Mexico City

“It's always difficult saying goodbye to our boys.”

There's something to be said for late night/early morning flights - one has the whole day to get ready, pack, go out for a meal. Paul and I had lunch at The Social Haus and spent a leisurely day packing and planning. Our flight was at 2am the following morning so we didn't need to leave the house until 10pm. It's always difficult saying goodbye to our boys. Having found a wonderful pet care service definitely helps, though - they post messages and photos when they come for their daily visits and they always play with them for a while. We checked that all was well - laundry faucets turned off, closets closed, Kibbletron activated, catio closed - we said goodbye to James and Walter, locked the door and got into the car.

There was little traffic and no construction - we made excellent time getting to O'Hare. During the drive, we congratulated ourselves that we didn't have to contend with the blizzard conditions of our previous Spring Break O'Hare drive when we flew to San Diego. We quickly found a parking spot in the massive parking garage in the economy lot at the airport and made our way to the train that runs among all the terminals. Terminal 5 was practically (and blessedly) empty. Our flight wasn't yet on the board, but an airline employee confirmed that we were in the right place and should proceed through security. Technically, we should have been able to use our TSA Pre designation to go througgh the shorter line, but we weren't able to enter our numbers on the airline website. It didn't matter as the regular line was wonderfully short. Paul and I found an empty set of benches in a sort of atrium between gate concourses and settled down to wait for our gate assignment to appear on the monitors. We were about to start a game of cribbage when I decided I wanted to go on a hunt for our gate information. Looking at the monitors, I realized that what they were displaying was utter nonsense. With the help of an employee of a different airline, I found where our flight was to board. "Oh yes, the information on the monitors is all wrong right now." Argh. We settled into chairs in the vast waiting room that served three or four gates and waited to board.

Our aircraft was a Boeing 737 Max-9. I know that air travel is the safest mode of transportation, but with Boeing having been in the news for all the wrong reasons of late (sensor malfunctions, aircraft shedding bits of themselves with gay abandon) I have to confess to having had a degree of anxiety. It was a lovely plane, though. Moody lighting, monitors on all the seatbacks. There was a vast selection of movies and TV shows to choose from, but I decided to try and get at least a couple of hours sleep on the four-hour flight. Shortly after takeoff, I was astonished to hear that a meal was about to be served. I opted out - my digestion has been like that (makes hand gesture) of late.

“The flat was spacious and lovely - modern, but with some very nice antique touches.”

Neither of us slept for more than a few minutes during the flight. During our descent into Mexico City, the flight tracker monitor, which switched among different graphics of our progress, was showing a version of the view out the window with points of interest labeled, one of which was the volcano Popocatepetl - I'm pretty sure I was able to see it looking past Paul who was in the window seat. We made it out of the airport without TOO much confusion - most of the signs were also in English. A taxi service employee frantically waved us over to her desk in the cavernous ground transportation area - we paid her and were subsequently bundled into a van at the curb. Surprisingly, we were the only passengers. After negotiating the usual access ramps and elevated roadways leaving the airport, the van dove down into Mexico City traffic. It was crazy. Motorcyclists weaving among speeding cars and trucks, cars changing lanes only inches from the vehicle in front - the lane lines might well have not existed, no one seemed to be paying any attention to them.

We arrived at our Air B&B on Avenue Alvaro Obregon, a boulevard in the Roma Norte neighborhood - an area recommended to us by a number of people. The security guard answered the bell and ushered us down a narrow hallway to a small, modern welcome area by the elevator and stairs. After putting Paul on a call with our host, we got the lockbox combination and went up to the fourth-floor flat. The flat was spacious and lovely - modern, but with some very nice antique touches. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the walls of the living room and provided a lovely view of the avenue with some of the skyscrapers along the Reforma visible in the distance. We decided to nap for a couple of hours and then find a place to eat lunch.

“We chose well - the meal was fantastic.”

Refreshed by our nap, we consulted the flat's welcome book for restaurant recommendations and settled on El Califa, a taqueria a couple of blocks down our avenue. We chose well - the meal was fantastic. Our server suggested costras, crispy cheese tacos. We'd seen them prepared in a documentary about Mexican food hosted by Eva Longoria and had been hoping to have them while on the trip. They were amazing.

After the meal, we nipped into a nearby convenience store and bought some beer and snacks for the week - we walked back to the flat along the middle of the avenue which was really an elongated park with plantings, benches, and fountains. The sculptures in the fountains were reproductions of classical sculptures and had plaques identifying the names and locations of the originals.

“...the house and its contents conveyed a tremendous impression of mingled joy and sorrow.”

We had reservations for that afternoon at the Casa Azul, the Frida Kahlo Museum in the Coyoacán neighborhood. I became a little concerned during the Uber ride that our driver was taking us in the wrong direction, but he was just finding the best route. From the street, all that can be seen is a high wall painted a brilliant blue with evenly spaced green windows framed in red. There were entry stations along the sidewalk with posted times. We joined the line for the 4pm entry and were called forward within a few minutes. Moving through a high, narrow entryway hung with life-size, fanciful papier-maché human figures, we entered the courtyard, an edenic space filled with plants, trees, a fountain, and framed by those deep blue walls. We learned during the tour that Kahlo was born and died in the house and had lived there for much of her life.

Many of the rooms have been preserved as they were at the time of her death, several have been converted into a museum. It's an extraordinary place that silently speaks to Kahlo's creativity, intellect, personal connections, joy, and sadness. Beautiful objects compete for attention everywhere one looks - Mexican folk art, Kahlo's own works, mementos, art supplies, photographs, ceramics - a riot of color. In an alcove in the courtyard, a video was playing which showed home movies of Kahlo and her family - many of the sequences showed Kahlo bedridden from the ailments she suffered for much of her life. The images in the video, like the house and its contents, conveyed a tremendous impression of mingled joy and sorrow.

“...he also had us spill some onto our palms and rub our hands together.”

We Ubered back to our flat and relaxed for a while before walking to our next appointment, a Mezcal tasting session in a nearby neighborhood. We were greeted by our host Mario before having a chance to knock on the door of the impressive old townhouse on the tree-shaded street. Through a high-ceilinged hallway which stretched back into gloom and up a few stairs into the foyer of the townhouse. A rather grand staircase ascended into the upper reaches of the house. Our host bade us wait in the foyer while final preparations were made in the room at the front of the building. The other room off the foyer was a hairdressing salon. Footage from the upper floors was displayed on a security monitor in an alcove under the stairs. A trio of young women descended the staircase and asked if we were there for the Mezcal tasting. Introductions ensued - Alissa, Melissa, and Alexis were all from Chicago(!) and were visiting Mexico City where one or more of them had family. Mario welcomed us into the tasting room and we sat on stools around two high tables on which the flights of Mezcal were arranged, along with bowls of apple slices and salt. For the next two hours, Mario explained how Mezcal was produced, the different kinds of maguey or agave from which it was made, and led us through the tasting of six varieties. Prior to tasting each, he had us rub some on our wrists and inhale the aroma to prepare our palates for the unique flavors. For the first, he also had us spill some onto our palms and rub our hands together. The spirit felt soothing and not at all sticky. With the help of a chart on the wall and some videos on his tablet, our host detailed the agave varieties, how the jimador used a special knife, the jima, to remove the leaves from the pina or core of the plant, how the pinas were cooked and smoked in an in-ground oven pit, crushed by a donkey-powered millstone, and fermented for a number days. We also learned that Mezcal production is a community activity and that the traditional methods are under threat from industrial operations who have compromised the quality of the product and whose farming methods have endangered certain varieties of the plant. We were joined by Sy, who's arrival was delayed. Sy is a physician based in Reno who was on a multi-destination tour of the Americas. There was lively discussion over the samples, with many opinions offered concerning the sweetness, smokiness, and potency of each. Between each, we were invited to cleanse our palates with apple slices dipped in salt. For the fifth sample, Mario invited us to follow him through a secret panel in the wall, down a precipitous staircase (really more of a ladder) into a basement speakeasy lit by a neon sign. We sat on a low sectional sofa around a table with a mirrored surface. Paul jokingly asked if we were about to re-experience the 1990s. Back upstairs for the final sample, some more spirited discussion and farewells.

On our walk back to the flat, we enjoyed the night air, the purple jacaranda blossoms, and the sights and sounds of the city. We stopped for a meal at a sidewalk taqueria close to our home-from-home - more delicious food. Thus ended our first day in CDMX - what otherwise would have been simply a "travel day" had instead been full of wonderful experiences.

“Monday was very simple to plan as nothing was open.”

While planning the trip, we tried to determine what to do on which days. Monday was very simple to plan as nothing was open. A tourism book in the flat described the Alameda, a park adjacent to the Palacio des Bellas Artes. I suggested we walk through our neighborhood to the Reforma, hitting a few sites on the way, and then walk down the Reforma and Juarez to the Alameda and the Zocalo. We set off. First on the list was a nearby park whose fountain featured a reproduction of Michelangelo's David. Next was the Glorieta de los Insurgentes which was described as a "lively meeting place" in some online resource or other. Paul and I entered through an underpass beneath the busy elevated traffic roundabout. Overall impression: supremely dodgy. People aimlessly milling about, people sleeping rough under the roadway, a weird, boarded-up looking round structure which I've since learned was the Metro stop. We made a hasty exit. Further northwards to the Paseo de la Reforma and the Angel of Independence, unfortunately surrounded by a huge barrier covered in graffiti. I wasn't anticipating being able to climb to the top, but I'd hoped at least we could climb the steps to the base. Talking of which, according to Wiki, there were originally nine steps, but because of the subsidence of the surrounding ground (an ongoing problem in the city) fourteen more had to be added. The column is very impressive and the gilded angel stature that surmounts it is magnificent.

From there, we had a pleasant walk along one of the pedestrian paths that flank the Reforma. It's a beautiful public space with Jacaranda trees, high-backed stone benches, and sculptures. I took a photo of a fallen Jacaranda flower - they're a tubular blossom rather like foxglove. We were told by José, our Teotihuacan guide later in the week that the reason shopkeepers sweep up the blossoms is that they have a sticky nectar that gets tracked into buildings from the street. José also informed us that the striking, yellow sculpture visible from the Reforma is an abstract horse and disguises a vent from the city sewer system.

“How lucky we were to be there when the trees were in full bloom.”

Veering from the Reforma onto Avenida Juarez, we proceeded to the Alameda Central, a beautiful park I read about in the tourism brochure in our flat. It is not only the oldest park in Mexico City, but the oldest in all of the Americas. The park has a formal layout with geometrically arranged paths flanked with trees and fountains at the intersections. The fountains include several with mythological themes - Mercury, Neptune, Venus... We enjoyed our stroll, admiring the fountains and the Jacaranda trees. How lucky we were to be there when the trees were in full bloom. Their purple masses made a beautiful backdrop for the classical sculptures in the fountains. Many people were enjoying the beautiful weather, including a women's dance group performing on one of the paths near the bandstand.

“...the lobby begs for a Dario Argento movie to be filmed there.”

The Palacio des Bellas Artes rises at the east end of the park. Built at the turn of the previous century as an opera house, it remained unfinished during the revolution and was finally completed in the 1930s. The exterior is a confection of neoclassical and Art Nouveau styles - the interior is full-on Art Deco, reflecting the era in which it was completed. With its geometric forms, polished metal and glass panels, and contrasting colors of stone, the lobby begs for a Dario Argento movie to be filmed there. We explored the lobby for a few minutes, admiring the decor and the murals.

Out into the bright sunlight once more, we made our way along the Avenida 5 de Mayo towards Constitution Plaza or, as it is known familiarly, the Zocalo. We both took photos of some of the beautiful architecture along the way, including a facade almost completely covered in beautiful tilework. The Bar Pata Negra looked fun and, having worked up a thirst for more than just water, we ducked in. Weirdly, it was the only bar we went to during our stay that actually had seating at the bar. We also got the idea that margaritas were Potum Non Grata in CDMX - I can't remember if it was there or another bar where Paul got the fish eye for ordering one and I got an approving look for getting a Negroni. The bar was very pleasant, dark and cool and decorated with thousands of books.

“The popular name is taken from a long-vanished plinth (zocalo) constructed for a monument which was never built..”

On to the Zocalo. The avenue debouched at the southwestern corner of the Metropolitan Cathedral. The church is immense and surrounded by a high iron fence. We walked through the gate at the north end of the Zocalo and entered the nave. I found the layout unusual - just inside the entrance, the center of nave is blocked by the church organs - we walked down the east side aisle to the end of the organ structure and had only a brief view of the main interior space. I was particularly interested that some of the organ pipes projected horizontally from the vertical ranks. I've since read that the construction of the church took 250 years and that it incorporates a wide variety of architectural styles. We exited (a little self-consciously) through the adjoining Sagrario Metropolitano in which a service was being conducted.

Back out into the Zocalo. The popular name is taken from a long-vanished plinth (zocalo) constructed for a monument which was never built. The square is vast, but the visual impact was diminished for us by temporary tents being erected presumably in connection with the upcoming elections in June. We walked to the northeast corner and observed what could be seen of the excavations of the Templo Mayor, the main temple of the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan which occupied the same location before it was razed by the Spaniards. What can be seen of the ruins is tilted at an alarming angle, testament to the ongoing subsidence of the ground under the city. The entrance to the museum (like everything else, closed on a Monday) was visible not far from the barrier at the edge of the plaza. We ducked into one of the many souvenir shops around the perimeter to look for souvenirs to bring back to Wisconsin. Walking past the front of the Palacio Nacional we saw that the building was surrounded by a line of uniformed guards - I wondered if they were anticipating violent protests in advance of the upcoming elections. That, being accosted by someone asking for money, the noise and ugliness of the tent-raising, and the general air of unrest made us grateful to leave the square. Overall, a somewhat disappointing visit to a James Bond movie location - the pre-title sequence (PTS) of the 2015 Bond film "Spectre" culminates in a fight aboard a helicopter that flies in and out of control over the panicked Dia de Muertos revelers in the plaza.

“We toyed with the idea of drinks and nibbles...”

On to another Bond location: the Gran Hotel de Ciudad de Mexico at the southeastern corner of the square. The interior appears in the same sequence in "Spectre" but was also used as the Isthmus City hotel in part of "Licence to Kill" from 1989. The lobby is very beautiful - the brilliantly colored stained glass ceiling is exquisite as are the two wrought-iron and stained glass elevator shafts at either end of the cavernous space. We toyed with the idea of drinks and nibbles at the 5th floor terrace restaurant, but nobody materialized at the reception desk for several minutes. We gave up and exited the building.

“...yeah, mostly weird, chintzy gewgaws..”

Now very thirsty again and at a loss for what to do next, we ducked into a nearby department store and got slushy drinks at the concession stand visible just inside the entrance. We learned from that Eva Longoria doco that there were supposed to be several public markets in the historic city center and struck out for one we found on our phone map - the Mercado Sonora. The walk proved longer (of course) than it looked on the map and took us through several narrow streets flanked with souvenir shops whose colorful wares seemed to spill out onto the bustling sidewalks. We walked through one promising-looking alley lined with shops.

Finally, we emerged onto a wide thoroughfare and saw the large, barrel-vaulted concrete buildings of the Mercado Sonora. Entering through the nearest set of doors, we found ourselves in a labyrinth of narrow aisles lined with vendors. Most of the shops were filled to bursting with prismatic arrays of what I can only describe as garish, cheap plastic crap.

There were the occasional stalls selling some nicer, higher quality items like ceramics or clothing but, yeah, mostly weird, chintzy gewgaws. As we moved into the further reaches of the market, the merchandise changed somewhat - we saw more and more items with religious qualities - statuettes and busts, some of christian subjects, many of totemic and downright demonic aspects. I tried not to look at the cages where live animals were up for sale. Just prior to exiting the market proper, we went through an extremely dodgy section with life-size skeletal effigies, skulls, tarot cards, incense, and worship items for (as I learned later) Santeria and Santa Muerte. It made me wonder what ghastly fate might await some of the animals we saw for sale. Frankly relieved to get back outside, we poked around some of the outdoor stalls and then found a street food vendor at the front of the market where they were making blue corn tortillas using the method we saw in that food doco - dough was flattened in an iron press, cooked on a grill and then filled with one's choice of fillings from simmering pots of aromatic preparations. We placed our order with broken sentences and gestures and hoped for the best. The young lady who took our order was highly amused at Paull's request for two "Coca-Colas" and mentioned it several times afterward. I got a little nervous during the process that ensued that we had perhaps ordered multiples of what we'd intended - eventually we were given plates with one entree each and were invited to sit at the picnic tables which had family-style bowls of side dishes. The filling we ordered turned out to be a delicious stew of mushrooms in a savory broth.

A very pleasant lady invited us to sit with her and engaged us in conversation. She was from Mexico City, but frequently visited her son who lives in the Chicago(!) area. She seemed a little surprised at our presence - evidently, tourists didn't often stray into the area. She made recommendations for things to see, including an evening boat tour of the waterways in Xochimilco, an area in the southeast part of the city which represents the surviving remnants of Lake Texcoco, the brackish lake in which the island city of Tenochtitlan existed until the Spanish invasion in the 1500s and which now forms the historic center of Mexico City. We since learned that the area has seen a conservation effort to preserve and expand the remaining waterways and boost and reintroduce native plant and animal species. A new environmental park was set to open within a month after our visit. Our visit ended with the summoning and boarding of an Uber on the main drag opposite the market buildings.

“Paul and I agreed that she "laughed like a fiend in hell"...”

That night we had dinner at Pizza Felix, the restaurant adjacent to our flat on Alvaro Obregon. Oh, I think THAT's where Paul had the ill-regarded Margarita and I had the server-approved Negroni. The pizza was delicious - we ordered the "personal" size each which was FAR too much food. We brought half of it back to the flat. We sat in the back part of the restaurant which was an open-air dining area in the central part of the block and which could be seen (and amply heard) from the bedroom of our flat. On every night of our stay, the noise from Pizza Felix continued until the wee hours and was only slightly muffled by closing the windows. On one of the nights, one voice stood out: a woman who laughed maniacally at great length. Paul and I agreed that she "laughed like a fiend in hell" per Wodehouse. The noise didn't cost us VERY much sleep, but we could understand why many reviews of the Air BnB mentioned the noise as a major downside to renting the flat. We tried to give the circumstance a positive spin in our review by not untruthfully mentioning that the street had a "vibrant nightlife".

My memory is already failing me concerning a trip that's not yet a month in the past (God help the yet-unwritten accounts of trips from years ago). I can't remember on which nights we played cribbage and drank beer back at the flat - we did so on at least two evenings. Downtime is important on vacations - Paul and I often err on the side of overplanning/booking our travels. I think I'm the chief culprit.

“We'd booked a private (how private we didn't know) tour of the site...”

Something at the top of MY list of things to do in Mexico City was to visit the ruins at Teotihuacan, an ancient city an hour or so from the downtown. We'd booked a private (how private we didn't know) tour of the site that we found on (I think) TripAdvisor. When booked, the instructions said to meet outside the Hotel Something just down the street from us. We dutifully positioned ourselves in front of said hotel a few minutes before the appointed hour (10am?) and waited. I noted that no-one else was waiting with us and wondered if we'd be picking up other tour members at other rendezvous points. I kept an eye out for the 12-passenger van I was expecting and barely registered the small, four-door sedan that pulled up. Two men emerged and one of them pointed to Paul and said "Paul?" So, it was indeed a private tour - just us two and our tourguide José and our driver, Adan. Paul and I agreed afterwards that José had an Alfred Molina air about him. We set off through the insane CDMX traffic. Thankfully, Adan was as cautious and defensive as anyone could have been under the circumstances - if there were any nailbiting moments, they were all due to other drivers. José was a fount of interesting information - during the drive, he told us about the history of Mexico City and elaborated on what I'd read about the water situation. He told us that the valley had indeed been a hydrological dead-end (like the region of the Great Salt Lake) but that an artificial channel had been constructed to a nearby river to help with water management. He also pointed out hillside communities we passed on the way out of Mexico City into Mexico State - the development was so dense on the steep hillsides that many areas had no proper streets, only walkways and stairs. He pointed out the gondola systems that had been built to facilitate access to hillside towns. He asked us how our trip had been so far - we told him about the sights we'd seen. When we mentioned the Mercado Sonora, both he and Adan said "Oh, don't go there! Not a place for tourists!" Oops. Once through the hill communities, the terrain flattened out and we drove through a region dotted with cacti, agave, and scattered dwellings, some of them quite lavish looking with white terraces visible over high security walls.

“As he stated several times: anything buried is preserved.”

We arrived at the historic site and Adan drove us to one of the several entrances to the park. José guided us past a reproduction of an immense statue of the Great Goddess of Teotihuacan (we'd see the original in the Anthropology Museum on the last day of our trip) and a concrete structure which, he told us, was a cafe no longer in use because earthquake damage had weakened the roof, to an open area which provided us with our first view of the ancient city of Teotihuacan. In front of us were stepped structures that enclosed a vast square dominated by a pyramidal structure. To our left was the distant Pyramid of the Moon behind which a number of hot-air balloons were slowly rising. The site was a big destination for ballooning, he told us. We approached the edge of the complex, mounted a flight of steps and a view of the Ciudadela or Citadel. If memory serves, José said it gained that name during early exploration when it was thought to be a fortress of some kind. We descended another, longer flight of steps to the floor of the complex. José pointed out the pebbles that were inserted into the mortar of the stonework in the surrounding, stepped structures at the edge of the complex. He said it was done to distinguish the rebuilt/restored sections of the construction from the original remnants. Much of the visible exterior of the structures had those pebbles and was, therefore, reconstruction.

We approached the Temple of the Feathered Serpent and climbed the steps to an overlook platform. According to José, this was the only structure in the complex one could climb. As José explained, the structure we climbed, the Adosada platform, had been added to the original pyramid and that the steps and facade behind were from a prior phase of construction which had been exposed by excavation. As he stated several times: anything buried is preserved. The exposure of the structure had caused deterioration of the facade. Many of the exterior stone carvings and exposed murals had been removed to museums to preserve them. José told us that the pyramid along with most of the rest of the complex was constructed in the "Talud-Tablero" style with alternating sloping sections (Talud) and vertical panels (Tablero). In the facade of the temple, he pointed out the carvings of the feathered serpent, which undulated along the Tablero sections in a side view of the creature, punctuated by front-facing representations of the head. Also portrayed were a stylized crocodile figure being subjugated by the serpent.

We descended stairs to a series of viewing platforms to get a better look at the facade of the temple. Later that week, we were to see a section of the preserved facade at the Anthropology Museum. The stylized animal heads (jaguars?) that flanked the stairs were particularly impressive. Up to the platform and back down to the plaza where we were approached by a souvenir vendor who warmly greeted José. The vendor showed us two items made from obsidian, a disc engraved with the Aztec calendar stone design and a bust of the rain god Tlaloc. We ended up buying both - José explained that the working of obsidian into ornaments and knives was an important industry in Teotihuacan and remained a regional craft today.

“I think I jumped a little every single time one of those cries rang out.”

We went back the way we came to the parking lot where we were met by Adan. Driving to the next location near the north end of the complex, José told us more about the ongoing excavations, the framing community that would have been part of the ancient city, and the fact that the course of the local river had been altered. It might have been among the vendor stalls near the parking lot that we first heard one of the jaguar calls we were to hear for the rest of the trip. They really do make a convincing sound - about the size of a tennis ball, the ceramic whistles have an opening to blow into and another over which one moves one's hand to change the pitch. I think I jumped a little every single time one of those cries rang out. Paul really wanted to buy one, but the time never seemed right. After the trip, I bought one (pictured below) for him online from a company in Texas.

Click on the jaguar call graphic below to hear what it sounds like.

Just inside the entrance to that part of the complex were the "palaces" - a series of structures which José said would have been residences for the temple priests. The complex contained an intriguing network of platforms, alleys, and staircases. José then guided us through the Palace of Quetzalpapálotl with its beautiful courtyard flanked by carved, rectangular columns. In an underground passage we were shown a beautiful mural depicting a Macaw, a bird figuring in many of the murals and sculptures along with jaguars and quetzals.

“The original structure is the oldest construction in the complex.”

Adjacent to the palace complex was an overlook platform giving astonishing views of the Pyramid of the Moon. We took a few photos by the railing and then descended to the Avenue of the Dead and proceeded to the pyramid. José showed us a diagram in the National Geographic book about Teotihuacan that he carried with him which showed the seven construction phases of the Pyramid of the Moon. The original structure is the oldest construction in the complex and was just behind the base of the steps currently visible at the front of the pyramid. The subsequent constructions expanded the pyramid upwards and to the back. I can't remember all of what José told us about the complex. He talked with us about the low, four-sided structure in the plaza in front of the pyramid, but I can't remember what he said. We obviously weren't taking notes, and while what he was relating was fascinating, it was somewhat hard to concentrate when there were so many astonishing sights in every direction. He described the pyramids as being symbolic mountains which provided a communication point between the upper and lower worlds which, respectively, emobodied qualities of male and female, light and dark, sun and moon, warmth and cold, dry and wet.

“...he also had us spill some onto our palms and rub our hands together.”

From the Pyramid of the Moon, we made our way along the Avenue of the Dead towards the Pyramid of the Sun which loomed just to the left of the Avenue. We stopped at one of the only murals remaining in situ, covered by a rigid canopy to protect it from the elements. I took only one picture of the mural and I can't remember what José told us of the subject. I've since looked up some information on Wikipedia with SOME success. From the Avenue, we descended a flight of stairs to the plaza below the Pyramid of the Sun. As in the Plaza of the Moon and the Ciudadela, there was a low temple platform in the center. The Pyramid has fewer external features but is striking for its immensity. José told us that discontinuity of the slope near the top was due to the use of dynamite(!) by one of the explorers who excavated the site in the 1800s(?). José explained that the construction history of the complex reflects the changing power structure and religious orientation of the rulers of the site over time. He also told us a myth concerning the origin of the city which describes a competition among the gods as to who would preside over the fifth iteration of the world. Recent archaelogical activity has focused on tunnels found beneath the Ciudadela and the Temple of the Feathered Serpent. Since our trip, I read an article in the Smithsonian that documents those finds and underscores how little is actually known about the origin of the city and the people that lived there.

We remounted the stairs from the plaza to the Avenue and walked across to a third entry point where Adan was waiting for us in the car. There was less conversation on the way back - for my part, I was exhausted both physically from the walk and mentally from the sheer spectacle of Teotihuacan and all the information we'd absorbed. In the outskirts of the city, I saw a high-rise building with weird, blue support beams crisscrossing the facade. José said they were retrofitted supports because of earthquake damage. I'm fairly certain I wouldn't want to live there. We said farewell to José and Adan outside the Hotel Wotsit, sorry, Hotel Stanza - I just remembered, and made our way back to the flat.

“Paul, bless him, said "no, let's DO this!”

As full as the morning was, we resolved to try to get to the History Museum at the Castillo in Chapultepec Park. I consulted the map and saw that it wouldn't be TOO far to walk. We set out along Alvaro Obregon to the west and walked up an angled street to the park entrance. On the way there, we spotted a likely-looking place to have dinner on the way back - a seafood taqueria on Chapultepec Avenue. The park entrance was a very imposing gate flanked by lion sculptures. It was apparently Bat Celebration Month (or week, or something) - huge and wonderful sculptures of bats feeding on cactus flowers stood in front of the gates. The sculptures were amazing - detailed down to the grains of pollen caught in the fur on the bats' faces. We walked through the gates and onto a pedestrian walkway that bridged the busy freeway between the entrance and park proper.

Dominating the park end of the walkway was the Monumento a los Niños Héroes - the monument to and final resting place of six military cadets who helped defend the city during the Mexican-American War. We walked past the monument and a phalanx of food and souvenir vendors to the base of the prominence on which is perched the Castillo, a former Viceroy's residence and home to the National History Museum. This was the first of three occasions during the trip in which I expressed doubts about whether to do something. There was a line to get admission tickets and we only had a couple of hours remaining before the museum closed. Paul, bless him, said "no, let's DO this!" so we stood in the line, which moved very quickly, bought tickets and started the climb to the top of the hill. It was a long climb. The path wound almost all the way around the hill on the way to the top. We passed through an ornate iron gate and entered the grounds of the museum. Unsure of where to enter, we veered left into the formal garden at the southwest end of the building. At the far end was a sort of loggia with wonderful views of the park and the buildings of the city beyond.

We walked around the perimeter of the garden and then entered through the door on that side of the building. The interior was very grand - we ascended a staircase to the upper level which seemed to be a roofed-over courtyard with doorways to galleries on either side. We entered one gallery which might have been the crown jewels - none of the text explanations were in English, so we only had a vague idea of what we were seeing. At either end of the room were two huge dishes carved from malachite perched atop ornate plinths. I was terrified I was going to lose my balance and claw at them for support on my way down. Waist-high cases contained various precious-looking items - jewelry and snuff boxes, and the like.

Other galleries featured Pre-Columbian artifacts, a beautiful bronze sculpture of the Mexican eagle, a wonderful painting of the Zocalo, and a huge model ship that filled most of the room it was in. The limited time and our limited knowledge of Spanish prevented us from doing anything like justice to the exhibits, but the gallery and the setting was very beautiful and I was very glad that Paul had insisted we go in. Outside one of the second floor galleries was a porch that ran the length of that part of the building - we stepped out to take in the view of the city spread out below us. A huge Mexican flag undulated lazily in the light breeze beyond which we could see the skyscrapers along the Reforma. We descended the wonderful double staircase at the main entrance of the castle - the ceiling of the entryway is decorated with a painting honoring the Boy Heroes. After relaxing for a few moments on a bench near the entrance, we went through the gates and back down the path to the base of the hill, past the memorial and back across the walkway to the park entrance.

We followed through on our decision to have dinner at the seafood taco place. It was good - fish tacos washed down with lashings of lemonade and Tecate beer. We later wondered whether the ice in the lemonade might have been the culprit for the tummy trouble that hit me on the last two days of the trip. Who can say? I particularly liked the maniacally-grinning prawn in the restaurant's logo. We walked back along the same route except for a detour that took us through a traffic circle with a replica of a Madrid fountain at its center. Back to the flat to rest up after another epic day.

“So, once again at a loose end, we debated what to do.”

We chose to Uber to our only scheduled event of the day - a walking tour of the historic city center. The tour was to begin in front of the Bellas Artes. We were a few minutes early and spent the time admiring the carvings of the facade. The appointed hour arrived and just as we were scanning the crowd for the guide's identifying orange umbrella, Paul got a text message which said that our tour was cancelled because the guide had "experienced a mishap" - a pronouncement which seemed laden with dark meaning. So, once again at a loose end, we debated what to do. I suggested we have a drink at the Pata Negra Bar and consider our options. We found the bar closed, in spite of information on Google Maps that said it should already be open. I'm a little fuzzy as to what happened next - from my photos, it seems we wandered for a while.

“...with a gobsmacking view of the plaza and the cathedral.”

After (apparently) wandering for a while, we walked back to the Gran Hotel to see if we could have a drink there. This time a hotel representative DID materialize at the desk. We were told that the only currently available option was buffet brunch and would that be alright? It would, and we were escorted into the ornate elevator and taken up to the fourth floor where we took another elevator to the entrance of the Terrazza restaurant. By an amazing stroke of luck, the host seated us at a table for two along the railing of the balcony with a gobsmacking view of the plaza and the cathedral.

We ordered mimosas and raised our glasses to the health of the walking tour guide whose mishap made possible this wonderful experience. The buffet was very nice - included were a delicious shredded pork entree and a very good spiced fish. We rounded out the meal with some little dessert deadlies and a couple of dirty martinis. After the meal, we lingered on the upper floor of the lobby atrium and took some more photos of the amazing stained glass skylight.

“An amazing feature of the building was a beautiful double-helix staircase.”

Again at a loose end, we decided to conduct our own walking tour of the Centro. I saw that there was a design museum nearby on the map. We investigated and learned that the current exhibition was about the Pink Panther in popular culture. We gave that a miss and instead spent some time in an artisans' market in one of the streets near the Zocalo and found a few souvenir gifts to take back with us. Walking past a particularly impressive building, I noticed the name "Foro Valparaiso" which rang a bell. I thought I'd seen it on one of the tourist maps. We inquired at the entrance and were told that it was originally a residence but for the last century had been the headquarters of the National Bank of Mexico. It was now a museum to showcase the bank's art collection. Admission was free. Another wonderful chance find - the building was beautiful and the art collection, all Mexican artists, was fantastic. There were some beautiful landscape paintings and works by Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. An amazing feature of the building was a beautiful double-helix staircase. It was off-limits to the public, but one could look into the shaft from both the top and bottom.

We walked back to the flat, going through an... interesting quasi-industrial area. After chilling for a while, we consulted the map for likely-looking gay bars in the Zona Rosa ("Pink Zone") neighborhood just a few blocks from the flat. I assumed the neighborhood was named for the LGBT cultural presence, but not so. It had been named decades earlier when the area was an artsy, bohemian hot spot. We rejected most of the candidates because they appeared to be dance clubs that didn't open until after 9pm ("what are we, 20?"), finally settling on the Revuelta Queer House. The entrance proved to be so discreet as to not even have a sign - we went through a doorway and up a steep, narrow staircase into a reception area where we were told that the bar was on the roof up a further flight of stairs. The bar was one of those wonderful, hidden paradises - nestled among the rooftops, a scattering of colorful tables and chairs under a tent canopy. The staff were very friendly - we had nibbles and a couple of rounds of drinks as the sky went from late-afternoon aqua to evening ultramarine. We overheard conversation in English from a group of young presumed Americans at a neighboring table. A dog belonging to one of the patrons foraged for fallen tidbits among the legs of the customers. We went down the stairs and walked through the community art gallery that occupied several rooms of the upper floor. A lovely end to a lovely, unstructured day in CDMX.

“It was fascinating to see both original relics and recreations of things we had seen at the ruins.”

Our last full day. I had had a somewhat rough night - a combination of noise from Pizza Felix and the need to visit the toilet several times kept me from getting much sleep. The tummy trouble was kicking in. I resolved to not eat anything until after we'd finished our planned activities for the day. As we'd already walked to the park, we decided to Uber to save time. Our driver dropped us off as close to the entrance of the Anthropology Museum as he could. Our ticket printouts were scanned and we walked through the entryway into the courtyard from which one had access to all the galleries. The courtyard is very impressive - the near half is mostly covered by a vast, rectangular sun/rain shield supported by a single column at the center. Water pours through openings around the center, creating a waterfall that splashes onto the floor of the courtyard. It's a very pleasing effect. Paul and I went into the first gallery on the right which proved to be a general survey of human evolution. It was interesting and well laid-out, but I suggested to Paul that we skip it in favor of the exhibits related to Tenochtitlan and Teotihuacan. He agreed and we moved to the Teotihuacan galleries.

It was fascinating to see both original relics and recreations of things we had seen at the ruins. The original statue of the Goddess was there as were sections of the Talud-Tablero facade of the Temple of the Feathered Serpent. We were able to see close up the rendering of the feathered serpent, the rattle, the seashells and the crocodile. There was a recreation of the columned courtyard of the Palace of Quetzalpapálotl which housed a display of sculptures including several of what looked like the god Tlaloc. Another room contained several of the preserved, original murals from the complex which showed the Macaw and the stylized fluids. A doorway in the exhibit gave access to an exterior garden area containing a scale model of the Teotihuacan complex.

The Tenochtitlan gallery was very impressive. Some favorite items for me were a sculpture of a coiled snake, one of a jaguar head, and two reliefs of cats which unavoidably reminded me of James and Walter. The centerpiece of the gallery is the immense Aztec Calendar Stone which was rediscovered buried under the Zocalo and was displayed on an exterior wall of the cathedral for a time. Elsewhere in the gallery was a huge model of the Templo Mayor, the main temple at the center of Tenochtitlan which was destroyed by the Spaniards and whose ruins we saw at the northeast corner of the Zocalo. We should really have allotted more time to the museum, but after those two sections we were ready for a change of scenery.

“I have a horror of heights, so watching them climb the rungs to the top practically finished me off.”

I saw on the map that the botanical gardens weren't far away but it was unclear to me how we might get there. Just outside the museum in the direction of the gardens, there was a row of food vendors. Paul got some species of "burger" - he said the contents were as tasty as they were mysterious.

As I waited for him to come back with his meal, a performance was just getting underway of the Danza de los Voladores, a traditional ceremony in which five participants climb to the top of a 100-foot pole - four of whom then descend on ropes which unwind from around the pole, lowering them to the ground while the fifth participant plays a drum at the top. It was riveting. I have a horror of heights, so watching them climb the rungs to the top practically finished me off. The spectacle of them flying around the pole in ever-increasing arcs was fantastic. We tipped generously when their compatriot came around with the collecting tin.

“...and a greenhouse with only a very few plants in bloom”

After a pleasant walk, we found the botanical gardens. They were lovely. Not terribly extensive. There was an outdoor section with succulents, cacti, and agave, a pond with what looked like papyrus, and a greenhouse with only a very few plants in bloom - bird of paradise, and a few orchids.

“The Museum of Modern Art was the second of the attractions about which I had doubts but which Paul insisted we enter.”

The Museum of Modern Art was the second of the attractions about which I had doubts but which Paul insisted we enter. Again, so glad he did, because it proved to be a wonderful experience. There were four temporary exhibitions and we went through them all. The first was about Brutalist Architecture and was organized as a timeline from the mid 20th Century to the present.

We were reminded by the accompanying information that the style is named for the French word for raw concrete - "beton brut". The showcased structures were represented by photographs and architectural models. Many were university buildings in Mexico. Some international structures were featured, including the Barbican in London which we visited in 2018. I was wondering if the Otomi Cultural Center which featured in the Bond film "License to Kill" would make an appearance and, sure enough, there was a set of photographs of that unusual structure. The notes even mentioned the Bond film!

Another exhibit focused on modern Italian art and another on the work of Enrique Echeverría, a 20th Century Mexican artist. The fourth exhibit showcased the brief life and work of Abraham Ángel, a gay Mexican artist from the early 20th Century. His thirty or so paintings include portraits, village scenes, and landscapes and have a wonderful, graphic quality. The paintings on display must represent at least half his oeuvre. His story is a tragic one - he was expelled from his family when he decided to pursue a career as an artist and he died, possibly by suicide, at the age of nineteen after being abandoned by his lover and mentor. After going through pretty much the entire museum, we spent a few minutes relaxing in the sculpture garden and then hailed an Uber in front of the museum.

“Paul suggested, then insisted (the third) that we go in and have a drink...”

Having had SUCH a wonderful meal at La Califa the first day of our trip, we decided to recreate the experience. This time we sat outside and had another lovely, possibly identical meal. Instead of walking back along Alvaro Obregon, we cut over to an adjacent side street and walked that way instead. Stopping to take photos of a particularly beautiful Art Nouveau building facade, Paul suggested, then insisted (the third) that we go in and have a drink (the establishment appeared to be some sort of bar/hotel). Casa Prunes turned out to be a beautiful establishment... of some sort. At the center of the building was a beautiful courtyard with a rather grand staircase going to the first floor. We had two of their specialty cocktails at the bar - mine was delicious. The bartender offered to take us on a tour of the rooms upstairs - we declined. The overheard conversation from our neighbors at the bar seemed a bit peculiar as though they were all meeting for the first time. Paul wondered after the fact whether the place was a brothel.

“I marveled at the sheer immensity of the city...”

Little else to tell. The details concerning my bout of tummy trouble are best left unrelated. Our departure and travel were blessedly uneventful. We had a moment's horror when our first attempt at summoning an Uber to the airport indicated that the driver wouldn't arrive for almost an hour. A subsequent attempt found one arriving in 10 minutes. We marveled at the gate assignment procedure at CDMX airport - passengers are assigned to a succession of large waiting lounges before getting their final gate assignments, minimizing the time spent in a cramped gate area. As our plane ascended, I marveled at the sheer immensity of the city - a crazy quilt texture of houses and streets stretching to the horizon. I snapped a picture out the window of a weirdly geometric feature of the landscape - it reminded me of the spider in the Nazca Lines. I learned while processing the images for this page that it was the newly-designated Lake Texcoco Ecological Park, which is on our list of things to do the next time we're in CDMX. The flight home was shorter than the one there, which was nice and took us over some picturesque Gulf coastline. The terminal train, finding the car, driving back to Milwaukee, all went by the book. I was trying to remember what we did when we got home and was reminded by Paul that I had been feeling awful by then and promptly went to bed. After a couple of days I finally called my doctor and got an antibiotic prescription which scotched it promptly.

Mexico City had been on our list for a while - it wasn't quite a "spin the globe" decision to go there. We considered going to a resort but decided we really wanted more of an in-destination experience. Paul's high school Spanish got us through, for the most part. We were both struck by how diverse, vibrant, and friendly a city it is. It's definitely a place we would visit again.