Two blocks from the hotel on a Sunday morning and Monterrey is nearly unrecognizable. Kilometers of a major thoroughfare — the sort with a shady, tree-lined median and jogging path bisecting it — is closed. Bikers, joggers, walkers, dogs, and children pedaling four-wheelers crowd the street and the median. Not a single driver is plotting to commit vehicular homicide against me.
It’s rare I can step out onto a street in Monterrey without feeling my life threatened by every driver behind the wheel. Kind of nice, really.
But even at mid-morning the heat is sapping, merciless, and promising to grow worse. So, back inside to write today’s web log post.
I like writing in hotels. There is a sense of seriousness in the act of enclosing oneself in a room, curtains closed, and getting down to it, instead of being out, exploring what lies beyond the walls of the hotel. The implied sacrifice of unknown experience and fun suggests one is truly working and not merely playing at writing.
Not that I’m here in Monterrey for fun. When one considers vacation options in Mexico, Monterrey does not spring immediately to mind. I’m here for a wedding, and the reception on the terrace at Hotel Chipinque. My Beautiful Wife is taking advantage of the opportunity to visit clients and give a seminar. So I’m also here to assist MBW, looking after the Heir Apparent while MBW works.
I have gotten a bit of work done on Boss, writing a bit on the airplane, and writing a chapter over the last couple of days. Again, on the subject of writing in hotels, I’m for it.
So far we’ve visited family, spent some time in the hotel swimming pool until the sun drives us out, and eaten very well. Today being Father’s Day, I anticipate a memorable meal.
At the moment, however, it is enough to savor air conditioning. Sweet, sweet throat-desiccating hotel air conditioning.