Live Loudly
My trip to Mexico City in December taught me to live loudly. Be unapologetic and embrace spontaneous decisions. Absorb the chaos of life’s natural state and channel that energy into your own passions. Let it fuel you. Seek pockets of space in large crowds and sit still just to see what you notice. Talk to anyone who talks to you and spread some kindness. Connect to other cultures and become a part of the world around you. When in doubt, just go. Do.
After several hours of flying from Boston to Houston and then Mexico City, my body felt quite stiff. I wasted little time unpacking and settling into my first ever private room in a hostel at Barrio Downtown in Centro – perfect for a private space to relax and sleep while still having a common space to socialize and meet others. Leaving the hostel I realized I had nowhere to be, no rush, and no expectations. My rumbling stomach gave me the first idea: tacos. I ordered a variety of meats from pork loin to cow tongue served in warm corn tortillas at Taqueria Los Cocuyos. Each were funky and delicious in the best ways possible.
I set out in the general direction of Palacio de Bellas Artes, stopping along the way to browse the countless markets at tables under white tents dotting the sidewalks. One shopkeeper showed me a picture of him and Maradona before convincing me to buy a jersey. Great sales tactic. My meandering led me to the Palacio de Bellas Artes, and I admired the tremendous Art Nouveau structure capped with an orange crystal dome. From a nice bench in the adjacent Parque Almadena I looked between the building and the Torre Latinoamericana skyscraper. All interesting cities can couple older and modern architectural designs in one neat space.
Hard to contain my excitement as we descended.
Lots of amazing books and crafts at the book fair outside Palacio de Bellas Artes.
Purple lights tint the gorgeous marble statue in a fountain in Parque Alameda.
A tasty al pastor taco and Michelada at Tacos Los Cocuyos.
My first full day in the city started off with a quick breakfast of chilaquiles and yogurt while going over interview questions. In the morning, the streets of Centro are coated with soap and water as shopkeepers sweep their area clean. I walked to my first interview in a suit and tie, one worker bee amidst a swarm of buzz as people and cars emerged in throes. The agency I spoke with provided amazing hospitality and vital insights for my research. Their kindness went a long way in making me feel welcomed. I chose a Starbucks to write my notes for its good Wifi and surprisingly yummy menu of food and coffee. Somehow, every American chain restaurant is miles better in foreign countries. With some spare time to kill, I walked more around Reforma and saw two of Mexico City’s most famous – yet heavily under construction at the time– landmarks: Monumento a la Revolución and the Monumento a la Independencia. Perhaps they’ll be fully renovated by the next trip.
Meeting number two of the day took place in a cafe near the U.S. Embassy and really raised my understanding of my research topics. Chatting up a storm stirred my appetite, so I walked the lively Chinatown centered on Calle Dolores. Restaurants are packed with customers and vendors on the sidewalk sell warm and soft sweet buns filled with chocolate doughy goodness and more sugar than you’d like to admit. Three buns were not enough so I popped into a taco shop for some tacos al pastor, my new go-to order. Back in Parque Almadena I read and observed all types of interesting people.
Later that night I weaved through crowds along the busy pedestrian only shopping street Francisco I. Madero and bought before stopping for a casual dinner. Game One of the Liga MX finals kicked off with Mexico City favorites and league leaders Club América taking on Monterrey-side Tigres UNAL. They played a fiercely competitive 1-1 draw and I gave frequent updates to the waiter, wearing his Club América jersey beneath his white polo and apron. Soccer Football is truly the universal language.
The Angel of Independence reaches skywards.
Chinese lanterns dangle overhead the crowd.
Livin' the good life with a view of the Torre Latinoamericana.
Hangin' out on the terrace with a good book.
Like the day before, I started off with a quick breakfast in the hostel and chatting to others. I met a Polish traveler who was disappointed that I could not converse with him in fluent Polish since my family left 100 years ago. Sorry amigo. My first and only meeting of the day at a different cafe near the U.S. embassy went swimmingly. The conversation provided me with some of the concrete funding figures I had been seeking for my research while honing my area of focus. Maybe it was the walnut wood paneled walls, or maybe it was the two cups of cappuccino, but the cafe was the perfect setting to clack away at the keys for a few hours and get solid work done.
The sun peeked out of the clouds for the first time on my way to the hostel. One of the best parts of visiting Mexico City in December is its very temperate climate, so wearing a suit kept me as comfortable as when I opted for jeans with a T shirt and leather jacket. Leaving Reforma, a market with indigenous vendors located in a huge empty lot caught my eye. The woven fabrics, handcrafted trinkets, candles, and jewelry I saw there were among the highest quality and prettiest I saw in the city. My duffel bag may not be as large as Santa’s sleigh but it can still fit some goodies for a few lucky people back home.
Next on my day’s agenda was a walk to Zócalo, Mexico City’s main plaza, which traces its history to the ceremonial center of Tenochtitlan. The architectural landmarks of the Metropolitan Cathedral and National Palace stand in place as enduring testaments to the city’s cultural heritage. Entering the plaza is an overwhelming experience. Tourists and locals brush by at close quarters, vendors vie for attention, and a sea of bodies carries you forward. It swept me down to the National Museum of World Cultures, where I took a moment to breathe in the refuge of the tranquil courtyard. Ready to face the crowds again, I pushed through the wave to see the Templo Mayor Museum harboring the excavated remains of the Mexica people’s main temple. Just as in any other big city, be mindful of your belongings in the city’s busiest square.
Back in my hostel, I brought out the three essentials: my book, my laptop and a beer. The roar of engines and cars honking and loud music playing and people talking fill each night. It sounded a bit like midtown in New York City. It made me smile knowing our shared urban experiences are more alike than we think. More than learning about the unique characteristics of a new place, travel teaches us how much common ground is under our feet.
For dinner I stumbled on Azulísimo and the name did it justice. Blue velvet covers the seats and blue tiles shine blue under blue lights surrounding a beautiful boxed tree draped in, you guessed it, blue. It's a blue world, my friends. Their diverse menu offers a range of dishes from regions across Mexico. I ordered a carafe of Cuatro Niños, a dry Baja Californian wine, which paired perfectly with the Huachinango, a specialty one pan dish of white fish filets bathed in tomato sauce and vegetables from the Veracruz region. Dessert called for another traditional dish, so I ended the excellent meal with a chocolate tamale.
Hues of blues and good mood food lifted my spirits while waiting on line for a jazz show at Zinco Jazz Club, one of Centro’s premier live music spots. It took an hour for me to get seated at the bar and I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me attending the show to support her friend, one of three singers accompanying the big band. They performed all the Christmas classics, back and forth between English and Spanish, in one of the best live jazz performances I had ever witnessed. After the show we went to the back room to celebrate with the band and stayed until the bar closed.
Very blue indeed.
The National Cathedral looms large over the square.
A moment of peace in the courtyard of the National Museum of World Cultures.
The saxophonist absolutely tearing the house down.
Sometimes a Saturday on vacation calls for a late start to the morning. Around noon, I took Uber to Polanco which struck me as Miamiesque with tall skyscrapers, expensive cars, palm trees and well-dressed young people overpaying for hipster coffee. But I fit right in at cafe La Maison where I scarfed down an American omelet with mushrooms, peppers and turkey and a Vanilla Rooibos. The sunshine came out in full force. On my way to the Anthropology Museum I looked through some more shops and enjoyed a stroll through the Red Poinsettias lining the walkway of the Paseo de Reforma.
The Anthropology Museum is a wonder of art and architecture, with a Mesoamerican inspired design featuring a courtyard with one massive pillar, water cascading down into the concrete, supporting the rest of the stone structure housing the exhibits. Collectively the exhibits display preserved artifacts spanning thousands of years and weave narratives highlighting the diverse civilizations that have contributed to the nation’s history. Aztec sundials, Mayan and Olmec stone sculptures, weapons, jewelry and more offer a comprehensive view into religion, politics, war, gender, social classes, agriculture, art and culture. I enjoyed tracing the threads of influencing between the societies whose mythology was often as intertwined as its architecture. It was truly one of the most mystical and fascinating museums I have had the luck to see.
Outside the museum, a street performance of a man testing the physical limits of what one could do with fire kept me entertained while I ate elote. I returned to the Paseo de Reforma where the crescent moon hung overhead in the twilight sky. Ahead of me two glass skyscrapers reflected the day’s last rays of sun. It was one of the moments of beauty where you can only look up and appreciate everything in front of you.
In La Condesa I walked around to see the stylish neighborhood and settled on Rojo Bistrot, a French restaurant with an inviting neon red sign and cozy outdoor patio. The Turkish lentil soup and Duck in a fruit sauce with mashed potatoes were divine. La Condesa has a lot going on, with plenty of young people in its trendy bars and parks, but it still has a chill vibe– que chido. I took a cab back to Centro and enjoyed feeling the energy of a more local scene. Live rock music coming from bars in the neighborhood tempted me like Odysseus’ sirens, but I ended the night by studying like the good little grad student I am.
I woke up early and spent my last morning in Mexico browsing through the beautiful art markets of Coyoacán. Frida Kahlo called the bohemian neighborhood home, finding creative inspiration in the lush gardens and picturesque houses. On an entirely unrelated note, Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky was murdered with a pickaxe in his home three blocks away in 1940. Anyways, Coyoacán comes from Nahuatl meaning “place of coyotes” and went from one of the first Aztec settlements in the region to the first Spanish capital of New Spain following the empire’s conquest of the region. Thus it became one of the first neighborhoods in the city to incorporate Spanish architectural styles with Aztec allure,
Only traveling with a singular duffel bag never felt so inconvenient with so many attractive works of art abound. There were handmade artisanal goods and stunning paintings of landscapes, pop art, abstract shapes, and my kryptonite, impressionism. It took great self restraint to only purchase a few small crafts and jewelry which would fit in my luggage. For my final breakfast I had an urge to eat something very large and different. A rotisserie chicken shop beckoned me forward. Munching an entire rotisserie chicken with rice and a coffee on a park bench before noon absolutely made me look silly. But one can’t take life too seriously when traveling, so I relished in the randomness and loved every bite of that bird.
The sun was shining again and some downtime in a park seemed fitting. In Vivero Coyoacán there are plenty of private spaces to lounge and play among the greenery with the scent of Mexican plum trees filling the air. I found a sitting stump leaning against a sturdy tree with a log for a footrest all in one place. Nature can be pretty crafty sometimes. I read my book and studied for my final exam in peace. The air was pure and all was still. Squirrels would occasionally bound over so I would feed them acorns scattered by my feet. One or two even let me pet their tiny little heads. Who knew the city is full of squirrels as friendly as its people.
From the park, I took a cab back to Palacio de Bellas Artes and spoke at length with the cabbie, a beautiful soul with profound appreciation for the power of human connection. With my spirits buoyed by his positivity, I stepped into the grandiose Art Deco interior of the building. Initially built to replace Mexico’s National Theater in the 20th century, the building’s construction was delayed by war and revolution but eventually completed to include a stunning performance arts hall and galleries. I came to see the Mexichrome exhibit, highlighting the history of Mexican photography through the use of vibrant colors and developing technologies. Chalky powder blues stood out upon pale desert browns while vivid red Coca Cola signs hung above photographs of vintage cars and shops. Each photograph brought a vibrant moment to life and truly illuminated the brightness and joy of everyday scenes.
Back to Zocaló I headed to experience the Verbena Navideña, a pulsating Christmas event with live performances all day, children's games and bright decorations. Festive energy filled the plaza. Everyone looked like happy Hallmark movie characters, taking selfies and family photos, holding hands and laughing with friends and smiling at the giant trees and oversized lights surrounding the square. Sunset began its descent and I grew sentimental, both for the deep connections I formed to the city and the people awaiting me back home. Throughout my solo travels I’ve realized that no matter how many miles separate you from your loved ones, you will never walk alone.
My flight back home the next day left before sunrise, so I trekked back to the hostel to pack. My gifts and trinkets all fit— phew. My last meal in Mexico City simply had to be Taqueria Los Cocuyos. I tried several tacos with meats I never had and may not have for a long time. An adventurous palate can take you a long way. It felt nice to sit on a metal stool on the sidewalk and absorb some final moments in the city. Game two of the Liga MX began just as I finished eating, so I watched the final with football mad folks in the hostel lounge in which Club América scored three goals in extra time to defeat Tigres for the league title. Celebrations stretched into the wee hours of the night, or so I divined from the cheers and honks keeping me awake. La ciudad nunca se duerme.
More than anything Mexico City taught me to embrace the chaos. My trip there did not take place as initially planned, but it took place in the best possible way. Follow your feet where they want to take you. Make sudden stops to chat with a stranger or pop into a shop. Eat a street taco every few hours. Travelling is not about the big bucket list items that we write down weeks in advance, but the small quiet moments in between that we can never plan for. We must seek this beauty and energy wherever we can and bring those special memories and lessons back with us when we return.
