Gustavo A. Madero

Almost as soon as returning from Mexico in March last year, I decided to short list it for 2020. It's such a varied country that one could do half a dozen month-long trips without visiting anywhere twice except the capital. And the Ciudad de Mexico (CDMX in shorthand) is fascinating enough to justify many days stay. So same day of the week, same time, different year I board one of the last flights of the evening at Heathrow for the 12-hour trip.

Having pre-registered for the night of 5th February, I have only an hour to kill before daylight and I'm free to leave Juarez airport (named after the 19th century statesman). I'm back in the respectable, slightly bohemian, Roma quarter. It's a different guest house to last year but in another street named after Mexican cities: Puebla in 2019, Oaxaca in 2020. After I ring the bell, a pair of dark brown eyes scrutinises me from the letter box and satisfied with the view, the owner lets me in. Breakfast is served upstairs, after which I have a well-deserved lie down but have some energy to see the neighbourhood in late afternoon.

I'm not the best for talking at breakfast but Angel is a friendly host and I'm in no hurry to set out. I've had such a deep sleep that I am completely unaware of the overnight dramas when some derelicts next door made such a din that the police were called out. The coronavirus has yet to reach Mexico but he worries about how Mexico could cope with it. He asks me the usual question---what do I think of Brexit---and I give a hollow laugh.

A city of 20 million people can be lively in the worst and the best ways. Traffic is often held up by demonstrations (this one is demanding justice for one of the country's indigenous groups). Near my guest house is a huge advertisement for a forthcoming concert by Gloria Trevi, little known outside her country and the USA but with 12 studio albums and a 30-year career to her name. A more traditional style of music, mariachi, is celebrated in a district north of the Zocalo, and statues to them get a regular washing down.

At lunchtime I head of one of the hundreds of open air stalls. Some people think that street food is risky but I've come round to the argument that if there's a good turnover of customers, it's perfectly healthy. If it's good enough for Rick Stein, it's good enough for me. 3 enchiladas later, I'm ready for the afternoon and so are the street cleaners in their colourful uniforms.Okumaya devam et