Mexico City - 4

This would be our last full day in the city that captured my heart so quickly. It was also the day the street food finally caught up with me.

But that didn't matter. The trip was nearing its conclusion and we still had things to see.

The morning started with a croissant from a local shop, washed down with coffee. The one thing that disappointed me on the trip was the coffee. For some reason - and I have no explanation for this - I expected the coffee to be better. In general it was weak and lacked bold flavors. But the croissants were excellent, and as an American I'm used to weak coffee, so it was okay.

Near our hotel in the old city is the National Palace. I could make all sorts of arguments that calling the seat of power a palace is related to many of Mexico's troubles; but I was on vacation and a visitor, so I won't.

It was very cool.

The Palace opens at 9:00 and we were up well before that, so we wandered around the neighborhoods. In the old city there are dozens of churches. Many are in need of repair, but are nonetheless beautiful structures, maybe in part because of their dirty facades with weeds growing out of the cracks that have formed. Maybe they are a good metaphor for what happens to a society that neglects its moral underpinnings (and I'm talking about my own, here). Beauty neglected is still beautiful in its own way, perhaps because we see things as they were, or could have been, or still could someday be.

Those churches we visited were not tourist destinations. We visited the national cathedral as well, a spectacular building. I prefer the smaller places that aren't as photogenic. Behind the Palace we saw places that are anchors for their neighborhoods, places of safety in neighborhoods whose struggles are visible on the faces of its inhabitants and colorfully illustrated by the graffiti painted on every surface.

Only one other obvious tourist was there, another good sign.

Finally the palace was open and we went inside.

I admit to having a naturally rebellious nature; that's why terms like Palace give me an immediate negative reaction without first considering why it is called that. Some would say it's part of being an American, but that's not it; my nation isn't immune from romanticizing people in power and putting on pedestals people who have no right to be there. It's part of my Appalachian culture, at least how that culture was imparted to me.

There was great beauty in the Palace, a focus on history to remind us of what it was like in an era when the struggle for recognition was closely tied to the whims of our European overlords. Mexico's path was different than America's; but the similarities are tangible and should be a reminder that my country's Southern neighbor isn't so different than my own.

One thing in the Palace that reminded me of how different Mexico is. Gardeners were trimming the hedges and working on the topiary, and lying on the wall a fifty feet away from the nearest gardener was a machete. In the Palace. It's something unimaginable in America, where our concern for things overwhelms us and prohibits us from being human. My first instinct was amazement; my second, envy at an environment that laid back. An official laughingly reminded the gardeners to not leave a machete lying around, and they all laughed about it. That is awesome.

From the Palace we headed back to Chapultepec after a quick stop in our room. That morning I was reminded that communication is truly bi-directional. I could ask for directions to a bathroom; but I didn't have the language skills to understand the instructions on how to actually get to one.

First we needed lunch. We headed back to La Condessa. Specifically: Azul Condessa.

Some food is so pretty you are hesitant to eat it. Such was the case with my salad at Azul. Brilliant presentation, something I rarely care much about. Eat it I did, and it was wonderful. The only thing better than the food was the service. Kind, professional, attentive without being oppressive. And the setting was incredible, a place that inspires conversation and relaxation.

From Azul we walked the short distance to the castle at Chapultepec, again appreciating the quiet streets of Condessa. It was a rambling trip. Our legs were tired from the previous day's long trek. And in the end we didn't go into the castle. The entry fee felt a bit high and we were both tired. We got as far as the gate and turned around, preferring the serenity of a park bench to the crowds at the castle.

Somewhat refreshed from our siesta in the park, we hopped on the subway, and then to the hotel for a bit. Finally we headed off for supper. Our destination was Bosforo, but we were a little disappointed in the offerings. No, that's not entirely correct; the offerings didn't mesh with what we wanted. We had a drink and looked for another place, but didn't find anything that we could say with certainty that we wanted. In the end we went to a restaurant that we contemplated on our first night, a seafood place across from the Palacio de Belles Artes. It wasn't the greatest meal I'd ever had, but far from the worst.

Mexico City - 3

You get a feel for a place when you walk around that you cannot get from a car. There's nothing wrong with moving around by car; Uber is very cheap in Mexico City, and we made use of it later in our trip. But on our second day we walked. A lot.

We planned to go on foot from our hotel to Chapultepec Castle. Well, that was our intent, anyway. It's around six miles or so, depending on how you go, and the way we went was over fifteen miles round trip. The most direct path might be a straight line, but it's rarely the most interesting, and we wandered a lot, referring to Google Maps periodically to get our bearings.

The day started with churros and hot chocolate. Mexican hot chocolate is something I never knew existed until that morning. My wife guided us to a well-reviewed local shop: El Moro (Eje Central Lázaro Cárdenas 42, Centro Histórico). I knew what a churro was, but I have to apologize to all of my Mexican friends because the only reason I knew was because of Taco Bell. I never ate one at Taco Bell; but I had seen the ads.

It's obvious to say that El Moro was not Taco Bell.

We ordered a plate of churros and I got a Spanish hot chocolate. That was a mistake. I should have gotten the standard Mexican hot chocolate. I don't know why I didn't get the standard, but I will forever regret it. The Spanish hot chocolate was like a cup of melted chocolate. It was very good, but incredibly thick. I don't know if it was a faux pas, but we dipped our churros in the cup because the consistency was more of a sauce than a drink.

Those churros were amazing. No other words are needed. If you are nearby you should go; if you're not nearby, you should go. You should just go.

From there we wandered over to the main boulevard; Paseo De La Reforma.

That street has a lot of major hotels and tall buildings with international company logos. The street has massive roundabouts with fountains and statues in the middle. The sides of the road are like a long park. There are abundant restaurants.

As we approached Chapultepec, we knew something was wrong. There weren't a lot of people around. Turns out we had made a rookie mistake and didn't confirm if the park was open. You should never make assumptions when traveling, and we had.

Never ones to let something like that get in our way, we pulled out our phones, got our bearings on Google Maps, and headed to our next destination: La Condesa.

The La Condesa neighborhood is on the upscale end of the spectrum. There are cafes that face out to tree-lined boulevards. Traffic is light. Pedestrians are common. We headed to Lardo, a nice gastropub /coffee shop on the corner of Augustin Melgar and Avenida Mazatlan, near the roundabout. There was a short wait. My wife walked around taking pictures while I sat and rested my tired feet. After the crowds of the historic district, it was refreshing to be in a place of relative quiet and peace.

I ordered a croissant and latte, my wife a latte. We ate at the bar and talked. That in itself was interesting. Our son, 18, was on a trip of his own. My wife and I hadn't taken a vacation together - just the two of us - in a very long time. It's frightening. We are a tight family. When my son was younger he and I would take trips to Florida to watch spring baseball, because my wife didn't have any interest in that; and she had gone on solo trips a few times. But Mexico City was the first trip as a married couple since before my son was born.

It's a good thing we still like each other.

From Lardo we walked around the area before wandering back towards our hotel. The City Park was excellent, with workout equipment and dog walkers and a massive playground for children. Along the way back we ate some street food and talked about the interesting buildings around us. At the Plaza de la Republica we encountered a heavy police presence, which can be somewhat frightening.

That night we headed towards a restaurant that my wife had anticipated visiting, but we gave up as the streets grew darker and the people fewer. Instead, we ate excellent tacos and a nice quesadilla at a small restaurant, where we encountered that most despised of tourists, the person that thinks talking in English really loud makes up for no understanding of the language. We laughed; we weren't good at Spanish, but we tried.

My wife slept well, and, as with every vacation, I had trouble falling asleep. Life's stresses weighed on me, work was going in completely the wrong direction, and I was at a loss for what to do. It didn't help that the street outside our window was busy with either cars or yelling people.

Eventually, though, I slept, and deeply.

Mexico City - 2

Some people travel and seek out the comforts of home. Others, to leave those comforts behind. Neither approach is necessarily right or wrong; travel is the best way to relax while also broadening our minds, and far be it from me to define what that means for another person. We spend far to much energy criticizing the way others live their lives, creating that counterpoint humans seem to need to make us feel good about ourselves.

I grew up on those vacations. Myrtle Beach every year, before we discovered Panama City Beach. Those were great trips. Then my dad and I would do these long drives to wherever the hell we wanted to go, as long as it was in Florida, which I never really understood. But while at the time I wanted to go anyplace BUT Florida, now, as a grown man and father, I get it. Dad was blue collar; he didn't want to work on his vacation, but needed to relax and play, and that's what we did.

As a white collar drone, I seek vacations that get me out into the wild. Places where I can disconnect from email and the incessant complaints that it is never enough, whatever it is. One good thing about my job is that I get to travel a lot, though this year that has been cut down drastically; I have tried to explain that travel is the one component of my job that doesn't stress me out. People don't get that, I'm afraid; travel does, in fact, stress people out, much of the time. Not for me. There is a very simple pleasure in getting on a plane, or even standing in the security line, watching people, looking at the process they go through. I love people. I love processes. The mechanics of life, little things, fascinate me.

Our flight was a little after 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday. The day before, our son drove with is friends to Florida. He'll be off at college in the fall, and the Mexico City trip would be the first vacation my wife and I have taken - as a couple - in almost eighteen years. Strange to think about in that way.

It's cheap to fly to Mexico City. Technically late May is the off season. It's the hottest month of the year. Sometime in June the rainy season starts, then the hurricane season, and then in December the high season ramps up. lasting until Easter or mid spring. The flight was uneventful.

Immigration was quick and efficient. Less than a half hour after touching down we were outside the airport waiting for our Uber.

It's a short trip to downtown from the airport, a few miles (give or take, depending on your destination). It's possible to take the train, a bus, taxi, or Uber. All of these options are good. We chose Uber for the simplicity; it's a little cheaper than the taxi, quite a bit more than the bus or subway.

A half hour later we were checking in to our hotel. By four in the afternoon we were walking the streets.

Our hotel was the Hotel Ritz Mexico. The hotel was very affordable. Reading the reviews for hotels in foreign countries is always fun; you can tell which of the writers is an experienced traveler because those that aren't complain about things that you should know about in advance. Like the lack of air conditioning. In much of the world, hotel rooms don't have AC, especially in the mid-range hotels (or lower). And you learn that is the norm in Mexico City after a little research. Yet many people take off a few stars for this, which is unfair.

That afternoon we went to the Palacio de Bellas Artes, a short ten minute walk from the hotel. The pedestrian street was crowded, and I was annoyingly paranoid about the security of my wife's camera, which I felt she was carrying far too insecurely. (After some very direct commentary from her, I lightened up a bit.) The museum is free on Sunday, though you still have to get a ticket, which was an odd waste of paper; and they told my wife to check her backpack, even though plenty of people were walking around with their backpacks. We were more impressed with the architecture of the museum than with the exhibits, and we were done in a half hour.

And we were hungry.

Food in the old downtown is a fun adventure. There are a thousand choices of places to eat, but most serve basically the same things. After wandering around we opted for The House of Tiles.

You can't miss the building. It is a gorgeous facade of blue and white tiles, spectacular and beautiful. We learned quickly that finding a waiter who speaks English wouldn't always be easy, but with our fumbling Spanish (thanks Dora! Seriously. I think that's where I learned Spanish.) and their fumbling English, combined with Google Translate, we were able to get some food.

As the day wore down to evening, we found ourselves in a very large Sears that faces the Palacio de Bellas Artes. There is a cafe there with a view over the Palacio. It was small and crowded, the coffee was mediocre. But the view cannot be beat. Sometimes in travel you have to simply stop. Cease movement and you notice the movement around you. No longer do you react to that ebb and flow. You become the constant, everything else the variable.

We sought that out on this trip. Not consciously. There was no intent. Not really. Yet there we were, on top of a mega-Sears, drinking shitty coffee while looking North across one of the world's largest cities, with an old palatial building dominating the view. There we were. Just sitting, talking, and enjoying... nothing, really. There wasn't anything particularly great about any of it. Our table didn't even have a view.

But we stopped doing. We stopped caring. We stopped worrying.

We wandered around some after that and wound up at a taco chain restaurant that was hands down the best tacos I've ever had up to that point (that situation improved). Then we wandered to the hotel, took a shower under this shower that came from straight above and shot out in ten directions, mostly down if slightly askance.

I didn't sleep. I never sleep. I want to have more than five hours of sleep a night, and that was my vacation goal. But the world outside our window was loud late into the night.

Mexico City - 1

There are many anxieties that seep in when thinking about travel to Mexico that isn't one of the major resorts. As is the way with the world, negatives often overpower positives. We are fed the doom and gloom, no matter how much we might crave the happiness and light.

Initially Mexico City was going to be a family trip over Spring Break. Then my son got accepted into a good university and we had to go visit that campus. Eventually we found time to go; my son was on a trip to the beach with his friends, so it would be the first trip by my wife and me as empty nesters.

Mexico City in the off season is fairly cheap; and it's not a very risky off season, which is very long thanks to the rainy season and the persistent threat of hurricanes during the summer and autumn. We went in late May, Memorial Day Weekend (plus a couple of days). The average temp was supposed to be upper seventies; Mother Nature decided to be an overachiever, though, and it grew steadily hotter every day we were there, peaking at ninety on the Wednesday we left.

Understand that, for me, ninety isn't all that hot. I'm from Tennessee. From July to early September we long for days with a high temperature of only ninety. Plus, we have humidity, the sort that feels like a physical weight on your body, pressing in from all sides.

But damn it was hot. We found ourselves often walking east-west through the historic district, so there was almost no shade. And when there was, people crowded into it making it very crowded on one side of the street and almost empty in the middle.

Finding shade became an obsession, and my wife and I were quick studies. I have no accurate way of knowing how much the temperature dropped in the shade. It was enough to make a difference, even if it was just a light pole. You might laugh at that, but I challenge you to try it. 

Another tidbit: our hotel had no air conditioner. There was a fan. And a window, the sort that tilted in from the top. That worried me a lot on day one. But the problem with our room wasn't the temperature; at night temps dropped to the mid fifties, and the room became cold enough to need a light blanket. The problem was the noise from outside.

Mexico City is a noisy place. That's a generalization, of course; for the most part we stayed around the historic district. And one person's "noisy" is another's "lively." It's hard to keep a city of nine million people quiet.

One final general note: there are some parts of Mexico City that are not safe. Mexico has a bad reputation for gang activity, kidnapping, etc. But never once did we feel nervous, other than the way you should feel nervous in a big city, such as when you find yourself on a deserted dark street at night. Because that's what Mexico City is: a big - huge - metropolitan area with all sorts of people. Cities are melting pots. Of course there are gangs in Mexico City. There are parts of Los Angeles that I wouldn't go to if I was paid. It's a fact of life that there are bad people in the world.

Having said that, it is incongruous that a nation of such incredibly nice people can actually have such violent elements. Because that was the big takeaway from the trip: despite the obvious hardships of life, people were smiling, laughing, always willing to help. Nobody bumped into you on the street, and when I sneezed there would be a few people calling "salud" from the crowd. I've seen this before, both in my home in rural Appalachia and in India: the more poor people are, the happier they seem to be. There are lessons there, I'm sure, and complex reasons. Perhaps it's best summed up as this: hardship makes you appreciate life. Humanity has tens - hundreds - of thousands of years of evolution behind that. Hard living was just the way it has been for us. The easy life was unknown for pretty much everyone in your and my family tree.

Mexico City is just a nice place.

More on the particulars of the trip in Part 2.