Prologue: Landing Hungry, Curious, and Thinking We Spoke More Spanish Than We Did

A few of us wanted the beaches. Some craved ruins. At least one was here for the food (and margaritas). None of us realized Mexico was a kind of coming home—a place where every day drops treasure, laughter, and surprise in your lap.

We started in Mexico City, and from the first zócalo sunset, it was obvious: trip plans were suggestions. The real Mexico happens in street markets, cafes, sunlit plazas and conversations we were half-involved in and totally changed by.

Chapter 1: City Sprints and Culture Shocks

Our first day in CDMX: lost in Mercado de la Merced, bold enough to try every taco (yes, even the ones with mystery meat), swept into an impromptu mariachi jam and learning you never say "no gracias" to homemade horchata. By evening, we'd climbed the steps of the Palacio de Bellas Artes, debated Diego Rivera versus Frida Kahlo, and settled it with late-night churros in a corner café that everyone swears makes the best dulce de leche.

We spied the glowing angel at Paseo de la Reforma, and imagined ourselves heroes—if only for surviving Mexican traffic, which inspired Maddy's new rule: "Choose adventure, not left turns."

Chapter 2: Ruins, Rainforest, and Almost-Lost Sandals

The trip next wound through time, chasing legend and sunlight:

• Teotihuacan's pyramids: "Let's race to the top!" (Results: Sara wins, Tom's knee loses.)
• Oaxaca: Jaw-dropping food tour, mezcal sips, alebrije painting workshop, wandering ancient Zapotec ruins in sandals that didn't survive a dust storm.
• Night buses, wild butterflies at Monarch sanctuaries, and the guide who conned us into buying "lucky" sombreros (to his credit, we did have luck—with new friends, at least).

Every day became treasure hunt, every city a chorus of chaos. If you want boring, do NOT bring our group.

Chapter 3: Beach Days & Jungle Nights

On to Playa del Carmen—blue surf, palm-speckled air, and ceviche so fresh we made our own ranking system. We spent afternoons snorkeling with sea turtles and dancing with mariachi at beach bars, mumbled through Spanish classes, and learned local slang we'll never repeat on Zoom calls.

Day trip: Tulum. Maya ruins at sunrise, iguanas posing for photos, and a magical swim in a cenote that made each of us feel a bit reborn. Night: dancing under stars, eating cochinita pibil from street carts, and making friends we're still texting months later.

Highlight: Laughing in hammocks on Isla Holbox as pink clouds melted into the Gulf, promising to "never go home." We almost kept the promise.

Chapter 4: Mescal, Mole, and Making the Trip Last

We learned the art of the long meal—market mole, street tamales, endless salsas, fish tacos with habanero dare competitions. Our Mexico became a blur of food, music, salt on our lips, and new "we have to come back for this" moments.

• Mezcal tasting challenge: everyone picked a favorite, and everyone regretted it by the third round (ask Alex about sleepy rooftop benches).
• Cooking class in Puebla: learning to make mole with a grandmother who slapped our hands for getting the rice wrong, but hugged us at the end.
• Coffee tasting in Chiapas: converted every caffeine doubter in the group.
• Our attempts at salsa dancing were memorialized in embarrassing group videos (thank you, strangers at the cantina, for cheering loudly).

Chapter 5: The Real Adventure Happens by Accident

We missed a bus, found a festival in a village none of us could pronounce, were roped into a parade by kids dressed as jaguars, and ended up the stars of someone else's travel reel.

We spent six hours in the cenotes, tried cave swimming, learned the art of "Mexican time," and spent one crazy afternoon ziplining over the jungle—in flip flops.

Our favorite group find: a mountain hike near San Cristobal, where an alpaca farm served cinnamon coffee and the whole crew basically considered staying forever.

Chapter 6: Why Mexico Is Our Kind of Trip

Our new group rule: never say "been there, done that." Mexico is layered, delicious, moody, and always ready to surprise. Our best stories happened when we forgot what we "should" do and found what felt good—a taco at midnight, ruins at dawn, strangers on the microbus laughing with us and at us.

Final Night: Stars, Stories, and the Power of "Next Time"

We ended the trip on a roof terrace, stars over the city, a final round of chilled micheladas, trading stories, inside jokes, and wild promises to return.

Mexico isn't a checklist—it's the wild poem we keep rewriting, barefoot, hungry for more, and always eager for the very next adventure.