It's cold in Mexico City although the sun is out and the sky is very blue and the pollution doesn't seem to be that bad. Visual pollution, however, is rampant and there are hideous billboards everywhere. Only in Mexico can you see a sign that reads ¨DANGER: Houses Falling Off the Cliff¨.
As in Caracas, one is assaulted by the humongous, horrid likeness of Paris Hilton shilling her perfume and her handbags with that retarded face of hers everywhere. There is simply no escape.
I'm staying at the house of some marvellous friends who live around the block from a taco place that specializes in cochinita pibil. Next door is a place that does barbacoa (goat stew) and next door are a couple of unassuming loncherias, with wonderful, cheap prix fixe menus. The smells emanating from that block alone are so delicious, I just want to stay there and eat breakfast lunch and dinner.
I have to leave now, but I will get back to you with a full report of my eats.
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