Ciudad de México

tacos and jaywalking and so many trees

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To avoid the taxi traps at the airport, a family friend graciously picks us up at an absurdly early hour. By the time we reach our hostel, we’re running on fumes and are grateful to check in and crash.
Our room is a glorified broom closet with a bunk bed and walls that reek of mold. The shower offers a faint hope of cleanliness but never quite delivers and the kitchen seems like it may have seen better days—though no one can say when. Still, at $8 a night, we’re hardly complaining.

Once rested, we walk to the Museum of Anthropology in Bosque de Chapultepec, where we get to look at a lot of models of prehistoric people and some big ol' fancy rocks and some cool vases. The architecture is equally stunning, its central courtyard shaded by an enormous, futuristic canopy with a waterfall centerpiece.
Afterward, we stock up on groceries and end the evening with drinks at a bar near the hostel, celebrating into my birthday.

For my 30th birthday, we head to Coyoacán, a colorful, bohemian and rich neighborhood. We get chilaquiles for breakfast—mine drenched in salsa verde, Joe’s in smoky salsa roja. We wander through bustling markets and take a walking tour that begins and ends at Frida Kahlo’s iconic blue house and leads us past murals and markets and pretty houses. The persistent drizzle does little to dampen my spirits, but does leave me slightly chilled all day. The mezcal at dinner warms me back up.

On Thursday, we stroll back to the park, this time to visit the Museum of Modern Art, where we’re treated to an incredible collection of 20th-century paintings, including works by Frida Kahlo, Margaret Keane, Remedios Varo and Diego Rivera.
We eat mango picante and drink horchata in the park before taking an Uber into the historic center. Street vendors line every corner, trying to sell everything from trinkets to food. I try a rich, aromatic Turkish coffee in a cafe, while Joe indulges in some street tacos al pastor.

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After our trip to the pyramids, we have one more day left and make good use of it by revisiting the Coyoacán neighborhood, this time mostly for the food. We finally get a quesadilla and some sopes and Mexican chocolate and despite my best efforts I cannot get myself to eat a scorpion at the market but do opt for some crickets instead.

Back at the hostel that night, we have a couple of beers with the people who live and work there, waiting in transit from countries further south for their entry to the United States. When the beer has swept away most of our inhibitions about staying up late before the early next morning, they take us dancing. Our Swiss moves fail to impress anyone but we enjoy ourselves nonetheless, until we feel it's time to call it a night and head back and crash, just to wake up a few hours later, pack and head to the airport.Read more