Mexico City

Touching down in Mexico City after leaving the clean, organized, and almost-military precision of Shanghai? Let me tell you, it’s like stepping into a Salvador Dalí painting. Where Shanghai’s streets are pristine and regulations reign supreme, Mexico City gives you a glorious, chaotic symphony of honking horns, smoky skies, and a traffic situation that feels more like an extreme sport. But before you think I’m knocking it, let me tell you, this place has a magic all its own—starting with the street art. You can’t walk five steps without bumping into a mural or a wall that basically yells, “¡Amor por la ciudad!” And you know what? They’re not kidding. They live for and love this city.

Now, when I asked the locals what’s extra special about this chaos masterpiece, the answer was instant and unanimous: the food. Oh, the food! We’re talking tacos for days, people. And not just your average, run-of-the-mill tacos either. Nope, there’s a taco for every imaginable—and some unimaginable—scenario. Cheese tacos? Check. Cactus tacos? Of course. And if you’ve got a gluten allergy, no worries—corn is the reigning champion here. You can taco your heart out with zero gluten fear.

What makes the food so ridiculously good? Everything’s fresh, straight from the market, and when I say fresh, I mean if you want the best produce, you’d better be up at an ungodly hour like 3 AM, prowling the stalls of Central de Bastos, the city’s giant food market. Think of it as a gladiatorial arena for early risers—if you’re there past 4 AM, you’re practically yesterday’s news. Breakfast around here isn’t just some dainty yogurt-and-granola affair, either. Oh no, we’re talking scrambled eggs, beef tacos, the works. Just steer clear of the scrambled eggs with jam… that combo is a crime against humanity and possibly tacos.

My friend says: ‘I have a buddy whose taco shop game is strong—like, hardcore strong. He works all night, crashes for a power nap at 1 AM, then drags himself up at 2 to hit the market before dawn. By the time I’ve had my first cup of coffee, he’s already prepped an entire lunch rush. I don’t know how he does it, because if I tried that, I’d be the living embodiment of a zombie apocalypse.’

The city itself was buzzing—more than usual—because Mexican Independence Day (September 16th) is right around the corner. The streets were decked out in green, white, and red, and, surprise, surprise, there were taco stands as far as the eye could see. I tried to distract myself from taco overload by visiting a museum filled with Egyptian artifacts, but plot twist: nearly everything there was a replica. One single original piece. I guess you win some, you lose some.

Speaking of losing some… while I was there for business, everyone was in a bit of a tizzy about some recent government changes. Apparently, they’re overhauling the judicial system, and instead of judges being chosen for, you know, their qualifications, now anyone can be elected a judge. Yeah, you heard that right—anyone. I joked that even I could throw my hat in the ring, but let’s be real, my sense of justice would probably revolve around taco disputes, and I’m not sure that’s what Mexico needs right now. Protests are expected, which reminded me of the last time I was in the city.

Back then, my hotel was across from the famous roundabout (because, sure, let’s put a circle in the middle of a square—why not?) the Angel of Independence, most commonly known by the shortened name El Ángel and officially known as Monumento a la Independencia. Farmers had been protesting government interventions for months, which isn’t exactly newsworthy in Mexico. What was newsworthy? They were protesting naked. Yes, the famous nude resistance. Imagine trying to figure out the appropriate price for tacos when you’re dodging naked farmers left and right. That’s a memory that’s tough to beat!