When I leave Guadalajara in a few days, I’ll be heading for San Francisco, where parking is a major headache. The last time I drove to see my sister and her husband, I couldn’t park in front of their house. I felt lucky to find a spot three or four blocks away.
Recently a parking space in Hong Kong sold for $664,000—an indication of what a nightmare it must be to find a place to park a car in that city.
Guadalajara isn’t as bad as San Francisco or Hong Kong, but it’s bad enough. Homeowners protect themselves against drivers who would block their driveways by posting signs such as the one in the photograph.
“What simple bliss this mortal craves,” Mexican poet Luis Cotto-Vasallo writes in one of his poems, “not exactly asking for a piece of heaven….”
Every driver in Guadalajara, especially in the narrow streets of the Centro, craves the simple bliss of finding that often elusive piece of heaven called a parking spot.
Little brown sparrow,
do not forget your nestlings
in the lemon tree.
Text and photo © 2017 by Mark M. Redfearn, all rights reserved