The last time I was in Mexico City my wonderful host, Aurora, among many other things, told me that there was a house nearby where the government used to torture people but that they weren’t allowed to anymore.

Being not particularly informed of Mexican history I had no idea what she was talking about.

I’m still not very informed about what Aurora was referring to, it’s not a subject I would often choose to dig into but as far as I know the Mexican government, in the 50s and 60s, with support, training and money from the CIA, made all Left leaning political parties illegal and arrested anyone of consequence from within those parties, especially focusing on university students. Hundreds and hundreds of them disappeared into the building next door where the basement functioned as a torture chamber, as many as 1,000 students are estimated to have been taken to the basement and never seen again.

While exploring the area around my home for this visit I have realized that the house she was referring to is the building beside where I am staying, I am 90% sure this was what she was referring to.

My place on the right, the government torture house is the white building on the left.

Click image for slideshow.

Click image for slideshow.

The highest rated bar in North or South America, Licorería Limantour, is in Mexico City, about 5 minutes walk from my place.

I figured early on a Sunday evening would be the best bet for getting a seat at the bar, I arrived around 6pm and was guided to the last remaining seat at the bar, a rather uncomfortable spot at the end on the corner.

I’m not going to review it today however, I’ll give it another try another day.

I mean….

1. Uncomfortable bar stools.
2. Bar too high in relation to the seating, and I’m a lot taller than most Mexicans.
3. There was a foot rail but so low as to be basically useless.
4. Pounding music, absolutely pounding. No part of “cocktail bar” includes pounding music so loud you can’t talk to the bartender.
5. None of the bartenders taste tested a single drink they sent out, this is really odd to see.
6. At one point I actually had to move my drink and water glass to make room for a waitress dropping off dirty dishes, uh, no, nooo, no.
7. Service? I mean, there really wasn’t any. It wasn’t good or bad, there was just zero interaction in any way. Getting my bill took ten minutes and multiple interactions.
8. I would have loved a bite to eat but at no point did anyone inquire or offer a menu.

Believe it or not there were other reasons too. Because the place is extremely famous I’m willing to try again but will have to wait until this taste leaves my mouth.

The drink was good, not great.

I’d forgot how sleepy Latin-American cities can be early in the morning, here I’m a morning person, apparently. I left home around 9am and most of my neighborhood is still frozen

There’s one particular taquiles place I was heading for but it’s still locked up, Google info is really more of a suggestion here. Eventually I found a Mexican version of an American diner…

The couple sitting next to me are a mystery, young, elegant, of the scarves and neckerchiefs persuasion. I assume they are speaking Spanish but when the waitress comes it’s clear they cannot communicate. The three of them have a lot of fun ordering and I try to figure out what their story might be.

Eggs, tortilla, plantains. Really good.

The couple are clearly speaking a Romance language but half of what they say just doesn’t match that. After a bit the obvious hits me, the half of their speech that sounds odd totally sounds Slavic, they are speaking Romanian!

While waiting for their food the elegant, presumed Romanian couple step outside to smoke, leaving all their possessions at the table, bags, coasts, phones, I envy their trust and hope it never goes wrong for them.

The restaurant and the street outside sit in shade, I can see through the window that the couple are standing in the one sliver of warm morning sun, holding each other, dancing and kissing and laughing.

While they’re outside their food comes, the waitress is clearly dismayed that they might let their food get cold. I wish I knew enough Spanish to tell her they won’t care.

They come back inside, see their food, laugh and hug again, they are lovely.

I watch two Romanians excitedly enjoying the Mexican interpretation of gigantic American stacks of pancakes, they appear novel to them. After a bit I ask if they are from Romania, they look SHOCKED and smile huge, asking how I knew, I said I have Romanian coworkers and I’ve been to Bucharest, I say good morning in Romanian (the only thing I remember) and they ask where I’m from, they are going to Vancouver, for their first time, in a week.

When the label has to legally warn you about EXCESSO CALORIAS and EXCESSO AZUCARES you KNOW it’s going in my basket.

Gumby lending a hand.

NOSE – Hmmm…. slightly spoiled fake, fake grape.

TASTE – I mean, it’s totally flat mediocre grape soda.

IS IT GOOD – Nope. It sucks.

Found this at a produce market, no idea what it is. I know charamoya (sp?) exists here and is a common fruit, perhaps this is that?

Gumby for scale.

Maybe I’d recognize the name if I knew it but I’ve certainly never seen this fruit before. It’s quite heavy and the flesh indents like a half deflated football, I’m going to assume that means it’s ripe.

NOSE – Mild, slightly melony.

TASTE – Weeeeeeeird. Tastes of pumpkin, cantaloupe, carrot, sweet potato. The texture is similar to avocado but more mealy, less creamy. A rather decadent mouthfeel actually.

IS IT GOOD – Yup, it’s good. Will pick up more and learn what it is.

I had planned a bunch of stuff for today but after walking 10km to get home I passed out for a bit, then unpacked, etc.

I could not get my eSIM to work at all, I bought another one from a different provider and had the same issues, I also realized I forgot two cables and my laptop charger. Serves me right for leaving my packing so last minute.

Apparently Radio Shack still exists here, and there’s on on my block, I paid a stupid amount for some cables and a charger and grabbed a physical, old-school, SIM card from OXXO. Got home, finished unpacking, inserted the new SIM, same issue, either nothing or 1mbps and continual dropped connections. Troubleshot for two hours, gave up, had a nap, went for tacos and groceries.

It was amazing, I ate three, oops.

While enjoying the food, the wonderful couple who made it and the super friendly crowd gathered around I was playing on my phone, looking things up, sending pics……. without issue……. at 4/5G speeds…….

Yup, I am THAT dumb, all the SIM cards worked fine, my Airbnb is just in a dead spot. Simply stunning.

The food was awesome though, I’ll go back.

Just take Uber from the airport they said! It’s so much easier they said!

Too easy!

The last time I landed in Mexico City I left the airport on foot and walked a kilometer in the middle of nowhere to the subway station, I ended up in the middle of a morning rush hour unlike anything I had ever seen, it was amazing, but I didn’t feel the need to recreate the experience.

This time I decided to take the bus from the airport to a subway station on the line that goes to my Airbnb.

Probably easiest to relate the rest of the voyage in point form:

• wandered the airport, end to end, looking for signs for the city bus. The wayfinding in Mexico City International is staggeringly bad.
• found signs for bus and followed them out of the airport, nope, realized these are charter buses.
• wandered the airport again, eventually found one tiny sign for the bus stop, followed sign out of airport, into taxi area.
• there is no bus stop, wandered around for ten minutes, found bus stop, 200 yards away, behind a post, with one tiny marker.
• according to Google the #4 bus comes every 5 minutes.
• waited 5 minutes.
• waited 5 minutes.
• waited 5 minutes.
• waited 5 minutes.
• waited 5 minutes.
• sigh, no bus, jumped in taxi.
• told driver to take me to San Lazaro Metro station.
• driver was very nice, practiced my Spanish with him while he got lost and had to ask people for directions, twice.
• get to station, rougher part of town, driver is warning me, making sure I’m ok on the subway.
• entered station, realized I’m in the bus area of the station, I need the subway. My mistake was following the signs with pictures of trains on them…… the rapidbus is nicknamed Trenbus and the logo is… a train….
• walked out of the bus area, found the subway area, can’t find Line 1 – Pink Line anywhere.
• wandered and wandered and wandered, pack is getting very heavy.
• found a train, some signs are in pink, some are in green, I’m tired.
• took train, wrong train, changed trains back to station.
• wandered around, found the entry for Line 1, and found that it’s boarded up.
• hilarious language barrier exchange with security guard, he explained there is construction.
• realized the taxi driver wasn’t worried about my safety, he was trying to make sure I understood the subway isn’t running.
• headed back to the Trenebus… where I was…. funny looks from the guards as I go through the turnstiles again.
• took Trenbus for about an hour until it met another subway station closer to my Airbnb.
• found boarded up subway station, learned Line 1, the main line, the line I got my Airbnb close to on purpose, is totally shut down until March 1.
• tried to get a bus going my general direction, I’m burnt out, cannot figure out the buses, none have standard signage, none give you any useful information.
• requested an Uber.
• arrived at my Airbnb, 4 hours and 10km of walking later.

Oh, you sweet summer child, that bus is never coming.