My Rediscovery of Mexico City
Returning to Mexico City (CDMX) after more than a decade away felt like stepping into a dream, where nostalgia and wonder collided. Though I was born here, I was raised in Sonora, and my parents, who carry the spirit of the city with them, have always kept this place close to their hearts. I had only visited as a child, never truly lived here. But this time, as I wandered through the streets again—through the same avenues, plazas, and neighborhoods I had briefly visited before—I saw the city with the eyes of a newcomer. It felt different. I didn’t just see a city I was familiar with—I saw a place that had shaped my people and my family, a place with a magical spirit that ran deeper inside of me than I had ever known.
This place is alive with culture, a constant hum of energy that vibrates through every corner. The streets pulse with stories, the air thick with history. It's a city where every sidewalk seems to have a tale to tell—whether it's the colorful buildings that speak of resilience and resistance, or the sounds of music that fills the streets, from the microbus to the cilindrero echoing through the ages. The city feels alive in a way that’s impossible to ignore, and as I walked through it, I was humbled by the collective creative and artistic spirit that fills the air.
But it’s also impossible to overlook the scars—its violent past, the devastation from earthquakes, the layers of corruption, and the deep wounds inflicted by political and social unrest. Yet, through it all, this place has always risen. There’s a raw beauty in its chaos. It’s a city that proves beauty can emerge from destruction. I saw this resilience everywhere—in the determined faces of the people, in the vibrant markets, and in the streets that never stop moving. The energy here is contagious, and it courses through you as if the city itself is alive in your veins.
And then, there are the sounds—the unmistakable, lively calls of the street vendors who make their presence known long before you see them. The sharp whistle of the camote vendor pierces the air, a nostalgic sound that can be heard from blocks away, signaling the arrival of sweet, steaming yams. The rhythmic clinking of a spoon against a glass announces the man selling gelatinas, while a pre-recorded voice blaring from a speaker lets you know that tamales oaxaqueños are just around the corner. Each vendor has their own signature sound, a clever way of becoming part of the city's daily symphony, blending seamlessly into the urban landscape.
The smells are just as unforgettable—each step down the street offering a new sensory experience. One moment, you're surrounded by the rich aroma of tacos sizzling on a comal, the earthy scent of freshly made tortillas filling the air. Walk a little further, and the fragrance of simmering guisados wafts from open kitchen windows, where home-cooked meals spill their essence onto the street, inviting you in. There’s an intoxicating mix of spices, roasted chilies, and sweet bread from the panaderías that tempt you with their warm, sugary scent. Even the candy vendors add their own touch, selling regional sweets like alegrías made of amaranth and honey, or tamarind candies with just the right kick of spice and sweetness.
Leaving this city again, I carry more than just memories—I carry a newfound connection. Walking its streets, tasting its flavors, and hearing its familiar sounds reminded me that this place is a part of me, no matter how far I’ve been. There’s something special about rediscovering a place you thought you knew, only to realize it still has so much more to show you. This visit was more than a trip; it was a homecoming in ways I never expected. And I know I’ll be back—because this city, with all its beauty and chaos, will forever have a piece of my heart. 🧡
Hasta la próxima, mi México lindo.
