Mexico City Calling Part 1: La Primavera
On my first nomad trip to Buenos Aires in 2022 I was taken aback when we arrived to a city in full bloom. South of the equator, it’s springtime in November. The Jacaranda trees confetti’d the sidewalks with vibrant purple flowers and perfumed the whole neighborhood through the fresh floral breezes. Native to Argentina, Jacaranda trees hold great significance in Argentinian history and culture - a symbol of resilience and beauty. However, Jacaranda trees just as famously make up a core visual identity for Mexico City, and they adorn the city like jewelry beginning in March.
Arriving in Mexico City March 2024, it was such a full circle moment to be welcomed by my favorite kind of perfect spring. Describing any urban city as “beautiful” can be misleading because what are we calling beautiful? Buildings? Mexico City for me was covered in flowers and too many trees, just the way La Primavera should be.
Ironically enough, living in Mexico City seemed like the most far away dream, even though it’s the closest geographically. I took French classes my whole life. But through over a decade of city life in NYC, I was quite certain I was going to be in love with Mexico City.
Most obviously, I became adamant that I wanted to spend an extended period of time throughout Mexico when I started making hot sauce over 10 years ago. I started making hot sauce because no one else could make it right, and Mexican hot sauce is the only thing I like. Not ya boy Frank. Definitely not some Louisiana person calling themself Tabasco. Hot sauce for me is its own food group and category, and I’m clear on the fact that I can only be impressed with Mexican hot sauces. Full stop.
But truly, when it scares you, it should be a must-do. Traveling more, I almost start to feel embarrassed that I only speak English. In Kenya, everyone I encountered spoke at least 3 other languages because they make it their literal business to learn the languages of the people coming in. It’s in their best interest to communicate with English speaking people. The next emerging major language in Kenya is Mandarin. And here “we” go, with an expectation of “easier for me” wherever there are English speakers. I’ve had Europeans ask me “don’t Americans learn Spanish in school?” to which the lame answer is “not like you’d think”.
English as a “common” language has been a privilege for me, no doubt, but the limiting singularity and fear to communicate outside of my range, has irked me enough to push my range to learn Spanish. You think you can’t live in Mexico City because you can’t speak Spanish? Then learn Spanish. If you’re going to try at all, try for real.
I left Hanoi, Vietnam at 7p Saturday Night for a smooth early Sunday morning arrival in Seoul, North Korea. We departed at 9:30am and after the 12 hour flight of time-travel, it was 8am again in Dallas. I was wiped, especially coming out of a middle seat flight, with another 3 hour flight to Mexico City to go - the 4 hour Dallas layover being the cherry on top of my exhaustion sundae. I thought I would “cheat time” so I would be able to start work on Monday morning, but what a rookie mistake. By the time I landed in Mexico City and exited the airport, the warm 80 degrees was like stepping out of a spaceship and taking in real air for the very first time.
I’m confident enough in my Spanish to “get the job done” but only to a point. After breezing through customs at the airport, I befriended my taxi driver who was so excited it would be my first time in Mexico City. During the drive, he excitedly listed all of the things I had to do (in Spanish), even pulling out his phone in the middle of the intense traffic to show me pictures of the Grutas de Tolantongo and explain why I needed to take a weekend trip there. I didn’t speak much, but I guess enough to where he kept talking to me. I definitely understand more Spanish than I can speak, so it might have been my eye contact through the rearview that gave him the impression that I understood. But I was certainly listening and we were absolutely communicating.
We pulled up to a gated house in the middle of a would-be alley and my driver said “ Es aqui” - I know what that means. I was home in Colonial San Miguel for the next 6 weeks. After one last haul of luggage up a flight of stairs, I found my room and crashed all the way out around 9pm. Now 2 hours ahead, my Monday morning would start at 7am. The Lesson? Never ever fly from Asia to the Americas and think you can function professionally the very next day. I did it, yall but my body let me know to never do that again. I sneezed, sniffed and slept something crazy for the next 2 days until I finally had strength to eat dinner on Tuesday evening.
There was a recommended taco spot literally around the corner from our house so I decided to give it a try. I sat down quietly and used my 101 Spanish to order my first al pastor tacos that would not be topped my entire trip. The guy working the trompo al pastor was so nice to me and hooked it all the way up. I got 3 tacos and they were gone in under 3 minutes, which was not nearly enough time spent outside after 2 days of sleep. The freshly fired pork and juicy pineapple boosted my blood sugar enough to wake me up to the fact that I was IN Mexico City! So I decided to take a walk.
In any new city, I think it’s important to have what I call a “grounding day”. A full few hours of aimless wandering with the intention of finding your way home from wherever you land. This is usually the most scary day for me because of my notoriously defiant sense of direction. I need google in my hometown, so these “grounding days” are really required for me, especially traveling solo. These days push me to trust myself more than anything, and shake up my comfort zone to explore farther than an two-block radius.
I put in my maps to walk to the closest museum, any museum, which Google said was 20 minutes away. After 20 minutes of crossing a series of overpasses, I discovered I was following the driving directions for what was actually a 90 minute walk. Deflated, I turned back around in laughter but now with my first set of “grounding landmarks” in front of me. For one, I found the freeway! Right off, Patriotismo, An important turn that would guide my Siri-less adventures moving forward. I found a mural of a Boss Baby mural, which was a pivotal corner to cross into the Condesa neighborhood. I also found the closest metro station that had a mural of a masked Frida Khalo, which you could spot from blocks away. I felt like it was a mission accomplished and by the time I made it back to San Miguel, I found another grounding spot and had a second dinner of sopes. I had earned it.
My first few days I could only help to feel like Mexico City was a city just for me and everything I liked. I would smile to myself walking around as if it was my childhood bedroom blown up into a city with all of “my stuff” within an arm's reach away. To the right, a restaurant with my favorite foods next to a clothing store where everything is cute. Every cup of coffee is the bomb and there is a celebration of graffiti and art no matter where you look.
Mexico City has long been a place for Artists to live and create, so when I saw a billboard for a Damien Hirt exhibition at the Museo Jumex, I knew I had to go. Like it or not, Damien Hirst is one of most famous pop artists of this century and I’ve been in more than one art-argument on how he’s “for LA people”. I can only tolerate “a deep” explanation of dots and the tired trope of “life and death” for so long without rolling my eyes. And besides that, astronomic wealth from pop-art is an old discussion, and the anomaly of Damien Hirst is certainly one for conversation. I felt the obligation to at least get it “under my belt” as I do know, it’s not advisable to argue something you’ve never experienced for yourself.
The exhibition had all the hits - the dots, the butterflies, the preserved sharks and of course, his most famous sculpture “For the Love of God”; the flawless-diamond skull which sold for a record $100 million dollars at auction years ago.
I went on a Friday afternoon and to my surprise, the museum was packed with people. Old ladies, a tour bus, little kids and teens who looked like they were on dates at the museum instead of the mall. I know he’s popular, but why? Y'all like this? It made me think a bit further on why a Damien Hirst exhibition would do so well in Mexico City, of all places. While reading the plaque of the Cherry Blossoms, I started to get it - or at least start to understand these themes aren’t “random”. It explained how Hirst found interest in Japanese Cherry Blossoms because of their short life spans. How their glorious bloom is brief, similar to our human mortality. Mortality is the most common theme for Hirst’s work (the part when I roll my eyes) but I softened up.
The acceptance and examination of “life and death” is a strong cultural thread that permeates Mexico’s thousands-year-old history. Dia de Los Muertos is a celebration! Throughout Mexico, skull motifs decorate clothing and home interiors and mache skeletons bring the party to any gathering. An appreciation and understanding of a death would have you looking at Damien Hirst commentary in a different way. Reading about the million dollar cherry blossom paintings, I was thinking about Jacarandas.
I drank the kool-aid for the full evening and I’m glad I went and read the plaques. At the very least I saw the otherside of the argument that Damien Hirst might have some art in him after all. But it did require being in a place where all the people around me might have a different opinion than me - to even be open to the counter. A cracking of my skull, if you will.
Walking out of the exhibition it started to rain and my wifi conveniently cut off to call any type of Uber. I ran into a mall across the street, missing a downpour of rain by seconds. I found a steakhouse restaurant called La Imperial and was prepared for it to be “Mall Restaurant '' quality. It was not. I instantly felt like it was my birthday party. I had a suadero y queso taco as an appetizer that remains my favorite taco of the entire trip. And after a week of Alex’s personal taco tour, I managed to finally order a gotdamn salad, and it was the on-time revival I needed. I had a full tampiquena flank steak that came with my first taste of mole in Mexico. Missing the rain I found another favorite thing.
Mexico City became easy to get to know because I got comfortable getting lost. Almost everyday I found something that became “my new favorite” and I used it to find a new way home. The surrounding neighborhoods divide quickly through triangular intersections, 4-lane crosswalks and roundabouts, but they are lined in giant palm trees and lush green plants. The only smells in the streets are coming from the delicious aroma of cooked food or the blooming flowers in the trees. And even adding to the dopeness, the heavy traffic was 30% motorcycles because biker and punk culture rein. This city already gets me, now it was up to me to get to know it, in the most perfect time of year.
Mexico City Part 2: Teotihuacan dropping Sunday 6/23