Mexico

That night, the air was thick with celebration and imminent rain. It was clear that the festive atmosphere would stand its ground despite the upcoming storm.

Earlier that evening, Mexico had won the Under 17 World Cup Games that the country had been hosting that summer. In the final moments of the last match, the classy Coyoacan restaurant bar we were watching it at momentarily transformed into a rowdy sports bar. Some of the men climbed onto the bar counter, tore off their shirts, and swung them around in joy. It certainly could not compare to an official World Cup win, but it was kind of like a celebration of the future’s potential.

And our little group, most of us Mexico-philes, were keen to participate. When the game crowd died down, we moved toward the Coyoacan neighborhood center, where streets that were lined with vendors and full of residents led to the central plazas. There, you could find practically any unhealthy night time snack you were looking for, and we went for the churros.

When the rain came, we followed the sounds of cumbia to a tent where a live band was performing. Under the tent was a gathering of all ages and genres, unified by the love of a country’s timeless songs.

When the band played this song, everyone got up to dance. The teenage hippie couple with poorly made dreadlocks danced. A drunk guy with bare feet, a shirt with the sleeves cut off, and dirty cut off jeans danced. Other people danced in a circle around him, clapping to the rhythm. The group of twenty-something hipsters dance. A family of three danced in a trio, the father taking turns spinning his wife and then his daughter.

And then the band moved on to a ballad. The pace slowed down, but the liveliness remained.  A small old man near the stage wearing a shiny gold shirt and a white cowboy hat pulled off his flashy outfit as he moved gracefully to the song with his partner. As another older couple danced, the husband reinforced the romantic lyrics by singing them emphatically to his wife. The two adults in the family of three decided to dance to this song as a duet. The little girl didn’t seem to mind being on her own for a bit. She twirled around the dance floor like a ballerina.

That rainy night, that tent housed a supreme kind of beauty. You could see it in the passion for the music and the dances that go with them. You could find it in the tolerance of the quirkiness and self-expression of members of the community and beyond. And most of all, there was beauty in the love, the palpable and all-encompassing love.

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One overcast afternoon in Mexico City, I took to the streets of Colonia Condesa armed with a small camera and backed up by posse of creative people who are as passionate about the D.F. as I am. We did what I love doing independently; we walked all over the neighborhood aimlessly, taking pictures of everything.

I was with the group I’d spent the day with at the art school while they worked on their mural. It was an awesome experience to walk around with people who enjoyed making regular stops to take pictures and we had six sets of eyes to pick up all the details of the neighborhood.

Condesa is one of Mexico City’s more famous colonias. It’s another one of the Barrios Mágicos and it’s known for being a trendy part of town. But like the rest of the D.F., you can always find a bit of grittiness and a few quirks in the mix:

A flower stall at busy intersection.

More flowers for sale.

ECOBICI, Mexico City’s bike sharing program.

Pretty tiles in cracked wall.

A restaurant waiting for its dinnertime crowd.

The “Love Ambulance”.

Creative wheat paste advertisements for a website that provides guides to the city. I identify with the woman in the upper left hand corner who has springs where her feet should be.

Separate bins for compost and regular waste in Parque Mexico. A friend from Mexico tells me that people don’t pay attention to this and throw their trash into any bin, but I like the effort and the potential it has.

The art deco street signs in Condesa are charming.

The Lindberg Theater in Parque Mexico being used for skating and recreation.

A building uniquely decorated with globe shaped light fixtures.

The Condesa branch of a Mexico City bookstore called El Pendulo. The Polanco branch is the most famous, but this one is also wonderful.

Of course once inside El Pendulo, I gravitated towards this.

Really great street art painted onto a piece of paper and attached to a post. Sorry if this scared you as you were scrolling down!

More street art. I like the way whoever did it took advantage of an already deep red wall to make something simple and vivid.

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On paper, the size and population of Mexico City can seem overwhelming. But aside from when I’m downtown or using the busy metro system, it often surprises me how the city doesn’t feel as populated or massive as it really is.

There are 16 boroughs in Mexico City, and within each borough are several neighborhoods. Some of the boroughs like Coyoacán and Xochimilco used to be separate towns that were swallowed up by the city over time.

While Mexico City as a whole seems to revolve around the historical center, more than other cities I’ve visited, the individual neighborhoods tend to have their own distinct character and vivacious centers. To me, this makes Mexico City feel more like a unified collection of towns rather than the big sprawling mass that it is.

In 2011, Mexico City decided to designate 21 of the most charming and historical neighborhoods as  “Barrios Magicos” (Magical Neighborhoods). Unsurprisingly, as a visitor to Mexico City, I’ve spent the bulk of my time in places that are on that list. Here are some everyday images from two of them, Roma and Coyoacán (and a few more from just outside):

 

An old bus turned in to public art parked outside a square in Roma.

Beautiful architecture in Roma.

A street in Coyoacán, not far from Frida Kahlo’s Casa Azul.

The area around the central plazas of Coyoacán can be lively at night. It was a rainy night, but there were several vendors, plenty of people out, and live music under a tent in one of the plazas.

I love the joy in this photo. And the churros were delicious.

During the day I spent at CenArt, we picked up tortas for lunch in a charming neighborhood just outside Coyoacán. The flowers above and the following pictures were taken there.

Etched into a sidewalk. It made me a little wistful about my time in Cuba when I saw it.

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