Читать книгу Ringside Seat to a Revolution - David Dorado Romo - Страница 10

had a lot to do with me coming back, of course. But

there was something else. If geography is destiny, as

they say, then I felt I had to come to terms with my

own geography.

THE FIRST RULE of psychogeography is to walk

through the streets without preconceived notions; just

drift and let the city’s underground currents take you

where they will. The areas that drew me the most at

first were the Tex-Mex dives along Alameda Avenue,

neglected cemeteries, the Santa Fe International

Bridge, the seedy hangouts on Avenida Juárez and

those same old buildings around downtown El Paso

that had first pushed me away. I took a notebook to

jot my impressions down. Sometimes I’d take a cam-

era as well.

During one of my walks, I was writing in my

notebook by the barbed-wire fence near the Santa Fe

Bridge when I was stopped by a security guard. He

asked me what I was doing. I wasn’t sure how to

explain that I was making a psychogeographical map.

I refused to show my I.D. to the security guard

even though he threatened to call the police. I figured

if jail was the next stop on my psychogeographical

tour, so be it. But the guard warned me that taking

notes in the middle of the street near an international

crossing looked suspicious and let it go at that. (This

was before Osama bin Laden’s attack on New York.)

A few days later my investigation took me to a

zone in Juárez along Mariscal and Ugarte Streets. It’s

a tough part of town. During the revolution, it was

called Calle del Diablo. When Francisco Madero’s

troops rode into Juárez triumphantly on May 10, 1911,

the prostitutes from this part of town followed

behind, cheering the men wildly. Later, Prohibition

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