I’ve stumbled up and down the wide, steep walkways atop the Great Wall. I’ve walked through root-choked temples in Cambodia’s Angkor Wat. I’ve rounded the chilly, isolated point of Cape Horn. I’ve dug a steaming, do-it-yourself hot tub on a volcanic beach in New Zealand.
I’ve eaten steak in Argentina, posole in Chile, pizza in Rome, puffin in Iceland, and barbecued goat on flatbread in Istanbul. My fortune’s been told by a red-haired wizard in a purple suit in New Orleans’ Jackson Square and by a seamed-face soothsayer on the floor of a temple in Thailand. I’ve spent the night in a Communist-era apartment building in Romania and on a tiny boat in the middle of the dragon’s teeth islands of Viet Nam’s Halong Bay.
I’ve kissed Clyde at the top of the Eiffel Tower, in the streets of Rome, and at the stroke of midnight during a new year’s riot in Barcelona. We’ve walked beside each other in the ruins of ancient Ephesus, the crumbling forts of Panama, the wind-hammered plains of Patagonia, and the mysterious tunnels inside Ireland’s Newgrange tomb.
“World traveler” is a label I wear with great pride. But for all our travels, we’ve never spent much time in our closest neighbor to the south: Mexico.
We’ve crossed the border before, spending the day in an ugly little tourist market in Nogales. We’ve even been flown to Cancun to work a sales training event. But we’ve never actually *been* to Mexico in the sense of going there to *encounter* it, to learn what we could of the culture, to savor the best local food, to spend some time talking to locals in stores and shops and cafes and bars.
When we tell people we’re going to Mexico City, there are only two responses.
The first, from those who have never been there: “Are you crazy? Mexico? Aren’t you afraid of the drug cartels? The gangs? The violence? The murders in the streets? The constant kidnappings? Don’t you know you’ll get sick from the water? Don’t you know you the food is jumping with parasites? Why don’t you just go to Texas … or, better yet, Epcot Center? Now that’s a proper place for a Christmas vacation.”
And the second, from people who have been to Mexico before us: “You’re going to love it. The museums! The culture! The cuisine! That wonderful bed and breakfast — The Red Tree House — is one of the very best in the world. Oh, and the pyramids … and riding bicycles on Sunday mornings … and shopping! And the people are so friendly, and the prices so affordable! And don’t miss the street food — the best tacos I’ve ever eaten!”
When Clyde’s dad first expressed interest in Mexico, I confess I was a bit taken aback, since every mention of Mexico on American television is always paired with the mention of kidnappings and drug cartels. But a little research dispels that kind of distortion pretty quickly. Drug violence in Mexico tends to be Mexican-on-Mexican, and outside the major cities and tourist centers.
As research continued, I was surprised at the cultural richness of Mexico City itself: a metropolis with problems, sure … but also a city with more museums per capita than any other city on the planet.
A little Googling pointed us to a vibrant local food scene. Frankly, having traveled in Cambodia, Thailand, and Viet Nam, we’re pretty used to a “don’t drink the water” approach to daily life (and careful about rinsed vegetables, too). And we know from experience that street food, freshly cooked and hot off the grill, can actually be safer than restaurant food (which could have been prepared by anyone, anywhere, any amount of time ago).
Friends who’ve been here adore the Red Tree House B&B. Whenever we’ve stayed in local bed and breakfasts — in Chile, in Argentina, in New Zealand — we’ve felt as though we’re staying with good friends who go ouf of their way to show us the best their city has to offer. So I’m eager to have that experience here, as well.
Even now, on the flight, things are already off to a good start. Out my cabin window, I happened to glimpse a stunning sight: the jet-black curve of the planet below us, a starry expanse above us, and, creating a border between the two, the thinnest, faintest fingernail of cold silver sunlight.
So, here I am, as close to space as I’ll ever be, looking forward to a few days in a corner of the Earth where I’ve never been.
Next stop: Mexico City.
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