2026-09-25, Biblioteca Vasconcelos, Mexico City, Mexico —
A week into my nine-day trip to Mexico City, I have thoughts. The moving-abroad calculus will come later. What I can say right now is that being on the ground hasn’t disqualified Mexico City despite several serious cons. So here’s a brief list, just five, of my less-than-brief impressions so far.
Biblioteca Vasconcelos made my trip.
I appreciate a city with a great library, and Mexico City has a stunning just-turned-twenty-years-old modern masterpiece. Happy Birthday, Biblioteca Vasconcelos! I drafted this from the top floor stacks overlooking one of the themed gardens encircling it on the first day of the 20th anniversary celebration. What a happy, touching coincidence for my visit!
Walking in the first time, looking down the concourse with the hanging stacks to either side made me gasp out loud and then laugh. It was so glorious! I guess this is what the religious feel walking into a cathedral. Libraries are my thing, and you’ll find posts about and from libraries in earlier posts–like celebrating my 61st birthday by visiting the Pottsville Free Library. Teaberry ice cream may also have been involved.
Comparisons to the Seattle Central Library popped to mind immediately–both being so modern and yet so different. Where Seattle’s stacks spiral upward continuously, Mexico City’s stacks hang and stretch into the multi-block distance. Another comparison jumped to mind: the hanging stacks make it feel like the inside of a Borg Cube! After a nice renovation, of course.
Several librarians here tied themselves into knots to find me their best English-speaker to answer my questions. That librarian tied himself into knots to find their one remaining copy of a book from the library’s dedication. To our surprise, it did have both Spanish and English. I spent an hour paging through it, learning about Mexico’s complicated history with libraries as well as the building itself.
On the way out, I profusely thanked them in what little Spanish I know. One librarian said back that it was an honor to help me–no doubting her sincerity. I’m getting verklempt just writing about it. Is there a better place filled with better people anywhere?
Popeyes & Carl’s Juniors are everywhere.
Mexico City has more Popeyes within a few blocks of my hotel than in central Philadelphia overall. They appear to outnumber the McDonaldses and Burger Kings and everything else except–Carl’s Jr. I think of Carl’s Jr. as a bit player in the fast food market, but maybe they are bigger on the West Coast and have better reach into Mexico. Perhaps related, there are no Five Guys in Mexico, and I rate Carl’s Jr. a poor substitute.
Almost immediately disqualifying, I am shocked and appalled to report that the Popeyes here don’t deep-fry and cinnamon-sugar-coat their apple pies! (The McDonald’s pies are fried at least). I like Popeyes overall, but that smothered, deep-fried heart attack inducer is what drags me into one almost weekly.
Mexico City gets around.
Mexico City has a transit system that knows how to move its 23 million residents and who-knows-how-many visitors around. It’s clean, efficient, more “on time” than me (honestly, a low bar, but still), and the layout is mostly straightforward. The subway stations are laid out clearly: switching platforms because you took the wrong train initially is easy enough to fix. Not that I ever do that.
Most of my time being publicly transported has been on Metrobus Linea Uno, one of Mexico City’s rapid bus transit lines. These multi-segment buses have dedicated lanes and raised platforms for boarding. Honestly, it’s almost like riding the subway but with the ability to see what lies between.
At night, the lights must give the BRT lines priority access, so they can barrel through a half-dozen streets before reaching the next platform. It also feels more than a little like a roller coaster. Mexico City is relatively flat, but the streets create localized maxima and minima to keep things interesting.
Mexico City is a tripping hazard.
Don’t get me wrong. Mexico City, or at least the Zona Rosa area and its surroundings have been walkable. But it’s never without risk; I’ve been on nature hikes with flatter terrain. Many of the sidewalks are concrete tiles that are often wobbly, broken, or missing. Panels for subsurface access are also often broken or missing. Random conduits pop up in places. People try to mark them, but it’s with other tiles or boxes or in one case flowers.
Beyond damage, different parts of the sidewalk were clearly from different decades and never integrated. There are plenty of places where there’s at least a six-inch step to get from one section to another. Some channel-like features might be about storm drainage; they’re also perfectly sized to trap a careless foot.
This city is not ADA compliant by a long shot. There is progress being made though–some sidewalks have cut-outs and ramps were clearly added after the fact in some of the most treacherous spots. Mexico City is working on it, and I did see a group with signs who appear to be championing disability and accessibility issues.
The climate is mild; the air quality is not.
I didn’t pack a jacket because the numbers from thousands of miles away seemed spring-like. There were a few moments when that felt regrettable–nothing a hot coffee or brisk pace couldn’t solve. A long-sleeved waffle shirt has been more than enough on chilly nights; the sweater remains folded in the drawer unworn. Even on those chilly nights, a cerveza or two is plenty of antifreeze to stop noticing it. No vodka required!
The locals have been complaining and apologizing for the rain. The showers are short and light, pleasant to me given my love of London and San Francisco weather. I have to really stare out the window to see the falling rain right now–the camera doesn’t pick it up at all.
The flora is a surprising mixture of temperate, semi-tropical, and desert varieties. Yes, there are cacti and palms here. There are agave–much larger than I imagined in real life–and something like snake plants that are also massive compared to my potted cousin back home. Mexico’s farmlands have two growing seasons, and Mexico City is always green and never snowcapped. Water scarcity is a real thing here, but not right now. How much browning occurs, I cannot say. In a word I didn’t expect to use here: verdant.
Air quality was a known con before I arrived. This visit is specifically about qualifying things like that, and I can report that during the week it’s hard. Just walking around, I’ve felt short of breath. Part of that might be humidity–mild by Philly summer standards but enough to dampen my shirt. Part of that might be altitude–7,350 feet above sea level. Part of it is definitely all the car traffic in a large geographical bowl.
People are walking around in jackets while my shirt gets more than damp walking at a moderate pace on level ground. Transplants and tourists from other Mexican cities say it takes about three months to acclimatize to it. The chilangos also say that there’s seasonal variation, and this is the mild season for air quality. Hmm.
Whatever the cause, it worsened as the work week went on. I’ll have to pull some numbers and see if that’s typical and if this week was worse than average. It’s not disqualifying, but prudence requires having alternatives (like Guadalajara perhaps) if I can’t acclimatize and don’t want to change countries again.