The Centro Historico exemplifies the fact that Mexico City was built on top of a lake and it’s sinking at a rate of three centimeters per year. The Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe isn’t helping; the giant cathedral dominates the Zolcalo, the city’s main square, and the thing looks heavy.
This is a noisy place, but it’s from exuberance–church bells, wandering music, the unbridled joy of children–and not the angry horn honking of so many other world capitals. In fact, cars are quiet here, barely making a peep.
I’ve never seen a city more centered on family. They cling and kiss openly. Their sorrow is seen on the billboards of missing young adults with hefty rewards attached for their return or on the flyers of young political prisoners defiantly dotting the boulevards.
The color, the food, the passion are all loud and clear wherever you go in this city. I need to come back, so much more to see.
