Notes From Mexico City

On good coffee, creative energy and the city I keep leaving, but somehow always come back to …

I have a thing with Mexico City. It started in 2018, when I moved there for work. Since then, I’ve kept coming back and every time I land, I have more or less the same thought: why don’t I live here already? It’s actually quite funny because my relationship with the city didn’t start as some big love story. Quite the opposite. Listen up!

When I first arrived, I knew nobody. I didn’t have an apartment, just an Airbnb booked for a week and the optimistic idea that I would figure out the rest once I got there. I remember going to the supermarket during those first few days and feeling completely overwhelmed. There’s something strangely disorienting about supermarkets in another country, especially on another continent! Everything looked different. The products, the brands, the food, the drinks. I walked around having absolutely no idea what to buy and eventually left with a can of Rio Mare tuna and some pasta because apparently, in a moment of existential crisis, my brain decided those were the two things that looked sufficiently European. I didn’t even eat them. I was barely hungry that first week. I had a job, but outside of that I had nothing yet. No friends, no routines, no familiar places. I remember crying in the Airbnb, crying in the bathroom and genuinely thinking, What am I doing here?

Thankfully, I stayed. And little by little, Mexico City became something completely different. I met people. I started going to events, sometimes for work, sometimes because someone knew someone who invited me somewhere.

My job was busy and dynamic. My weekends filled up with trips. I found restaurants I loved, places I kept returning to and eventually people who made the city feel much smaller than a metropolis of more than 20 million people has any right to feel. And Mexicans themselves had everything to do with that. There is such a strong pride in the culture, the food, the music, the traditions, the patria. And people want to share it with you. They want you to try things, see places, understand why something matters. That pride is contagious. You don’t just observe Mexico from the outside for very long. Somehow, you get pulled into it – if you allow yourself ofc.

Speaking Spanish helped enormously. I think language gives you access to a completely different version of a country. My experience of living in Mexico City wasn’t limited to one bubble, and I’m sooo grateful for that. I saw the polished side of Polanco and Las Lomas, but I also spent went to places like Tepito, Iztapalapa & La Raza. I ate in beautiful restaurants and very questionable-looking places where the food turned out to be INCREDIBLE. I met people from completely different backgrounds and saw sides of the city I probably never would have experienced had I only known it as a visitor. Somewhere in all of that, I fell in love with it.

The energy I keep coming back for

Even now, I find it difficult to explain exactly what it is about Mexico City. If I had to choose one thing, it would probably be the creative energy.

The city itself is enormous. There are people everywhere, cars everywhere, ridiculously wide streets, constant movement and traffic that can make you seriously reconsider your dinner reservation on the other side of town. But at the same time, parts of it feel surprisingly calm. It’s incredibly green. You walk around Roma and Condesa (so cliche I know, I know, but it really is nice!) under huge trees, past old houses, little galleries, cafés and people sitting outside with their dogs and laptops.

There’s chaos around you, but somehow everyone seems to be doing their own thing. And everyone really does seem to be doing something. That’s something I notice every time I go back. I’ve rarely been somewhere with so many young people building things for themselves. Someone has started a fashion brand. Someone is making a movie. Someone opened a studio. Someone has a restaurant concept. Someone is designing furniture. Someone moved back from New York, Paris or Madrid and decided to start something in Mexico.

There’s so much ambition, but it feels different from the version of ambition I know from a lot of European cities. Less corporate, perhaps. Less concerned with fitting neatly into one category. People just seem to make things. And it really speaks to me.

I genuinely think Mexico City is one of the most creative and artistic cities I’ve ever experienced. Not because creativity is presented to you as some kind of concept, but because you see it everywhere. In interiors, food, fashion, architecture, art, music, hospitality. It makes me want to create too.

Obviously, the coffee

Then there is my other great weakness: cities with good coffee. Mexico City is very good at making a quick coffee turn into half your afternoon (or maybe that’s just me, can also be).

I love sitting somewhere in Roma or Condesa with no particular agenda and watching people. Someone is having a meeting at the table next to you. Someone else has been on their laptop for two hours. Two girls walk in looking far too good for a random Wednesday. There are dogs everywhere. Someone you know walks past. You order another coffee. A quick cappuccino becomes two hours, three ideas, a new restaurant recommendation and suddenly you’re reconsidering your entire life plan. Very productive, really.

The city has become noticeably more polished since I first lived there, but I like that it hasn’t lost the other side of itself. You can have coffee in a beautifully designed space in Roma Norte, go to a gallery in the afternoon and later eat tacos stand in Iztapalapa. Neither feels more or less Mexico City. That mix is the whole point.

Living in Mexico City: The Tuesday Version

I’ve wanted to move back for years…. I’ve said it many times. Probably too many times for someone who still hasn’t actually done it. There has always been a reason. Work. Timing. Relationships. Logistics. Life. So I kept doing the next best thing: coming back.

But the interesting part is that when I imagine living in Mexico City now, I don’t really think about the exciting Mexico City anymore. I already know that version. I’ve done the dinners, the events, the rooftops, the nights… I think about a Tuesday; let me picture it for you: An apartment in Roma Norte or Condesa. High ceilings, huge trees in front of my window. Morning light. Walking downstairs for coffee and eventually reaching the very important stage where they know my order. Working on something creative. Writing for a few hours. Meeting someone for lunch. Pilates. Walking through Parque México. Buying some fruits and detergent on the way home. There is a golden retriever involved in this scenario. I’ve apparently already planned quite far ahead. But mostly, I see myself writing there. Sitting somewhere with my glitter-covered MacBook, watching the city move around me. Writing about culture, identity, performance, beauty, travel – whatever I find interesting. Meeting people from completely different worlds. Doing work that perhaps doesn’t fit perfectly into one box. It’s not even an especially glamorous fantasy.

I don’t dream about visiting Mexico City anymore. I dream about having a normal life there. I dream about buying groceries there. Although hopefully with slightly more confidence and more local touch than in 2018.

The city I keep leaving

Maybe part of my attachment to Mexico City comes from the fact that I know what it feels like to build a life there from nothing. I remember the version of me standing in that supermarket, feeling completely lost and wondering whether moving there had been a terrible idea. And I remember the version of me a few months later, with friends, plans, places I loved and weekends that were suddenly never long enough. The city didn’t immediately feel like home. It became familiar because I lived it. Maybe that’s why every time I go back, I slip into it so easily. I speak Spanish all day. I want to go everywhere and see everyone. I have more ideas. I notice what people are wearing. I want to write. I make too many dinner plans. I feel curious.

I just like myself there. And maybe that’s ultimately what makes us attached to certain places. Of course, we love the restaurants, the architecture, the weather, the coffee. But I think we also love the person we become in them.

Mexico City brings out a version of me that feels more spontaneous, more creative and a little less concerned with having everything figured out.
That doesn’t mean I romanticise living in Mexico City. I’ve done it before. I know Mexico City also means traffic, bureaucracy, pollution, enormous distances and days when getting from one side of the city to the other feels like a small international journey and includes a lot of frustration. But somehow none of that has ever stopped me wanting to go back.

Eventually, I left Mexico. The funny thing is, Mexico never really left me.
Since 2018, I’ve returned again and again. Sometimes for work, sometimes for holidays, sometimes simply because I missed it. And every time, there is that strangely familiar feeling when I arrive. I don’t know exactly when I’ll finally come back without a return ticket. Maybe soon. Maybe life will find another wonderfully sensible reason to delay it.

But I have a feeling I’ll live there again. Until then, this is my little love letter to Mexico City. To the city that overwhelmed me before it won me over. To the people who made a huge place feel smaller. To Polanco and Roma, to Iztapalapa and Tepito. To jacarandas, traffic, ridiculously good tacos and very long coffees. To the creativity, the warmth, the chaos and the constant feeling that someone, somewhere, is making something happen. To the place I arrived in knowing almost nobody and left knowing I would come back.

Apparently, I just keep taking the scenic route home.

Nos vemos pronto, CDMX.