This was only the second time in my life I'd been to Mexico City: the first time, I was only 4 years old, and my mother was in the final stages of pregnancy with my sister. My only memories are (a) the pyramids, and (b) my father buying a little toy helicopter from a street vendor. The helicopter actually flew, and I remember that my father wouldn't let me play with it, but my job was simply to retrieve the helicopter once it finally fell to the ground.*

I remain scarred to this day.

Anyway, I traveled to Mexico City without much in the way of expectations: I expected it to be a huge, bustling city, but really rather nondescript. I also expected the people to be relatively aloof, since the city has a population of 22 million; and really, name a city of over 10 million people where you would describe the population as 'warm'? Turns out, I was wrong on both counts.

My experience began with the driver who picked me up at the airport. His name was Francisco, and although he spoke English, I asked him if he would speak Spanish to me, so I could practice. I describe my facility with Spanish like this: I speak it well enough that people who don't speak Spanish think I'm fluent; but people who do, know better. Francisco happily obliged, and while I'm sure he found some of my sentence construction completely laughable, he managed to hide his amusement admirably.

Francisco was born and raised in the Distrito Federal (what the locals call Mexico City), and his pride showed. As we drove from the airport to my hotel, he pointed out various areas of the city, and did so without any sort of judgment: 'That area, over there, is where the elite live -- it's very exclusive.' 'Over there, that area is pretty dangerous -- if you're interested in obtaining drugs, or getting murdered, that's the area you'd visit.' 'Over there is the historic district -- a beautiful place for walking, taking pictures.' 'That way is the Zona Rosa -- lots of art galleries, cafes, great nightclubs, mostly gay ...' It was a beautiful introduction to the city, and since I'd failed in securing a tour to the pyramids (I'd tried like the dickens in the days preceding my trip), I made a decision that night that if I had a chance, I was going to take a walk in the historic district.

As luck would have it, my morning meetings on Friday were canceled, so I conned a coworker into coming with me to do a bit of exploring, and off we went. The three hours we spent leisurely making our way to the historic district were breathtaking: what struck me the most was how friendly everyone was. Everyone we passed looked at us with a ready smile and a soft buenos dias, and when occasionally I'd ask directions or a question from a nearby police officer, he or she always answered my questions not only with a warm grin, but usually with additional historical information that we might find of interest.

Eileen and I first explored the Catedral Metropolitana, an amazing Catholic cathedral in the middle of the city. As we entered, we could hear a choir practicing, which was the perfect complement to the amazing altar with its gold inlays, the huge organ pipes, and the beautifully detailed statues. We walked a little further down the cobblestoned streets of brightly coloured buildings ('colonial colours,' explained one police officer), and then I mentioned to Eileen that we might want to head back. 'Sure,' she said, 'but let's go around the other side of the Cathedral. I'd like to see what those people are looking at over there.'

Turns out 'what they were looking at' was a model of some ancient Aztecan city -- I assumed it was the pyramids I'd so tried to get an early morning tour to see. I was wrong: we walked a few feet further and realized that we were standing in front of the Templo Mayor -- ruins of an ancient Aztecan temple discovered by, get this, the electric company doing some excavation back in the late 1970's! We immediately paid the 48 pesos (about $5) for tickets to actually go into the ruins, and take an up-close and personal look. It was incredible.

Time passed all too quickly, and we had to get back to the hotel for our afternoon meetings. I left Mexico City vowing to come back and visit again soon: despite the poor air quality, the city is actually very clean (streets were constantly being washed around us), the people are amazingly friendly, and the value placed on its historical culture and fine arts is clear. Because of this trip, Mexico City officially became one of my favourite cities in the world.

You can see the photos I took on our walk (and a couple of additional ones) here.

(* Today is my father's birthday. I tried really hard to find a helicopter in Mexico City to give him as a present, but it didn't happen. Sorry, Dad, and happy birthday anyway. Perhaps if I make it back, I'll have better luck!)