I like to think I am free from cultural biases, even subconscious ones, but being in Mexico City has taught me (once again) that I am not.
I have thought about coming to Mexico City for many years. Mostly, I longed to visit the world class Museum of Anthropology, and to stand on the site of the Templo Mayor, part of what remains of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire, where they believed the centre of the universe was located, and where the Spanish destroyed what they could and built on top of the rest.
I have been to Cuzco, where the Incas ruled their empire and it is amazing. But at its height, Tenochtitlan was the largest city in the pre-Columbian Americas, covering about 10 square kilometres. At the time of the coming of Cortes in 1519 about 200 years after the city was founded, it was home to between 200,000 and 300,000 people. Madrid at that time had perhaps 30,000 people. The palace of Montezuma had 100 rooms, each with its own bath. I don’t have the comparable figures for the Alcazar palace, but I’m thinking bathrooms would not have featured prominently in the design. Maybe a chute along the side wall of the tower for bodily functions and a metal tub for bathing used once a year?
When I thought of Mexico City, I had a vision of a polluted, overcrowded, dangerous metropolis that one entered at one’s peril; certainly not without a reliable, English speaking guide, preferably heavily armed.
A ton of Canadians flock to Mexican resorts every winter on one coast or another. (Snowbirds. Flock. Get it? I kill me.) By one estimate, there are more than than 125,000 Canadians living in the country of Mexico all year round – but only 2% of them live in Mexico City.
Is it because Mexico is closer to the U.S. and Canada that it is more often on our news feeds than countries like Peru or Bolivia? And almost always, it seems to me, everything we hear is a negative story about crime, corruption and poverty. The result, I think, is a certain paranoia about Mexico, at least outside the relatively safe confines of the big resorts and expat gated communities. I was given far more warnings and expressions of concern from far more people about traveling to Mexico City than I ever received when I went off to Ecuador or Chile on my own. Don’t take a taxi unless your hotel arranges it for you. Don’t talk to police officers; they’re probably corrupt and will shake you down. Be prepared to be robbed. Don’t rent a car and drive to the Mayans sites. You might be carjacked or kidnapped.
The result of all this is that I was far more nervous about navigating Mexico City solo than I have probably been about any other of the two dozen places or so I have tackled on my own, all over the world.
Over the next couple of weeks, I will be sharing the reality, as I experience it. But – spoiler alert – it has been a fantastic experience so far.
That said, the beginning of the drive from the airport didn’t dispel my preconceptions. There are over 8 million people here and it seemed to me most of them were in cars and buses crawling slowly down the roads in a fug of exhaust fumes.
But once we pulled off the big roads into the leafy neighbourhood of Condesa, where my housesit is, I was charmed. Wide streets have boulevards down the centre with leafy trees and iron benches.
All kinds of dogs were to be seen, but unlike Lima, where the dogs roam free and are often limping from having been struck by cars, here they are all on leashes, and many are being walked in groups by dog walkers.
As I started exploring on foot, I noticed many spots where water dishes are put down for the local canine population and even mats for them to have a rest.
The local Supermaxi grocery store has a place to park your dog while you’re shopping.
The apartment I am staying in has huge trees beside my balcony. It is in an area which is almost literally lined with restaurants and cafes selling just about every kind of food you could imagine: traditional Mexican fare (both tiny mom and pop places and upscale world class chef variety), sushi, burgers, ribs, crepes, Italian (again, both upscale and pizza parlours), seafood, pubs and sandwich shops. That same Supermaxi has a bakery that comes close to some I frequented in the south of France. Not the same. Not France after all. But close.
There are green spaces everywhere. I am within about a fifteen minute walk to the magnificent El Bosque de Chapultepec that, at 1695 acres is more than double the size of Central Park. Here you can find a zoo, multiple beautiful fountains, a variety of impressive monuments (including a Canadian totem pole), Aztec ruins, botanical gardens and at least six museums, including that National Anthropology Museum of my dreams, the National Museum of History in Chapultepec castle, and the Modern Art Museum. In fact, Trip Advisor tells us that there are over 150 museums in Mexico City.
A short walk in the other direction from my apartment brings me to the Parque de Espana and the Parque de Mexico. The latter is known for its Art Deco architecture. I passed through the Alameda park on the way back from El Centro the other day, near the Palacio das Bellas Artes, a fin de siecle wedding cake of a building.
My third day here, I ventured to flag down a cab. The driver couldn’t have been nicer, helping me along with my fractured Spanish. I arrived at the historic centre, and the plaza known as the Zocalo, where the first thing to meet my eyes (after a giant Christmas pinata) –
was people skating on a ring which had been constructed around – wait for it – a toboggan slide area.
Whatever I expected from Mexico City, it wasn’t winter sports.
I had a quick look into the Cathedral. Here I have to pause and say that compared to South American cathedrals I have seen in Quito, Cuenca and Santiago, I was not impressed.
Yes, it is the biggest in the Americas, but I found it to be squat, clumsy looking – even ugly. The interior boasts a beautiful altar.
But the ceiling was mostly unadorned and the choir (aside from the organ pipes) was not particularly impressive.
It did however have an totally awesome nativity scene with elephants and pyramids (I think they’re meant to be pyramids – at first I thought I was seeing teepees), lots of LED lights and a neon Star of David.
You don’t see that every day.
I walked around the ruins of the Aztec Templo Mayor, enjoying the serpents
and frogs
but saving the museum itself for another day.
I stopped to watch some people in Aztec costumes
dancing right behind the Cathedral, a cool example of religious beliefs making room for each other:
Then I walked all the way back to my apartment; a journey of about 8 or 9 kms all told, I figure. My eyes were busy trying to take in everything there was to be seen. The big impressive buildings and monuments, both old and new. The Fountain of Diana Cazadora (Diana the Huntress).
The Angel of Independence.
The white art Deco style National Lottery building, which looks like a modern temple.
The monument to Aztec leaders boasting cats (or lions?) with what looks like feathered manes as well as a vulture headed warrior; or possibly that’s an eagle perched atop the human torso. The eagle is a symbol of Mexico.
The public art was equally fascinating. What’sthe deal with the ape holding a banjo?
The fish (or sea serpent?) boat is carrying another fish or serpent family who seem to be going on a Sunday outing.
This piece reminded me of the Boat of Haida Gwai in our own Canadian Museum of History; one of my all time favourite sculptures.
I could spend a year here and still not discover everything Mexico City has to offer.
And the people! The innkeeper at the hotel I stayed at Casa Condesa Amatlan hotel could not have been more helpful. When I told him I was housesitting around the corner, he even invited me to come and ask him for help at any time during my stay, and loaded me up with maps and directions to good restaurants. When I expressed my concerns about taxis, he told me I should just jog across the street to him, and he would call one for me.
He insisted on taking my photo.
On my trek across the city, I asked all kinds of people for directions; police officers, security officers, a man with two little boys, a man and a woman at an Evangelical literature booth, an elderly woman in what looked like ethnic clothing, a young guy in a business suit carrying a briefcase. They were all patient with my bad Spanish. They were all polite and smiling.
I stopped at an ATM and no one tried to rob me. Quite the opposite.
A little further along the Paseo de la Reforma from the ATM, I stepped into a bike lane to get a better photo of a monument. Behind me, I head a man yelling, “Miss, Miss, excuse me Miss!” I stiffened up and ignored it, hoping he would go away. Stranger Danger, right? When I turned around however, he was still there.
And, he was holding my Visa card out towards me.
He had picked it up from the sidewalk, where he had seen it drop out from my purse as he walked along behind me. I’m guessing I hadn’t put it away properly when I left the ATM. He refused my thanks, asked God to bless me and walked rapidly away before I could gather my wits together enough to offer him a reward of some kind.
Maybe I will encounter other, worse days, with other, worse people. But nothing that happens from here on in, will change the fact that I’m in love with Mexico City.