🇲🇽 Hoy No Circula - CDMX - 01.02.2026
End of year tales from the dusty road… and the beginning of the new… starts with a 6.5 earthquake.
I was sitting in bed this morning, in colonia Nápoles/Mexico City, recovering from my biannual case of tuberculous… or whatever respiratory infection that continues to plague me with consistency… when the seismic alarms went off… It’s a particular sound… and I’ve already been groomed about it…and what to do when I hear it. And in Mexico, when you hear the seismic alarm, you grab your coat and shoes at the door (which are located for such an event) and run out to the street or open space. And apparently, if you are Chilean, you stay where you are, and continue to drink your coffee because it’s routine.
The seismic alarm will give you about 60 seconds to put your pants on before the earthquake… I quickly grabbed my things and opened the front door… and I can see the caretaker, Fernando, across the courtyard… “esto es real?” I asked.
And he shook his head, “no lo sé.” And the building began to shake… we both bolted down the hallway, following others, and folks behind us… and we all funneled into the street.
I experienced an earthquake in LA the year before, and another in Berkeley the year before that… they will wake you up from a relaxed state like nobody’s business. Especially, if you’re a hick from Colorado…
Anyways, I was in Guadalajara 3 weeks ago with all of my things in my car… I initially intended to slowly drive out of Mexico and start making my way back to the West Coast of California. Some matters of the heart, that tend to cloud my sensibilities, had me ready to remove myself from the scene of the crime, and never look back… but that is stupid… because… when you run from something that is attached to your mind, and heart, and soul… it weighs you down… and it will be waiting for you, with extreme prejudice, when you stop running.
Also, I didn’t want to be on the road for 6 weeks during the holidays. I had some requests from friends to return to Mexico City. So… I hit the reset button… found a new apartment… in a new neighborhood… with intentions of showering off the dust of the past with healthy routines.
The day I returned to CDMX… was a Friday… and the pilgrimage to the basilica de Guadeloupe. It’s a big thing. So… the pinche police come out in full force. I was pulled over… and apparently was not supposed to be driving on Friday, and had to pay my way out of having my car impounded (with all of my possessions). I’m mentally prepared for this scenario… but I was so close to getting back… whyyyyy now??? (because things happen for a reason)
Despite that setback… I was quite happy to be back in Mexico City. My studio apartment is full of windows and natural light and the courtyard and balconies are full of plants. Plus, one garage space for my car… out of sight of the authorities.
Fernando is the caretaker of the complex and lives across the courtyard. He speaks about seven words of English… and because I speak basic Spanish… he will talk to me with much enthusiasm, about many different subjects, in full-speed Spanish. I’m in it… I need to understand. My immersion program improves my comprehension greatly. He is super nice and we get along… except… he’s a flat-earth guy and he was sure I would align. Ummm… but I was on an airplane once… flying from Iceland back to the States… it was in the evening… and we were chasing the setting sun… along the curvature of the horizon… it was an 8 hour long sunset… the earth is not flat… its a parabola!
I came back to CDMX with some specific intentions… process, sort documents, exercise, and focus on the language… and no drama.
Night two back in the city - drama… I caught up with a Bolivian belly dancer I met in Ecuador three years ago that now lives in CDMX. Just dinner. Ok? A few hours later at an Irish bar there’s a Gordo local dude hassling me out of my very drunk companion… and it spills out onto the sidewalk at closing with barking and potential fist-a-cuffs… and, I told you fkrs… this is “no drama December!!!” It ends with Gordo backing off, and a 5’ Boliviana chasing me down the street for 3 blocks in high-healed boots. Lil’ bits of drama… (true story)
Now… my friends believe that the police who pulled me over were fake cops… I can’t say… but there was a police truck, and a tow-truck that showed up… with threats of impounding my car… and my things… and leaving me on the side of the road holding my chapstick. And I still can’t find the “no Friday” regulation… but I was alerted to the fact that you need an emissions sticker to drive your car in the city… without it, I can’t drive Monday-Friday 5:00-11:00 am, not anytime on Thursday and Saturday… and a 1st this, and last that… and what?! When?!?
Again, if you are caught driving on the “hoy no circula” the police don’t give you a warning, or a ticket… they take your fkg car… then you get to enjoy going back and forth to the impound lot and the police station, and the cash machine, and the copy store. My car was towed and impounded in Toluca when I first drove down… it will stress your butthole I assure you.
I read that you can request a 14-day temporary tourist pass online for your car, which you can receive only once every six months… or… better… I could get an official “holograma” emissions sticker Verificentro location with a foreign license plate. Cool beans.
I grabbed Fernando and we walked to a Verificentro location around the corner. He explained to the service folks what I wanted. And the emissions boss proceeds to tell me this and that in Spanish. I understand about 50%. Fernando then turns to me and translates that into more complex Spanish dialogue in which I understood 15%. It is at this point that I begin to question my decision to bring a Spanish to more Spanish interpreter to my party. There’s a young worker beside me… and he says, in English, “Did you understand all that?”
“Hablas inglés?!? Thanks baby Buddha for that…”
Chico proceeded to tell me that my car and license plate do not “exist” in this country… so they need clarification and will send an email to the authorities. I am… still… officially… and proudly… a resident of the state of New Mexico. And my car follows suit and is registered in NM. I remember having a mess of time getting my NM driver's license and car plates… I was confident that an email verification request would not make it back anytime soon.
They copied my paperwork and took my number and said it would take a day or so… I waited… a week… then some call showed up on my Mx phone number that I missed… and decided to walk over and check. The English-speaking kid was not there… and in my most excellent Spanish managed to communicate my needs. They checked… and yes… it was verified… my car exists!!!
I ran back and retrieved my car… pulled into the station… they waved me into a lane… and cool… this is actually happening… and the boss comes up to my window, “Dónde está tu placa frontal?”
You see… in New Mexico… we are issued one license plate… we’re cool like that. Do note: driving around Mexico without a front license plate attracts more negative attention than a blue-eyed güerito, wearing an LA hat, blaring music from the Cure… driving said car.
So… I explained to the boss… in my perfectly imperfect Spanish… that my home state… doesn’t require a front license plate. Then, I was directed to leave the lane and park in the area of shame and wait. He returned in a bit and explained this and that… and the 70% I understood wasn’t enough. More emails, and verifications… and then he spoke some English… “we need to send an email to the ‘secretary of something’… to get special authorization to be issued a “holograma” for a foreign car that has no front plate…”
I was like… “you speak English cabrón?!?”
“A little… it’s very bad…”
“No, no… tú inglés es excelente!!! He smiled… and seemed happy about that… and said we just had to wait for a reply from the ‘secretary of something.’
So… I sat… and an hour passed… and then I started to calculate that I’d be leaving soon without my “holograma” and would take my car back to the U.S… and leave it in the U.S. I stepped out of the waiting cubby… and my car was not in the area of shame… “where the hell?!!” I look over and it’s at a testing station… and at that exact moment, the young dude walks up with papers and tells me I can pay now. “Really?!?” 740 pesos ($40US)… and out from the mirrored glass comes more paperwork. He hands me off to a young gal at the next station. She says something I don’t understand and I explained my Spanish was limited… but I’m learning! She says sorry… she doesn’t speak English… and I tell her… in Spanish… “we’re in Mexico… we speak Spanish here… English is stupid…” She smiled at that… and asked, “¿Cómo se dice ‘vamos’ en inglés?”
“Let’s go!”
“Ok, less go…” we made it to the car and she applied my new “holograma”, showed me the expiration date… and my classification is “0” and I can drive on all days… cool beans. The place had no other cars at that moment… so the dudes were standing near the exit and I went over to thank them all for the patience and extra work… and smiles happened.
Ironically, the emissions program has not shown to be effective in reducing pollution in the city. Ironically, they are amending the “holograma” regulations in a month so rules are changing. Ironically, I don’t actually drive much in the city and take public transportation most of the time. Andddd… ironically, I need to take my car back to the U.S. border next week because my “temporary import permit” expires and that’s a must-requirement.
I’m a ‘problem solver’… so I get satisfaction chemicals when things get sorted. I went through much to get that sticker… and that alone gives me a boost. And… lessons learned. Kinda.
I have some very nice and supportive friends here in Mexico City… but… I am wanting to expand… I raised my hand for language-exchange and new friends on social media… and… despite being the busy holiday season… I find some interest. Now… most of my people here speak some version of English… but this time… no. “I want to learn English.” “I will be your friend!” “You look interesting, let’s meet!” “You have beautiful eyes!!!” Look dudes, their words, not mine…
Anyways, lots of message chats and translating… and then… we meet for a coffee language exchange. “Do you speak any English? Because I only speak basic Spanish…”
“No… pero está bien…”
“Are you sure?”
“Siiii…”
I met Clau in Santa Maria La Ribera for a beer and chat. She doesn’t speak a lick of English and proceeds to chat away… in my direction… also using Chilanga hand gestures… I understand 50-90%, she refuses to use the translator, she repeats dialogue and the context sinks in. This is language exchange folks.
And that’s that… all of my new friends are Spanish-only speaking… want to know how to learn Spanish? Get Spanish-speaking friends… oh… and Duolingo.
The problem… I probably agree to things I don’t fully understand. I think I agreed to go to Acapulco with Clau for New Years… I guess that’s not exactly a problem. But I did catch a respiratory bug and had to cancel. Booooo!!
I’ve had to take care of myself during illnesses often… I’m on the road… a single dude… no family support… It’s all fine. A bottle of NyQuil and rest… it’s all good. But… the peoples of this country refuse to let you be sick on your own… “you’re sick… and alone? No!”
Liliana, another Spanish-only speaking language exchange friend… insists on taking me to the pharmacy. I don’t argue… because if I say no… they show up anyway… with crunchy looks. She wants to take me to the doctor. It’s just a flu… but there’s no saying no, without great consequence. You can get a doctor's consultation at the pharmacy. We get there. Walk into the office… I tell the gal my symptoms… temperature, pulse, “let’s look at your throat…” “ewweee” she made a horrified face… and stepped away. Infection… here’s some scripts… that’ll be 60 pesos ($3 US)(three U.S. dollars!) the doctor asked me a few things… and my companion… my Spanish-only speaking companion… translates Spanish into more Spanish. And… I think i agreed to go to Acapulco for new years with someone…
This is such a strange place… or maybe… my life is a strange thing… or maybe the point of life… is… for things to be strange. I don’t know… I do know this… it feels nice to have supportive people by your side when the strange shit goes down… then nothing needs to make sense.
Anywho, if all goes as planned, I’ll be in Laredo, TX on January 9th and San Antonio, TX the following day… meet me there and I’ll help you translate your English into more English.
And then… Acapulco!
#strangemaninastrangeland
#CDMXlife
#canyousayAlamo
