At home in Chicago, I had a great time at my brother Chris’ wedding, a trip to Klinger Lake in Michigan, a wild evening with the crew at Demitos, a Cubs game, and a heaps of other fun times. I also spent a lot of time exercising, eating nutrient dense food, and resting. I purchased some new travel gear and re-upped on some supplies for the road, and after three and a half weeks at home in Chicago, I got the itch and the time had come to keep rambling.
My next after Ecuador stop was going to be Colombia. However, after hearing a lot of good things about Central America from other backpackers, I felt it couldn’t be neglected. I decided to go to Mexico and make my way south through Central America to Colombia.
My flight landed in the rain in Mexico City at 5pm. I didn’t have a place to stay booked, but had a few places marked on my map in the Roma and Condesa neighborhoods in the western central part of the city. I caught a cab from the airport and 45 minutes later was dropped off on a corner in light rain near a few hostels. I wound up at Hostel 333 in Colonia Roma Norte.
I spent the evening wandering around exploring the neighborhood, and having a gourmet burger and beer. After a couple hours in Roma, I was already impressed. This part of the city is lovely with beautiful plant and tree lined streets. There are many parks and plazas that serve as meeting places for the locals. It is extremely pedestrian, catering to foot and bicycle traffic. Not to mention it is extremely hip with a bohemian vibe and all types of lovely cafes, restaurants, shops, bars, and clubs of the upscale variety. The people here are stylish and refined, yet with an easy going attitude. On top of it all, I felt extremely safe, and the people were overly happy to help me get around. Not at all the Mexico that television in the US portrays.
The next day I spent the morning at a café next to the Cibeles Fountain researching Mexico City.
Later, I took the subway downtown to the Historical Center. I spent the afternoon exploring the historic center—a quite daunting task, as Mexico City is home to more museums than any other city in the world. I went to the Secretaría de Educación Pública building to see a few hundred murals painted by Diego Rivera, the countries most celebrated artist.
Mexico has a long history of oppression, beginning with the Conquistadors in the 1500’s, and of revolutions to break free of oppression. A lot of Mexican art focuses on these themes making it extremely powerful.
Afterwards, I had a cerveza out front of a café and watched masses of people pass by. After catching the subway back to Roma that evening, I had a torta from a food cart near my hostel. I was blown away. It was by far the best Mexican food I have ever had. The steak was slow cooked all day and so full of authentic Mexican flavor that I immediately ordered another after finishing the first. The two tortas were 50 pesos or $2.50 (~20:1 MXN/USD exchange rate).
Back at the hostel, I met Daniel from LA and Ohmi from Israel. We had a few beers and discussed going out later that night. While hanging out, in walked two backpackers that I immediately recognized—a couple, Johnny and Erin from the UK, whom I had originally met on a walking tour in Lima, Peru and then ran into again in Baños, Ecuador. Small world. After marveling at the coincidence of meeting again, we shot the shit discussing our travels over beers.
Johnny decided to come out for drinks, and we were also joined by Deanna, a local who worked as a volunteer at the hostel and served as our tour guide for the night. At Deanna’s recommendation, we went to a fancy neighborhood mescalería, where we ordered a bottle of mescal (made in-house) and beers. We poured shots and said cheers. “¡Salud!” Daniel, Ohmi, Johnny, and myself threw back the shot in one gulp. Deanna laughed and looked at us like we were deranged. Apparently, mescal is meant to be sipped. Slowly.
After we finished the bottle and were feeling good and toasted, the group headed to a night club, Rhodesia. We did some dancing and chatted up some chicas. Some of the ladies were happy to interact with a bunch of whiteboys, while others were not interested. After a while, we decided to move to another spot, the incessant epileptic flashing lights being a bit much.
We got in a cab and headed over to a live music joint in the Condesa neighborhood. There was a cover band playing mostly American rock with a few Spanish language rock songs mixed in. I got a bit wild jamming to the tunes in the middle of the dancefloor, and trying to dance with some chicas. After striking out a few times, a Mexican girl, Joanna, came out of nowhere and started grinding on me. We had great fun together, dancing and chatting in a mix of Spanish and English. We went to the bar to get a drink and were soon making out. My group of amigos, standing nearby, started “Whooping!” and clapping, which made Joanna blush, and she bashfully slapped Daniel on the shoulder.
We carried on like this until the bar closed. The night ended anticlimactically, as Joanna had come with a guy who wasn’t too pleased with her hijinks with a gringo, and pulled her away while we standing out front after close. We walked 20 minutes back to the hostel, and I made it to bed at about 4am.
Friday, I woke up hungover at 1pm. I spent the afternoon at a café. It was raining cats and dogs that day, a nice consolation because I couldn’t have accomplished much sightseeing in the rain had I not been hungover. In late afternoon, the rain let up and I went for a walk exploring a few of the areas many parks.
That evening, I ran into Jonathan at the hostel, whom I had originally met as a guide on a walking tour in Lima, Peru. The same walking tour on which I originally met the Brits, Johnny and Erin—W.T.F!! Small world.
Jonathan was in Mexico City for a Radiohead concert on Monday. What? Radiohead? In Mexico City? While I’m here? Fuck yes! The concert was sold out, but Jonathan was on Facebook finding tickets, and had a couple sellers lined up. He arranged to get a ticket for me too. We would meet the seller and pick up the tickets the next day.
On top of that, I learned Roger Waters of Pink Floyd was in Mexico City playing a free show at the Zócalo (main plaza in the city center) on Saturday. What the fuck are the chances? Fuck yes!
That night, Jonathan, Johnny, Erin, and I went to a cocktail bar, Ladina, right next to the hostel. A cool guy from the hostel, Michael from Minnesota, had recommended I come by later. When we arrived, I was surprised to see Michael working behind the bar as a master mixologist. We sat at the bar and Michael took care of us all night making amazing cocktails, several of which contained his own infusions and tinctures based on ancient traditions from around the world.
After Ladina closed, we all set out for another bar, but couldn’t find anywhere still open. Instead, we got a couple six packs from 7-11 and sat at a pick nick table bullshitting. We hung out with a group of Mexicans at an adjacent table until 4am.
The next day, Saturday, Jonathan and I set out to meet the guy with the Radiohead tickets at the Insurgentes Metra station. We were early, so had a ‘hair-of-the-dog’ beer at a nearby bar. We went to the Metra station, but the seller wasn’t there. Jonathan tried to contact him, but the guy’s phone was off. Jonathan was distraught. The supply of secondhand tickets had quickly dried up, and the few remaining tickets were going for insane prices. It was looking like he might not be able to attend the concert he had come to Mexico for. We waited for an hour with no luck. Jonathan was going to pieces. “Trust me, everything is going to work out,” I told him. A fiery South American, he wasn’t buying it. I quoted Bob Marley, “When one door is closed, another is opened,” which calmed him down a bit.
We headed back to the hostel and had dinner and drinks at Ladina. The Roger Waters show was starting, but Jonathan just wanted to stay and scour the internet for Radiohead tickets. “Let’s get to the show!” I assured him something weird was going to happen—that we were going to meet someone at Roger Waters with tickets or something like that, but he was still worrying. I told him, “Worst case scenario, we pay an arm and a leg for tickets, and I’ll help you out if you can’t afford it,” and finally he acquiesced.
We headed to the subway, and were downtown in 30 minutes. We ascended the steps from the subway into madness. Throngs of people everywhere. By some estimates there were 200,000 people on the Zócalo, and 1 million total downtown for the show. We cruised our way towards the Zócalo, but it was blocked off by police. We were relegated to watching on a nearby Jumbotron set up for the event on a side street. Nonetheless it was an amazing time. We caught the final hour of the show, singing aloud at the tops of our lungs along with thousands of nearby fans.
Roger finished with “Breathe,” to an amazing spectacle of onscreen visuals and fireworks. The crowd started departing. “Damn, I guessed we missed “Comfortably Numb,”” Jonathan lamented. All day he had been saying it was his favorite song, the only song he really wanted to see. “Let’s chill for a minute,” I said, and started moving against the current towards the Jumbotron.
Two minutes later Roger Waters reappeared on stage, alone. Thousands of people who were leaving turned around and ran back towards the screen. He opened a piece of paper and declared that he had a statement to read. “Senor Presidente…” it started, and the crowd let out a wail. Chills went up my spine. He read a statement condemning the government over the missing 43 students (a group of political protesters, whom disappeared a year ago, assumed to be kidnapped and killed by the government—a HUGE political issue still in the forefront of peoples’ minds in Mexico. All around the city you see spray-painted messages saying things like, “Where are the 43?”). At the end of the statement, the crowd let out the loudest cheer I have ever heard—both thrilling and chilling at the same time.
Then the band joined him for an encore of… “Comfortably Numb.” When it started playing Jonathan looked at me with wide eyes, and exploded like a child, “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! I can’t believe it! Va que va!”
After the show, we went to a rooftop party at El Mundo Joven. We had a few drinks while chatting about how great the show was, and then hit the dancefloor. While busting some moves, Jonathan got a message on his phone. He looked at me, astonished, and started jumping up and down, “Ticketmaster opened up another 300 floor tickets, going on sale tomorrow morning!!! You were right!” I laughed and nodded, while he gave me a giant hug.
The next morning, Jonathan and I hit the street and headed to a Ticketmaster at 10am, still rough around the edges from the night before. We got there at 10:20am, but the tickets didn’t go on sale until 11. We got breakfast and coffee at a café and then returned to secure our tickets right at 11, paying 2000 pesos (~$100), less than we would’ve paid if we had met the guy at the Metra station as originally planned.
Later, I packed up and headed to an Airbnb in Condesa for a Sunday fun-day poker session. I cooked an amazing ribeye stew to help recover after the long weekend. Despite major lag and disconnect issues, I ran well enough to get 2nd in a tournament and book a $1400 profit.
The next day I headed to a new hostel, Hostel Home, a block away from Hostel 333 in Roma Norte. After settling in, I went to meet Jonathan and Carlos from Juárez for a few beers, then we headed to the Radiohead show at 5.
There was a massive line outside Palacio de los Deportes. We went and got some beers to tide us over for the wait. Once inside we got litre beers and headed to the floor to get a good spot in the center. By time the show started, we were packed like sardines in a crushed tin box 😉 When Radiohead took the stage the crowd was absolutely electrified.
Radiohead proceeded to rock the shit out of the Palacio for two and a half hours. They had an awesome stage setup, with two or three cameras focused on each musician, close up. On overhead screens, it would periodically cut to those cameras, showing what each musician was doing during a song: Thom’s hands over the piano, Colin’s fingers on the fretboard, Johnny doing weird Johnny Greenwood shit, etc. It was supercool to see the musicians at work close up, and how they create their unique sonic landscapes.
On top of it all they played a killer set list. I was not that familiar with some of their newer stuff, but it was all spectacularly well performed, and being surrounded by thousands of fanatics that know every word brought me up to speed quickly. They also played several old songs that I love: My Iron Lung, The National Anthem, Everything in its Right Place, Pyramid Song, Planet Telex, and finished off the show with Fake Plastic Trees and Creep, two songs they haven’t played live since 2010. The Mexicanos were elated. It was beautiful, everyone on the floor singing and swaying arm in arm together for the final two songs. I later heard Creep wasn’t even on the set list, and they spontaneously decided to close the show with it after Fake Plastic Trees was so magical.
After the show, we emerged from the Palacio exhausted and dehydrated from rocking out in the sweaty, packed floor, but also high from the experience. We caught a cab back to Condesa and partied at Pata Negra with a friend of Jonathan’s who had a table and bottle service. Later, we went to an Irish pub, Celtic, which had live music. There we met and partied with several people who had also been at the concert, and everyone raved how great the show was. We eventually stumbled home at around 5am. Not bad for a Monday night.
After spending Tuesday recovering, on Wednesday morning I met Rocio from Guatemala in the hostel. She was heading to the pirámides de Teotihuacán with her friend Gina and asked me to join. After three subways and a bus we made it to the pirámides, 50 miles outside of the center of Mexico City.
There are two massive pyramids at Teotihuacán: the larger of the two is the Pyramid of the Sun and the other the Pyramid of the moon. These are the largest pyramids in the world outside of Egypt. Aside from the pyramids there is an entire Aztec city at Teotihuacán, with palaces, temples, housing, roads granaries, etc.
After returning to the hostel, we were quite beat. However, it was Gina’s last night in Mexico City and so they wanted to go out. Rocio and Gina gathered Celine from the UK and Abigail from Israel for the occasion. After twisting my arm, they convinced me to come out with them. We headed to a mescalería in Roma. This was Celine, Abigail, and Gina’s first time having mescal, so I ordered a decanter of 15 shots of a smooth mescal, and instructed them to sip it. After feeling good from the mescal we headed to a trendy nightclub. We partied and danced until about 2am. You can party like a rockstar any day of the week in Mexico City.
The next day I headed to Diego Rivera’s house in the San Angel neighborhood with Rocio, and two volunteers at Hostel Home, Tai from Brazil and Arianne from France. His house, which he shared with Frida Kahlo, is converted into a museum, and his studio is left intact.
Afterwards, we walked around San Angel, which is a ritzy, fancy party of Mexico City, reminiscent of the Magnificent Mile in Chicago. We went to an artisanal market where I had the pleasure of enjoying Mexican poutine: hand cut fries with spicy seasoning, chipotle sauce, spicy mayonnaise, chili, jalepenos, and chili flakes… Fuhgetaboutit.
We also had tea at La Botica del Té, a unique place with amazing tea. They have an option of drawing tarot card to determine which tea you’re served. Naturally, I chose that option, and fittingly drew The Fool. I chatted with the owner Adrian, a fellow ayahuascero, for about an hour. He recommended I try a Temazcal ceremony while in Mexico, which I was immediately intrigued by and resolved to do it.
Friday, I headed back downtown to visit the Palacio del Bellas Artes, a building…. Wow. This place was architecturally incredible. Inside are about a dozen giant murals by Mexico’s most famous painters, including my favorite Diego Rivera mural, Masters of the Universe. This is a reproduction of the mural Rivera had originally painted at the Rockefeller Center in New York, but was torn down before being released to the public when Rivera refused to remove Vladamir Lenin from the painting.
Another famous Mexican artist, Aldofo Best Maugard had an exhibit as well.
There was also an exhibit on Javier Senosiain, a renowned Mexican architect famous for his ‘arquitectura orgánica.’ Can I please live in one of his houses?
That night, a group of about 10 people went to Arena Mexico for Lucha Libre! Lucha Libre (freestyle wrestling) is the second biggest ‘sport’ in Mexico after futbol. It was a ridiculous, but also extremely entertaining. All the matches are tag-team events, with two to four wrestlers per team, and all types of shenanigans going on outside the ring.
Saturday, Kevin from California, a volunteer at Hostel Home, organized a trip to Xochimilco. On the way we stopped at the Dolores Olmedo Patino Museum, which displays several Rivera and Pablo O’Higgins works.
I didn’t quite know what to expect when we arrived at Xochimilco. Kevin and Tai kept saying it’s a boat ride—we’re going to have a few beers and cruise around on a boat for a couple hours. Instead, it is a massive party happening across hundreds of gondola style boats cruising through a series of canals.
At one point, Tai and Celine jumped onto an adjacent boat for a quick Salud! I was wearing a ridiculous ‘Viva Mexico!’ sombrero that I had gotten from one of Kevin’s Mexican friends. The people partying on the adjacent boat wanted a picture with the gringo wearing the sombrero, so they pulled me aboard. We snapped the photo, then they poured tequila in our mouths and a dance party erupted. Before we noticed, our boat had passed onward and was now two boats in front of us. We couldn’t get back to it, and were stuck on the boat we had boarded. Our compadres on this boat embraced the fact that they now had three new foreign amigos and we all turned it up.
Before the day was over, we had jumped ship twice more. What was supposed to be a five minute, “Salud, amigos!” and photo turned into an all afternoon and evening of partying with strangers.
At sundown, Tai, Celine, and I wound up on a boat full of medical students. Back at the docks, we were all drunk and had no idea how to get home. The group of medical students were all going out for tacos, and insisted we come along. They took us to a popular traditional tacqueria, and showed us how to dine like real Mexicans, including eating lingua (cow tongue) tacos. They paid for everything at dinner, then invited us to an after party at their posh penthouse apartment.
At the end of the night, they even called an Uber for us back to our hostel. When saying goodbye and thanking the crew for everything, Manuel said to me, “Tell people in America this is the real Mexico, not what Donald Trump says of us.” That statement kind of hit me in the gut and stopped me in my tracks. My first reaction was, ‘No one in America really thinks that,’ but after dwelling on it, I remembered at least four different people mention kidnappings and such dangers when I told them I was going to Mexico. So maybe I do need to tell naïve Americans who’ve never left the country and seen way too many movies and infotainment: Mexico is a place just like any other, people just want to live—happily and peacefully—and let live!
The next day I headed to an Airbnb for another Sunday poker session. The owner of the apartment I had rented, Nashely, was a sweetheart. We wound up chatting for 40 minutes before I settled in for the grind. Although I played decent, I lost every significant hand in the end game of several tournaments and wound up losing a few hundred on the day.
Monday I moved back to Hostel Home for another week. I spent the day running errands, and stopped by a traditional Mexican artisanal market. If I were to stock a house, this is the place I would go. Thousands of handmade ceramic cups, bowls, plates of incredible quality for incredibly cheap.
There was a series of Columbus Day poker tournaments running online, so I decided to play a few that evening. I made the final table of a big tournament and finished 3rd for ~$7000. Not too shabby. I could travel on that for a while 😉
The next day, I woke up late and met Jackie from the UK. It was her first day in Mexico City, so I offered to show her around. We went to the Palacio Nacional downtown. There we saw several massive Diego Rivera murals and an exhibit of modern art submitted to the government by Mexican artists in lieu of paying income taxes.
Afterwards, we took a double decker bus tour around Mexico City like proper tourists.
That night there must’ve been a Mayan or Aztec holiday, because there were groups of people dressed in traditional Mayan garb drumming and dancing around altars while burning palo santo (holy wood). Jackie and I watched for a while on our way to the subway. I was blessed and ‘cleaned’ with palo santo and chanting by a shaman.
That night I went out to watch the Cubs game, and was lucky enough to see them beat the Giants in thrilling fashion with a four run 9th inning rally to close out the NLDS. Wow. It’s our year, baby!
The next day, I used the Gratis Bici service to rent a bike, free of charge. I rode to the giant and beautiful Chapultepec Park, and spent the afternoon lazing in the park. I also visited Chapultepec Castle, a colonial castle built high on a hill in the park.
That night there was a pot luck dinner at the hostel (I brought beer :P), and afterwards a big group went out salsa dancing.
The next day I again used Gratis Bici to ride all around the city, and spent the afternoon in a café writing. In the evening I went out for dinner with Kevin to a fancy burger joint, Burguesa. I had a delicious lamb burger, but halfway through dinner I started to feel ill.
Back at the hostel I ran into Jackie who was also ill, and had thrown up. Uh oh. We had quesadillas at a restaurant off the beaten path downtown, and had both complained of not feeling quite right while on the bus tour. Now it had fully incubated.
An hour later I had thrown up myself, and the next 20 hours were comprised of being violently sick with food poisoning—puking, diarrhea, the chills, fever, not able to hold down water, dehydrated. It was a total nightmare. At about 5pm the next day I turned the corner and had purged all the contaminated food, and felt better.
It was a shame, because up until that point my experience with the food in Mexico had been overwhelmingly positive. In fact, Mexico City is easily the best destination I’ve been to so far for food. Heretofore, all the food was incredibly flavorful and an absolute joy to eat. I had happily eaten delicious fare from street vendors more than a dozen times without incident. There is also a huge number of cafes and restaurants offering gourmet food which I was thoroughly impressed by. Getting sick was a bit of a sad way to end my stay in the city, after an otherwise superb experience. Despite the illness, I still can’t recommend the food of Mexico City highly enough.
The following day, was Saturday. I had toast and tea in the morning, my first meal in about 36 hours. It went down fine, and a couple hours later made a big omelet. Even after the omelet, I was still feeling a bit hungry. I went out to lunch with Arianne, two of her Mexican friends, and Hannah from Germany. I had a couple bowls of chicken consume, and was feeling nearly back to full strength. We spent the afternoon walking around Roma, and even went to a Halloween ‘Freak Fest.’
That evening it was Tai’s last day volunteering at the hostel. Everyone was going out to Patrick Miller, a popular club. It was also my last day, but I didn’t feel it’d be wise to drink less than 24 hours removed from my pukefest. Instead, I stayed in, watched the Cubs game, and got to see Montero blast the 8th inning grand slam. Ho-ly Cow! It’s our year, baby!
The next morning, I packed up and moved back into Nashely’s Airbnb for one last Sunday fun-day before leaving Mexico City. I again played and ran well enough to final table a big tournament, but busted out 7th, in disgusting fashion, for a bit over $4000 (1st place was $24k, sigh). Oh well. Overall, I ran well in Mexico City and profited five figures in three weeks, which can fund a lot of travel!
Monday morning, I packed up and took an Uber to Terminal del Norte bus station. I booked a 1pm bus to Oaxaca in Southwest Mexico.
What more can I say about Mexico City? It’s almost like a secret. Most of the backpacker literature doesn’t seem to feature Mexico, and most of the tourist destinations in Mexico are coastal cities. Therefore, Mexico City is often neglected. The biggest city in the world, neglected? I know, I can’t believe it either. Yet, Mexico City is the coolest place I’ve been thus far. I originally thought I’d stay for one week before heading south towards Guatemala, but was instead here for 18 days. And I can easily see myself coming back for another long stay. It’s a treasure—a clean, beautiful city with rich culture, unlimited sightseeing, crazy nightlife, and warm, friendly people. What more can you ask for? Oh, and it’s only a few hours from anywhere in the US.