A woman was working in Latin America's oldest park, holding a parasol

Woman putting sunshade up — Woman putting a sunshade up

In the heart of Mexico City, the Alameda Central spreads out like a green oasis amid the city’s commotion. It is said to be the oldest public park in Latin America, dotted with fountains and statues where tourists and locals mingle under the high-altitude sun. Though the temperature is mild—this is, after all, a city two thousand meters above sea level—the sunlight is merciless. The air is dry, and the rays seem to cling to the skin like invisible dust. Even those who stroll at leisure soon find themselves seeking the comfort of shade.

Along the park’s winding paths, a row of street stalls had sprung up—selling cotton candy, roasted corn, and even small plastic statues of the Virgin Mary. It was less a market than a kind of miniature exposition of human desires. Among them stood a woman beneath a patterned parasol, selling cold drinks. The design on the fabric was a leafy motif, so that when the wind stirred it, the umbrella seemed to merge with the surrounding trees. She waited calmly for customers, unsweating and composed, as if her trade were not a business but a quiet ritual performed under the sun.

When I raised my camera, she noticed me at once and smiled. It was neither a forced smile nor a coy one—just the practiced expression of someone long accustomed to both sunlight and strangers’ lenses. In that dry, dazzling park, the space beneath her parasol alone seemed to hold a touch of coolness.

Alameda Central on Google Map

Comment via

日本語