Hammock Review:

Mexico City

A hammock is the ultimate oasis.

The world is largely a hammock-less desert, where one spends the majority of their life outside of a hammock.

Which is sad.

Because there is a busy world out there, a stressful world. Jobs. Traffic. Disagreements. Responsibilities.

But none of them enter the hammock with you.

Which is happy.

You cannot, for instance, put a car, a large contributor to the aforementioned traffic, in a hammock.

Neither can you put an office building, where your job may be located, in a hammock.

Neither can your terrible boss or coworker join you in your hammock.

HR would get involved and they could get fired.

In that way, the hammock is a refuge, an impenetrable castle so strong it needs not a moat to protect it from the aforementioned intruders.

But no method of security is perfect. Nor can one be happy and relaxed all of the time. That is impossible. That is simply not life. That is why one does spend their whole entire life in a hammock, which would be unseemly and unsanitary. But one can always seek refuge in a hammock. One can always be happy in moments when a hammock is around (and ideally you are in it).

In the hammock world, everything is in agreement. You are in balance. The chakras are aligned. Your vital signs are good.

That’s why you never see nurses taking blood pressure of someone in a hammock. They already know the results: all is fine.

When you are in a hammock, your job quite literally is to lie in a hammock just like a toddler’s job might be to play. The hammock has made you more youthful; it has reversed the course of time. Yes, a hammock is so powerful it can be a refuge against time. As it is the oasis noted above, drink from the hammock’s fountain of youth!

The strange thing about this world is that many people are so hammock-blind they spend their whole life in the hammock-less regular world never even seeking a hammock. This type of self-destructive behavior is a mental health red flag that requires your immediate intervention if it is occurring to someone you love. If they were wandering through the desert thirsty, dehydrated, and on the verge of a massive medical event when they came upon an oasis with a beautiful freshwater spring that could magically (let’s say this oasis is specially equipped with an IV and other appropriate medical equipment and personnel trained to operate it) rehydrate them immediately, but decided to pass it by in favor of certain vital-organ shutdowns, wouldn’t you say something? Without drinking some water, they will die for crying out loud! Similarly, to not show a lost loved one their way to a hammock is to be an accomplice to homicide (though you may be able to plead down to manslaughter—if you have a good lawyer, which will be expensive); and while that is great for the ever-blossoming true crime entertainment industry, it is not so great for your family structure or social network, let alone your conscience which may then lead you to the wrong fountains of alcohol to quench its sadness and guilt.

I say this out of generosity, wanting to share this wealth of knowledge being so fortunate to be born with crisp hammock eyesight (though not yet officially recognized by my eye doctor who refuses to include hammocks in the office’s Snellen chart) that can spot a hammock far in the distance where my astigmatism-laced farsightedness (or whichever sightedness doesn’t allow you to typically see things faraway; I can never remember which is which) will prevent me from reading something more useless, like a sign, unless I have glasses or contacts (or simple walk closer to the sign—or ignore it, which are my go-to solutions to this “problem”).

When the day comes, I don’t want to explain to God, who will probably be judging me from the comfort of a hammock, why I did not help every soul I could find a hammock. In a more immediate secular concern, I don’t want to have to explain to a judge (providing Hammock Law becomes instituted like when all hope it does if our Hammock Lobby can be become more powerful like it should) why I did not help others find solace in hammocks. In short, we should not keep the real-life oases of hammocks to ourselves.

Such oasis-like qualities inherent in a hammock were fully apparent on the Mexican City apartment rooftop hammock, surrounded by flora in a kind of nature getaway from the city surroundings. From the cars, the people, the buildings, etc.

Don’t get me wrong, I really like Mexico City. It is a terrific city. There are a lot of places to visit, a lot of different cool things to do. Many different neighborhoods and sections of town to check out.

One reason I like it is because of the metro system. It ensures that I never get actually lost in Mexico City. Sure, one could get temporarily lost there–-it is massive. However, you can explore endlessly and always find your way back to the metro stop. That is a reason I love metros, an oasis of sorts, but much weaker on the oasis scale in comparison to hammocks. Where a metro’s transportive abilities are limited to physical locations on a map, the hammock’s transportive abilities have no such confines or limits.

Naturally, I could go on and on here about the awesomeness of Mexico City, but many books have been written on it, which can (and do) a better job than we can here as we specialize in reviewing hammocks in places, not the places themselves.

But for all the positive aspects of Mexico City, of which there are many, it is not one of the many places in Mexico normally associated with hammocks. Those locations are typically on the coastline with beaches, resorts, palapas, etc. They are not here in Mexico City.

So to have access to a hammock in Mexico City is like a double-layered oasis.

After a day exploring the hubbub of the city, it is nice to return to the oasis of the hammock.

And that’s what I did on this trip; among other places, I visited the Frida Kahlo museum. It was a good visit. But I did wait in line for a couple hours to gain entry. It was worth it. It was an intellectual endeavor. And when all was said and done, a hammock was nice. A relaxing endeavor.