A pitahaya is a tropical fruit only rarely found for sale in the sprawling produce markets of Mexico City. Having just arrived in town, I decide its availability is a good omen. But when a vendor, with a startling whack of his machete, exposes the fruit's spooky interior -- dense white goo studded with black seeds -- I'm not so sure.
"Es dulce," the man says -- "it is sweet." As I raise the flesh to my lips, I'm both afraid and excited.
Fears and thrills. I've traveled to Mexico City many times, and I'm always called back by its jarring contrast of enormous sophistication and an almost elemental crudeness.
The city is paradise and hell, with no purgatory in between (if you're lucky, and drink only bottled water). Instead, there are tremors: the aftershocks of conquest, revolution, earthquakes, ferocious fertility and delirious decay. It is a place, and culture, that makes a game of mortality and each November celebrates the Day of the Dead with prancing skeletons and clanking bones. Eat, drink and be merry, for manana ....
As Mexico City's pendulum swings between life and death, one's senses become abnormally
alert, and there's always something new to see, hear, touch, smell and eat -- like the pitahaya, which, by the way, was wonderfully sweet.
In a place more than 20 million people call home, however, it's easy to become overwhelmed. And because you can't possibly see everything, what follows are the neighborhoods you won't want to miss.
Upscale Polanco
Polanco is where the affluent come to play. And, as one of my friends puts it, "When you are rich in Mexico City, you are obscenely rich."
This neighborhood has many fashionable restaurants and luxurious high-rise hotels lined up like chess pieces about to storm Chapultepec Park across the street.
The Marriott, Nikko and Intercontinental are all fine, but a few blocks away is the Habita Hotel. Minimalist in decor, it is a chic, sleek hideaway, with a seriously groovy roof bar and pool. A house DJ spins a magic vibe all day. You can turn the music off in your room, of course, but I prefer it on.
Taking a dip soon after I arrive, I loll in the afternoon sun and silently practice my espanol. Hint: Mexico has had centuries to deal with its inferiority complex with Spain; the United States is the place everyone loves to hate now. So, make the effort. Even knowing which greeting to use as the day advances -- buenos dias (good morning), buenas tardes (good afternoon) or buenas noches (good evening) -- can make a huge difference in how an American is perceived.
If you really want to blend, shift your body clock and eat lunch later. At 1 p.m. and 2 p.m., restaurants in Mexico City are empty; by 3 o'clock they are mobbed.
Arriving hungry at Entremar, I devoured a whole fish, split and grilled with a red salsa of four chilies on one half, and a green salsa of parsley, garlic and lemon on the other. Red, green and white: Mexican cuisine is fond of such flag-waving patriotism.
Later, it was off to the nearby National Museum of Anthropol-ogy. The building, a triumph of high-'60s modernism, is itself worth a visit.
Though little of the signage is in English, the epic scale of these Mayan, Aztec, Olmec and Toltec artifacts speak for themselves. They also are a reminder of how remarkably strong Mexico's bloodlines are.
These millenniums-old physiognomies are seen everywhere throughout Mexico City: the broadly bridged nose, high cheekbones and dark black hair. One of the astonishments for a first-time visitor is -- as in Asia -- how remarkably homogenous the population is in appearance.
After browsing some of Polanco's swanky boutiques, I had a late dinner at La Valentina, where I drank my tequila neat (no one from Mexico City would be caught dead drinking a frozen margarita), ate incredible tortillas, and swooned to the mariachi band singing ranchero songs. Only the iciest of hearts doesn't melt to this music.
Genteel neighborhoods
Up early the following day, I ran in Chapultepec Park. Perhaps you've heard the air is bad in Mexico City? It is, and gets worse throughout the day. It's wise to exercise first thing. Then it was off to tour Roma and La Condesa. Of the city's nearly 300 colonias, or neighborhoods, these two are among the most genteel.
Roma seems to be a misnomer, though, as the architecture here evokes Paris' Belle Epoque -- a reminder of France's mid-19th-century invasion of Mexico, and the installation of Maximilian and Carlota as royalty. This star-crossed couple's brief reign has been much romanticized. There is, in fact, a whole generation of upper class, elderly Mexicans who still revere all things French, and speak it as their second language.
Many of Roma's most impressive dwellings -- with beaux-arts balustrades and window grilles, coved ceilings and marble stairs -- are now galleries like Landucci and OMR, which showcase the ebullience of Mexico's contemporary artists.
It is hard to find a gloomy Mexican painting -- outside of sacred art, that is, which is frequently quite grim indeed. Casa Lamm, the hub of Roma's art scene, has an outstanding collection of books on Mexican jewelry, gardening, ceramics, architecture, herbs, interiors and cuisine -- in short, all the things that give life here such zest.
Though infamous for having less green space than any major urban center in the world, what few neighborhood parks Mexico City has are usually worth a closer look. Parque de Espana in La Condesa, for instance, is a small jewel of gushing fountains, palm trees, beds of pale pink lilies and pathways lined in herringboned brick. Birds chirp so loudly that they almost drown out the car traffic zipping by at the park's perimeter.
An oasis, too, are the rickety tin stalls selling freshly cut flowers on practically every street corner. Here are enormous girasoles (sunflowers) with black centers six inches across, irises, gladioli and calla lilies plunked into tinted water that dyes the white petals turquoise or purple.
Mexicans like to improve nature, you see -- as is also evidenced by vendors selling hunks of pineapple, mango, watermelon and cantaloupe, peeled to order. They serve the fruit spritzed with lime juice and chili powder.
La Condesa is busy with cafes and restaurants that spill so far out onto the sidewalk that pedestrians seem not merely to be passing your table but about to ask for a bite. Somehow, this is not bothersome.
At Litoral, I started with translucent slices of rare tuna on blue tortillas, then had a thin, densely flavorful piece of flank steak, served with grilled serrano chilies and guacamole. Food note: grilled serrano chilies cause hiccups, though this didn't prevent me from eating every single one.
The heart of the city
Residents of Mexico City love to exaggerate the dangers of their hometown, especially to gullible tourists. That said, have your wits about you when visiting the Zocalo. It is the heart of the world's most populous city, contains the country's biggest public plaza and fronts the largest cathedral in Latin America.
But don't be afraid. Instead, exult in the living, breathing kaleidoscope.
Vendors hawk faded images of deities such as the Virgin of Guadalupe (Mexico's patron saint), Emiliano Zapata and Marilyn Monroe. Day-laboring men sit behind signs that tout their skill at plumbing, plastering and laying floor tile. Handicrafts from around the country are on sale, including my favorite: jewelry from Chiapas, which has tiny scorpions or beetles encased for all time in a golden prison of amber. A perfect gift for your Indiana Jones Jr.
And no, it's not your imagination. The Metropolitan Cathedral is listing visibly to the right as it settles ever deeper into what used to be a lake bed. When in 1521 the Conquistador Hernando Cortes first visited Mexico City, then called Tenochtitlan, it was an archipelago navigable only by canoe. Cortes compared it to Venice. (A pleasant vestige from this watery past remains in Xochimilco, in the city's south, where you can rent a gondola for the day and float through aquatic gardens.)
Engineers have tried for centuries to prevent the cathedral from sinking. Progress is being made, apparently, because on this most recent visit, the floor -- usually a forest of scaffolding -- was clear.
After touring the church, I ducked around to Avenida Guatemala, directly behind the cathedral, where stores sell such religious souvenirs as milagros, tiny tin prayer requests in the form of legs, arms, eyes and hearts.
La Exposicion sells life-size crucifixes hung from the ceiling like legs of Iberian ham. The pious gore of this artwork -- every wound is more articulated than in Gray's Anatomy -- is shocking at first, yet it's also uniquely Mexican. Curious fact: look at the daily tabloids being sold at Mexico City's newsstands. Instead of bikini-clad blondes on the cover, as there would be in London, there's usually a close-up of victims from a car crash or murder.
Are there any two words more fearsome and fascinating than "human sacrifice?" A question worth pondering while headed toward the Templo Mayor.
What remains of this once-massive temple site -- which was demolished by the Spaniards almost immediately -- was re-discovered only quite recently, when electricians working underneath the cathedral discovered carvings of the Aztec goddess Coyolxauhqui.
Michael Meyer and William Sherman in The Course of Mexican History assure us it was at this very spot on one bloody day in 1487 that 20,000 young men had vital organs ripped from their chests to appease the gods. An incomprehensible statistic, this.
Feeling myself about to lose heart, I headed down the street to El Caballo Mexicano, which is where this city's urban cowboys shop. Shelves are piled high with fantastically worked leather saddles, bridles, whips and holsters for pistols.
Unaccountably, I'm suddenly mad for one of the embroidered outfits that charros wear. I try on a navy blue model with an intricate lattice of gray suede stitched on the outseams and across the waist and seat. It fits like a dream. About to buy it (a bargain at $300), I stop myself.
I'd come that close to being seduced. Beware! This is what happens in Mexico City. The exuberance of life, and the dizzying, dazzling variety of things for sale, presses upon you like an offer you can't refuse.
Local flavor
A true megalopolis, over time Mexico City has gobbled up several smaller towns that were once distant suburbs; two of the prettiest are San Angel and Coyoacan. Each has its own town square and a distinctive local flavor.
If you have the good fortune to be in San Angel on a Saturday, the Bazaar Sabado at Plaza San Jacinto is a must see, as artisans from all around the city set up booths. Brunch at the San Angel Inn is terribly civilized, and if you're a fan of the muralist Diego Rivera, his house is here, too.
The walk from San Angel to Coyoacan is along Francisco Sosa, an enchanting avenue of private houses and large trees that arch up and over the narrow passageway between. You feel like you might be in Seville, Spain -- which is doubtless what its architects had in mind when they first laid it out in the 16th century for Cortes, who moved here shortly after vanquishing Montezuma.
A few blocks from Coyoacan's lively plaza -- it has a band shell, and organ grinders and kids playing with balloons -- is a bustling market where the lunch counter of Pepe Coyote serves delicious (and perplexingly inexpensive) food. Large pitchers of aguas de fruta, which is purified water mixed with exotic fruit juices, are served family-style.
Thus fortified, I visited the Frida Kahlo Museum, a few blocks away. Poor Frida. She contracted polio while still a child, was horribly injured in a bus accident at age 18, and would undergo 39 operations to heal her broken body.
She was born and died (1907-1954) in this same house, the Caza Azul, where she painted all doorways and window frames Kelly green, the dining table yellow and tile floors a fire engine red. For much of her adult life, she lay in a bed with a mirror tied to its canopy, studying her reflection. Well over half of Kahlo's canvases are self-portraits; a critic once described them as "ribbon wrapped around a bomb."
She is a complex and fascinating woman -- alas, soon to be domesticated by Hollywood in a movie starring Salma Hayek and directed by Julie Taymor. Touring her garden, which is centered on a majestic magnolia tree, I decide Frida Kahlo is the very essence of the Mexican will to live. She once said to a friend, "Why do I want feet, if I have wings to fly?"
I thought of Frida again later that day when I pass a papeleria, a store selling nothing but paper products. Outside, a guy with a microphone headset has attracted a diverse crowd of perhaps 50 men, women and children. He's demonstrating some device that, with a flick of his wrist, cinches an orange ribbon up into a huge poof, suitable for placement on a gift. His audience, which has been spellbound, murmurs in delight, and a few older ladies even applaud. The guy takes a bow.
I love this more than I can say. It's for such moments that I return again and again to Mexico City, where life, if not a cabaret, is at least a brightly wrapped surprise.
When you go
Getting there: Continental Airlines (800-525-0280; www.continentalairlines. com) has several connections daily from BWI to Mexico City via Houston. United Airlines (800-241-6522; www.ual.com), in partnership with Mexicana Airlines, has one nonstop daily from Dulles to Mexico City.
Lodging: (Phone numbers below may be dialed as is within Mexico City. If calling from the U.S., you must first dial 011, international code, and 52, country code for Mexico.)
Habita Hotel, Av. Presidente Masaryk 201, Colonia Polanco, Mexico City
52823100
www.hotelhabita.com
* Stark luxury with a rooftop pool and bar; rates from $195.
Marquis Reforma, Paseo de la Reforma 465
52291200 (in Mexico City); 800-901-7600 (from the U.S.)
www.marquisreformahl. com.mx
* Comfortable, executive-
class hotel with hyper-efficient bellhops, rates from $175.
Activities:
National Museum of Anthropology, Paseo de la Reforma and Gandhi
55536266
* Big sculptures, big artifacts, big history. Open Tuesday through Saturday from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., and Sunday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Landucci Art Gallery, Colima 233
55142323
* Contemporary art. Open Tuesday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
OMR Art Gallery, Plaza Rio de Janeiro 54
52071080
* Contemporary art. Open Tuesday through Sunday Frida Kahlo Museum, Londres 247
55545999
* House and studio of Mexico's first lady of art. Open Tuesday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5:45 p.m.
Franz Mayer Museum, Av. Hidalgo 45
55182266
* Sumptuous collection of Spanish and Mexican decorative art. Open Tuesday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Barfly, Plaza Masaryk
52822297
* Shake your groove thing, with salsa on the side. Open Tuesday through Saturday from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m.
Dining:
Entremar, Hegel 307-B
55312031
* A seafood lover's heaven; entrees $10-$20
La Valentina, Plaza Masaryk 393
52822297
* Stylish Mexican food and live Mariachi music; entrees $15-$25
Litoral, Tamulipas 55
52862025
* "Coastline" in Spanish, serving delicacies from land and sea; entrees $12-$22
La Fonda del Hotentote, Cruces 40-3
55221025
* Rooftop patio drenched in bougainvillea, with great quesadillas; entrees $10-$18
Words of advice: Only drink bottled water, sin hielo (without ice). Be wary, but feel free to take Mexico City's subway, which is clean, efficient and by far the fastest way to get around town. Never hail a taxi on the street, especially the ubiquitous green Volkswagens. Have your hotel or restaurant call a radio cab for you.
For more information about lodging, dining and attractions in Mexico, contact the Mexican Tourist Information office: 800-446-3942; www.visitmexico.com
An ideal day
9 a.m.: If it's a Saturday, shop for antiques at Plaza de Angel in the Zona Rosa. If it's Sunday, take a taxi to Lagunilla, Mexico City's notorious flea market. In either case, bring muchos pesos, as the bargains and merchandise are outrageous.
11 a.m.: Drop into Cafe de Tacuba. Order a big cup of bittersweet hot chocolate and a sugary roll to dunk in it.
Noon: See Diego's Rivera's house and the Casa Azul on the "Frida Kahlo tour" organized by the Marquis Reforma Hotel.
3 p.m.: Have lunch at Fonda Hotentote. The outdoor patio drips with bougainvillea, and chiles en nogada are a house specialty.
4:30 p.m.: Go to the Franz Mayer Museum. The decorative arts displayed here are beyond exquisite. Don't miss the Virgin of Guadalupe; her body is made from inlaid mother of pearl.
6:30 p.m.: Soak in the roof pool at Habita Hotel. Have a massage. Take a nap. (You're going to be up late.)
9 p.m.: Dinner at Ixchel, which serves up-to-the- moment fusion cuisine in a colonial-era house.
Midnight: Go to Barfly, where the Cuban music is hot and the dancers hotter.
2 a.m.: A midnight snack of tacos al pastor at El Tizoncito. These are tortillas filled with thin slices of grilled pork, cilantro and fresh pineapple. Have a side of cebollitas, grilled baby onions, and wash it all down with horchata, a milky drink made from rice that tastes faintly of cinnamon.
3 a.m.: Dulces Suenos. Sweet dreams.
-- Stephen G. Henderson