life saving. . .

Can a city save your life?

Last night was bad. Bad news. Not so much news, but a predictable, utterly reasonable, and nonetheless gut-wrenching turn of events. I couldn't work after that. It was probably good that there are no liquor stores on this block. And good that a scotch costs $13 in this upscale hotel. I only had one. And bad sleep. I took some Nyquil around midnight, the drug of choice for the non-pharmacologically inclined. And woke up at 6 a.m. feeling bad to the very core, wondering how I was going to survive another day on this lonely planet.

After work, I pitied myself some more, and set off on a hopeless quest to find a bouldering gym mentioned in a now-defunct web page. To my surprise, I stumbled into paradise. A scruffy maze of a bouldering gym, with great music and some of the coolest people I've ever met. And a weight room. And cardio equipment. I did some traverses, and popped up to the 20-foot ceiling on a couple of easy boulder problems, and then did some more traverses. A few minutes on the stairmaster, some stretching, some conversation with a couple from Spain, then with the owner Albert, and the trainer Christian, and his whacked young friend. A short conversation about money--"whatever you wanna give." All of this in their broken English and my broken Spanish. And then back to the hotel, knowing that I'll be rushing to finish each day's prep so that I can spend every evening in the gym. Not the week-ends. They've invited me to climb at the local crag on the week-ends.

On the walk back to the hotel, I saw again what a beautiful city Puebla is. I skirted the basilica, then the zocalo, walked through the cafe-filled arcades, threaded my way through the crowds of shoppers and strollers enjoying the cool evening air. The baroque architecture drew my eye upwards to the facades. Music played in hidden courtyards. I noted that most of the restaurants, bars, and cafes are open until midnight and after. (The next time I'm sleepless, maybe I'll have a tequila at a sidewalk table instead of a Nyquil.) And back to my hotel, just ten minutes from the bouldering gym.

I can get so low, that only a city like this, or a climbing gym, stands between me and the rafters. Am I depressed now? Damn straight. No doubt I will wallow some. And then I'll go bouldering. And maybe I can find a New York Times at the zocalo, and sit at a cafe. Wallowing. In Puebla.