Mexico City, part adieu
An evening walk in our neighborhood of Condesa
October 11, 2024
We left Mexico City on the red eye last night. I got us good tickets for business class to New York City, but the price to pay was an 11:30pm flight. It’s now morning as I write this from the lobby of our hotel as we wait for an early check in, and we’re fried.
We asked each other yesterday afternoon as we ate our last meal on the sun-drenched porch of Saks restaurant in the swanky Polanco neighborhood if Mexico City had met our expectations—was it what we thought it would be after watching so many YouTube videos and reading several travel blogs? I had wanted to go for years and pushed for it, whereas I think Chien might have been indifferent, but the resounding YES that we both gave was proof that it was even more than we thought it would be. I already miss Mexico City.
A list of qualifiers is necessary when discussing our experience, and we certainly cop to them. First, we only played in the very best areas surrounding Chapultepec Park, the neighborhoods of Hipódromo, La Condesa (where our Airbnb was), Roma, and Polanco. Mexico City is enormous and this relatively small geographic area is barely a postage stamp when considering the entirety of the city. The areas we hung out in were gorgeously tree lined, uncrowded, full of boutiques, restaurants and beautiful bars, bakeries and coffee shops, and people who didn’t seem to be at work during the day. There are a lot of foreigners. Polanco, in particular, had a lot of wealthy-looking people and its streets were just magnificent with high-end shopping areas, wide boulevards, fountains, and even flower stands every block of two on the center promenade running down trendy Horacio Avenue. We also noticed a lot more police driving around. Sometimes, we saw trucks with military looking police standing in the rear beds carrying automatic weapons and wearing black uniforms. We later figured out that many of the embassies are located in this beautiful part of the city. The one time we ventured out of this geography was to visit the city center (the Centro), where everything looked and felt very different. Much more real, gritty, but also probably more authentic. We saw a lot more diversity and witnessed how regular Mexicans lived their day-to-day lives and while not poverty stricken by any measure, it felt less prosperous, but it wasn’t dangerous.
Centro
I think for Chien, this contrast between where we stayed and ate, and the “real” Mexico caused her some guilty feelings. (Why do we get to hang out in this enclave and not the regular people?) She is very empathetic and as a retired nurse that comes with the territory. Me, on the other hand, I loved every second of it and felt nothing but pleasure wondering around this urban forest with every kind of food that I could ever want and some of the best museums I have ever seen in my life. Hip, stylish, people promenading casually along wide sidewalks, nearly all of them with at least one dog. Younger digital nomads out in front of endless street cafés mixing with arty types of all ages. I felt right at home, though I am neither hip nor stylish. But the food part? Yeah, that’s all me.
Stylish and lush Condesa
We ate at a Japanese bakery that had those puffy pancakes from Japan (Panya Sam), a French restaurant where the chef, although Mexican, had trained in France and fallen in love with the food (Cedrón) , a terrific Italian restaurant (Vecchio Forno), a very trendy and popular Mediterranean restaurant (Lardo), another French breakfast place (Monsieur Croque), and were somehow invited to an exclusive wine dinner where we were the only people who didn’t speak Spanish (Casa d’Italia). All of them in Condesa and walking distance to our apartment. I loved this. There were another 50 we could have tried before we even departed the neighborhood.
Monsieur Croque
Hot Stuff
Of course, we also ate Mexican food. We ate at an authentic Guadalajaran place (El Pialadero de Guadalajara) out on the street that was so messy and spicy that they gave Chien some gloves to pick up her sandwich as a matter of standard practice. Delicious food. The aforementioned Saks was also delicious Mexican food with its army of wait captains, waiters, servers, and managers buzzing around the trendy crowd like an efficient army while live samba played in the background. The peak Mexican food experience was eating at Pujol, a Michelin starred restaurant in Polanco. Considered one of the best restaurants in the world, it did not disappoint. Even after many years of hype and me wishing to check it off my bucket list, it was still one of the best eating experiences of my life. They have a “Mother molé” there that on the day we ate it was 3,525 days old. They continually feed it with ingredients every day. Think of it conceptually like a sourdough starter. It…blew…our…minds. No meat with it, no nothing. Just a beautiful simple circle of the dark Mother molé with a spicy red molé placed in the center for contrast. I haven’t tasted anything like it, ever.
Oh, Mama
Pujol's outdoor area for relaxing
Anyway, for food lovers like us, the spectrum of great food in Mexico City from affordable (Everything) to expensive (One, which was Pujol) was consistently amazing, and all at our doorstep. How could I not love it?
It left me with two distinct thoughts. The first being everything most Americans think about Mexico, and specifically Mexico City, is wrong. It’s not a poor country, not by a long shot. It’s hardly any different than the US, all things considered. The second thing I kept thinking, and the thought became stronger each day, was that I think I could live there. I know where we were was a bubble, but honestly at this age, I don’t care. I just want to be safe and happy for the duration. It would be an affordable and walkable few square miles that has everything that could make me happy. I wouldn’t ever have to leave, really, unless I was up for an adventure as I began learning about the rest of this monster-size metropolis, or when I was off to visit other cities in Mexico. The history and culture are addicting. I would need to become fluent in Spanish. This bumbling along in my “un piquito Español” and then using Google translate is only going to get me so far in the long run.
I estimate the cost of living is about 75% less than Seattle. I have A-fib, and I take a few medications. I went to the pharmacy—you know where this is going—and I bought eight months-worth of pills OVER THE COUNTER, no prescription necessary, for a tiny fraction of what the same pills would cost me back home without employer insurance. One prescription alone is $725 a month in the US, and I bought the same exact bottle of pills for $125 in Mexico City. Other prescriptions were between $3.00–$17.00.
Truthfully, our 10 days there eating out at bakeries and in nice restaurants with wine and cocktails in the evenings and tickets for museums during the days was about $800. Breakfast in New York this morning at a mediocre place was $90 including the tip. It’s not just the low prices in Mexico City, it’s also the quality of life, the beautiful weather, and the friendly, friendly people in Mexico City that make the draw so powerful. And I know the kind of travel we are doing isn’t the same as living someplace, but I completely understand why there are over 1.5 million Americans living in Mexico currently. I have always subscribed to the philosophy that one gets what they pay for, so this makes Mexico City a real value.
Museo Soumaya in Polanco was one of the many excellent museums we visited
I don’t know if we’d actually move there, but it’s on our list of places we’re considering once we are ready to settle back down. France being France, holds a distinct advantage.
I encourage you to visit Mexico, and specifically Mexico City, if you are looking for a new place to go on vacation. Stay in the same areas we did. You’re going to love it.