling one situation after another as if it were all normal. Weren't you upset, I asked, that he'd lie to you about calling a taxi? No, she responded, confused. I struggled for words and came up with "offended", and she was indignant at even the idea that this greek man "offended" her. I switched to asking her what she thought of this kind of man, this kind of situation. She said she understood what he was trying to do, but enjoyed the adventure and wanted to see what he would come up with next. She also told me that she seeks out situations that are "reto", which she asked me to look up. It means "challenge". I wondered how much of this was shaped by her childhood, and I began to ask myself whether this was a strength or a weakness.
Not believing he would call a taxi this time, she headed out to the street to get one herself. He didn't persuade her to come back to his apartment, but he did persuade her to go to dinner. Before they could eat, however, he got a call (I asked and apparently people knew to call the restaurant to find him) saying he must go to Geneva immediately. He invited her to go along, she said that she too had business in Geneva, but couldn't go now because she still had to finish her business in Milan. He gave her his phone number and address on a napkin and asked that she look him up in Geneva.
When she later arrived at Geneva she indeed wanted to look him up, but had lost the napkin. She was disappointed (apparently she really did like this man, she claims, even more than he liked her) and went to her business meeting. Amazingly, he was a partner of one of her partners, and he appeared during the meeting and greeted her excitedly, asking why she had not called. She explained she'd lost the napkin. He invited her to a fancy party in Geneva where he introduced her to elegant people including the Argentine consulate. But that was it, she didn't see him again in Geneva.
Fifteen years later in Mexico City her phone rang. It was the greek, and he was visiting Mexico. She had forgotten even that she had given him her phone number. Again they got together and went to a fancy party, this time at the Hungarian consulate. This, finally, was the last time she saw him.
Later I asked her if she ever got into trouble with strangers and she said, no, but that she once got into trouble with a friend (she didn't elaborate). I asked if she was happy with her life (she asked me first!) and she said she had a life with much satisfaction but little happiness. I thought that needed more explanation. By "satisfaction" she meant self-satisfaction. She was proud of who she was and how she handled herself in situations. We also discussed the word "happy" in english for a while (she says she very much dislikes english and never learned it properly) and I think she meant "joy" in this case.
We talked about my family and my past relationships. I wish I could say that she shed some light on these things -- I told her some details because I wondered what wisdom she might impart. I asked her why her life had brought her satisfaction, so much of it being filled with these fleeting relationships and connections. I even asked her why she enjoyed being pleasing to men, why this even mattered. She said no one had ever asked her this before, but that it was simply enjoyable to her, not for any reason, it just was. That made sense to me, actually, because it was a kind of self-honesty that I could relate to. Rather than thinking she was shallow for pursuing these experiences, I felt that I was odd for, to some extent, pretending I was above them... for imagining I wasn't equally motivated by the desire to be pleasing to others. I resolved to be more true to my feelings and less concerned with how I thought I should be.
Early the next morning she made me an awesome breakfast with special mangos from panama, breads, cheeses, salmon lox, tuna paté, etc. We both said how much we liked each other and enjoyed getting together. I promised I'd talk to my sister and aunt about visiting her sometime soon.
