Travel Diary: Mexico City with Frida

The queue stretched around the corner and I stood at the centre of it. The chances that I would make it to the ticket office before the museum closed seemed unlikely. I silently berated myself for not making the visit earlier.  Should I even attempt entering or find some other way to pass my last evening in Mexico City? The line was moving though, not to mention that I had come all this way to stand in this house, Casa Azul - Frida Kahlo's House. With that said, turning back was not an option, not without trying at least. Ten minutes later, I made it to the wrought iron window and handed over the eighty pesos required for entry. The attendant gave me a ticket and I smiled in relief. There was still about an hour before closing. SWEET!

From the front door, even surrounded by other tourists, it was easy to imagine the once daily routines of the famed artist. I took my time in each room, taking in the pieces of art, painting utensils and home decor. With each moment spent in the space, I felt closer to the radical woman who dwelled there for much of her life. The experience of visiting Casa Azul was surreal. For so long, I had admired Frida Kahlo, not only as an artist but also as a person who defied living a life based on the limitations imposed by other people or circumstances. Here, I was touching the same walls that she had touched and stepping across the floors on which she had stepped.
   As I made my way back to the entrance with the other visitors,  I felt inspired by Frida Kahlo's courage, strength and authenticity.It was a good thing that I hadn't turned back.

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