The Tequila Diaries: Mexican Adventures, Part 2

Greetings from Patzcuaro! This tiny little place—hailed by my Frommer's guide as "perhaps the loveliest town in Mexico"—is a real stunner. After getting to my hotel earlier, I decided to take a stroll around. I literally felt as if I'd stumbled into some massive movie set from the good old days. It's a picture-perfect village, and I can't wait to see it in the early morning—for I know I'll be awake at the crack of dawn to explore! Yes, the last stage of my Mexican adventure is about to begin. But before it does, I have some more adventures to catch you up on! Gather round the fire—yes, there's a fireplace in my room here at Meson de San Antonio—to hear the tale of Tulum and the myth of Morelia!

The last time I checked in with my loyal readers was the morning after our arrival in Tulum. Heidi and I had touched down in Cancun late in the afternoon the day before, promptly connecting with our driver and stocking up on massive frozen margaritas to sustain us for the duration of the approximately ninety-minute journey from airport to resort.

The place, Dreams Tulum, was—in a word—amazing. A few more: stunning, sprawling, immaculate and luxurious to excess. What’s more, we had booked ourselves in the deluxe (adults only) section of the resort, which meant that our room included swim out access to the pool, direct from our own private terrace. For several hours each afternoon, a dedicated waiter roamed about taking drink orders. Another tequila sunrise, por favor.

About five minutes’ walk from our hacienda was the beach, which included a special, exclusive area for the use of deluxe guests. In addition to beach chairs, there were also private cabanas, our room including one day’s worth of complimentary access.

Food and drinks were bountiful, err, make that boundless, from amazing chilaquiles for breakfast (Rojo or verde? Carne or pollo?), again, in an exclusive dining room reserved for our use, to constant margaritas as we lounged on the white sand.

It would have been oh-so easy—and I’m sure Heidi and I would have both been easily forgiven—had we never ventured past the imposing front gates of Dreams. But, being the motivated individuals that we are, we made the effort to see a little of the surrounding area.

Tulum is perhaps most famous for its ancient ruins, perched precariously on a bluff overlooking the turquoise waters of the Caribbean and augmented by gentle trade winds that seem to infuse the air with an aura of enchantment. Powerful waves crash below, and the majestic ruins are the quintessence of everything you envision about your Mexican adventure before setting off.

So we awoke early that Thursday morning, immediately ordered a cab, and made the short trek up the coast to the site, arriving just after opening to beat the crowds who’d soon be pouring in. Snapping photos and enjoying the tranquil scene in relative silence, I was so happy we opted to put in the additional effort. The payoff was immense, wandering from one ancient structure to the next, learning of their histories, and soaking up not only the man-made aspects of the site but also its incredible natural beauty, complemented by the presence of dozens of gruff-looking iguanas.

Of course, I just had to pop into the Starbucks near the exit so I could snag a new mug for my collection. But after that quick coffee, we were back en route to Dreams for the rest of the day. Having checked a major item off our to do list, we were still early enough to indulge in breakfast (another mimosa, por favor) before heading to the beach. And it was there that I finally got a chance to meet Colleen, the lovely bride-to-be, and a posse of her friends.

Later that morning, by the pool a few meters away, I met groom Greg and his buddies. And as the tequila shots began flowing, the afternoon just dissipated in a mélange of sun, surf and celebration.

That evening would be our one and only chance to discover the town of Tulum, so I’m sure you can guess that Heidi and I took full advantage. As I mentioned, our resort was all-inclusive, so there was really no need to indulge in an off-site meal. But it seemed silly to us to arrive just on the cusp of a world-famous town yet never bother to venture a mere mile or two further to properly explore it.

Our first choice of restaurant couldn’t accommodate us, since a large part of their exposed garden was out of commission due to an afternoon shower. But as we explored its neighbors, Heidi recognized another eatery that had come highly recommended by friends: Gitano.

So in we went.

Gitano (that's Spanish word for gypsy, in case you are curious) is set in a hidden garden a few steps off the sandy main strip of Tulum. With dim lights, swaying palms and well-spaced tables, it proved a perfect venue for our meal of shrimp tacos, ceviche and whole roasted fish. And as an uber-trendy crowd of Tulum’s most beautiful people filtered in, it felt like the Hollywood jet-set had invaded this supposedly once sleepy little fishing hamlet.

And back at Dreams afterwards we reconnected with our wedding crew, sipping tequila and sodas well into the night.

Friday was our dedicated cabana day. After more chilaquiles—and more mimosas—we migrated from dining room to playa, where we plopped down on our comfy cushions and lazily whiled the rest of the day away.

But by mid-afternoon, we had to make an executive decision. Saturday would be a full-on wedding day, and I was heading to the airport very early on Sunday morning. Therefore, if wanted to check the third item off our Tulum to do list, we’d have to do it now! The attraction in question was a visit to a cenote, and it had been recommended by, well, by pretty much everyone who offered advice on what to do in Tulum. So, I’m sure you’ve already guessed that another taxi ride was in order.

For those of my readers unfamiliar with cenotes—and I counted myself among you until I started researching for this trip—they are basically freshwater pools that form naturally when the roof of a cave collapses, exposing the water below. With cool, crystal-clear water and intriguing stalactite and stalagmite formations, not to mentioned turtles and bats, the cenotes of this part of Mexico are one of the region’s most appealing attractions.

We had just enough time at our cenote of choice, the Grand Cenote, before it closed that afternoon. Our taxi waited as we swam about the cold waters and explored the various tunnels and dark passages that lead away from the main pool, before we headed back to the resort for the rehearsal dinner.

Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely sure we were making the right choice when we opted to leave the all-inclusive grandeur of Dreams to embark on yet another excursion. Putting this recap together now, in hindsight, I can’t believe we even debated skipping out!

The next day’s wedding was lovely, with the ceremony in a little garden, cocktail hour on a rooftop terrace overlooking the sea, and dinner on the beach itself, our feet in the sand. A seam in my pants had ripped at some point during my travels, and earlier in the day, I was in a bit of a panic as to how to save the situation. Enter heroic Heidi, who called her ever-trusty mom, who, in turn, talked Heidi through some emergency seamstress tips. Thanks to their joint action, my dance moves continued unabated throughout the long, extravagant evening.

Like that, it was Sunday morning. My sojourn in Tulum had come to an end. And it was also time for Heidi and I to part ways, as I flew back to Mexico City to continue my adventures, while she had a few precious hours to savor at Dreams’ spa before returning to New York for work on Monday.

I had initially planned to fly straight from Cancun directly to my next destination, without a stopover in Mexico City. However, Sunday was Oscar night, and Alfonso Cuaron’s family epic Roma was nominated for a whopping ten awards! The city was over-the-moon with pride, and had organized an outdoor showing of the ceremony, live in the Roma neighborhood where the film was set. For a movie buff like me, watching the Oscars is always a must. And the rare opportunity to watch them on a huge screen in a communal setting was unmissable.

So after plopping down in a Starbucks near El Angel to sort my plans (and, it must be confessed, to snag Mexico City’s mug), I walked to Plaza Rio de Janiero, where the telecast was being shown.

I was immediately reminded how much I had fallen in love with the place. The simple walk past lively squares, gorgeous buildings and inviting cafes, all brimming with friendly people, made me wonder whether I’d be better served to simply spend the coming days exploring more of this fascinating city.

Roma did well at the Oscars, racking up major wins for Best Cinematography, Best Foreign Language Film and, perhaps most prestigiously, Best Director for Cuaron. It was amazing to be a part of the crowd when each of those categories was announced.

Though when Julia Roberts revealed that Green Book had emerged victorious over Roma in the Best Picture race, there was an undeniably disappointed moan from the gathered viewers, I can safely say that I’ll never forget Oscar night 2019. The masses quickly dispersed following the loss, and I couldn’t help but wonder if a massive, impromptu street party would have ensued had Oscar voters delivered a different verdict. But, on the plus side, I was spared the decision of sticking around or making tracks. I was able to hop an Uber straight to the bus station to proceed to my next destination: Morelia in the state of Michoacán.

I arrived in the middle of the night without any reservation, and when my taxi dropped me in the main square near the cathedral, it was clear that Morelia is a city that sleeps. There was nary a soul in sight, but I quickly found one of the hotels endorsed by my trusty Frommer’s guide, Hotel Casino, where the night staff helped me settle into a room.

Now Mexico City is a massive capital of nearly nine million people. And Tulum is a tiny tourist town with a permanent population of less than twenty thousand. So part of the reason I selected Morelia for my next destination is that it offered a sort of middle-ground, a provincial capital city with slightly more than half a million inhabitants. It was a perfect choice, and although I really only had one full day to properly soak up Morelia, it’s a place I highly recommend visiting.

That day started, as I’m sure you can imagine, fairly early. And although I caught a few glimpses of its beauty the night before, it’s a place that really needs sunshine to showcase its beauty.

The buildings in Morelia are mostly constructed from a distinct sort of local volcanic rock. Lent a pink hue by nature, these stones subtly change color based on the hour, as the sun’s light—variously soft in the morning, strong at midday and soft again at twilight—seems to shade the churches, government buildings and monuments with unanticipated rosy shades at different times of the day. It’s downright stunning, and I found myself repeatedly photographing the same structures time and again, trying to capture the nuanced tones.

My room rate at Hotel Casino included a delightful breakfast, more memorable perhaps for its amiable setting than strictly for the food itself, but I’m not complaining. I enjoyed fresh fruit, pastries, coffee and juice on the cool, arcade-covered sidewalk, looking across to the Plaza de Armas and the town’s ethereal cathedral.

After breakfast, I set off on Frommer’s designated walking tour, exploring the interior of the cathedral and the Palacio del Gobierno, housing the offices of some of the town’s officials. Once inside the complex, a series of colorful, extensive murals recount tales from Michoacán history, while the cathedral’s stately towers stand guard above the roofline.

The city is full of majestic buildings, and the whole place has an air of refined nobility, from the Hotel Virrey de Mendoza to the Convent of San Francisco, which now doubles as a museum-cum-market of local handicrafts.

When pangs of hunger struck, I took refuge at Restaurante Los Mirasoles, with a charming interior courtyard, complete with fountains and paintings. There was no English menu, but with the combination of free wi-fi and Google translate, I was able to order a hearty pork mole. And I loved it.

In the afternoon—after hitting up some local Starbucks locations only to disappointedly discover the town’s mug has been discontinued, or, at least, was collectively out of stock that day—I was back on the tourist trail, starting at Morelia’s graceful colonial aqueduct.

Parallel to the aqueduct is a long, shady walkway called La Calzada Dray Antonio de San Miguel, where scenes from the 1947 Tyrone Power classic Captain from Castile were shot. The elegant Calzada is lined with stone benches from end to end, and during my stroll, leaves were cinematically dropping from the trees. You could immediately understand why director Henry King chose to film part of his movie here.

At the far end of the pathway sits a somewhat inconspicuous-looking church dedicated to San Diego. Its ordinary exterior, however, gives way to the most ostentatiously excessive neo-Baroque interior I’ve ever seen: all blue, pink and gold! I had to sit down for a minute, I was so overwhelmed.

Back outside, sunset was approaching, and I walked along the town’s main street, ducking into one last church on the way. Then I headed up to the rooftop bar of the hotel next door to my own, Hotel Mision, where a stunning vista awaited.

Complemented by two-for-one Coronas, the view was simply stellar. I snagged a window table and gazed out over the gorgeous panorama, taking in the now-illuminated twin bell towers of the cathedral, a dozen or so other spires and the sights of the town, all backed up by mountains.

But it was the next day, Tuesday, that I had been waiting for most anxiously! You see, I checked out Frommer’s Mexico from the Hong Kong Public Library months ago to start making plans for this trip, and I read the whole thing cover to cover. Pretty much from the start, the one thing that jumped off the page and captured my imagination was a visit to a Michoacán butterfly sanctuary during the annual monarch migration, which only occurs between November and March. Luckily, Hotel Casino helped to book me a spot on a guided tour.

The experience was incredible. Firstly, our friendly group of nine (including the knowledgeable guide-cum-driver), made the three-hour ride in each direction fly by, especially with the passing scenery of Michoacán, purported to be one of Mexico’s most beautiful states. I could tell we were nearing the sanctuary when those iconic orange-and-black flyers began making sporadic appearances, gradually growing more frequent until there was a near-constant butterfly presence.

But it was not until we arrived at our destination and got out of the van that I realized how truly breathtaking and unforgettable the day would be. Up in the forested hills—which I scaled on horseback—there were millions of them! That’s not a turn of the phrase or merely an expression. In fact, the guide estimated there were twenty-five million monarchs fluttering about that day. I made friends with an American tourist named Jen, and she and I walked through the woods, where we both couldn't stop ooh-ing and aah-ing at the natural spectacle on display all around us. 

But those butterflies (or flutter-bys, as Jen preferred to call them) were everywhere! In times of cloudy cover, the vast majority clung to tree branches, which literally bent under the strain, though, of course, a fair number of the little critters were always gliding in the breeze. But when the clouds parted and the sun came out, the masses hit the move! All of a sudden, the air became filled with wings, and I’ll never forget the first moment it happened.

Looking up, the closest insects were clearly discernible, the details of their wings visible to the naked eye. Every now and then, one might even accidentally fly into one of the visitors! Higher, vague outlines of the butterfly shape were at least somewhat clear for an instant, as they quickly moved in and out of view. But, perhaps most memorable of all, were the unclassifiable black dots whirring about beneath the clouds, way overhead, by far the largest group.

Then the clouds would overtake the sun again, and the frenzied flurrying would diminish to a trickle, the tree branches again wilting as the monarchs latched on. But a few moments later, with the return of the sunshine, the spectacle would begin anew.

Between goosebumps and giddy giggles, I must have snapped a hundred photographs and videos before deciding that I should just put the camera down and live in the moment. Dependably, I’d reach back in my pocket shortly thereafter, again attempting to capture the most stunning natural phenomenon I’ve ever had the privilege to witness.

Back in Morelia, I took a last stroll around town and ordered an Uber to Patzcuaro, where I’ve booked a room for tonight at the Meson de San Antonio. In a perfect world, my trip to Mexico would have been much more leisurely. I wish I could have rented a car upon arrival and moved about the entire country at my pleasure, stopping in a place until I was ready to move to the next. Had that been the case, I’m sure I would have stayed at least a few more days in Morelia—and maybe even an extra night at one of the anonymous country inns near the butterfly sanctuary! But if I wanted to see Patzcuaro and one more as-yet-unconfirmed final destination before my flight home, it was time to go.

And, well, here I am… And what a day it’s been! I can hardly believe I breakfasted at the Hotel Casino this morning, spent six hours driving about the gorgeous state of Michoacán, witnessed the mind-boggling spectacle of the butterfly migration, and now, am finally settled down before the fireplace in this gorgeous little inn. I’m so excited to hit the cobbled streets of Patzcuaro in the early hours tomorrow. Stay tuned to hear all about it, as I write the final chapters of my escapades in Mexico!

The Mezcal Diaries: Mexican Adventures, Part 1

Greetings from Tulum! After four fun-filled days in Mexico City, Heidi and I have moved on to our second destinations, where we are going to celebrate the wedding of her friends Colleen and Greg, in addition to exploring the Mayan wonders of this historic locale and a bit of R&R. As we get ready to head out for our first day, here's a re-cap of our amazing jaunt around the frenetic capital!

I touched down in Mexico City around 4pm on Saturday, after my whirlwind romp through Los Angeles. It was easy enough to arrange an Uber from the airport to the hotel, where Heidi was eagerly awaiting my arrival. Having flown in from Newark earlier that day, she had held off exploring until I got there, and we pretty much set out straight away!

Heidi, as you all probably know, is one of my best friends from Villanova, and we’ve managed to maintain our friendship over the past ten years in spite of living on different continents. I always catch up with her during my frequent trips home, and she even made it out to Asia in 2016, visiting me in Hong Kong before we both set off to Siem Reap, Cambodia, on a grand adventure.

So when she got invited to a wedding in Tulum, I guess I was a good choice to be her ‘plus one.’ Hong Kong and Mexico are far apart, to be sure, but when she asked if I wanted to tag along, I decided it was too good a travel opportunity to pass up.

To make the long-haul flight worthwhile, we decided to tack on some extra time in Mexico City before heading to Tulum. And in the end, I wound up adding an entire second extra leg to my itinerary, after Heidi returns to New York.

For the past several weeks, I’ve been getting very excited for the trip, and doing boatloads of research. And I’ve really enjoyed watching people’s reactions when I told them I was flying to Mexico to attend the wedding of two people I’ve never met!

My buddy (and former roomie) Maxime lived in Mexico City for the immediate four years preceding his move to Hong Kong in 2016. It’s always been one of his favorite topics of conversation, and I took full advantage of his passion by getting a whole list of suggestions – in addition to an introduction to one of his good local friends, Arturo, who promised to show Heidi and me a night on the town.

And Maxime wasn’t the only one. My buddy Omar is actually from Mexico, and we met for a tasty Sichuan lunch a few days before my departure so he could also load me up with tips. And there were plenty of other friends who were more than happy to recommend must-visit destinations and must-try dishes.

So, with all my own research and the tips which flowed freely from my circle, I was uncontrollably excited to finally see Heidi open the door of room 507 of Hotel Catedrale, our accommodation in the capital city.

Maxime had recommended a rooftop patio above a bookstore near the main square, or zocalo, and Heidi discovered from Google that the place was literally a two-minute walk from the hotel’s front doors.

We found an open table, plopped down and promptly ordered a round of Micheladas, an intriguing concoction of beer mixed with lime juice and spices, all served in a salt-rimmed glass.

As the sunset over the city, Heidi and I caught up with one another, and began laying out an itinerary for the coming days. There was so much to do in Mexico City, and we were pretty certain it would take a lot more than four days to check all the items off our communal “to do list.” So it became clear from the start that some things would be left undone.

Discovering that a Max-approved restaurant was also within walking distance, Heidi and I set off on foot to find Azul Historico for dinner. Just strolling the streets from bar to eatery gave me promising indications that I was going to love this place. Every avenue was full of life, all the buildings seemed to tell a story, the smells of the various street food stalls were incredibly aromatic, and I immediately got the feeling that this was my kind of town.

Azul Historico took our name and told us a table wouldn’t be available for about an hour. We decided to find a local bar to grab a drink or, perhaps, a taco to tide us over—as I hadn’t eaten since the night before—but the place we stumbled upon was so darn tempting, that, in addition to another round of Micheladas, we also ordered generous helpings of tacos al pastor and heavenly gringas, plus a delicious flan for our postre (dessert). So stuffed were Heidi and myself that we didn’t bother returning to Azul Historico. It was time for a night on the town.

With only one Saturday in the city, we had to make the most of our evening. To soak in the real flavor of Mexico, we headed to Plaza Garibaldi, the capital’s Mariachi mecca. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Picture hundreds of musicians, with multiple bands spread across the square all playing at the same time, a dissonant symphony of brass and guitars and accordions, all mixed with singers and boisterous revelers adding their voices to the mélange. A dozen or more bars and cafés spill out onto the plaza, and the bands wander from one place to the next, hoping a table will hire them to play a few songs.

Heidi and I first plopped down at a pulqueria called La Hermosa Hortensia. They had a variety of fruit-flavored pulques, in addition to a style called origanle. Since I’d never sampled the spirit before, it seemed logical to me to start with its original form before experimenting with other varietals.

My immediate reaction upon tasting the cloudy contents of my pulque was akin to Lucy Ricardo taking her first tablespoonful of Vitameatavegamin. I don’t think I could hide my disgust from Heidi, who just burst out laughing. But, strange as it may seem, just like Lucy, I was in love with the stuff by the time I got to the bottom of the glass. It really grew on me.

We then hopped a few meters away to another bar and ordered our first round of Coronas, followed by our first of many tequila shots of the trip. The bands were still wandering about, and Heidi and I were just loving the ambiance.

But the star attraction of Plaza Garibaldi, according to Max and other friends, at least, was a raucous bar called Tenampa. So we made our way to that corner of the square and were seated in the midst of a cacophonous frenzy. There was more Mariachi, more tequila and another round of Coronas, complemented by a crowd that was clearing digging the scene.

As a last stop, we plopped down at the relatively subdued Museo de Tequila y Mezcal, our fourth bar of the night. We’d started with pulque, moved to Corona, sampled several tequilas, and, so, it seemed fitting to finish things off with a nightcap of mezcal, a cousin of tequila that many aficionados prefer to its more internationally renowned relative. Watching the square quiet down, the last of the revelers stumbling homeward, I couldn’t help feeling like we’d just witnessed—and, in fact, been a part of—a quintessentially Mexican Saturday evening. What a splendid introduction to this fascinating place!

The icing on the cake (or, in this case, the lime squeezed on the tacos) was during our nocturnal crawl back to our hotel, which included multiple pit-stops for unbelievably delicious late night street food, and friendly chats with the local barflies who were still stirring at that late hour.

Sunday began surprisingly early, the Mexican sun warming the timeworn cobblestones of the monumental zocalo, where Heidi and I entered the squat, hulking Metropolitan Cathedral for mass. I always enjoy attending a church service in a foreign language, and the interior of the cathedral was downright gorgeous, adding to our spiritual high.

Post-service, we linked up with Heidi’s friend Molly who also happened to be in town, for a day cruising along the ancient Aztec canals of Xochimilco. Loaded up with Micheladas and tons of supplementary beer, we headed off on our brightly colored trajinera (named Jurginus), the old school style boat that is ubiquitous on these waterways.

Hundreds of other boats—and thousands of other passengers, mostly, it seemed, crammed with Mexican families enjoying their weekend together—floated down the crowded channels alongside Jurginus, with names like Margarita, Ximena, Victoria, Valentina, Vesenia, Conchita, Princesa and Isabel. I wondered how we lucked out to get the one with the most elegant name.

Many of our floating neighbors had hired mariachi bands to join them on their outing, serenading the entire flotilla of vessels, each band trying to be the loudest. Smaller boats were peddling food and souvenirs. (One was even selling bonsai trees!) And the whole affair was all very leisurely in a quaint Mexican sort of way.

It was a long, full day, with great people who quickly became new friends. First, of course, there was Molly, whom Heidi had met on a recent trip to Colombia, and who, through our very good fortune, also happened to be in Mexico City during our visit and, thus, facilitated our invitation to this gathering. She was travelling with another friend Ariel, a chatty, worldly young lady who had coincidentally even lived in Hong Kong at one point! Then there was Molly’s college buddy, Nate, who now lived in Mexico City with his Venezuelan girlfriend, Catalina, and his mother, called Mue (a portmanteau of “mom” and her actual name, Sue), visiting from Florida, who was the catalyst for Nate arranging the entire gig. Rounding out the group were Camille and her husband Gaurav, friends of Nate’s, a young couple who recently relocated from New York to Los Angeles. After we got off the boat, we all headed back to the city for drinks and dinner.

All in all, it was unforgettable. But even greater sights were in store for Monday.

About an hour’s drive from downtown Mexico City lie the ruins of the ancient metropolis of Teotihuacan, probably the most famous pyramids in the Americas. The collection of pre-Aztec monuments is on practically everybody’s Mexico checklist, and Heidi and I were both eager to visit the site.

We caught an early morning Uber from Hotel Catedrale and arrived shortly after the opening, hoping to beat the crowds. Luckily, there were few other tourists about at that hour, and we began our exploration.

The largest pyramid at Teotihuacan is the so-called Pyramid of the Sun, a massive stone structure rising out of the ground. With a much more gradual incline than the iconic Pyramids of Giza, the Pyramid of the Sun actually looks more like a mountain than a pyramid until you get very close to it, when it becomes clear this is a man-made structure.

As we began to scale the steep stone steps leading up the side of the pyramid, Heidi stopped in her tracks. “Did I ever mention I’m afraid of heights?” she said. “I don’t think I can do this. I’ll wait for you down here. Take your time and enjoy.”

How Heidi and I managed to be friends for fourteen years before I learned of her acrophobia is beyond me! But the steps were a challenge even for me, so I treaded carefully as I made my way to the top.

Standing at the center of the pyramid’s apex was awe-inspiring, make no mistake, but at this point, I began to realize that my morning headache was not simply a vestige of Sunday’s boozy afternoon. Because Mexico City is at an elevation of more than a mile above sea-level, altitude sickness is known to strike first-time visitors. Having made it through Saturday afternoon and all of Sunday without even a trace of pain, I figured I had been one of the lucky unaffected ones. But standing atop the pyramid, I began to suppose it might be hitting me after all.

“Man up,” I told myself. “It’s not so bad, and you’re definitely not going to waste precious time here because of a silly headache.”

Back down and reunited with Heidi, we began a long, slow walk along the flat, sandy Avenue of the Dead, the massive ancient boulevard linking one end of Teotihuacan to the other. Straight ahead of us on our jaunt was an even more impressive timeworn structure, the Pyramid of the Moon.

Though dwarfed by the scale of its monumental neighbor from which we’d just come, the Pyramid of the Moon had a more intriguing design and placement, and we admired the noble façade from multiple ground-level viewpoints.

Now well-aware of Heidi’s aversion to steep stairs, I made up my mind not to scale the structure. Heidi was persistent. “I know you want to climb it. Please, go up. I’ll wait down here and take photos of you!”

Standing on its expansive upper platform, with the view out across the Avenue of the Dead, I was so glad I listened to her. The sight of the Pyramid of the Sun, and scores of more minor buildings, was unforgettable, in spite of my worsening headache. In fact, I think I’d rank drinking in that vista as the top moment of my short time in Mexico City.

As we ducked into a few smaller side attractions, we realized how right we were to have arrived for the opening. Throngs of visitors were now pouring in, quite literally, by the busload, and we had completed our tour and were ready to move on. The early bird had caught that worm once more.

We stopped in an absolutely delightful garden restaurant a few minutes’ walk from the pyramids, but my altitude sickness had reached a crescendo by this point, and all I could manage was a ginger ale while Heidi feasted on what she said was a delicious local breakfast. Alas, my headache was just too strong to indulge. But I enjoyed the lovely atmosphere and a spot of respite from the strong Mexican sun before we headed on to our next destination.

We powered on to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, one of the world’s most visited religious sites, with somewhere around twenty million visitors each year! The reason it’s so popular is because the Virgin Mary is said to have appeared to a local villager named Juan Diego on 9 December 1531. There were three subsequent appearances that month, and a miraculous image of the Virgin surrounded by flowers was impressed on his cloak, which confirmed the authenticity of the apparitions as far as church leaders were concerned.

A shrine was built on the site, and over the years, more and more religious buildings were constructed. Now, it’s a veritable complex of churches, chapels, bell towers, gift shops, museums and gardens. It was wonderful strolling around the massive grounds, exploring the old basilica and the new one, in addition to learning more about the history of the place.

Back at Hotel Catedrale, we booked a highly recommended restaurant for dinner, MereToro, and headed to the Condesa neighborhood for a pre-meal cocktail at a champagne bar Heidi wanted to try.

The drinks at the bar were good, but dinner at MereToro was otherworldly! It was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long while, with stunners like octopus tartare with grasshoppers and perfectly cooked tuna. I knew I was going to like the place earlier in the day, when I read a TripAdvisor review exclaiming: “Horrible experience – very complicated menu, rare and strange ingredients combined in a bad way. Overpriced dishes that taste really awkward. No food for children whatsoever. The service and drinks are good though.” Sometimes a bad review from the right person actually encourages me to try a place, and this time, I was spot on.

The ingredients liberally used by MereToro’s chefs could indeed be described as “rare and strange.” However, I would say they were expertly combined, in an almost magical way. The lack of a child-friendly menu ensured a civilized, older crowd. And I could easily see myself become a regular here if I ever lived in Mexico City. The reviewer was spot on concerning the service and drinks. It was an utterly enjoyable meal.

I felt bad, but I couldn’t head out for another drink after dinner, though. My headache had not abated, and while the food was able to temporarily take my mind off the pain, it was getting harder and harder to distract myself. I told Heidi she should enjoy her evening, that I’d return to the hotel alone to try to sleep the headache off. But she couldn’t be swayed from accompanying me home. So we cut our night short to return to our lodging, where I promptly went to bed.

I awoke Tuesday morning in sheer delight. No headache at all! Not even a trace of one! I felt as right as rain, ready to put yesterday’s ordeal behind me. “How’s your man altitude sickness?” Heidi inquired.

“All cleared up,” I assured her. “Let’s head out for the day!” Spoiler alert: My altitude sickness did not return, and that Tuesday wound up being one of the fullest and most enjoyable days I’ve spent in a long while.

Although Hotel Catedrale includes breakfast in its room rate (and a perfectly adequate breakfast at that), we decided to skip it that morning in favor of a nearby restaurant recommended by Heidi’s guidebook.

We headed off on foot to find La Casa de los Azulejos, where a Sanbourne’s restaurant is located, which her guidebook said was housed in a stunning old mansion bedecked with antique tiles, the azulejos of its name. Seeing what we thought was the sign for the restaurant, we entered an intriguing looking building and almost scaled the grand staircase to ascend to the second floor restaurant. “Sorry, Paul,” Heidi interjected just as I was preparing to climb. “That sign says the Casa de los Abuelos, not the Casa de los Azulejos. It means ‘the house of grandparents,’ not ‘the house of tiles.’”

Back on the sidewalk, we continued a few paces further to find our desired restaurant, where we were treated to an amazing Mexican breakfast in a classic setting. It turns out the main dining room, in a fountain-graced internal courtyard, is the spot most people head. We unintentionally wound up eating in a much humbler—though undeniably atmospheric—side dining room that, for my money, was even more intriguing than its over-the-top neighbor. I was glad we got to duck into the more grandiose space before heading back outside, though.

We then hit up one of Mexico City’s most iconic architectural gems, the drop-dead stunning Palacio de Bellas Artes. An undisputed masterpiece of art nouveau design, the theater quickly skyrocketed to the top of my list of favorite buildings in town. I only wish we had found a way to get inside!

It was turning out to be a crystal clear day, blue skies smiling down on us from on high. So, with the Latinamerican Tower rising just across the road, we took the opportunity to visit its observation deck, with panoramic views out in all directions. We could look straight down at the Palacio, getting an entirely new—and drastic—perspective from our outdoor perch, and we could also see the zocalo, the basilica, and the parks and gardens that dot the sprawling metropolis.

Then we waited an inexplicably long time to enter the National Palace, to view the famous murals of Diego Rivera, one of Mexico’s favorite sons but less popular internationally than his wife, artist Frida Kahlo.

More my speed was our next stop, the city’s most famous cantina, La Opera, not just famous for its cuisine but also for a bullet hole preserved in its ceiling that was fired by none other than Pancho Villa himself.

La Opera opens at noon, and it was only a little after eleven, so we plopped down at a sidewalk café and enjoyed a Corona while waiting.

We were among the day’s first patron when we finally took our seats in the red banquette inside La Opera’s belle epoque interior. What a special place it is! Situated just beneath the famous bullet hole, our table was perfectly placed to eye all the action of the storied dining room.

And our lunch was one of legend, itself. Starting with delicious escargot in a complex brown sauce, we moved on to a hysterical main course: bull testicles. I had ordered them half as a joke and half out of curiosity. In reality, they were absolutely delicious. Deep fried little balls (no pun intended), slightly fatty, served with ample tortillas in which to wrap them, with guacamole and refried beans. That lunch was one of many culinary highlights of our short time in Mexico City, and I’ll be back again on any future visit.

Having seen Diego Rivera’s celebrated murals in the National Palace that morning, we trekked out to Coyoacan in the afternoon to visit La Casa Azul—the Blue House—birthplace and longtime residence of his wife Frida Kahlo.

There was a moving video biography documenting all the hardships this woman endured throughout her tumultuous life, but what really shone through was her incredible joie de vivre. It was very cool to see the rooms where she lived and died, in addition to some of her artwork. And Heidi and I also had some fun with a photo stand-in of Frida and Diego in her garden. 

Walking distance from the museum is the main square of Coyoacan, which is home to what was purported to be an uber-famous ice creamery, Helados Siberia. I was immediately won over by the charming square, with the sun setting through the trees and kids playing near the fountain. Excitedly purchasing a scoop of pistachio (my favorite flavor) and another of rice pudding (why not?), I began indulging only to conclude the place is overrated. Ice cream is always nice, make no mistake, and I enjoyed my scoops, but I’d have been seriously disappointed if I had made a pilgrimage all the way to Coyoacan just for this.

Our next destination, however, was right up my alley: Mexico’s National Cinematheque. Max had put it at the very top of his personalized itinerary, telling me I’d just love the place. I guess he knows me pretty well, because the recommendation was spot on.

The National Cinematheque is a modern movie-lover’s paradise. It’s a stunning complex, consisting of ten screening rooms showcasing films in all their glory—contemporaries and classics, imports and locals—mixed in with coffeeshops, boutiques, restaurants and a large grassy field where scads of students seem to just be relaxing in the convivial setting.

Let’s just say, if I lived in Mexico City—and the thought was more than just a passing one at this point—I’d be a total regular here. Looking through the list of film’s playing, including Shane and many Hitchcock favorites forming a retrospective of the Master of Suspense, plus a flock of the current Oscar nominees to be honored at the coming weekend’s Academy Awards ceremony, I couldn’t help wondering why Hong Kong’s Film Archive couldn’t be as extensive as this amazing cinema city.

As dusk descended, we made our way to Roma Norte, the neighborhood we were finally meeting Max’s friend Arturo for dinner and drinks. Another friend-of-a-friend, Clark, an American who works for HSBC, also joined our party. And our quartet had one amazing night in the trendy international area.

Post-dinner, Arturo took us for a moonlit visit to the nearby independence monument, called El Angel, before we enjoyed a series of nightcaps at two venues with varying degrees of sophistication: the King Cole Bar at the Saint Regis, overlooking not only El Angel but also the elegant Huntress Diana Fountain… and El Departimento, a racous, student-filled, late night club, where a gaggle of frat-boy-esque bros were drinking vodka straight from the bottle, as couples made out, high school-style, while dancing to the thumping DJ-provided beats, which provided entertainment—in more ways than one—until we headed home in the wee small hours.

Wednesday didn’t offer us the ability for ample exploration before our afternoon flight. Traffic snarls the city center, so we had to allot more time than usual to the commute, just in case roads were clogged. So we found a fantastic local churro institution called El Moro, where we over-indulged in an amazing breakfast.

A little more wandering around the city, an early lunch at La Casa de las Sirenas—overlooking the zocalo—and it was time to catch that plane. I was in no way ready to leave. In fact, my "to do list" had only kept expanding as we talked to more people and saw more intriguing sights. I can't wait to go back. And, actually, I'll be flying into Mexico City again on Sunday after the wedding, though I'm not sure how long I'll chose to linger, owing to all the other destinations I'm still mulling over in my brain. But, wow, did this place win me over... and fast! Here's hoping life brings me back to this fascinating metropolis so I can explore more—eat more, drink more—of its ineffable charms!