What Mexico City taught me about how I want to live
Learning to let every city I visit change me.
“Buen día!” I called out as I turned to leave the panadería, the smell of sweet pastries following me out. One glance at the busy traffic locked in my decision to walk. A 40-minute walk here always feels like 10, with storefronts, cafes, logos, and green spaces fighting for my attention. The streets here feel alive and it’s so easy to lose track of time.
I’ve been in CDMX for 4 days now and I’m finally feeling like I’ve found my rhythm. Contradictory to my strict itineraries of the past, what I look for when I travel—no, strive for—is taking the time to live in a new place rather than just be in it.
It’s hard to imagine that only a few years ago, I was still planning itineraries packed to the brim with meticulous daily schedules that accounted for wait times, minute-by-minute cafe stops, and a full list of backup plans in case anything fell through. I don’t really know that girl anymore, although I can appreciate the intentions behind her anxiety-driven planning.
The problem with prioritizing seeing and doing more is how easy it is to have it all blur together. No single experience creates the impact that even the smallest moments do now that I’ve learned to travel differently. If my 20s was about figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be, I’m going to take full advantage of my 30s to execute this newly-found self confidence in how I like to spend my time.
This week, I’ve been leaving my Airbnb at approximately 10:00 am everyday. “Here’s evidence of my growth,” I think, because I’m not forcing my regular 7/8 am schedule on my travel self. The panadería by my Airbnb has become something of a beacon—I pass it daily, no matter where I’m headed. After noticing both latin crowds and expats chatting away on their street-side patio on my first day, I had a gut feeling that it would become a source of comfort on this trip. The familiar volume of relaxed conversations that can only be had in a café paired with the light clinking of mugs being set back down in their saucers will always feel safe. So of course I’ve visited multiple times, stopping here for my morning coffee and pastry or grabbing a baked good to-go on my way home.
There’s a certain je ne sais quoi (or more appropriately “no sé qué”) to finding home in a new place. Sometimes it’s a physical location like the panadería. Other times it’s a specific ritual: leaving my Airbnb, turning the key 3 times because that’s how you lock the door, heading left towards the tree-lined street, checking my reflection in the mirrored store-fronts, and saying good morning to the market vendors. It’s the reason I started staying in Airbnbs over hotels. “Live like a local” except my version of that is “to live like I’m local”. The difference is subtle yet impactful—rather than changing how I live entirely, I’m bringing small pieces of comfort into a new space.
Yesterday I visited a taco spot that was recommended to me by a shop owner I had befriended. I’ve been on the hunt for a good al pastor taco and she said Tacos La Chula was one of her favorites in the area. (Delicious, by the way.) I had been worried about not being able to communicate with street food vendors due my embarrassingly poor Spanish so Chula was a great “in-between”. While it has a legitimate storefront with staff that could understand some english, it still provided the taste of a solid street taco. After my meal, I headed out of the restaurant and was hit with the realization that I kind of knew how to get home. After a quick glance at Google Maps for validation, I started walking in that general direction.
Unbeknownst to me, my brain had started to build a mental map of street corners, cafés, and intersections that transformed this unfamiliar city into instinctual routes back to my home base. While by no means can I tell you what the streets are called, I can recognize the transition between one neighbourhood to the next, making it quite a lot easier to find my way. Would I have noticed these details if I was following a fast-paced itinerary? I doubt it.
The same shop keeper that introduced me to Tacos La Chula gave me one of the most memorable shopping experiences I’ve had in a while. I’ve seen her brand, Estudio 1999, on Instagram before coming here and just so happened to walk by as I was exploring the Jaurez neighbourhood. Estudio 1999 is known for using dead stock fabrics and upcycling techniques to create one-of-one pieces that feel unique yet highly wearable. Much like shopping vintage, you have to try every piece on to make sure it fits the way you want it to. She and her staff encouraged me to try as many pieces as I wanted. I ended up spending over an hour in the store, going back and forth with her about what pieces looked best on me and how to style them.
As she was preparing my purchases, another shopper joined in on our conversation. She was a 60 year-old Japanese lady from Copenhagen with the most electric energy that didn’t look (or feel) a day over 40. The three of us instantly bonded over what can only be described as girlhood. In our short 15 minute conversation we covered careers, sex, visas, beauty… even ex-husbands. Had I given myself over to the anxiety of leaving for the next spot, I would’ve missed learning about the lives of these two incredible women. What a shame that would’ve been.
As my Uber sped towards La Laguna, a cultural centre that houses artisans, creative businesses, art exhibits, cafés, and other local independent local businesses, the passing buildings reminded me there’s still so much I’ve yet to explore. I made a mental note to walk home even though the route takes an hour. La Laguna feels like something that would exist in the Arts District in LA but with more depth and history. I typically set an intention for each trip I take and for this one it was “creative inspiration”. It’s so easy to burn out creatively when you’re livelihood depends on it so I packed my journal and my laptop today and set out to rub shoulders with other creative and entrepreneurial souls. While the city is **filled with spaces like this, there’s an energetic buzz here, even outside of the beautiful art and architectural marvels.
Although it’s not necessary, I purposely cut through Parque Mexico no matter where I’m headed home from. The birds flutter and chirp overhead, somewhere in the thick canopy of trees just out of sight. Dogs are off-leash and running across the path into bushes only to come out the other side with a ball in their mouth. People are strolling through the park, all glad to have this small escape break up their busy day. There’s an undeniable busyness in the city that can sometimes feel a little overwhelming. Parque Mexico feels like a palate cleanser at the end of each day. The lush green space successfully erases my day’s weariness, easing in a certain calm that’s hard to describe.
I picked a bench and let myself relax, resting my feet. While yes, 40 minutes feels like a short walk here, the physical fatigue is unavoidable. As my gaze soften and breath slow, my attention falls once again to the humans of Mexico City. There’s no denying that people here hustle. From creative business owners, to shop keepers, to street vendors, to digital nomads—everyone here is striving for something. However, it’s obvious there’s more to life than just that hustle here. Outside of North America, people shut their laptops and close up shop for lunch. Coffee breaks are mandatory and not something you have to earn. I’m sure work isn’t easier yet humans seem happier. More at peace. There’s so much we can learn from the way people live in other countries and this sentiment is the best thing I could take home with me.
It’s revelations like this one that give traveling a new purpose for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing/doing/eating new things. But I wouldn’t trade spending extra time at the park, staying in shops to chat, and discovering spots that feel like home for an itinerary crafted around “doing more”. I think of these as ways I’ve improved my own daily rituals. As I’ve been creating a mental map of the city and how my life would look like here, I’ve also been mapping a slightly improved version of myself.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been chasing all along—not the landmarks or the photo ops, but the feeling of finding myself in new places. Not losing myself in them. A good trip was never about how much I could squeeze in and how many pins I could drop on a map. It’s about the version of me that shows up when I let the city move me instead.
If the only souvenir I take home is a little more open-mindedness and a slower way of seeing the world, that feels like more than enough.