A chilanga love story

They call it the big city, her dad hated going there. He said it was always loud and always full of traffic. She, on the other hand, was drawn to it. That fast cosmopolitan lifestyle was fascinating to her.

Growing up in a small town, Belle often found herself bored, wishing she could live in a different place, somewhere she could see more, experience more, immerse herself in different cultures and activities. She made a promise to herself, right there and then, at 12 years old, that she would move to the city when she grew up.

When she was 18 years old, she tried convincing her father to let her move there to attend college, but he refused claiming concerns about her safety (the city is too dangerous, he'd say) and her being too young for the big city. She was disappointed but not defeated, she figured she could always move there after graduating from college once she had a career.

She was 25 years old when she finally made it there, after travelling overseas, living in Europe and the USA. She thought Paris was lovely (not as much as she idolized it), Neuchâtel was superb, Amsterdam was a blast, Budapest was charming, Berlin was vibrant, and St. Louis was so much fun. Yet, none of those cities were home, none of them replaced her deep childhood desire to live in Mexico City.

She did not have a place to live nor did she have a job, but that did not stop her from finding one and moving there. When there is a will, there is a way, and she found it. When her father dropped her off, he was so concerned she was going to live in a “ghetto” neighborhood, but she told him:

“Dad, I have lived in other countries, in completely different cities, sometimes I did not even know the language, and I was able to get by. I think I can handle a big city in my own country”.

She was never scared; she knew she had developed a tough skin and yes, maybe she was also a little naïve, but boy did she had determination! Even though her mom called it stubbornness. Call it what you would like, she made it. She moved to the big city and could finally call herself a “chilanga” (Mexico City girl, typically a person not born in it but someone from other states that decided to live in this city).

She was fascinated by all the options she had, even just to commute. She could take a cab, uber, metro, train, bus, rent a bike, walk alongside with the crowds. She could go to the movies, not only to the commercial cinemas but independent movies theaters or international festivals. She could go to theater, the ballet, opera, museums, international concerts.

Every Sunday most museums offered free admission, she found that marvelous! She could eat any kind of food she could imagine, from international cuisine to street food. In Mexico City you can find great authentic Japanese sushi right next to an Irish Pub, followed by an Argentinian restaurant, and of course, there are hundreds of street tacos pretty much in every corner. Food trucks, food stands, casual restaurants, fine dining restaurants. You can find a humble carne asada taco on the street and an elevated minimalist overpriced version of a taco in a fancy international establishment. Mexico City is a true paradise for taco lovers. That itself is reason enough for me to love it. You can also find pretty much anything at any time, it is one of those cities that never sleeps.

What fascinated Belle the most was the city itself; it was full of contrasts. Take the architecture for example, you get to the Zócalo (the main square) and you see the beautiful colonial Palacio de Gobierno (government Palace) right across the Templo Sagrado (Aztec ruins in the heart of the city). You can say the same thing about Mexico as a country, it is full of contradictions. There is this dichotomy between what it is and what it appears to be.

Belle absolutely loved living there at first. She did not have to try too hard to fit in. She did not to let the city people know she was just a small-town girl, after all she was not that girl anymore. She considered herself well read and well-travelled by now.

She used to think city people born there had no idea how lucky they were, they took the city for granted and did not take advantage of it to the fullest. She soon noticed even walking around most people would not even take a moment to look around them.

“Why won’t the realize how fortunate they are just to walk those streets every day?”

She thought to herself. Those streets were full of history, if you just look up on any random street downtown and you will see a beautiful building standing tall.

She said to herself she would not make those same mistakes. Little did she know, the city is a wild animal, it devours people like her. But it is devious; it does not happen overnight, and then one day you just wake up, if you are lucky, and noticed you have become another city zombie, going from work to home and vice versa, always grumpy, busy, unaware. Not truly living but merely existing.

The city she once loved, became her enemy. It was turning her into someone she did not like, someone she swore she would never become. She hated to admit it, but she needed a break from the city before it turned her into someone she no longer recognized. One Sunday morning all she could think of was how overcrowded the city was, she focused on pollution, traffic, all she wanted to do was to stay on her tiny apartment and sleep. Her energy was so drained she could not even motivate herself to go to a library, a bookstore, a museum, a park. That is when she knew it was time to go.

The things she loved the most about the city were starting to become the things she hated. She was not sure she could ever reconcile the two of them. When you hate something as much as you love it, that is a big conflict. There comes a time in everybody’s life when one must decide, whether a relationship (with a person, a city, or a job) is worth fighting for or if it is best to let go.

Belle decided it was time to part different ways. Mexico City will always hold an incredibly special place in her heart, it was dream come true, as much as it was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower or the Mona Lisa painting at the Louvre Museum. Having high expectations make reality an extremely difficult task.

She still loves the big city; it was the first place she ever felt like she truly belonged. However, just because you love something (or someone), it does not mean you have to hold on to it forever, sometimes letting go also means love. Sometimes, it is not about arriving to a place to stay there forever, but simply arriving to ourselves.

Living in Mexico City helped me to reconnect with myself, and for that I will be forever grateful to it and I will always love it.