The conversation about La Condesa among people who have lived here for generations, and many others who haven't lived here quite as long but are equally happy to join in, tends to revolve around all the problems brought on by overcrowding and poor urban planning. I'm going to take a different angle.
I won't pretend I don't notice the deterioration of certain things here, but that deterioration is citywide, as I've mentioned before.
For me, though, this being my first time actually trying to live in La Condesa after having lived in various parts of the city over the course of my life, this neighborhood strikes me as one of the best.
I say one of the best because even with the parking nightmares, the spotty services, and the crime, I don't find it all that bad.
As I mentioned in another post, when we first came back from living in Thailand, we spent some time (a little over a month for me, more than two for my husband) living in Santa Fe, and that was truly horrible. However planned it may look, everything is deficient and it has absolutely zero charm. It doesn't even begin to compare with the charm of La Condesa.
Trying to look at things without prejudice, I'll say that even though there are a lot of us living here (reportedly around 500,000), what you breathe in is something more interesting than just car and bus exhaust.
If I stretch the observation a bit, you could say this whole area shares something like a common interest in culture, and in coexisting with at least some regard for the environment, which gives it a certain distinction (not in the bourgeois sense of the word, but in the sense of being a genuinely distinct neighborhood).
From the moment we arrived, everyone told me the city was very unsafe, but I can say today that it hasn't felt that way to us. We never felt afraid living near the Monument to the Mother, and on the contrary, we really enjoyed our walks around that area.
I like to exercise, and now that Parque México is close by, I go out running some mornings. Plenty of people come out to exercise just like I do, and others simply come to stroll.
After having lived on a golf course before we left México, this neighborhood has helped me make my peace with these intelligent animals. Because during the years we lived in that gated community with the golf course, we had to put up with them: there were so many, always off-leash, relieving themselves everywhere, wandering into other people's houses, destroying neighbors' plants, and chasing bicycles and pedestrians.
We witnessed more than a few altercations involving these dear little creatures and their insufferable owners. So there is something genuinely delightful for me about being able to run through this park without a single one of these dogs (also mostly off-leash here, but remarkably well-behaved) deciding to entertain itself by chasing me or bothering anyone else.
You really have to see the variety of breeds making their rounds, each accompanied by its respective human, the so-called owner, master, and so on. Though I'd be more inclined to say: child, sibling, best friend, and so on, because the wonderfully warm way these people treat their animals is genuinely touching.
We had a dog once, and we were actually criticized for the affectionate, almost familial way we treated our Moro, that was his name. Now, here in Parque México, dogs are given all manner of original and inventive names, and on more than one occasion, even mid-run and gasping for air, I've had to suppress a small private laugh.
I've heard every kind of name imaginable, and one very common one these days is Camila, and the nicknames are no less creative: shorty, my king, and so on.
The trainers sit the dogs down on the ground, just like children in rural schools or in very poor countries have to sit when there aren't enough chairs or desks. Like those children, the dogs need nothing more to get their work done.
I love watching the differences and similarities between these charming animals and their owners. Some even look alike physically. But in many cases they are each other's complete opposite: if the owner is tall and lean, the dog will be small and round. Or a tiny person will show up with an enormous dog wearing an expression that says it has no interest in making friends.
I think certain psychiatrists, anthropologists, or simply observers like me could have a very rich experience watching all of this.
Beyond the park, there are restaurants, bars, all kinds of shops and bookstores, and you're constantly stumbling into one event or another. They range from musical and circus performances all the way down to impromptu acts by people who have, in all honesty, no talent whatsoever.
This happens a lot in front of restaurants, and I imagine these characters figure that at the very least, people will pay them something just to make them stop playing their (mostly out-of-tune) instruments and leave the diners in peace. And they're probably right, because that does seem to be what happens.
That said, every now and then you do come across a genuinely good musician or singer who gives the diners a lovely moment, though sadly, this happens less often than one would hope.
I especially enjoy the bookstores, particularly El Conejo Blanco on Ámsterdam and El Lido on Tamaulipas, both excellent, and El Lido with an arthouse cinema as well.
In these bookstores you can also stumble into all kinds of interesting talks. One that struck me as different and fun, though unfortunately there were only four of us in the audience, was the launch of a book by a writer who had written a guide for people finishing acting school. As part of the presentation, she was accompanied by a very talented man on stilts, who invited us to try them. Not everyone was interested, but I absolutely was, and I ended up having a wonderful afternoon.
I really recommend taking a walk through this neighborhood, which also has a number of small and mid-sized hotels that are charming and genuinely out of the ordinary.
Sanuk (a Thai word for the pleasure found in everyday living)