Day 4: Behind the wall
MEXICO CITY (1/20) - First, it was time to pack out of my AirBnB penthouse, dashing off a note in English & Spanish - thanks, Google Translate! - to the penthouse’s owner, and also leaving a note that the electrical outlet under the hammock needed fixing… again bilingual.
It was then on to the second step of the sharing economy: Uber. Daniel was prompt; I had to sit through one mid-street performance of unicycling jugglers at the stoplight. (Yes, seriously!) Traffic being what it was, Daniel’s traffic app did its best to manage the morning rush, but it still did take just under an hour to get 6 miles (per Google Maps; his twists and turns may have more to the distance).
I had a free night due me at the Hyatt, thanks to me using their credit card. So once I was directed to the Express Platinum/Diamond Check-In line (again: Yes, seriously!), it was a quick swipe of the card for incidentals and then off to the 33rd floor.
After taking a breather, I edited my sightseeing in the Bosque (Park) de Chapultepec, a couple blocks away. At 1,700 acres, the Bosque de Chapultepec dwarfs Central Park (778 acres) in size. Within its three sections are fountains, museums, and even the presidential residence. (Fun fact: “Chapultepec” is the Aztec word for “grasshopper.”)
My first direction was toward the Museo Tamayo, the only museum on my list that had a restaurant. The Tamayo focuses on contemporary art from both within Mexico and the outside world.
Then it was a climb up the hill to the Museo del Caracol, which focuses on dioramas of moments in Mexican history. With “caracol” meaning “snail” in Spanish, it was no surprise that the hallway curved like a snail shell.
At the top of the hill was the Museo Nacional de Historia, housed inside Chapultepec Castle. It was originally built in 1775 as the Spanish viceroy’s residence, but throughout the centuries switched inhabitants, with Presidente Cardenas moving out in 1934.
The Castle was also the sight of a tragic event during the Mexican-American War in 1847. Winfield Scott led a charge of 9,000 troops into Mexico City. Grossly outnumbered, the Mexican general signaled retreat, but teenage military students housed in the Castle fought to the death, one wrapping himself in the Mexican flag and jumping. There’s a painting in a stairway’s ceiling showing the young jumper from below. Today, they’re known as Los Niños Héroes.
The museum itself displays historical items, which differentiates itself from the Caracol down the hill. In addition, the museum noted its time as host to Emperor Maximilian. (Poor Mexico. If it’s not the Americans or the Spanish sticking their noses in, it’s the French. At least the French defeat gave us Cinco de Mayo.)
After walking back down the hill, I exited the park and headed up the Paseo de la Reforma, the city’s grand boulevard. I only went as far as the statue of the Angel of Independence, the focal point of Mexicans everywhere, which celebrated the centennial of the War of Independence from Spain.
Now I’m back in the hotel room, packing and preparing for a 3:30am check-out for a 6am flight. I will also have to explain to the American counter agent that, yes, I left of the “Jr” on the ticket, but that doesn’t disqualify me as a “Jr” on the passport.
It was then on to the second step of the sharing economy: Uber. Daniel was prompt; I had to sit through one mid-street performance of unicycling jugglers at the stoplight. (Yes, seriously!) Traffic being what it was, Daniel’s traffic app did its best to manage the morning rush, but it still did take just under an hour to get 6 miles (per Google Maps; his twists and turns may have more to the distance).
I had a free night due me at the Hyatt, thanks to me using their credit card. So once I was directed to the Express Platinum/Diamond Check-In line (again: Yes, seriously!), it was a quick swipe of the card for incidentals and then off to the 33rd floor.
After taking a breather, I edited my sightseeing in the Bosque (Park) de Chapultepec, a couple blocks away. At 1,700 acres, the Bosque de Chapultepec dwarfs Central Park (778 acres) in size. Within its three sections are fountains, museums, and even the presidential residence. (Fun fact: “Chapultepec” is the Aztec word for “grasshopper.”)
My first direction was toward the Museo Tamayo, the only museum on my list that had a restaurant. The Tamayo focuses on contemporary art from both within Mexico and the outside world.
Then it was a climb up the hill to the Museo del Caracol, which focuses on dioramas of moments in Mexican history. With “caracol” meaning “snail” in Spanish, it was no surprise that the hallway curved like a snail shell.
At the top of the hill was the Museo Nacional de Historia, housed inside Chapultepec Castle. It was originally built in 1775 as the Spanish viceroy’s residence, but throughout the centuries switched inhabitants, with Presidente Cardenas moving out in 1934.
The Castle was also the sight of a tragic event during the Mexican-American War in 1847. Winfield Scott led a charge of 9,000 troops into Mexico City. Grossly outnumbered, the Mexican general signaled retreat, but teenage military students housed in the Castle fought to the death, one wrapping himself in the Mexican flag and jumping. There’s a painting in a stairway’s ceiling showing the young jumper from below. Today, they’re known as Los Niños Héroes.
The museum itself displays historical items, which differentiates itself from the Caracol down the hill. In addition, the museum noted its time as host to Emperor Maximilian. (Poor Mexico. If it’s not the Americans or the Spanish sticking their noses in, it’s the French. At least the French defeat gave us Cinco de Mayo.)
After walking back down the hill, I exited the park and headed up the Paseo de la Reforma, the city’s grand boulevard. I only went as far as the statue of the Angel of Independence, the focal point of Mexicans everywhere, which celebrated the centennial of the War of Independence from Spain.
Now I’m back in the hotel room, packing and preparing for a 3:30am check-out for a 6am flight. I will also have to explain to the American counter agent that, yes, I left of the “Jr” on the ticket, but that doesn’t disqualify me as a “Jr” on the passport.