Zevdiana Jones and the Temple of the Sun

Here it is, folks. Spring break of senior year of college. What kind of record-breaking debauchery might occur? Well, if you know me, you know I don’t get up to anything particularly insane. However, back in November when my good friend Matteo mentioned a potential trip to Mexico for spring break, I professed my enthusiasm for such a venture. This would not be a stay at a resort in Cancun, as my traveling companions shared my adventuring ethos (not that I would have objected to some beach time either). Though it seemed touch and go at times, I acquired a plane ticket and was assured that we could stay with the family of a friend of Matteo’s – and that was good enough for me. On the off chance that they’re reading this, thank you so much to Ariel’s family, especially her great aunt and her little cousin Rafael! They generously hosted a bunch of gringos they had never met before, and we are very grateful.

First things first: we need to be able to get around. Mexico City is the largest city in North America, and the metro system has thirteen lines to service the megalopolis. We had a station just a few minutes’ walk from our domicile, the trains came more often than the DC metro, and it was only 5 pesos ($0.25) for a ride.

Say hi to Ryan, Matteo, and the CDMX metro arriving at Balbuena

We headed for the neighborhood of Roma Norte where a famous bakery beckoned. But after seeing the line that stretched down the block, we pivoted and ended up at a cafe for a cappuccino and chilaquiles. Here we dined on the shady streets and played “spot the gentrifier” (more on that later).

Properly fueled, it was time to tackle CDMX’s world-famous anthropology museums. We started with the prehistoric, viewing a cast of Lucy, the 3.2-million-year-old hominid, cave paintings, and other fossils. We progressed through the various civilizations of Mexico, from the Olmec to the Aztec to the Mexica and a bunch more I’ve forgotten. Wait, actually the Mexica and the Aztecs are the same people, we just use the term Aztec for some reason even though the Mexica did not refer to themselves with this nomenclature. Confusing! Anyway, this was maybe the best museum I’ve ever been to, and certainly in the top tier along with the Jewish Museum in Warsaw.

A block from the museum is a statue of Yugoslavian leader Tito, which is cool. After nearly five hours of intense information consumption, we need some fuel. For the second time today, our meal destination of choice is too popular, so we end up at a humble joint that specializes in cochinita pibil, a Yutacan dish consisting of slow-roasted pork that is marinated in citruis juice and cooked in an underground oven (not unlike barbacoa). You can get this meat in any method of delivery, but we opt for tortas accompanied by a massive beer (or two). Beer here is often served in a mug with lime juice and a salt rim, which amplifies its refreshingness. This was up there as one of the best meals of the trip, because we were starving and tired and this hit like a Mack truck.

For dinner, we opted for a local taqueria, where a language error on my part resulted in me trying something I probably wouldn’t have opted for. On the left, you can see the al pastor roasting on the rotating vertical spit. The name for the cooking apparatus en espanol is “trompo.” While perusing the menu, I saw not only the al pastor but also “trompa,” which I mistook to be in reference to the cooking spit. I wondered aloud “if al pastor is cooked on a trompo but they also have trompa tacos on the menu, what’s the difference?”

When the trompa taco arrived (by the way, all of the tacos were served on plates covered in plastic wrap – makes for easy dishes afterwards) it was not what I expected. I forgot to take a picture, but it was chopped up, pink, and squishy. It looked like beef tartare almost, and I wondered aloud it was cooked. It also had some weird silvery bits that were a different texture. Unperturbed, I loaded it up with salsa and chowed down. It didn’t have a strong flavor, but was fatty and chewy. Not my favorite. A quick trip to Google Translate enlightened me to what I had just eaten: pig snout!

The next morning, we headed for the city center. A massive protest against Trump’s tariffs had been planned, but with the postponement of the tariffs, the protest had morphed into a massive rally for President Claudia Sheinbaum and her party, Morena. We couldn’t get anywhere near the city center, the streets were so packed (although we did see and hear Sheinbaum speaking via Jumbotron). Despite the overt anti-American sentiment (well-deserved in my opinion), the mood was festive. On the left you can even see Batman!

Sheinbaum’s approval rating has hovered north of 80%, as her response to the cartel violence as well as Trump’s threats have gone over swimmingly. Her party split off from a center-left predecessor (PRD), and Morena didn’t even exist a decade ago. Now, they’ve held the presidency since 2018. In just eight years a party was born and captured the presidency. Though our duopoly often makes real change seem impossible, Morena is a testament to the possibility of rebirth (take notes, DSA/Working Families Party/Green Party etc). Also, for everyone making the bad faith argument that Latinos shifted to Trump in the election because they were too macho to vote for a woman, Mexico elected a Jewish woman in a 90% Christian country. Boo-ya!

Anyway, the Palacio de Bellas Artes looks like a fancy train station, and has some awesome murals, including some by Diego Rivera. The adjoining park is bustling with vendors and buskers.

Lunch was at a seafood stall in a local market. On the left we had augachile, thinly-sliced shrimp marinated in lime juice with pickled onions that was exquisite. Other dishes included a tostada loaded with various seafoods, ceviche, and of course mas cerveza con limon y sal. Their version of ceviche was interesting, served in a clam shell with a tomato-based sauce. Very different from the ceviche I grew accustomed to in Panama (by the way: so easy to make at home, try it for yourself as spring kicks into high gear).

Our random wandering took us to a cemetery where Benito Juarez, the first president of Mexico, is buried.

An attempt to meet up with Matteo’s friends went awry when we showed up at a similarly-named yet incorrect rendezvous location. Luckily for us, this ill-fated meeting spot was right around the corner from Plaza Garibaldi, where mariachi bands gather to play for patrons indulging in some outdoor drinking. We noticed people drinking something out of massive clay jars – I had a flashback to Jaipur’s Lassi Walla – and Matteo tried to order one for us to share. Our waitress “misunderstood” and “accidentally” brought us one each! Not that we protested too much, as these cantaritos contain tequila with various citrus juices and sodas. We eventually found Matteo’s friends for some admittedly mid overpriced barbacoa. But that early evening relaxing in Plaza Garibaldi, drinking, people-watching, and listening to live music was another highlight of the trip.

More time spent in Roma Norte and I insisted we stop in a record store, where I picked up used Mexican pressings of Led Zeppelin II and Sade’s Promise. Roma Norte back in the day was the hipster neighborhood where American countercultural figures like Jack Kerouac would loiter back in the day. While there are remnants of its beatnik past – like a Tibetan store/restaurant – Roma has been thoroughly gentrified recently, especially since the pandemic brought a wave of ‘digital nomads’ from America, Canada, and Europe. I can see the appeal for foreign residents, as Roma Norte’s shady streets are tranquil, but prices in stores and restaurants are much higher here, and English is prevalent.

Our lunch took us to a spot that claims to have invested al Pastor. This is a slightly dubious claim – I have no evidence but I feel it in my bones as I doubt any one person can take credit for such an innovation. As I’ve detailed in a previous blog, al pastor originated when Lebanese immigrants to Mexico brought over the shawarma spit method of cooking. There is also a forerunner to al pastor called tacos arabes, which is closer to a Lebanese flavor as it utilizes lamb with a generous seasoning of cumin, and was even occasionally served on pita instead of tortilla. But I digress.

I could probably do a ranking of all the different al pastors, but much like the Jordan vs. LeBron GOAT debate, I’d rather just appreciate greatness. At this place I also ordered something that was like a dosa but made entirely out of crispy fried cheese: like a parmesan crisp.

A very hot and stuffy bus ride took us to the fabulous library that seemed right of of a sci-fi flick with soaring, floating platforms.

One day for lunch we went to a famous old restaurant right next to the palacio. The interior of the restaurant was gorgeous, although we were shunted to an unadorned side room. The food and the service was downright terrible, however.

Just an hour or so from Mexico City lies the pre-Hispanic settlement of Teotihuacan, home to the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon. This city actually majorly predates the Aztec Empire – the Aztec Empire lasted for less than a century before they fell to the Spanish in 1521 – and the zenith of this civilization was in the first half of the first millennium. At its peak, this was the largest city in the Americas with a population of maybe 125,000+ (containing half of all people in the Valley of Mexico), which would make it the sixth largest city in the entire world at the time. Teotihuacan culture no doubt had a major influence on subsequent civilizations like the Toltec and the Mexica/Aztec. But make no mistake, these pyramids were more than a thousand years old when the Aztecs were around.

I had a pretty good view of these pyramids from a hot air balloon, which was a remarkably smooth experience. Once airborne, there was not a trace of turbulence. It was rather warm, as a massive propane flame would blast periodically to keep us afloat as we soared over Teotihuacan.

Landing was another story altogether. As the ground rushed up to meet us, a truck hurtled down dirt roads at breakneck speed. The doors flew open and half a dozen men leaped out to slow our controlled fall by hopping on the balloon basket. Once we were back on terra firma, our balloon pilot revealed a surprise in a sturdy wooden box: a bottle of Martinelli’s finest with champagne flutes.

After a breakfast that included ant eggs (escamol en espanol) at Matteo’s behest it was time to mount up! On ATVs and motor off to an indigenous collective where some people still only speak Nahuatl – the pre-Hispanic language of the Mexica/Aztecs. Our charismatic salesman showed us some cool obsidian (abundant in the volcanic Valley of Mexico, and of much importance to the Aztecs) before breaking out half a dozen bottles of tequilas, mezcals, and other agave-based drinks made on site. One mezcal had flecks of gold, and another beverage made from prickly pear was unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Golden in color, naturally sweet like honey, and with a low ABV that made it more like a wine than liquor. After plying us with samples, and teaching us some toasts in Spanish, we were turned loose on the gift shop. Getting your customers slightly drunk in the midmorning heat is an excellent sales tactic, as I was persuaded to purchase a bottle of that aforementioned elixir (pictured in the center of the first row below).

From there, it was back on the ATVs (can you get a DUI on an ATV?) as we bounced along dirt roads to our next destination. A cave in a local’s front yard was cool in temperature, and littered with shrines, offerings, and bones to give it a slightly spooky feel.

One last stop before the pyramids themselves was devoted to a tasting of cacao, as well as various salsas and beverages. On the right is the prickly pear that is used for drinks, salsas, desserts, and much more.

The sun was beating down when we finally made our way to the pyramids. It was a vast, desolate site in a valley ringed by mountains.

Visiting the ruins at Teotihuacan reminded me of Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Hampi in India. Vast relics left behind by long-gone civilizations. What remains has a much different feeling when it towers over you and you can reach out and touch it as opposed to viewing it behind glass in a museum. The sun beats down as you trudge through these sites, where you can try and imagine how these streets and buildings must have been packed for ceremonies and markets. At one point these were lively, vibrant communities. Now all we’re left with are the empty shells, and the stories that have been preserved. There’s something eerie about wandering around not just a ghost town, but a ghost city.

A major aspect of religious practices here was human sacrifice. The humans sacrificed were often prisoners of war, but children were occasionally sacrificed as well. While your first reaction to these gruesome details of human sacrifice might be to call the Aztecs barbarians, but keep in mind the relativity of these acts. When the Spanish arrived, they recoiled in horror at the practice of human sacrifice. The Spanish also slaughtered men, women, and children en masse as they conquered the Americas. The Aztecs, hoping to appease the Spanish, invited them into Tenochtitlan peacefully. Anyway, visiting the pyramids was off the hook.

We started many of our days at the local panderia for conchas.

One of our final days took us Templo Mayor, the main pyramid temple of the Mexica people in Tenochtitlan. Not only is this site smack dab in the middle of the historic center of the city, surrounded by Hispanic cathedrals and government buildings, but it is still being actively excavated, as you can see on the right. That’s a massive agave plant on the left, and our friend from Teotihuacan informed us that they can live up to 70 years, so we figured it must be around there.

As soon as we arrived to Coyoacan, we were greeted by a man with a propeller hat (zoom in on the top left image). That set the tone for this hipster neighborhood where Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, and Leon Trotsky once lived. One of the only two meals that were not Mexican was at this cool pizza place with exposed brick, indoor-outdoor greenery, and a flaky, almost flatbread-esque crust.

More wandering gave me a serious hankering for some churros.

One of Matteo’s friends, Isa, generously invited us into her abuela’s home and she served us an impromptu dinner. We shared our deepest darkest secrets, and abuela spoke of how young people are the future (and we have our work cut out for us). She sent us off with some small gifts, and we all got a little farklempt. Amazing experience, thank you so much, abeula!

The next morning, our final day in Mexico, we took a trip to Xochimilco, in the south of the city. Back when it was Tenochtitlan, the city was built on top of a massive saltwater lake. The city has become so big that one can forget the lake ever existed, but remnants of it exist in the form of canals here in Xochimilco. Before our cruise we had to stock up on much-needed supplies… on the right you can see the preparation of handmade black tortillas for quesadillas.

We leisurely floated down the river, occasionally accompanied by mariachis who would hop on your boat for a few songs. Everyone on other boats was drinking and generally having a great time. A perfect vibe to end our trip on.

That’s a wrap from CDMX. As I write this, I’m waiting to hear back from JET to find out if I’ll be teaching English in Japan next year. And I sure hope so, because I just renewed this WordPress subscription with the expectation that I’ll be documenting my experiences over there. But we’ll see… over and out.