If you've seen the Alfonso Cuarón movie, you'll be familiar with how the neighborhood looked 70 years ago, prior to its current gentrification.
Chris and I had been planning our trip to Mexico City for several months. We picked the perfect time to visit. Pollution, not weather, obscured the view of Popocatépetl from my window, just below the wing. It occasionally spews ash.
A guy who contacted me on Grindr recommended that we stay in Condesa or Roma where Chris found this spacious Airbnb at Guanajuato 197.
The hosts paid greater attention to decor than comfort, but the 2nd-floor-through apartment could not have been more conveniently located for touring the city via Uber.
We dined the first night at Fonda Fina, a 15-minute walk away. My fish taco and flan was the tastiest meal of the trip, by far, for not entirely culinary reasons.
Street art reflects the youthful vibe of the area that was heavily damaged by a massive earthquake in 1985.
So did the the incredible variety of hunks on Grindr, a couple of whom, almost as hot as "Nacho," said "hola." I routinely lurk on the app whenever I travel internationally and I can say without hyperbole that the online cruising crop in Roma changes more frequently than anywhere I've ever been and that includes the Pines.
Chris is a late riser. Gaining an hour gave me even more quiet coffee time in the morning to read the Times and label my photos.
I shopped for sun tan lotion (as much for moisturizing as UV protection from six days of cloudless skies), pastries and other breakfast items at Sumesa.
You've gotta admire the post-covid optimism of Roma. "We feel better already," proclaims a shuttered store front. Businesses open late on weekends.
Artisanal stores line this leafy alley.
Spanish colonization left a residue of European artistic influence that often contrasts with colorful buildings.
Or not.
People always seem to be on the move in Mexico City. Even shoe shine guys whose carts have wheels.
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