Mexican Colonias
- Submitted by: flimwitted
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- Category: English: Creative Writing
- Date Submitted: 03/10/2010 08:04 PM
- Pages: 2
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Mexican Colonias.
That Neighborhood of...mine.
The general population consists of grouchy old seniors that walk around like a mile per
hour, and gossip alot about what definately does NOT concern them. They amuse me
mostly, the nice snootty ladies in particular because they’d rather stay inside their
homely places rather than go out without a pound of make-up, femme-fatale for their red
lips, and dressed as the belles of the ball; smashing two-piece ensambles that look as if
they’d come out of a nice 50’s curtain set... Oh! And Of course! -Alluding that
notorious declassé decor of the nouveau riche, the finishing touch is at least 6 pieces of
yellow gold scattered on the respective appointed places for jewels.
It’s not a neighborhood per se; it’s what we Mexicans call a ‘Colonia’, the equivalent of
a County I think... And it is located on an old chunk of town, (not nearly as old as the
rest of the city, it has around 70 years or so, and it was used as country houses for rich
people of old). The streets are cobbled and overcome with greenery, and cracked
flagstones overrun with moss decorate every side-walk.
Most of the houses are mouldy and humid, but with some tweaking they just exude
charm and coziness.
My house presents a large wooden door, and a small side door. The first one gives you
entrance to the orchard, (its beautiful; we have fig trees, citrus trees, guava trees, a
vegetable patch that seems to be fed from magic soils because it’s evergreen all year
long, and some farm animals along with a couple of deer). The latter leads to my house,
which is not a real house itself, it’s more a kind of studio, because of it’s small size. It’s
all wooden and shadowy because of a huge avocado tree that prevents most of the
sunlight to stream inside. There is a hearth made of marble stone in the middle of the
main room, then a long corridor that follows to the rooms, a weird kitchen because it...
That Neighborhood of...mine.
The general population consists of grouchy old seniors that walk around like a mile per
hour, and gossip alot about what definately does NOT concern them. They amuse me
mostly, the nice snootty ladies in particular because they’d rather stay inside their
homely places rather than go out without a pound of make-up, femme-fatale for their red
lips, and dressed as the belles of the ball; smashing two-piece ensambles that look as if
they’d come out of a nice 50’s curtain set... Oh! And Of course! -Alluding that
notorious declassé decor of the nouveau riche, the finishing touch is at least 6 pieces of
yellow gold scattered on the respective appointed places for jewels.
It’s not a neighborhood per se; it’s what we Mexicans call a ‘Colonia’, the equivalent of
a County I think... And it is located on an old chunk of town, (not nearly as old as the
rest of the city, it has around 70 years or so, and it was used as country houses for rich
people of old). The streets are cobbled and overcome with greenery, and cracked
flagstones overrun with moss decorate every side-walk.
Most of the houses are mouldy and humid, but with some tweaking they just exude
charm and coziness.
My house presents a large wooden door, and a small side door. The first one gives you
entrance to the orchard, (its beautiful; we have fig trees, citrus trees, guava trees, a
vegetable patch that seems to be fed from magic soils because it’s evergreen all year
long, and some farm animals along with a couple of deer). The latter leads to my house,
which is not a real house itself, it’s more a kind of studio, because of it’s small size. It’s
all wooden and shadowy because of a huge avocado tree that prevents most of the
sunlight to stream inside. There is a hearth made of marble stone in the middle of the
main room, then a long corridor that follows to the rooms, a weird kitchen because it...