Before last night's hellish hotel experience (OK, it was pretty funny), I had the extraordinary privilege and joy of attending the Mexico City production of Eve Ensler's fabulous theatrical experience, the "V Monologues". (No, I've not developed a sudden twinge of prudishness; I know of a few folks following my rambling musings who would find the full text extremely NSFW.)I've not seen the US production, although I've read a bit of the text, and thought I knew what to expect. I was surprised by how deeply moved I was by the experience, and that was even given that I only understood 50-60% of the rapid colloquial Spanish with which it was presented. Some of it transcended any language barriers, though, such as the quite
The production is in a little hotel in the Zona Rosa ("Pink Zone"), the LGBT part of town. There's daily showings, and I was surprised to see that well over 150 people - mostly women, but some intrepid men as well - were in attendance. The three women who presented the 'monologues' were very different, yet the joy and emotion they brought to the storytelling was so consistent, and so incredibly profound.
There's a post I've yet to write and can't quite figure out how to frame yet, although I think I'll situate it in the context of the Mexico City Metro (subway). Being una mujer in el DF is qualitatively something unlike anything I've experienced. The Metro has certain hours when only women and children can ride in certain cars. There's buses along Paseo de la Reforma during rush hour that are reserved for women only.
An analysis of women on public transport in Mexico City isn't inconsistent at all with a theater review of the "V Monologues" - just not sure where to take it yet. Suffice it to say that if you've not seen the production, get thee to the nearest one. And if the nearest one is in el DF, let me know. I'll go again.
The Metro - that's another post, for another day. Maybe this day, since it's past midnight now in el DF, but we'll see.
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