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.
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!
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