When I came down to breakfast in the morning, I did not recognize the
quiet empty Hotel that I had entered in the small hours of the night.
The hall was thronged with white suited, sombrero’d men, gun on hip.
They were every type and age. There was not a single woman in the
crowd. I thought I had dropped into a film play. Looking out into the
sunlit streets small buildings met my gaze, an open fronted restaurant
opposite, and barber shops full of men reclining in dental chairs at
the mercy seemingly of someone engaged in cutting their throats. Dick
asked me nervously, “What are they doing to that poor man...?” and
I explained they would do it to him some day. Everything seemed open
to the street. It was hot, divinely hot. Sitting still in the shade
with no exertion, one had to mop one’s forehead. For the first time
in my life I am comfortably warm, and Dick half clad, and protesting
against the condition of his body has nevertheless recovered his color,
his appetite, and his mischievous eye. In the evening we took a tram
(overcrowded with a motley collection of workers) to a place half an
hour away, called “Miramar.” Here Dick and Louise bathed in the surf.
I felt I had been very superior (instead of lazy) for looking on, when
they came out black with the oil which floats on the water. They had to
take gasoline shower at the bath house to get clean! The sunset sky was
very lovely, but the little wavelets that break on the beach, instead
of being ripples of foam, were heavy dark and sluggish.
I have said that everything is open to the street: I include at night
a quarter of the town where ladies sit outside their open lit up
doorways, displaying a big bedded small room inside. These houses are
almost standardised, varying only in the manner of their lights. Some
preferring pink, to the cruder unshaded electric globe. From within the
dancing saloons came the sound of music. Ladies fanned themselves at
the door. Some had black hair and faces powdered ashen white. But the
prevalent taste seemed for auburn hair, some color, and a bright pink
dress. One or two in night attire were completely and transparently
silhouetted in their doorways. The streets in this district being
thronged, there is perfect traffic superintendence, and the tramcar has
its terminus in this very midst. Everything in this respect being made
easy for the tourist.
From the first moment I felt Tampico is a town for men.