Down and Delirious in Mexico City: The Aztec Metropolis in the Twenty-First Century

by Daniel Hernandez

MEXICO CITY, with some 20 million inhabitants, is the largest city in the Western Hemisphere. Enormous growth, raging crime, and tumultuous politics have also made it one of the most feared and misunderstood. Yet in the past decade, the city has become a hot spot for international business, fashion, and art, and a magnet for thrill-seeking expats from around the world.

In 2002, Daniel Hernandez traveled to Mexico City, searching for his cultural roots. He encountered a city both chaotic and intoxicating, both underdeveloped and hypermodern. In 2007, after quitting a job, he moved back. With vivid, intimate storytelling, Hernandez visits slums populated by ex-punks; glittering, drug-fueled fashion parties; and pseudo-native rituals catering to new-age Mexicans. He takes readers into the world of youth subcultures, in a city where punk and emo stand for a whole way of life—and sometimes lead to rumbles on the streets.

Surrounded by volcanoes, earthquake-prone, and shrouded in smog, the city that Hernandez lovingly chronicles is a place of astounding manifestations of danger, desire, humor, and beauty, a surreal landscape of “cosmic violence.” For those who care about one of the most electrifying cities on the planet, “ Down & Delirious in Mexico City is essential reading” (David Lida, author of First Stop in the New World ).

Genres: Nonfiction, Travel, History, Memoir, Essays, Cities, Travelogue

288 pages, Paperback

First published February 3, 2011

Reviews

[Susy · Rating 4 out of 5]

To take Hernandez’s book as simply a non-fiction travel book or as the cool kids are calling it these days, creative non-fiction travel book, would be a mistake. Hernandez’s book is fascinating precisely because he is NOT: 1) trying to find himself by teaching English in another country 2) throwing himself into hard labor in a remote indigenous village 3) has no philanthropic endeavors 4) and NO broken heart he needs to mend through ancient indigenous practices. Hernandez is on a mission to find himself, a San Diego native, Angeleno transplant via Tijuana, Mexico whose parents warn him early on that in el DF (Mexico City, pronounced ‘de-efe’), he’ll get his socks stolen while he’s got his shoes on. Instead of making him run up towards Canada, Hernandez, a self-described “dark-skinned” pocho mexi-gringo, decides to move to el monstruo (the monster, a tongue and cheek term-of-endearment for el DF). It is in el monstruo that Hernandez leads us through a series of hoyos funkys, underground tunnels that weave through the city coming up momentarily from time to time for brief snap-shots of a series of urban subcultures that include but are not limited to fashionista fairies, nezayorkinos, banda, grafiteros, emos and fresas.

By the end of the book you get a sense that Hernandez is some sort of desert chameleon one minute drinking a cahuama (a family sized beer sold in Mexico) with a friend in a run-down prostitute laden side of town and the next schmoozing with the crème-de-la-crème Mexican up-and-coming fashion, artist, writing crowd. I suppose a warning against whiplash is in order. Nevertheless, it is through these encounters that Hernandez not only lays out the mega-city for us with all of its divine contradictions, but it is precisely through these urban-life snippets that he refreshingly peels back and exposes his own identity based struggles. Knowing exactly from where he was coming, I found myself wanting to reach through the pages to shake his hand on several occasions. There are particularities to being a fill-in-the-blank –American and going back to the country of “origin” that I believe might transcend beyond one particular experience or culture, Hernandez’s book would fit that category. The prodigal son that leaves the land of opportunity for the land our parents left behind.

The book is a quick read at that, one that I intentionally extended and savored piece by piece until despite my every effort it’s pages ran out. At the end of the journey through one of the largest urban jungles in the world, it is obvious that although Hernandez is gifted with those chameleon-like tendencies I previously mentioned, it is the magic of the city itself that allows Hernandez and the millions of transplants that keep pumping into it, to transform themselves day in and day out.

[Victor Giron · Rating 4 out of 5]

My mother is Mexican, from a small town in the western mountains of Mexico, in a state called Michoacan, west of Mexico City on the way to the Pacific Ocean. I was born in Chicago. Because my mother's family is so large and she's had such a strong bond with them all, I've been to Mexico practically every year of my life. As a child there were some summers where my sister and I would stay with one of my aunts and cousins the whole time, living just like Mexican kids though everyone around was distinctly aware that we were Americans, that we were "Gringos." It was evident in our hair-styles, our clothes, the music we listened to, what we tried to dance to, the sports we played, and yes our accents. But as kids, especially living there for months at a time, we'd find it easy to fit in, though we'd always long to go back home. As we became teenagers and the need to fit in with other teenagers became ever more important we stopped wanting to visit Mexico. It wasn't until I was around seventeen that I went back to Mexico and stayed a while with my cousins that lived in Mexico City, in a neighborhood up on one of the hills, not too terribly far from "el centro" or the downtown area.

Up until staying in Mexico City that time, it was always the place we'd fly into but quickly met by relatives to either be escorted to their car or to catch a taxi in the 'safe area’ and head to one of the bus terminals that would take us to the town we were going to stay at. Mexico City was a place I knew only as one that we needed to get out of quickly, to be observed through the windows of the bus or car we were transported in. It was weird, with all sorts of crazy stuff going on. Tons of clowns, beggars, couples making out, shady characters walking around, food vendors all over, stray dogs, prostitutes. It wasn't until I was seventeen that I actually experienced it, at least as a person that could remember it. Again I was always escorted places, not able to roam around on my own. At that age I was already partying quite a bit and so were the cousins I was staying with. I got a taste of the Mexico City night life. Bunch of dudes crammed into a car chugging caguamas (40s of beer), smoking cigarettes, cruising down streets whistling and hollering at girls, cruising Sullivan Street to stare at the prostis (the lines and lines of them), going to shady strip joints alongside Plaza Garibaldi. I was not old enough to truly appreciate what was going on in Mexico City, yet I was able to understand that the intoxicating air of freedom was accompanied by a persistent level of danger. It was all around you and I thought to myself then that as an adult I'd welcome the opportunity to return and immerse myself in the city to really get at what drove that feeling, what was making the city tick so to say. As an adult I have travelled quite a bit, going to many of the major cities of the world but I’ve always put off going to Mexico City, mainly out of fear I suppose. I even travelled Mexico quite a bit with one of my cousins, but never spending much time in Mexico City because he thought it was not a wise thing to do (he was from Cuernavaca, a much 'nicer' city on the other side of the mountains surrounding the capital). He opted for trips to Acapulco or Oaxaca which indeed were quite fun. But still I felt that I was missing something. And now I'm older with a family living in Chicago, venturing the strange mega-city south of the border is something that's just not quite feasible anymore.

Well, what I wasn't able to do journalist Daniel Hernandez did, and wrote about in his book "Down & Delirious". He's a chicano like me, of Mexican parents but who grew up in the U.S. (though he's from San Diego, much closer to the border than Chicago). He, on a whim to explore this mystery like I had, decides to move down there and get immersed in the culture. He writes about the different ethnic tribes that exist there, the level of vibrancy, and yes the ever pervasive feeling of danger and his thoughts on why. I'm biased in reviewing this as when I was reading I felt like I was reading something I would have loved to have done. He writes well, that's for sure, and it reads like a long essay, or different essays put together. I wish he would have delved a bit deeper into some of the issues he explores, the characters that he meets and some that he becomes friends with, that it would have read more like a novel. There's some fascinating scenes that I would love to see develop more. But perhaps this is for another project.

So I’d recommend this book for anyone curious about Mexico City and it’s subcultures, freedom, color, and violence; how it continues on, all these millions of people, a mash-up of Spanish, indigenous, and cultural elements, all struggling to form an identity in a city nestled in a huge valley, slowly sinking back into the lake that spawned it.

[David Sasaki · Rating 4 out of 5]

A nini ethnography

In 2009 the word still did not exist in Mexico. Yet by August 2010, it was nearly impossible to watch the nightly news without suffering through yet another segment, interview, or monologue about the country's nini Phenomenon. Nini, ni estudian ni trabajan, they neither study nor work. The first mention of the term I am able to find in the Mexican press comes from the February 2010 edition of Proceso magazine. In his article, The Mexican Ninis , José Gil Olmos says he first heard the term from National Autonomous University rector, José Narro Robles.

In Mexico there are at least seven million, and worldwide many more. They are young people with no future, or, if they have one, it is hopeless, bleak, and shameful. This is a generation marked by disappointment. They are now called the "Ninis," and previously were the "emos" and generation X.

In September 2010 alone, there were at least 161 mentions of the term "Ninis" in mainstream Mexican media. It became a favorite buzzword by politicians and talking heads. Unemployed Mexican youth were blamed for the country's insecurity, its slow growth, and the pervasive pessimism that hangs above the metropolis like the ever-present, yellowish layer of smog. César Duarte, the governor of Chihuahua, even proposed mandatory military service for all Mexican youth who are not enrolled in school or employed. Kent Paterson of the Center for International Policy declared 2010 the "year of the nini."

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The February 2011 issue of Bloomberg Businessweek - "The Kids Are Not Alright" - internationalized the alleged nini phenomenon:

In Tunisia, the young people who helped bring down a dictator are called hittistes—French-Arabic slang for those who lean against the wall. Their counterparts in Egypt, who on Feb. 1 forced President Hosni Mubarak to say he won't seek reelection, are the shabab atileen, unemployed youths. The hittistes and shabab have brothers and sisters across the globe. In Britain, they are NEETs—"not in education, employment, or training." In Japan, they are freeters: an amalgam of the English word freelance and the German word Arbeiter, or worker. Spaniards call them mileuristas, meaning they earn no more than 1,000 euros a month. In the U.S., they're "boomerang" kids who move back home after college because they can't find work. Even fast-growing China, where labor shortages are more common than surpluses, has its "ant tribe"—recent college graduates who crowd together in cheap flats on the fringes of big cities because they can't find well-paying work.

The current protests in Spain have brought the buzzword back to the Op-Ed pages of Mexican newspapers, but among all the punditry of just what to do with these typically overeducated and underemployed youth, very few Mexican journalists or anthropologists have shown any interest in actually trying to understand them. Daniel Hernandez is one of the few, and in many ways Down and Delirious can be read as an ethnography of Mexico's so-called ninis; youth who have not found meaningful employment, but have managed to create meaning through self-expression.

Alain de Botton reminds us that just one hundred years ago it was rarely expected that we would marry for love. As little as 20 years ago work was still seen as work — a sacrifice we made in order to seek pleasure and leisure during our time off. Now an entire, global, connected generation wants to find meaningful work that creates pleasure in itself. But the market has not yet produced those jobs in sufficient quantity. And the youth keep waiting.

The Donald Draper Complex

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There were moments - plenty of them - when I felt undeniable envy; not so much of Daniel's writing, which is beautiful, but rather the seductive aesthetic that seems to shape around his every waking day. It is what first drew me into the novels of Henry Miller, Kerouac and Bukowski as an 18-year-old: the romantic revelry with hobos, drugs, prostitutes, starving artists, and sexual experimentation. While the rest of Mexico City's expats are sipping fashionable mezcal and making their way around the museum and gallery circuit, Daniel and his indie cinema cast of friends "find an untouched watering hold and make it [their] own:"

The little building looks both dead and drunk, unused, and at least two hundred years old. Around the corner, next to a permanent mound of fresh garbage and behind a metal grate, with no sign and no fixed name, sits our spot. It is just one room big and the bathroom is revolting. Nothing decorates the walls but a sticky film best left uninvestigated. Roaches the size of small rodents sometimes amble across the tile floor, giving me the frightening impression that they have large and complex brains. Old prostitutes, gangly old gay men, transvestites or transgendered ladies with saggy chins, gangsters, women with only a few precious bits of teeth hanging from their gums, dealers—it’s their spot, too. We get to know the “owners” and become quite acquainted with the running melodramas of the place.

Daniel's Mexico City is mythical. Somehow he is able to find a little Charles Bukowski wherever he goes. Each night, as I flicked through another chapter on my ipad, my own life began to feel increasingly sterile, predictable, institutional. More meetings, more proposals, more white papers, more conferences. Half way through Daniel's book I read a discussion between two old-school allies, Antonio Lopez and Erik Davis, which was yet another reminder of how far my life had drifted from the West Coast, wannabe Bohemianism of my younger days. There were nights when I felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to surround myself with the "artists, writers, punks, filmmakers, druggies, psychonaughts, Bohemians, and homeless crazies," in the words of Antonio. Other nights I nearly hopped in my car to seek out a bag of mushrooms and some hippie encampment outside of Palenque. I reflected on where this urge came from. A lasting vestige of my need to rebel against the monotony and sterility of Southern California's suburbs? An early onset of a midlife crisis?

I'm not sure. Nor do I know why Daniel celebrates the hunger of the starving artist and the lunacy of the sobbing transvestite prostitute. Is it the life of the writer? Seeking out the esoteric underground to become its literary ambassador for the intellectual class? Or is it actually an aesthetic choice, our daily actions and discriminations wrapped up in fashion, photographs, waiting to be pinned down by marketers and magazines?

It is impossible to write about Mexico and not identity

This is a book about identity on multiple levels. First, and most obviously, Daniel's own struggle to see himself through the eyes of other Mexicans:

One day a roommate brought a friend over to our apartment. The friend was a young, redheaded, blue-eyed native of Mexico City, dressed like a gutter punk, who was “hanging around” California. I told the young Mexican girl my parents were Mexican and that I was born in San Diego, that we’re from Tijuana. “But you’re not really Mexican,” the girl responded. I was not? Until then I had always been under the impression that the world perceived me as Mexican, like it or not. I felt Mexican—stuck between a dominant American culture that shunned the “Mexican” within its society, and contemporary Mexicans back in Mexico who found it so easy to dismiss our mixed heritage as somehow unrelated to theirs. Around that time films such as Amores Perros and Y Tu Mamá También were opening up radically new conceptions of Mexican life for people north of the border. The same should have been true in the opposite direction. But no. As a Mexican American, born in gringo territory, I was still excluded from the national narrative in Mexico.

But it is also a dissection of the many identities of Mexico City's urban tribes. Emos, hipsters, cholos, punks, rappers, graffiti artists, neo-indigenist peace pipe passers, fashionistas, cult worshippers — he tries to understand them all; at times by reviewing the literature, but usually by inserting himself into their circles.

There is one last, more subtle, layer of identity meditation, and that is Daniel's own coming of age from 2002 when he graduates from Berkeley and books a one-way flight to Mexico City, and the end of 2010 when he finishes the book's manuscript. Throughout the book the references to homosexuality and sexual liberation are both subtle and pervasive. Daniel's relationship with the entire world seems to take on an erotic androgyny. From a conversation with a friend (boyfriend? we don't know, it doesn't seem to matter) about Mexico City's fashion scene:

You can see it in other designers here as well. they are merging the global with the local, applying the austere lines and geometries of international couture with the playfulness and surreal qualities of everyday life in Mexico. They are also disciples of the power of androgyny. Among independent young labels, garments are offered as unisex, expressing in a simple article of clothing a belief in the idea that the male and female exist equally within the self.

Down and Delirious complicates how we think about sexuality among Mexico City's youth. I have no idea if Daniel is heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual. Those categories simply don't seem relevant, and the careful reader senses a deliberate effort to transcend them completely. It struck me that, perhaps, Daniel could have only achieved such transcendence of the usual notions of sexuality here in Mexico City. Back in California the genres of hetero and homo are too well defined, while Mexico City is still exploring its first sexual revolution with daily improvisation.

So open it hurts

In 1970, Boston Globe magazine editor Bill Cardoso first referred to Hunter S. Thompson's unique style of journalism as "gonzo," and so emerged a new sub-genre of narrative reporting that inserts the observer into the observation. Today another, new sub-genre of writing is upon us — a slightly forced marriage between the frantic hyper-connectedness of the web and the reflective, iterative re-writing that eventually leads to a book. There is no shortage of blogs that have become books (there is even software to automate the process), but Down and Delirious strikes me as much more ambitious than an edited aggregation of Daniel's excellent blog, Intersections . Spanish speakers can get a better sense of what he is after in this video to introduce a workshop Daniel will be giving on digital journalism at .357.

The characters in Daniel's book are also the same avatars leaving comments on his Facebook wall as I write this. It is impossible to separate the book from the blog, and impossible to separate the blog from every passing day, comment, conversation. We are witnessing a new genre that represents a generation that has grown up over-sharing, that has never been timid to offer an opinion even before learning all the facts, that can frequently share its deepest secrets with the wider public more easily than with its closest friends. It is a generation and a genre of writing that has learned to be so open it hurts.

[Cynda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hernandez is a California native is journalist/newswriter who went to Mexico two times--once for long vacation and once for an indefinite time. At first he did not understand why Mexicans told him that he really was not Mexican despite his living very near the border, more of a poser. Then he found out how much he was not Mexican.

In the early years of the 21st century, the traditional ways were fading or gone so that inner-city, street life, and popular culture figure predominantly but not exclusively in this book.

Mexican culture is different, more pagan and darker, than US mainstream or even borderlands cultures. I am letting other readers know because I have been called out for not warning when reading other books with others.

https://www.dailypress.com/entertainm...

[Nick · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a perceptive take on Mexico City and some of its underreported features, at least as it existed about ten years ago. Any book on Mexico City, where I once lived, is bound to be somewhat dated; like all megalopolises, it is in a constant process of reinvention. Daniel Hernandez' interest here is less on the details of ancient cultures and more on the people who make up new subcultures: gays, emos, punks. His Condesa neighborhood is not trendy hotspots; the bar he visits is not elegant but cramped. His reporting on Santa Muerte is about the shrines and their tenders, not narcos. This is, above all, a book about young people (in a city that, however ancient, is largely composed of them): their aspirations, even if they are just at that moment for the next great night, their pride, and, alas, their failures.

[Leah Rachel von Essen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Down & Delirious in Mexico City: The Aztec Metropolis in the Twenty-First Century is a fascinating book by Daniel Hernandez that examines the subcultures of the city as well as its feel, something ever-difficult to capture without being in a place.

Through his distinctly male gaze, Hernandez explores the city, entering the fashion party scenes and making new friends in the punk scenes, among others; talking about the strangeness in CMX around the time of some well-publicized outcry against kidnappings, or his experience accompanying others to spiritual experiences or pilgrimages for the first time. This is certainly one man’s examination of these people, groups, and experiences, and it is a book that is half sociology, half-very-biased-personal-account, but I loved it for what it was: a glimpse into Mexico City as it was in the 2000s, telling me things that I never would have learned from the history books, helping to fill in my view of Mexico City and what it is like to move there, learn its ways, and settle there. This is a great book for anyone looking to read about Mexico City, and I’m glad I read it before my trip in just two weeks (and thank you to my boyfriend for gifting it to me!)

[Nora Rawn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really more of a three and a half (I rounded up). Hernandez would benefit from going more into his own backstory as a Mexican American and how it influences his relationship with Mexico and CDMX, though he does touch on that; he explores some interesting aspects of the federal district, though his range of people is somewhat constrained by mainly focusing on counter cultural movements; the main bulk of the city population doesn't really enter into things, and his political investigations also could be more probing. But it exposed me to some useful angles (the idea of the onda or wave, for instance), though I think it's both a bit thin and a bit self important in its analyses sometimes (so we really learn that much by discussing the emo kids?).

[Jabladora · Rating 1 out of 5]

The author and the friends he makes along the way are pretentious. There's no depth, doing no justice to such a rich city. He somehow makes the city and its residents unlikable, except Doña Queta.

[Yamileth Lopez · Rating 3 out of 5]

There were some parts I liked and thought were well written. Then there were many parts where I was bored out of my mind. I had to trudge through the THOROUGHLY detailed scenes. I felt some details were excessive in certain chapters. Also, by the halfway point, I felt his formula was the same for each chapter: talk about an experience, info dump some history, and end with something deep and insightful about the experience. It was like a diary, but some parts were trying way too hard to sound profound. At least that was how I felt.

I enjoyed his view of things for the time he experienced them. However, I didn't understand what he wanted to convey in this book. Some parts felt like a history lesson. Some parts felt like a philosophical discussion (or was he on drugs when he wrote some of those segments?) Was he on a journey to find his identity between two cultures? Or was he on a journey to find a religion? I thought he was trying to find his crowd of people to belong to, but he was kind of all over the place.

The author talks about people he met, but he never goes deep into what those relationships looked like. He meets interesting people. Does he never go past the party-friend-stage with them? He hints at the importance of certain people in his life, but doesn't give enough detail for you to care why he felt that way.

I just don't understand what the author wanted me to feel or think by the end. He gave his honest view on Mexico City, which I enjoyed. The book had some interesting things, but overall, not a book I'd recommend to others. The book didn't engage me enough to finish the book sooner.

[Shannon O'Mara · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was an engaging read from start to finish. The author writes with an informed voice on very contemporary happenings in Mexico City- from fashion to politics to crime to religion- relating these things to history, his own American/Mexican background, and even broadens implications to worldwide avant garde culture. The focus of each chapter was never dry, and the backdrop of the city itself fills in details in the anecdotes, as if any more were needed. The inclusion of chapter notes at the end was an unexpected treat- not only did it show the research, it gives me more reading to pursue. Hernandez has continued the tradition of "Foreign Writer" in a fresh way, and distills the energy of Mexico City with an intelligent and reverent pen.

[Liz Murray · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved reading this book. Daniel Hernandez paints a high octane, character fueled portrait of DF. It is so much more than a travel book. He takes you in to his world and his experiences in Mexico City all through a highly personal lens. His DF is populated by people he befriends easily and with whom he gets to spend real time with. It made me want to get back to Mexico City as soon as possible and for an extended time if possible. A fabulous book!

[Dave-O · Rating 2 out of 5]

Standard feature writing.

This book definitely could have some deeper insight especially given the complexity of the subject, but Hernandez never veers from choice to keep a psychological distance from his subjects and because of this, his conclusions tend to be sentimental and historically superficial.

[John Spencer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Gritty, poetic and very real life experience of the most amazing and the largest city in the Western Hemisphere. At times surreal in its chronicle of the danger, desire and beauty inherent in 21st century Mexico City. I could not put this book down. Eye opening and riveting reading.

[Sal · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is more a book about a Chicano author trying to reconcile his identity as an American in Mexico City than it is about the city itself. I am not sure if the author understood or understands that.

[Caroline · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hernandez relocates himself from LA to DF in search of his roots, of brotherhood and acceptance, of the underbelly of el monstruo. Down & Delirious boasts some true investigative journalism, paired with the author's own search to understand and to be understood. I was less interested in the punk, emo, and fashion end of his investigative spectrum, but he freely dug toward the heart every cultural phenomenon and fad that jumped out at him, and paused afterward to reflect on the situations he'd thrown himself into. My main wish is that the end notes had been numbered. After finishing a powerfully written, imaginative final chapter, I felt the need to wade through 30 pages of disembodied notes because I was sure that some of them would be of interest.

Our turn is coming up, causing a new anxiety to rise in my throat. When it's my turn to approach the security window, the final barrier between me and my country's bureaucrats, I have to decide, will I speak to the pretty receptionist lady in Spanish or in English? This is the American embassy, but I am in Mexico. Our row is called up. Panic sets [in]. The receptionist, who appears to be Mexican, calmly and politely deals with the people in line ahead of me in clean Spanish, a reassuring sign. A series of possible sentences in both languages scroll[s] quickly through my head. I want to appear as cool and collected as possible before this first-responding emissary of the United States of America.

And under that, of course, I feel a wave of self-loathing. As Americans, have we grown accustomed to fearing our own government? Even with nothing to hide, we cower before our bureaucrats, our own employees. The thoughts roll through my head as I try suppressing a darker sort of fear. It is that feeling I get in the moments before I approach the United States as a pedestrian at the border between Tijuana and San Ysidro. The wild, pitted fear that just this time, out of so many hundreds throughout my life, something could go inexplicably wrong, and a pack of men in black will silently march at me and I will be disappeared forever into the monster-machine of the U.S. government.

My turn. Behind the heavy glass, the receptionist smiles at me brightly and asks what sort of business I hope to attend to at the U.S. embassy. It is all happening so fast. I hand over my expiring passport and blurt nervously, "Es que tengo que hacer renew mi pasaporte."

It rolls down my brain and off my tongue without warning, as Spanglish as me, as California as me, perfectly incorrect on multiple levels: "Es que tengo que hacer renew mi pasaporte." (216-7)

[Paul Pessolano · Rating 1 out of 5]

I don't know if this book was meant to be a travelogue, a personal history, or an expose of Mexico and Mexico City.

I can tell you if you want to read a book that will have you change your travel plans to anywhere other than Mexico City - read this book.

Daniel Hernandez, looking for his roots, goes to Mexico City. Mexico City is the largest city in the Western Hemisphere, and it has all the problems, and more, that is associated with megacities. Hernandez makes cities like Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago seem tame compared to Mexico City.

The first problem is altitute, unless you live there or Denver, Colorado, or recently climbed Mount Everest, you are going to have trouble breathing. Making matters worse, Mexico City is almost always under a temperature inversion. This means that all the pollutants, and there are many, are trapped and are in the air you breathe.

You may to add to this that there are two volcanoes that are dangerously close to the city. True, they are inactive presently, but one never knows when they may erupt. Also, the area is prone to earthquakes.

Mexico City is also the home for gangs, thugs, drug distributors, and corrupt government officials. Police have come to believe that taking bribes are part of their annual salary, and they have no problem shaking down not only their own kind but any tourist that looks like an easy mark.

If this isn't enough, the outskirts of the city are home home to thousands of people that are faced with abject poverty, and probably have no way to improve their lives unless they turn to crime.

I found the book to be tedious and boring. I found it very difficult to finish and could find no redeeming qualities, other than warning people not to visit Mexico, and especially Mexico City.

There may be another Mexico and Mexico City out there that is far better than what is depicted in this book, at least I hope so.

[Cynthia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some interesting insights into Mexico, particularly the chapters on the Virgen de Guadalupe, the emo youth culture (and the "riot" in Queretaro where some emos were assaulted),and concerts in poor neighborhoods that end in fights. He effectively portrays his own cultural journey as a Mexican American trying to understand Mexico - the things he was taught in California are not always true, i.e. that La Malinche is not always seen as a traitor. He describes the smoggy, violent, exciting and surreal city world well. I found the chapters on the fashion world and drug scene less interesting than some of his more general cultural insights. Favorite quote: "Queretaro is the sort of place where cloaked nuns still live in seventeenth-century cloisters and sell pan dulce from a window in a wall to the street, like medieval drive-throughs." The years represented by the memoir coincide with my own time there, so it was fun to be reminded of news stories - the Chinese businessman found with 2 million in cash in his apartment gained by selling drugs on the black market - as well as descriptions of temazcals, barbacoa, and the cult of the Santa Muerte.

[Siel Ju · Rating 4 out of 5]

If while wandering around Mexico City you’ve wondered, What was this place like a decade ago? Daniel has the answer. His lively book of essays tries to encapsulate the sounds, smells, and feelings evoked by Mexico City back in the aughts — from the cocaine-fueled fashion shows in Condesa to the crush of bodies in the religious procession on Dia de la Virgen Guadalupe.

In these missives Daniel is young, impressionable, and intoxicated by the energy of Mexico’s metropolis. That makes this book a bit of a coming of age story, Mexico City being the place Daniel goes to discover who he is — as a new adult, as a Californian born of Mexican parents, as a fledgling writer. The Mexico City he describes sounds more dangerous and frenetic and disquieting than the one I experienced — partly because Mexico City has changed in the intervening years, and partly because I’m older than Daniel was when he wrote this book (The young Daniel parties hard every weekend then describes an unprovoked, painful sorrow that hits him every Sunday — and I’m like, dude, that’s called a hangover). Pick it up if you enjoy parties, youthful confusion, and unanswerable questions about transnational identities.

[James Creechan]

Daniel Hernandez has written an amazing book that captures the impact of social change and NAFTA on young people in Mexico City. I knew that the book was going to be something special when I read a short clip on the inside cover from the amazing Alma Guillermoprieto — "The guy can really write", and her assessment of this young writer is spot-on correct.

Hernandez grew up in California and identified with Chicano culture, but went to Mexico City to experience the real meaning of "Mexicanismo". His adventure took him to some of the most interesting zones of transition where old punkers and emos inhabited the streets. He describes a world that most outsiders can never hope to see or experience — and maybe they don't want to experience.

Many people don't realize that Mexico was a refuge and a haven for seekers of the counter-cultural life — from Burroughs to Kerouac, and Hernandez found their descendants and describes the places that are host to those on the margins of respectability.

A great read.

[adder_r · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is urban journalism at its finest. Hernandez mixes history, reportage and personal impressions in a well-rounded narrative that’s easy to follow and mucho entertaining. Bonus: the factual part is thoroughly researched and you might even learn something...

’Everything is thrilling in Mexico City because everything is out of whack.’

PERSONAL NOTE #1
I bought this book in the Cafebrería bookstore in — surprise, surprise — Mexico City. Doug got something by Martin Amis and we sat in the rooftop bar afterwards, having a deeply intellectual discussion about the fact that bookstores with cocktails and nachos are the best.

PERSONAL NOTE #2
This book is giving me hope that meaningful friendships between men and women can exist. The author describes his female friends in a way that a woman would want to be known by other people — with understanding of the complexities between her inner and outer self and without being creepy about it. This is what women want their male pals to be like.

[Kristy · Rating 4 out of 5]

In 5 days, I head to Mexico City for a last-minute solo trip, courtesy of some use it or lose it paid time off. In preparation, I picked up this book second hand from Thrift Books, wanting some more insight into this megalopolis that's fast become a go-to destination for world-class art, food and culture.

Daniel Hernandez is an award-winning journalist of Mexican descent who grew up in San Diego, US. This book captures the cultural zeitgeist of the time when he first visited Mexico City in 2002, and eventually relocated there in 2007. Published in 2011, some of the references are dated (MySpace, DVDs and emo get a mention). Since then, the city has undertaken a massive gentrification, which you can see the beginnings of in this book.

Broken into chapters on different themes related to CDMX subcultures, Daniel fully immerses himself in everything the city has to offer. His observations are both journalistic and personal. I'm excited that the punk/hard rock/metal market El Chopo he visits is still in operation after 30 years, and have added it to my itinerary.

[Adriana · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was born in Mexico City. I’m a “chilanga” from the southern part of Distrito Federal with family that’s been there since forever. Yet many of the things that Daniel Hernandez writes about are as foreign to me as if he were writing about Mongolia. However, I did find his empirical tales highly captivating and insightful.
A son of Mexicans that was born and grew up in the States, Hernandez’ journey to find his roots takes him to places in Mexico City that I’ve never even thought of entering. While my mind hasn’t changed on the dangers that one might find in certain areas, the people that he meets and the insights that he gleans in some of the poorest areas of the city gave me a greater appreciation for it.
Living in the city is a rat race of politics and social strata. Hernandez managed to write about it without being insulting or demeaning to all those involved in it. He takes it as it is and shares his experiences and thoughts with his readers.

[Joy Hepp · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of Hernandez’ greatest talents as a writer is being able to pave the way for readers to enter the worlds he inhabits and create a space for them to explore on their own. Down and Delirious in Mexico City conjures up the megalopolis’ wild urban spell and the youth who are stirring its cauldron.
One of Hernandez’ greatest talents as a writer is being able to pave the way for readers to enter the worlds he inhabits and create a space for them to explore on their own. Down and Delirious in Mexico City conjures up the megalopolis’ wild urban spell and the youth that are stirring its cauldron. Through the power of the journalist’s notepad he introduces the reader to the punk marketplace, the cult of Death, and the fashion queens of the night – all in remarkable detail.
More: http://chi.me/Ji0mXm

[Summer Pączek · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great book! I read it in one whole night! Well versed and quite empirical! Reading it made me go on a little trip to my native land.
Daniel touches on the tense political environment that is transforming Mexico's society. How political tyranny has affected the population's collective unconscious and subcultures have emerged and others transformed (punks, goths, emos, oligarchs,transvestites and transgendered groups, victims of kidnapping, death cults, indigenous traditions and civil society as a whole )as coping mechanism as people try to deal with political injustices. This book is a social critique in the form of a fun easy to read travelogue that is both insightful and gripping.
I recommend it!

[Abby · Rating 3 out of 5]

Picked this up as I was looking for travel guides to Mexico City, and it seemed like it would be fun to read essays about life in the city. I think the author was aiming for a younger and hipper audience, because many of the chapters have to do with the music/fashion/ and drug scene for Mexican youth, but there were still essays on Mexican identity, relationship with the Church, and human/environmental interaction that I found insightful. I ended up abandoning it when the essays started to focus on the more violent and random incidents that can happen in Mexico -- not good for my travel frame of mind! Was pleased to hear the neighborhood where we'll be staying described twice as "ground zero for hipsters."

[Rebeca RoMe · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a young adult, and Mexico City inhabitant I can tell that this book offers a deeper point of view on my own hometown. I think the author's writting is amazing and since I've been in touch with some of the underground groups he's talking about and being close to some places and facts I can tell that he's very objective and offers a valuable different point of view, one that is not damaged by prejudice.
This is definitely not a turistic guide, but the quest for the complexity that underlies in the city and its people. Highly recommended for those who have real cultural/sociological interest.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting analysis of Mexico City in the 21st Century. Although superficial Down and Delirious in Mexico City remains an engaging, if not penetrating, study of the city's fraught heart.

Down and Delirious did not stand up so well to a second reading...mostly a book about a facile hipster trying way too hard to be George Orwell...lacks all of the literary chops and social commentary that Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London had.

Hipsters probably will enjoy it, but everyone else will be left rolling their eyes.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

[Ellen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gotta give this one a 3-3.5. It wasn't exactly what I had been hoping to read. I guess I didn't read the description well enough, because if I knew I'd be reading about punks, emos, fashionistas and tons of drugs, I probably would have skipped the book since I don't identify with any of that. That being said, the book was an interesting look into those subcultures and into the life of an "outsider" in Mexico City (although since he is Mex-American, a bit less of an outsider than me). Refreshing to read a story from someone who left America for Mexico, since we so often hear the opposite.

[Tuck · Rating 4 out of 5]

good book about living in DF as a young hipster. Lots of art, music, carousing, pollution, cleansing, metro rides, sex, noise. Author looks at some interesting groups there like the punks, santa muerte cults, san judas cults, high fashion industry, emos, repatriated cholos. good book about urban (with capital u) geography and sociology. Has some really nice bibliography sources i need to follow up.

[Juanita · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is more like a series of articles than a true memoir, but it's a fun read and full of information on young people in Mexico City. Hernandez give the average age of a DF residents to be in their late 20s, not my generation but a lively and interesting group. His stories make them seem more style than substance, unlike earlier generations of Mexicans who were true intellectuals. I'm hope the intellectuals are still out there and that someone finds and writes about them.