¡Órale! Five days in CDMX is the absolute minimum before the city grabs you by the heart and refuses to let go. I’ve done this trip so many times my Spanish gets better and my waistline gets worse. Here’s the route that keeps me coming back for more tacos and tears.

Day 1 – Land, eat, cry a little (in a good way)
I usually land midday, grab the metro straight to Zócalo because it’s cheap and drops you right into the madness. Backpack goes into a hostel locker in Centro Histórico, then I’m free. First stop: the Templo Mayor at golden hour, Aztec stones right next to the cathedral, history literally stacked on top of itself. Mind blown in ten minutes.

Then I walk to Casa Azul in Coyoacán, Frida’s blue house. I always go late afternoon when the light hits the garden perfect and the crowds thin out a bit. Standing in her studio with the wheelchair and the easel still there hits me every single time, no shame, I tear up like an idiot. After that I wander Coyoacán market, quesadillas with flor de calabaza, champurrado so thick the spoon stands up. Night one ends at a random taquería near the hostel, al pastor spinning, salsa verde that makes you see god, first of many 2am tacos.

Day 2 – Teotihuacán at sunrise, because yes
Alarm at 4:30 hurts but trust me. I take the bus from Terminal Norte, still dark, arrive just as the gates open. Climbing the Pyramid of the Sun while the sky goes pink and the hot-air balloons rise is stupid beautiful, zero crowds, you can actually hear your own heartbeat. Pyramid of the Moon next, then I walk the whole Avenue of the Dead slow, pretending I’m an Aztec king or something.

Back to the city by noon, nap hard. Afternoon in Roma and Condesa, tree-lined streets, art deco buildings, coffee at a place with a courtyard full of plants. Evening: lucha libre at Arena México if it’s Tuesday or Friday. Masks, beer, abuelas screaming insults, best theater ever. Post-lucha tacos obviously, because rules.

Day 3 – Museums and markets, brain and belly full
Morning at the Anthropology Museum, only the Mexica room and the Mayan stuff, two hours max before my head explodes from too much beauty. The Sun Stone alone is worth the flight. Then quick metro to Mercado de la Merced, real deal, mountains of chilies, grasshoppers, ladies yelling about fresh queso. I eat everything standing up, hiccups later are part of the experience.

Afternoon in Palacio de Bellas Artes just to see the murals, Diego Rivera ones make me stand there with my mouth open. Then street churros filled with cajeta because life is short.

Night: cantina crawling in Garibaldi, mariachi everywhere, I pay a group way too much to play La Bamba and cry into my mezcal.

Day 4 – Xochimilco and the floating party
Slow morning recovery, lots of coffee. Then metro and tren ligero to Xochimilco. I go on a weekday if possible, way calmer. Rent a trajinera with some random travelers or solo if I’m feeling moody, cold micheladas on board, floating through the canals while mariachi boats pull up and blast songs for 200 pesos. I always ask for “Cielito Lindo” and sing too loud. Buy elotes from passing boats, lime and chili everywhere, pure happiness.

Back to the city by late afternoon, quick change, then rooftop sunset somewhere in Polanco or Reforma, skyline goes purple, tacos al pastor round three at 2am because the stand near my hostel never closes.

Day 5 – Last flavors and adiós
Final morning I go to San Ángel if it’s Saturday for the bazaar, beautiful colonial houses, artists selling stuff, buy a tiny Day of the Dead skeleton every time. Or just back to Coyoacán for coffee and chilaquiles verde that fix everything.

One last walk through Alameda Park, watch the old couples dance danzón, then metro to the airport stuffed, happy, already missing the noise and the smell of tortillas on every corner.

Five days is never enough. Mexico City doesn’t do goodbyes, only “hasta pronto”.

Next field trip loading,
Kohl