I have been saying for years that the day I would travel to Mexico would be the same day I would finally fulfill my dream of eating my weight in tacos. This day finally came.
I convinced another flight attendant to switch flights with me and before I knew it I was spending 27 hours in Mexico City. I arrived close to 11pm and immediately went out for food. I didn’t want to waste a single moment. Close to my hotel, in the heart of the city was a local restaurant that looked like someone’s backyard. Just the type of establishment I look for.
The first round of tacos was an experiment in which I pointed at random things on the menu and hoped for the best. Once I narrowed down my favourites (tacos al pastor, carne asada, pollo, quasadilla style) I started on my second and third rounds. By the fourth, the waiter asked me if anyone else would be joining me. I don’t speak Spanish but I assume this is what he said, because the look of judgement is international. Didn’t stop me from adding guacamole and some Coronas and having a blast.
The next day I started the morning with a fresh fruit smoothie from the local market. I didn’t want to have a big breakfast for fear of missing out on taco eating later. At this point I did a bunch of touristy things. Pyramids, tequila, some history of some sort. I can discuss this at a later time. When lunchtime came around, I decided to try something a little bit different. Taco, but in soup form. Tomato based sauce with ground beef, crushed taco shells, sour cream, olives and onions.
You would think that at this point I would be all taco-ed out right? Ha, never. On the advice of a couple locals, I had my dinner standing next to a taco truck. Absolutely delicious and it only cost me 3 dollars for two of them.
Rest assured that although this signified the end of my layover, I did indeed buy 6 more for my flight home.