Mexico City, Mexico
Mexico City nearly started with a disaster. I was convinced my flight was at 7:40am. It was at 5:40am. The only reason I made it was because the taxi showed up early and the plane was running late. Somehow the travel gods smiled on me. I spent the entire flight with my heart still racing, silently promising to triple-check every flight time for the rest of the trip. (I wouldn’t.)
Mexico City is massive. I spent the first day wandering around the cathedral area in the historic centre. The ruins of the Templo Mayor sit right next to the cathedral - ancient Aztec history literally side by side with colonial Spanish architecture. I visited the National Palace, admired the Diego Rivera murals, and then found a bar for cigars and drinks. That evening I had dinner with Doug, Hugo, and some people from Montreal, which turned into one of those great hostel nights where everyone’s swapping stories.
The next day was the big one: Teotihuacan. The pyramids are about an hour outside the city and they are breathtaking. Climbing the Pyramid of the Sun gives you a view that stretches for miles in every direction. You stand at the top, slightly out of breath, looking out over the Avenue of the Dead, and you feel genuinely small. In a good way.
That night we went to the Mexican wrestling - Lucha Libre. I was knackered from the pyramids and kept catching myself falling asleep between bouts, which is embarrassing when there are masked men flying through the air three metres in front of you. But the atmosphere was brilliant - families, kids, everyone screaming and booing the villains. It’s theatre as much as it is sport, and I loved every minute of it (that I was awake for).
The following afternoon I visited the Anthropology Museum, which is genuinely world-class. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon on the hostel terrace smoking cigars with Dana and Laurie while watching protests unfold in the square below. There’s something very Mexico City about sipping a drink and casually observing political unrest from a rooftop.
That night I couldn’t sleep. My brain was going a million miles an hour - thinking about the trip, what’s next, life in general. Managed maybe an hour of sleep, which made the next morning’s activity all the more surreal.
Because the next morning, I toured Estadio Azteca. THE Estadio Azteca. The stadium where Maradona scored the Hand of God and the Goal of the Century in the same match. Walking out of the tunnel onto the pitch, looking up at over 80,000 empty seats, I genuinely got chills. Can’t imagine what it would be like to see a game there, let alone play in one.
That evening we watched the Euro final at the hostel - Spain dispatching Italy to win their third major tournament in a row. Justin swung by to say hi, which was a nice surprise. Football, mates, and a cold beer. A fitting end to Mexico City.
Mexico City could swallow a month of your time and you’d still barely scratch the surface. I left sleep-deprived and slightly overwhelmed, but completely won over.
