During the Thanksgiving season, my family and I were in Mexico City. Every year we opt to use this as an opportunity to travel and connect, as it aligns with my mother’s birthday. It’s become an annual way to honor her, as we explore another city or country. This was the case for Mexico City and the Museo Frida Kahlo, or as many know it as Casa Azul.
Casa Azul, known to English speakers as the Blue House, is where Frida resided with Diego Rivera. It was where Frida created, recovered, and lived in inspiration. Because she did not always leave her home during periods of illness, she surrounded her residence with inspirational pieces from indigenous cultures of Mexico and throughout the world. We were uber prepared for this journey, as my mother had made us blinged out Frida denim jackets to wear for the week and ensured to get our tickets weeks in advance, aware that it sells out on a frequent basis. The day came for our journey to Coyoacan, the artsy borough where the museum exists, and we were early. We didn’t want to miss a moment of the day. As we stood in front of the museum, two hours before it opened, we begun to wonder how would we spend the day. We could wander the streets taking in the culture, and opted to walk towards a local market. A woman stopped us on the street, “Frida,” she said with a smile.
My mother and I both turned around. She asked me in Spanish, if we were going to Casa Azul, and I agreed. Luckily my Spanish is good enough to have basic conversations with the locals. She then asked if I was aware of Casa Roja? Another Frida museum several blocks away. This was the house Frida grew up in with her family. How had I not heard about this? I was a Frida fanatic, and thought I was aware of all things Frida in the area. But the museum opened two months prior and we didn’t need reservations for it. It was closed Monday and Tuesday, we were in luck, as it was Wednesday. She tried to recount images from her sister’s recent trip and the exact address, but informed me it was only two blocks down this direction, turn and walk two more blocks. I thanked her quickly for her Frida tip, and we proceeded to head towards the museum. To ensure I didn’t miss anything in translation, I looked it up on my phone and she was right. Four blocks away, we arrived at the museum in luck, an English tour was just beginning.
It was a day full of Frida, stepping into the rooms she lounged in, walking the path between the family home and her married home, observing her belongings, and impressed by her clothes. I had visited Casa Azul twenty years ago when doing a short study abroad program, but knew little about Frida. This time was different. She had emerged as an artist and strong female that has served as a guiding force in times of difficulty, and it was a pure pilgrimage. The final room had the urn that held her remains, which I missed initially and had to return to ensure I paid homage to her.
Several days later, we were in the Modern Art Museum in Mexico City. I stood for several minutes in front of the Two Fridas painting, reflecting on what lay in front of me. I overheard two Americans talking about Frida and her sister. They were talking about the horror of her sister Cristina having an affair with Diego. I made sure to correct them, as I had the same thought while at Casa Roja, but when I brought it up to the tour guide. She cautioned me that this was a solely a rumor that began with the film that was produced about her life. There was no proof. I ensured to pass this intel onto these American tourists, and gave them a tip of Museo Kahlo that had recently opened and would be a perfect addition to their trip. They were appreciative and said they would add it to their itinerary. It was after my trip was made to Coyoacan that I began getting notifications from friends and social media travel updates that this museum was opened, but I had the inside scoop from a local. Yet what made it more special, and serendipitous, was how we found out.
Sometimes it pays to wear loud clothing and talking to strangers. If we had not worn the Frida jackets and had a willingness to engage in my elementary Spanish with a stranger, we would have missed this golden opportunity to explore Museo Kahlo.
It Only Takes A Smile 