NY Times article on Mexico

[Sam Trenholme]

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/29/world/americas/29mexico.html?_r=1&hp

Bare-Bones Approach Lets a City Embrace Winter

MEXICO CITY — Homero Aridjis, one of Mexico’s most revered poets,
lives in a large home in the hills of this ancient city, with
expensive paintings, imported rugs — and an array of items to help him
keep warm, including door-stoppers shaped like snakes, thick wool
sweaters, even microwaveable pillows.

His home, like nearly every building in this megalopolis of 20 million
people, has no central heating. And because concrete is the dominant
building material, winter here means an indoor existence with
temperatures not far from freezing.

“In the United States, you heat the room or the house,” Mr. Aridjis
said. “In Mexico City, you heat the body.”

It is one of the fascinating quirks of Mexico City — the way
Chilangos, as the city’s residents are known — deal with the weather.
Deep in this country’s Aztec roots, there is admiration for submitting
to the elements, and it seems to re-emerge every winter with force.

It is not simply the lack of central heating that confounds Americans
and Europeans in this mountainous city at an altitude of more than
7,000 feet. It is the ubiquity of the cold as well. In expensive
restaurants, in grocery stores and museums, in the homes of the poor,
middle-class and even the wealthy, a small space heater is often the
only thing breathing warm air.

Architects say this is partly a matter of economics, but not in the
way one might expect. Mexican builders and homeowners have simply
grown accustomed to construction without central heating, and with
single-pane windows that are especially porous to heat and cold. As a
result, insulation materials are profoundly expensive here.

Fernando Sandoval, an architect who used to work for Anderson Windows,
the American chain, said that given such prices, double-pane glass and
central heating could eat up a sixth of the total cost of
construction. Few seem to bother. Even the most modern apartments
here, with stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops, are
often devoid of radiators or thermostats.

“They all say, ‘I’d rather have hardwood floors,’ ” Mr. Sandoval said.
“Or, ‘It’s only going to be cold for a month or a month and a half,
I’d rather buy a really nice Italian cashmere sweater.’ ”

The thing is, winter here lasts more than a month. Temperatures begin
dipping into the 40s at night in November, and fall further in
December, January and part of February. Rubén Gallo, a professor at
Princeton who edited The Mexico City Reader, a chronicle of the
capital, said Mexicans have a hard time admitting this is the case. He
likened the contradiction to an essay by Octavio Paz in his book
“Labyrinth of Solitude,” in which the Nobel-prize-winning author
described the gap between Mexico’s idealized self-portrait — as seen
in documents like its Constitution — and the messier, more corrupt
routine of daily life.

“We’re always struggling with what Mexico really is,” Mr. Gallo said.
“It’s a slight disconnect between the image and the reality of living
in a city that has a mountain climate.”

The weather of the region may be getting more extreme as well. For as
long as anyone can remember, millions of monarch butterflies have
wintered in central Mexico after traveling south, but they were
greeted by hail last March. In 3 of the last 10 winters, at least half
of the population died as a result of the erratic weather.

In this sense, the lack of central heating is a plus. The array of
space heaters available at Home Depot here — short and round, tall and
thin, and everything in between — are sometimes considered better for
the environment because they may use less energy than a full home
heating system.

For many Mexicans, though, the lack of heat has less to do with
protecting the environment than with accepting it. Mr. Gallo said that
while Americans try to fix the cold, Mexicans rely on fatalism as a
means of coping, a sense “that this is how it’s supposed to be.”

Mr. Sandoval offered another take: “The weather is something you
participate in,” he said. “It’s something that you’re part of.”

Mr. Aridjis, the poet, agreed. During a tour of his book-filled,
ice-box of a home, he recalled growing up in the state of Michoacán,
near where the butterflies gather. He said he sometimes found ice
crystals in the shower, but he also fondly recalled a rhythm of
writing by temperature. He would work for several hours until the
chill consumed him, then he would step outside to soak in the warming
rays of a winter sun.

For the Aztecs, the sun gods were among the most revered of the
deities, and Mr. Aridjis says it should come as no surprise that
access to sunlight dominates any assessment of Mexico City real
estate. “We are a solar people,” he said. “This is a solar city.”

He acknowledged that some found the approach trying. “I remember when
Octavio Paz came from Europe, and he said to me ‘this country has the
most terrible weather in the world. I hate the cold.’ ”

But would Mr. Aridjis ever consider changing, adding heat to his home?
What if someone offered to replace his windows, and add central
heating for free? Mr. Aridjis looked skyward and smiled. “No,” he
said. “I couldn’t do it.”