I don’t know this city. I don’t know how to navigate its streets. I don’t know its smells. I can’t find the music I thought I’d hear. I can’t look up and find my way by the trees. (Though I’d be way better off if i studied the churches.)
What I do know:
Families fly kites together on the zocalo under the enormous flag. Kites drop onto people and swoop back up into the evening breeze in a natural rhythm, so natural people hardly notice the near misses and crashes.
There are miles of pedestrian streets and kilometers of public art and acres of museums.
People will stop a tourist, thank her for visiting their country, promise her she will be safe… generously offer to take her to see all of the things she dare not miss.