the grass is greener : story 1

I did my best to stock up. In my last few weeks in sweden and scotland, i exploited every conceivable opportunity to skate; knowing from experience that serviceable spots on this side of the tortilla are rare quarry indeed.

Cuernavaca, Mexico, distinguishes itself in the fields of pollution and street hawking puppy vendors, but little else. Undeterred, i packed my board with an air of optimism.

You´d think with a population of just over a million that there would be a block or two to grind, but bloody hell!

I used to torture myself by reading these bleating letters to UK skate mags, which commenced with "Ur magazine is thu best", stuffed with "there´s nothing to skate in our town" and capped with "any chance of a sticker?"

If said magazine truly was "thu best", these ignoble runts would indeed receive their sticker in the form of a 2nd class stamp on the forehead as they were unceremoniously crammed into a DHL luggae hold and shipped to Cuernavaca. A sense of perspecive would quicken them before the jetlag even gained a toehold, and I swear they´d learn to appreciate their ASDA carpark in a twinkling.

I walked many kilometeres over 3 days in a search for skatespots. The streets are packed with people and traffic, the ground is rough, but a challenge is a challenge after all. On day 3 I bumped into three 14 year old chicos with boards, which looked like straw reed brushes at either end, and were little improved in the middle.

We sesioned a drop of 1.5 metres into a busy road, guided by the whistles of our lookout on the edge of the sliproad. I was nearly killed several times, but what a rush!

We soon tired of our lives flashing before us, and hopped on a bus to the Uni. Buses here are a great laugh. When we DJ reggae music, we use sound effects like sirens and lasers. The buses use the same FX panel to communicate with each other and the pedestrians, making the streets sound akin to an R2D2 invasion.

30 minutes of exhaust fumes leaking through the floor later, and we staggerd off. The uni was a surreal place; decadent fluted columns flanked by monoblock haunches gave way to taco vendors, sunbathing students and....

A 30 stair drop with an unwaxed concrete ledge down either side. It took 2 full candles to satisfy its greedy maw, and the kids porferred sideways glances at me while helping, as if I was digging my own grave.

The security guard looked far too wasted to object and, to tell the truth, it wasn´t too steep. A tailslide was had, and these kids have followed me everywhere since. their big bro is driving us up to Mexico City tomorrow to check out a nice concrete park.

The funny thing is, that these kids did seem to have some kind of raw natural ability. Their pop was admirable considering the dimensions of their tails, and they had a nice relaxed style. It made me think on how a goldfish will only grow as large as its bowl will allow, or some such platitude.

These guys were quite poor, no doubt at all, but happier with their lot than many of the salmon-faced trend kids at Bristo Square in Edinburgh. They face adversity in every aspect of their skating, yet still manage to come out on top. I took an instant liking to them and their ready smiles, and was glad of yet another lesson in humility.

"To be satisfied with a little, is the greatest wisdom"
Akenhaton