CDMX for the win.

Some cities make you chase them. Mexico City isn’t one of them. CDMX opens its arms, hands you a pastry, and dares you not to fall in love. I showed up with a jacket that was doing its best, a camera roll that filled fast, and a mood that kept getting lighter with every step.

Art Finds You First

I wandered into an outdoor market and ended up buying a piece of art directly from a local painter who talked about color like it was a living thing. Then I stumbled on murals that felt like they were in conversation with me — bold color, queer bodies, masks, sunflowers, and entire stories poured onto walls.

Even the blurriest shot I took later still looked like CDMX winking at me.

Frida Said “Not Today,” but the City Still Showed Up

We tried to get into Casa Azul, and the line curved around the block like Frida was personally inside greeting folks and signing autographs. After a few minutes of pretending we might wait, we chose sanity.

Instead, we walked over to the little square where local artists sell their work. That’s where I found the piece that came home with me — handed to me by the person who painted it. No crowd, no pretense, all heart.
Mexico City knows how to reward the detours.

Museums That Make You Look Up

I spent a morning inside Museo Soumaya, the shimmering gift from the Carlos Slim family. Free, gorgeous, and shaped like it was designed by someone who wanted a building that reflects sunlight the way jewelry catches it. You don’t walk through Soumaya — you float.

Then I headed to the Diego Rivera Museum, Rivera’s volcanic-stone dream. The place feels ancient and intentional, like he carved a temple out of the earth just to store his obsessions. That museum sits heavy in your chest in the best way.

CDMX doesn’t do small-scale beauty. Even the free things feel monumental.

Nights That Feel Like Velvet

There’s a jazz club in Roma where the curtains are thick and the lighting is soft enough to make everyone look interesting. I sat near the stage and let the trumpet do what it does — slow time down.

Later, I ended up at Tokyo Music Bar, a tiny jewel box of a place where they hand you drinks like they’re gifting you a secret. Tequila, eucalyptus, grapefruit. Calm in a glass.

Mexico City’s nights know exactly what they’re doing.

Jazz club + Food + Drinks = Joy

A Book I Didn’t Choose, but That Chose Chaos

In my Airbnb, tucked between two polite-looking books, was a copy of cuentos eróticos italianos. I did not buy this. It just appeared — like the universe said, “Here’s a plot twist.” Only in CDMX does even the nightstand have a sense of humor.

Found in our Airbnb.

Vintage Shopping? A Miss. CDMX? Still a Win.

I’ll keep it real: the vintage shopping was ass. Prices pretending they lived in Paris, quality giving “community theater wardrobe,” and a whole middle-child attitude from pieces that needed to calm down.

But that didn’t touch how I feel about the city. Not even a dent.

Because the real treasure here is street tacos that feel like a hug and sunlight that follows you all day. CDMX feeds you, warms you, and sends you back out better than you walked in.

The City Keeps Showing Up

One minute you’re posed with giant angel wings outside a shop.
The next, you’re bonding with a peacock who’s clearly the star of his garden.
Then you’re running across Reforma to pose at the giant CDMX letters like you’re filming a commercial no one asked for but absolutely should have.

Every corner offered something: color, character, warmth. If you look up in this city, you’re rewarded.

Look at this guy.

Stepping Into History

Teotihuacán quiets you immediately. The Pyramid of the Sun has a way of shrinking your worries and stretching your perspective. My shoes collected dust for days afterward — felt like a souvenir I earned.

What Stayed With Me

Mexico City reminded me that living well isn’t about perfect plans or curated finds. It’s about saying yes to what pulls you in. Art on the street. Music in a dark room. Tacos at midnight. Sun on your shoulders. Laughter in a plaza. Surprises tucked in nightstands.

CDMX cracked me open in a gentle way — more color, more joy, more ease.

Qué sentido!