Mexico City lingers on me: the dust on my dress, the grit in my hair, the spring in my step–the ache in my heart. That feeling of taking the City, walking its streets, riding its buses. More tortilla and lime and aguacate than I can eat. Flan de coco, cocoanut flan, at Bellinghausen’s, the restaurant founded by Germans during the Mexican Revolution of 1910.
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