A few months ago, once we knew which week we’d both have free in October, we toyed with the idea of a Euro trip. We wanted somewhere fairly chill, easy to fly to, with decent weather, and where we hadn’t been before. Alas, all of those Euro plans fell through when airfares suddenly doubled overnight, and we pivoted to Mexico. Four days at a resort, three days in Mexico City.

Sun

We left a sulking Bianca and ubered to the airport. Since we were flying Porter and therefore departing from terminal 3, we whooshed through security and grabbed a table at Caplansky’s for some lunch. I had a pretty good smoked meat sandwich, and a Henderson’s Rush beer.

We boarded, and were immediately dismayed – we’d flown on these Porter jets plenty of times, but never this far back in the cabin, and at some point the leg room gets more compressed. I couldn’t even sit straight. So that made for a tough 5.5-hour flight to Puerto Vallarta.

We arrived at PVR, found our way into the right customs line, and were doing pretty well until we hit the baggage hall. So many flights had landed at once that the line to exit the hall snaked all the way back out of the hall…so we had to fight through endless crowds all the way to the end of the hall to get our bags, then all the way back to the entrance to join the exit line, then slowly trod all the way to the exit (where they x-ray your bags). It took over and hour. By the time we found our driver he was wondering if we’d missed our flight.

Anyway, our driver was lovely, and he transported us up the coast to the One&Only Mandarina, driving through lush greenery the whole way. We arrived at the resort, got checked in, and got driven by buggy to our villa. By the way, buggies would become an unavoidable part of our lives the next four days.

Our villa was stunning…lots of space, a plunge pool, literally surrounded by mature jungle trees, and with a great view of the ocean. We could hear waves crashing into the beach below.

Our host reminded us to keep the doors locked lest any coatis try to break in; lo and behold, we immediately saw a family of coatis outside our door, hoping to ransack our room.

We arrived a bit late in the day, so really we just had time to shower, change, and get to dinner at Alma. Alma is where we would eat breakfast every day, and is essentially in the core of the resort. We weren’t expecting much, but my chicken was pretty good, and so was Lindsay’s octopus. We quickly realized that everything here was going to be expensive, including the wine – no all-inclusive, this. Expensive and sweaty.

We got driven by buggy back to our villa, where we pretty much just conked out.

Mon

Back to Alma for breakfast. Pretty great spread, and the only “free” meal at the place, so everyone hits it hard. After eating we had a beautiful walk down to the beach, got changed, threw our stuff on a lounger, and swam in the Pacific (which, for two Northern Atlantic babies, felt so warm).

Once we were out of the water, the staff kept bringing free drinks, food for everyone sitting in our section of loungers (which we couldn’t really get much of – the plates were swarmed the second they arrived). We thought about eating lunch at the Jetty Beach Club just above the seaside pool, but felt we were too wet and stinky (the Pacific smells, man) so we just went back to the villa. We didn’t really eat lunch, which probably ended up being a mistake. We hung out at the villa instead, and swam in our pool.

We wanted to try their treetop bar, so we went as soon as it opened to have some snacks. The bites we ordered – especially the shrimp taco – were excellent, but they arrived after we’d had some drinks, so we were a little tipsy.

I tried two Mexican wines: a sauvignon blanc (which was very good) and a Chardonnay (which was very bad). I shouldn’t have even drunk it; it was brown and oxidized, like it had been stored somewhere hot.

Eventually we went to dinner at Carao, their high-end restaurant, our first of two in three nights. The first couple of courses were very good, but right around the time we were sharing the fish chorizo & cheese dish, something inside me turned. Like, turned evil. The only other time I remember feeling like this was on a Porter flight – I turned white, had a flop sweat, was sure I would vomit (but didn’t) and basically suffered through the last 30 minutes in the air. Anyway, I got up and walked to the washroom. Or, tried to; I had to stop partway and sit on a bench so I didn’t pass out. After a few minutes I came back to the table, white as a sheet. The server graciously waived the mains (which had already been fired) and we left. I might have been able to eat something after that, but not the sea bass and shrimp that we’d ordered. We went back to the room, and straight to bed I went.

Tue

I’d gone to sleep so early that I woke up before 5AM. I let Lindsay sleep while I went outside, watched lightning (accompanied by neverending thunder) out over the ocean, and had a swim in our pool just as the first bits of light appeared in the sky.

We had a late breakfast and then re-attempted our beach plan, but realized that the setup was very different than the day before – I guess the previous day we’d somehow stumbled into a group who’d arranged free drinks & food & better shade, and no one stopped us because they guessed we were American. It wasn’t deliberate…we’d just set our towels down on a free lounger and gotten in the water; when we came back out, the other loungers around us were full.

Anyway, there was no such setup on this day – the only loungers there were very much in the sun, which we couldn’t handle, so we sat near the pool with a worse ocean view. We couldn’t get a drink for the first hour or so. They tried to upsell us on cabanas, but we weren’t paying $400 for a few hours of shade. We got another ocean swim in, but it wasn’t the best experience.

We changed and walked upstairs to the Jetty Beach Club for lunch which, truth be told, was pretty great. We had an excellent fresh fish ceviche, incredible shrimp tacos, and chicken al pastor tacos, and we were stuffed.

Back in the villa we relaxed a bit, with no further plans until dinner. TBH our nerves were a bit frayed. We’re not resort people, and we found a lot of it unsettling – the fact you can’t walk anywhere, the limited options for food, the unrelenting social pressure to tip more, the slightly-robotic service…it just feels weird.

What kind of saved us was dinner. We left the resort and went to the Rosewood resort down the road, just for some variety, and our experience there changed everything. When we arrived the guy who welcomed us made a joke and loosened us up. The guy who drove us to the bar was super nice. Our time at Barra Peñasco was fantastic – a gorgeous ocean view, two strong cocktails, and a free shot of artisanal tequila.

Back down the hill we went to La Cocina for dinner. Apparently our own resort hadn’t, in fact, made the reservation they said they’d made, but the restaurant sat us anyway. We then had the best meal of our stay in Mandarina:

• Soft-Shell Crab Tacos w/ Smoked Manzano Pepper Mayonnaise, Pickled Fennel, Red Cabbage
• “Cucaracha” Spiced Prawns w/ Pickled Onion, Coriander
• Confit Suckling Pig  w/ Mole, Plantain
• Char-Grilled Corn w/ Chili Alioli, Cotija Cheese
• Mexican Red Rice & Fried Plantains
• Bottle of Dominio de las Abejas Rosé
• Glasses of late harvest Tokaji

Wed

Finally, our luck with the weather broke, and we woke up to a rainy day. We got some breakfast, then retreated to the room for a bit. Eventually we made our way to our appointments at the spa. Neither of us had ever had a massage before, so we got one at the same time. It was weird, but we both felt pretty relaxed after. We then went straight to lunch at Alma. That afternoon it was Lindsay’s turn to feel a little sick before our second dinner at Carao, but she rallied just in time. We were there for their structured taco tasting menu, and it was mostly really good. Great wine pairings too. Here was the taco lineup:

1. Esquites, sea snail
2. Tuna tasajo tlayuda, xintextle, capers
   • sparkling wine
3. Fish taco al pastor, pineapple pureé
4. Crab tostado, beans, avocado
   • white wine
5. Blue shrimp al ajillo, black beans, hoja santa
6. Huitlacoche, eggplant, macadamia
   • orange wine
7. Octopus sope, pico de gallo, chickpea hummus
   • rosé wine
8. Wagyu-cross, yuzu-kosho, fennel salt
   • red wine
9. Seasonal sorbet

Not quite the same calibre as our dinner off-campus the night before, but probably the best of our meals at the One&Only. It was weird to sit directly across from this family from New York though…awkward for any number of reasons. Anyway, we dodged the pouring rain and got back to our villa to pack and rest up.

Thu

Up early for one last dip in the pool before finishing packing and grabbing some breakfast, and then we settled in for the drive back to PVR airport. A different driver this time, but just as beautiful a trip. Our guy shared some local history and farming info, which I was quite into.

The PVR airport was dead easy, since we were on a domestic flight. For reasons nearly inexplicable, we ate Carl’s Jr burgers, and then had a drink at the bar near our gate. Finally, we boarded a flight at a crowded, extremely hot gate, but once we’d boarded we’d sprung for business class so we had some elbow room, even for a short flight

That elbow room came in handy too, because the crew started serving drinks when our ascent angle was still a bit too steep, and the drink cart toppled over. I managed to grab it before it completely hit the deck, but everything on top of the cart – mostly ice – spilled on the aisle. Still: good job, Dan.

We landed, got a little bus into the MEX terminal 2 (which was beautiful, by the way…apparently it was just built new for the World Cup), and met our driver. Whereas the drive to PVR from Mandarina had been an hour through the green jungle, this was an hour‘s drive through a different jungle altogether. The traffic might have been even worse than Toronto’s. I should note: we had, inadvertently, chosen to visit CDMX on one of the busiest weekends of the year: during Dia de Muertos + a Formula 1 race. A very crazy city was cranked up to 11.

We were staying in the Roma Norte neighbourhood, and as we got closer to our hotel we could see cute shops, lively sidewalks, wine bars, art galleries, etc. We stayed at the El Cortes hotel, a relatively new Relais & Chateau property with only fifteen rooms. Ours was small, but beautiful, and had a little terrace surrounded by trees.

A note on trees: they’re everywhere in this neighbourhood, sometimes growing right up through the concrete sidewalks, heaving the pavestones into a diagonal hill to be traversed. But the trees seem to hold place of pride here, which we loved.

We had a dinner reservation, but stopped along the way at Vigneron, an excellent wine bar. Lindsay had an Aligoté (a much richer and more full-bodied example than usual) and I had a lovely Altesse from Savoie – maybe my first time experiencing that grape.

Dinner was a few more minutes down the street at Lina, and it was exceptional. First: great vibes. Beautiful interior, nice service, and we could see everything happening in the kitchen. Second: two delicious cocktails (I don’t always love a Paper Plane, but theirs had a twist, and an actual tiny paper plane) and an excellent wine recommendation to go with our good, a Kindeli Pinot Noir / Syrah blend from New Zealand.

Third: the food was incredible:

• Cucumbers w/ morita chile, katsuobushi aioli, fried charales
• Bok choi w/ parsnip purée, turmeric curry, macadamia nuts
• Fresh corzetti pasta w/ grilled wild mushrooms, sikil pak, hoja santa, cured yolk
• Wagyu Cross skirt steak w/ charro beans, avocado, salsa borracha
• Grilled fish of the day w/ lemongrass marinade, green mango, fresh herbs
• House made naan

All incredible, but that fish was insane — blanketed in julienned lemongrass, mango, and herbs. We walked home, getting a little turned around by CDMX’s diagonal streets, but crashing into bed, very much in love with Roma Norte.

Fri

After a little coffee & tea on our terrace, we got breakfast downstairs at Lotti, which for breakfast is only available to hotel guests . We were offered tables inside and outside; the host worried it might be too cool outside, but we pointed out that we’re Canadian and it wouldn’t be a problem. And twasn’t: we ate a big & delicious breakfast (ultra-dense french toast with figs and mascarpone for me; scrambled eggs & smoked trout for Lindsay) and enjoyed the street life. Note: everyone in CDMX seems to have two dogs. Not one…two.

Lindsay had a bit of work to do back in the room, but we eventually grabbed capps at Café Tilia down the street and made our way (with some difficulty, mind you) across town to the National Museum of Anthropology which everyone had told us was great. And it was, indeed, great: a stunning building, sectioned off by geographic area of Mexico, describing each through various time periods. We only had a few hours so could only see half the permanent collection and none of the special exhibits. Still, by the end, our feet were sore, our throats parched, and our bellies empty. We started the long walk back to Roma Norte, pausing after about 30 minutes to have some drinks and an extremely late lunch. Tomatoes, calamari, gnocchi, prawns, and quite a few glasses of natural wine later, we wandered back to the hotel, pooped. We remembered while running around and climbing staircases that Mexico City sits at about 7,350 feet above sea level.

But here we were, on a Friday night, back at the room around 7pm. Tired and sore as I was, this would not stand. We eventually went back out in search of tacos. We didn’t even attempt the line at Tacos del Valle, instead trying Taquería Orinoco. The lineup was still 45 minutes long, and the ordering chaotic; in hindsight maybe we should have just hit a street taco stand, but on a Saturday night of the second-busiest weekend of the year, our chances weren’t good wherever we went. Anyway, we had two al pastor tacos and a beef taco; the al pastor was just okay, but the beef was good. Overall, not worth the wait, but we got the experience.

Post-taco we wandered around, looking for a place to have a cocktail, but the streets had become overrun with drunk American bros, so it took us a while to find something. We eventually stumbled upon Brew Brew, which seems to be a coffee shop by day, but a coffee-infused cocktail joint at night. Anyway, the vibes were great, there was a gorgeous dog on the patio, the hosts were nice, the music was a weirdly pleasing mix of techno and classic rock covers, and my beer was cold. We closed the place down, more or less, and walked around the corner to our hotel.

Sat

We had definitely left too much to do on our last day, especially a day when the Dia de Muertas parade bisected our route to the art museums and the F1 crowds made everything busier. We started local: after another delicious breakfast at Lotti, Lindsay wanted to visit a local mainly-English used bookstore, as is her wont on trips. We walked over to Under The Volcano books, which is in a dusty set of rooms inside the American Legion building. Lindsay hadn’t felt great on the walk over, but was 10x worse when she left with a Thurber book. We slowly made our way back to the hotel, to change rooms (we’d had an infestation of ants in our room, of all things), where Lindsay started to feel better, so we walked down the street for our lunch booking at Campobaja. By the time we got there she felt poorly again, and I wasn’t so hot myself. Elevation and dehydration were working us over, it seemed. We did manage to eat quite a bit – aguachile (good, but hot), octopus and tuna tostadas (excellent), some kind of shrimp & octopus in a red sauce (excellent) and fish tacos (bad). I had some Mexican sauv blanc; Lindsay had a spicy Marg to kill bugs and instill salts. We left pretty full, and walked home.

Back in the room we struggled a bit to recover. We eventually did, but we hadn’t left ourselves enough time to get across town to the two art museums and back, so we missed out on that part of the plan. At 6:00 we went down the street to see a local Dia de Muertos event, an ofrenda to Dolores del Rio. It was in someone’s house, and we didn’t understand what was happening, and there seemed to be some kind of event in the store attached, and we were very confused, so we admired the ofrenda and just left sheepishly.

We walked around, looking for a place to have a pre-dinner cocktail. After some wandering I remembered there was a wine bar near our hotel called Loup Bar, so we went there. It was incredible. We sat at a cozy inside table and, at my prompting, the somm brought out some fun bottles for us to try. We selected a 2020 Arces (skin contact Chardonnay) Domaine de L’Octavin from the Jura, and drank it like it was juice. Immaculate vibes in the place too; in hindsight we should have stayed for dinner.

Alas, we had dinner booked at Lotti, which had served us so faithfully for breakfast. It was…weird. It was packed and loud, which isn’t bad, but so different than what we had just left, and probably not what our tired brains needed on our last night. The food (radicchio salad, watermelon carpaccio, wagyu tongue, fish of the day, lamb + polenta) was fine, the wine was okay, but they slammed the first few courses out so fast we could barely catch our breath. Like, they were changing my place setting when Lindsay, sixty seconds behind, was still finishing her food. 45 minutes in we’d been served our entire meal…and then we sat there for half an hour waiting for anything else. We eventually got glasses of dessert wine, then waited another long spell for our bill. It wasn’t the experience we were hoping for, and certainly not what we expected from a Michelin-recognized restaurant.

Luckily, the commute home (aka, one flight of stairs) was easy. We packed most of our stuff and drank a bottle of red the hotel had left us as an apology for the inconveniences we’d faced (ant-related and otherwise) during our stay.

Sun

Up, shower, finish packing, breakfast downstairs, and our airport ride showed up. Unfortunately we’d overestimated by quite a bit how early we’d need to leave – F1 be damned, the Sunday drive took half what it did on Thursday – so we had time to kill at the airport. Two bummers, though: first, the United Lounge, meant to be our safe port for the next two hours, was closed for construction. Second, I didn’t realize until well after the fact that my nice new Italian leather belt never made it out of the x-ray machine. I went back looking for it at security but they claimed they didn’t have it. So now I know why they were so insistent I take it off before going through the x-ray, and why my boarding pass – which had been sitting on my rolled-up belt – had fallen out of my bin and into Lindsay’s. Someone at the Mexico City airport has a little side-hustle going, I guess.

Whatever. I just wanted to get home. The flight was very easy – I watched Spider-Man: Brand New Day and tried to get ahead of my work email – and then we were back in Toronto, zipping skillfully through Pearson, crawling through GTA traffic courtesy of a farting Uber driver, and walking through our door to find a screaming kitty.

So there we go: country #24. I think we learned, or maybe re-confirmed, that we just aren’t resort people. But Mexico City? We’ll be back.