Mexico is a long afternoon wandering up and down narrow streets, eyes wide, looking at unfamiliar textures. Concrete walls. Stains on the asphalt. Long shadows.
The hot sun wraps everything in yellow.
A volcano hangs distant, like the Empire State Building from a Brooklyn rooftop. She slips into conversation with ease. An entire language emerging like tied scarves from a clown's sleeve. There is lime cured Ceviche on flat tortilla chips. Cheap beer. Street tacos. Iced tea made from steeped red flowers.
In Mexico City, Club America plays a match against Pumas at Estadio Azteca. The place is electric. Sweaty fans pack in for a view. Some sit on the barbed wire fencing that separates rival fans. Each goal ignites a roar so loud it shakes the stadium grounds.
It is the perfect month-long escape from a snowy New York February. Here are some photos from my wanderings.