I get out of my place and I notice two things, the beautiful morning light, the same that surprised me when I landed here a month ago; and dogs. I forgot how many dogs were roaming Mexico City’s streets, especially in Condesa, where I’m staying. But not street dogs, house dogs. People with their own dogs and people with someone else’s dogs, dog sitter I assume, would be too many dogs for a person to handle.

While my shoes hit the bouncy sidewalks of Condesa , I recognize that I missed this city. Not only the light, but the big-city vibes as well. For a second , I think of my missive from Holbox , and I smile at my ever-changing feelings and thoughts. The contradiction of being myself 😅

I walk towards El Corredor del Niño Dios, it’s the last day to get your Niño Dios and a proper dress. I arrive there late morning thinking I was late, but not. Crazy crowd trying to find their wished trophy, a feast for the camera.

What I learned in Tehuacán about El Día de la Candelaria is how it helps me connect with people. When I ask if it’s the first year they do it because of the white dress , they look at me surprised: how the hell is this bearded dude interested in this stuff?!

It’s easy, curiosity and photography are my way of connecting with people and the moment. And here it’s easier than in South East Asia since I can speak Spanish, cool, and not so cool. It’s still a colonizer’s language.

I sit down for lunch in a stall when the lady on my side starts asking what I’m doing here , and she takes the chance to double down on praising Mexican people and food when I tell her I love it and that, in a month of traveling around , I had the luck of meeting only lovely people (and a ton of delicious tacos).

I take a moment to circle back to the ever-changing thoughts I mentioned a few paragraphs back. In particular, I start revisiting what I wrote in the last missive about the ease of interacting while traveling and the egotistical side that fears being seen as a fool. I’m recognizing that it’s probably less a matter of ego and more about a place’s and its people’s vibes. Here, everyone is smiling back; they are willing to engage in conversations when you sit beside them, they even start them themselves. Everyone feels open and welcoming.

I’m aware that the fact that my “exotic” appearance, with my big untreated beard, might spark curiosity in people; but still, they are warm and curious. Something that is much harder to find in Europe, where we are primed to fear strangers or those who look different, especially foreigners.

I wake up early, today is the day: El Día de la Candelaria. I walk into the church near my place around 9:00, it’s empty. The place feels like a food stall opening up at five in the morning. Just one person cleaning up the altar. I see that there will be another procession at 17:00, and I decide to go back to El Corredor del Niño Dios since they told me there would be a procession and free tamales outside the local church.

This time the church is almost empty, but at least it’s not completely so. I ask a couple of people and they say they knew it was at 11:00, but now it’s at 12:00. I have the feeling this church did what my friends usually do: they unofficially announced it an hour before so at least people would arrive on time.

The 12:00 has been gone for a while, and even if the mass started some time ago, people continue to flow in from the door. I struggle a bit with being there because I’m not keen on the Catholic religion, but I still linger around because it’s not about religion, but about how people live their traditions.

It’s the time for my next spot on this churches tour: Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Entering the gate, I pass by the blessing corner. A point where a laughing priest throws blessed water at a mass of people waiting to be blessed. My mind goes to my childhood, when I was playing with a water gun on the streets. Instantly, a part of me thinks it’s not cool to make fun of this, even just in my head. But then, I recognize that even the priest is laughing and joking. So I pardon myself, smile, and move on.

After a few minutes walking around, I feel the energy dropping. All these people and ceremonies are draining me out. I slow down and decide to move back to my place before ending my tour at the local church’s ceremony. To my surprise, even the 17:00 mass is almost empty, and after five minutes, I decide to call it a day.

The walk to my hotel through lightly lit, empty streets sparks some sadness in me. In two days, I will be back in Barcelona, and what will remain of Mexico are my memories, the photos, and these missives.

Speak from Europe in few days.

Till then,

— M