Apart from a veritable army of windshield cleaners and vendors of newspapers, loose cigarettes, phone cards, confectionery, toys, maps, balloons, and so on, also competing for space at the capital’s junctions are jugglers, spinning top whizzes, fire-eaters, acrobats, and clowns.

Many drivers have little time for windshield cleaners, and frantically wave them away as they approach the car armed with a plastic bottle filled with soapy water, a small cloth, and a rubber scraper. Some quickly wind-up the windows and turn on the car’s windshield wipers, and become particularly irate if the cleaner has disguised his intentions and hit the windshield with a jet of water from the bottle while appearing to look in the other direction, shrugging as if to say, “well I’ve started now so I may as well finish.”

Contributions to the cause are voluntary, and as people easily become bored, and necessity is the mother of invention, a fair deal of ingenuity is required for success in some of these thankless occupations.

A fine example came recently on Reforma avenue: a mime with painted face, flower-pot hat, and white gloves went through the motions of cleaning a windshield. First the invisible jet of water, then the circular motion of scrubbing the glass clean, then the scraping off the water, first vertically then horizontally. The gimmick seemed to work, as the driver handed over a coin, so did the driver behind who watched it. After all, what better if people don’t want their windshields cleaned than not to clean them.

In some ways, Mexico can consider itself one of the winners of the 2026 World Cup, which it co-hosted with the US and Canada.

The national team lost in the Round of 16, which was a disappointment as Mexico was hoping to make it to the quarter finals for the first time since 1986 when the country hosted its second World Cup.

On the brighter side, with the added Round-of-32 this time, the team got to play five games of which it won four without conceding a goal, before losing 3-2 to England in a memorable match at the Azteca Stadium.

Where Mexico was a winner was in its hospitality, as anyone who spends time on social media might have noticed.

South Korean fans who arrived for the start of the tournament could be seen indulging in all kinds of fun with their Mexican counterparts. South Korea had beaten Germany in the 2018 World Cup, thanks to which Mexico made it past the group stage, and Mexicans haven’t forgotten that “favor.”

And the friendly exchanges among fans continued this year even though the two teams were rivals in Group A. Mexico just managed to squeeze out a 1-0 victory in their game.

The exception was in the 2-0 win over Ecuador in the round of 32. There was fighting and insults between Mexican and Ecuadorian fans after their match, and someone tossed a plastic cup of beer at the Ecuadorian press box, hitting one of its journalists in the face. In a separate incident, three people died in a crush at the Angel de la Independencia monument where many thousands of people showed up to celebrate the win.

Then came the match against England. There was a lot of talk about how the Azteca Stadium is one of the hardest to play in, particularly against Mexico. Mexico rarely loses at the stadium. The national team had only lost two official games on its home turf, and never lost a World Cup game there. (Losses to Italy in 1970 and West Germany in 1986 were played in Toluca and Monterrey, respectively.)

Major concerns were the altitude (fair enough if you’re not used to it), the heat (most US venues were much hotter than Mexico City), and a hostile atmosphere. What hostile atmosphere? was the conclusion of English players and fans alike.

The players of course expected the crowd to be against them during the match, as was the case, but spoke well of the Mexican team and the effort the England side made to come away with the win.

But before and after the game, English fans had nothing but praise for Mexico City and the stadium. Fans from both countries were seen celebrating together after the match.

One video shows a Mexican supporter giving a Merlin Duck stuffed toy (Mexico’s unofficial World Cup mascot) to an English boy inside the stadium. The event was so successful that the English Football Association is thinking of inviting Mexico to play a friendly match at Wembley in the future.

The match at the Azteca Stadium was the last of the 13 games that Mexico hosted in the 2026 World Cup, with the remaining games to be played in the US, including the final at the MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, on Sunday, July 19.

Learn more about sports and leisure in Mexico

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The stores, however, are rather unique.  They sell books, magazines, cakes, toys, tobacco, gifts of all kinds (watches, pens, backgammon sets, even telescopes…), some clothing, confectionery, music, electronic goods, jewelry, and pharmaceuticals.

Sanborns is owned by Carlos Slim, the telecoms magnate who bought the chain from the US drugstore chain Walgreens in 1985.  But the original business was set up by the American brothers Frank and Walter Sanborn early in the 20th century; first as a drugstore, to which later a soda fountain was added.

The concept became so popular that dictator Porfirio Díaz used to stop-by at one of the Sanborns soda fountains.  Revolutionaries Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa took refreshments at Sanborns when they marched into the capital over a century ago.

Walter Sanborn returned to California, tired of the political turmoil in Mexico at the time, while Frank and his two sons —represented by the three owls on the Sanborns logo— continued to run the business until 1946, when they sold it to Walgreens.

If asked about a bookstore in Mexico, you’d be more likely to think Gandhi, Porrúa, or Casa del Libro.  If a drugstore, Farmacias del Ahorro or even Dr. Simi if you’re into generics.  El Globo springs to mind when cakes are needed, and one of the big three department stores (Liverpool, Palacio de Hierro, Sears) might be where you’d go if shopping for a gift. But if you don’t really know what you want, or just feel like browsing before or after lunch, you might well end up at Sanborns.

Eclectic might be the best way to describe Sanborns, which just about everyone in Mexico has heard of, and most urbanites visit at one time or another.  Most states and virtually all the main cities have at least one —and some several— Sanborns stores.  The list of stores can be found online.

Many of the stores (there are about 170 and several dozen stand-alone Sanborns Café coffee shops) are located in shopping malls or at commercial plazas, although a number of them are situated inside elegant buildings in historic districts of Mexico’s more picturesque cities.  A prime example of this is the Casa de Los Azulejos on Madero Ave. in downtown Mexico City.  The building houses one of the original Sanborns stores and a large restaurant which operates on several floors.

Sanborns is well-known locally for its generously-stocked magazine stands, which carry a wide selection of contemporary titles published in Spanish and English. These stands are also used by some people as a meeting point, helpful in a country where punctuality isn’t exactly a national trait.  The store also stocks a wide range of books, including the 10 top U.S. best-sellers of the moment, and a selection of greetings cards—the sending of which isn’t a particular habit in Mexico.

Mexicans tend to have mixed feelings about Sanborns, a store that is an established institution of the Mexican retail terrain and which at the same time market commentators say is struggling to convey a clear identity in today’s rapidly-changing retail landscape.

Most of the existing stores have undergone a re-fit in recent years; the new decor  clearly aims to retain some of the old-world charm while bringing forth a brighter, and more contemporary, feel.  Regardless of individual predilections, Sanborns remains an emblematic brand in Mexico.

Two decades have nearly passed since Mexico enacted a new law to crack down on the use of tobacco, securing smoke-free public spaces and buildings everywhere, and generating widespread awareness among smokers of the rights of non-smokers to be free from the toxic clouds exhaled by the users of the stuff when shopping, eating out, or waiting for a bus.

What it hasn’t achieved is to cut down on the number of smokers in the country, according to some reports.  Whether that’s because not enough has been done to discourage smoking, or because people who smoke don’t really care to quit, is anybody’s guess.

Props to help those who do want to give up —including nicotine patches, nicotine gum, lozenges, etc.— disappeared from drugstores across the country a while ago, although a form of nicotine lozenges have been making a comeback.

Imports of electronic cigarettes (vaping devices) have been outlawed by presidential decree, citing World Health Organization data concerning the practice. Notices have since have been posted in customs halls and some travelers are having vaping products confiscated when their personal items are examined.

The ban on the —highly profitable, by the way— sale of loose cigarettes has been widely ignored.  These are still openly available on thousands of street stalls, at markets, outside Metro stations, at traffic lights.  In some districts where health inspectors have shown up to admonish vendors in breach of the ban, the sale stopped for a while and then resumed surreptitiously among trusted customers. But if the prohibition was aimed at keeping cigarettes out of the hands of minors, it could be said to have worked.  At least you’d be hard pressed to find vendors selling tobacco to the under-aged, and this is true of local shops as well.

You can take many walks by yourself and never actually speak to anybody you don’t know, much as you might do if you travel on the Metro or in buses. If you are in the habit —as many Mexico City residents are— of driving everywhere, your only communication with your fellow denizens may be a shaking of the head, blowing of the horn, or an untoward hand signal that goes unnoticed by its intended recipient

Striking up a conversation becomes more or less necessary, however, when you come face-to-face with someone who, like you, is on the defensive end of a leash being stretched to its limit by a pet whose intentions could be anything from simple acquaintance to a battle to the death.

This is as good a time as any to establish your “dog-expert” credentials.

You could start out with, ¿qué raza es?, which would be OK as long as the other’s dog isn’t a German Shepherd, a Labrador, or some other well-known breed.

Many dog breeds are the same in Spanish as in English or their original language. Examples are Rottweiler, Doberman, Schnauzer, Bulldog, Boxer. Others are literal translations, for example, pastor alemán (German Shepherd), pastor inglés (English Sheepdog), gran danés (Great Dane).

For some breeds, the habit of using an English adjective and turning it into a Spanish noun is applied. So a French Poodle becomes “un french,” a Golden Retriever “un golden,“ and a Cocker Spaniel, “un cocker.”

A mongrel in Mexico is described as corriente, or callejero (street dog), criollo, or euphemistically, cruzado con corriente (cross with mongrel).

Another possible opener, ¿es macho o hembra? would show you know that, ordinarily, there ought to be no problem if they are opposites, although it could do severe damage to your pose as someone who knows all about dogs.

¿Muerde? is probably the most sensible, yet impractical question. Besides, the growling and barking may only be directed at the other dog, and could also be mere frustration at being held back by a chain.

Anyway, once the preliminaries have been dispensed with, and a decision made whether to allow the dogs to associate freely, come what may, the owners can then get introduced and share impressions on the one thing they apparently have in common—a love of dogs.

Where you would expect to hear things like, what do you feed it? does he sleep indoors or outdoors? has she been spayed? what you actually get are things like, she’s normally quite sociable, he only fights if he’s afraid, he thinks he’s bigger than he actually is.

The habit of attributing psychological or sociological characteristics to an irrational quadruped appears to say more about the owner than the dog, but in any case it serves to get people talking to each other who might otherwise not so much as exchange a “good day.”

Sometimes you’ll come away from these meetings shaking your head and saying to yourself, “I can’t believe I said that!” And the dog, now more settled after a romp in the grass or a bit of a scrap, would probably agree if it could.

Tolerance of one’s fellow commuter tends to be inversely proportionate to the number of people aboard the train, and the pushing and shoving in packed carriages around rush-hour can sour the mood of the most ardent philanthropist.

Types of traveler on Mexico City’s metro trains

For those who do or plan to travel on the capital’s Metro — which is still often the fastest, cheapest, and easiest way to get from one end of the the city to the other —  here are some brief descriptions of the more obvious types of traveler you may encounter.

The Window Slammer

This passenger storms on to the nearly empty train on cold mornings and walks briskly through the carriage slamming the windows shut, then sits down assertively and proceeds to sniffle, discouraging his fellows from invading this space.

The Door Blocker

Stands by the doors for the whole duration of the journey, and is testy about other people pushing-by to get on or off. A door blocker will board a crowded train just as the buzzer is sounding, and stop right by the entrance, causing those behind to have to push to get on, or miss the train. Door blockers usually wear a bulging backpack.

The Seat Reliever

This (usually female) passenger uses a sort of moral blackmail to show the comfortably seated that they probably shouldn’t be. She will stand right in front of the seated person (usually male), and inadvertently press a bag into his knees. One way out of this for those who embarrass easily is to pretend you were getting off, and vacate the spot.

The Worrier

Keeps asking people between him or her and the door if they’re getting off at the next stop. ¿Va a bajar? The question implies, “and if not, could you move aside so that I may?” This would be fine if the train wasn’t still waiting at the previous station.

The Loud Talker

Thinks everyone is interested in hearing about his or her weekend, or day at the office, or heated exchange with a teacher, usually accompanied by a friend or co-worker who limit their responses to the occasional, “ah-ha,” or nod of agreement. A lot of “and so I said,” and “and so he said.”

The Earphone Hummer

Mumbles along to music being played loud enough through an earphone to be audible, but not discernible, to others nearby, often accompanying this with foot tapping, body swaying, and the occasional outburst of “yeah baby!” or “all right!”, oblivious to eyes being rolled in the immediate vicinity.

The Traveling Texter

Gets on everybody’s nerves, using both hands to type away furiously with two thumbs instead of holding on, often leans on the poles taking up the space of two (or at least one and a half) people, and pays no attention to others who need to push past to get off.

Virtual tour of a ride on the metro

These and other videos on YouTube illustrate visually typical rides on Mexico City’s metro.

Veritable armies of vendedores ambulantes make up a fairly large part of what is known as Mexico’s “informal economy.” Chambers of commerce don’t like them, because they get in the way of established business, while the government is somewhat in two minds.

It might be a nuisance, but this informal commerce provides work and keeps the unemployment rate from reaching what would otherwise be uncomfortable levels. Every few years or so, the city government takes some measures to alleviate the problem —mostly through programs to relocate the vendors to established market spaces— but the vendors always come back, like a relentless tide.

This informal commerce is extremely adaptable: at the first drop of rain, umbrellas appear on sale as you leave the Metro; at the first cold snap of winter, coats, gloves and scarves; agendas and calendars in January; flags and banners before Independence Day.

“This city has many plazas, where there are continuous markets and dealings in buying and selling. It has another plaza twice the size of the city of Salamanca, walled around with great porches, where daily there are more than sixty thousand souls buying and selling; where there is every kind of merchandise that can be found in any land.”

This description might not sound strange to the modern-day visitor who takes a stroll downtown in the country’s capital. The letter, written in October 1520 by the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés to Emperor Carlos V, dedicates the next several pages to describing the goods —those he could remember— on sale in Tenochtitlán, as the city was then called. Summarized for blogs, there was “everything from food and jewelry, to live animals, herbal medicine and earthenware.”

The point is, perhaps, that it will take more than a desire for modernity to do away with five hundred years of tradition.

Books’ row in Mexico City

In the south of Mexico City, where Miguel Angel de Quevedo avenue crosses Avenida Universidad —about five minutes from the Bohemian hangout of Coyoacán— is a mini paradise for bookworms.

Three major bookstores, Gandhi, El Sotano, and Fondo de Cultura Economica, and a dozen or so smaller ones, line both sides of the street. Outside are wooden trays with books at throw-away prices, and inside you’ll find special offers on those less likely to be thrown away.

Mexico City remains the place where the widest selection of books and bookshops can be found, and some well-known chains have most of their branches in the capital.

Bookshops are still popular in Mexico

But while in many developed countries bookshops have been closing, Mexican chains have been opening new stores. Like bookshops everywhere, they have also added small gifts, toys, games & puzzles, and other paraphernalia to their offerings to make the business work.  This may annoy some purists, but somehow it’s hard to get worked up about a model that means the book business can continue going.

• Cafebrería El Péndulo —coffee shop-bookstore— boasts several branches in Mexico City, including in trendy neighborhoods such as Polanco, Condesa, Roma, and San Ángel.
• Librerías Gandhi has expanded with new stores in Mexico City, and also has branches in 24 of Mexico’s 32 states.
• El Sótano and Casa del Libro have more than a dozen branches.
• Gonvill Librerías is the biggest chain in Guadalajara, Mexico’s third most populated city and which is also host to a major international book fair each year.

These chains tend to stock the best selection of books, often beyond the capacity of the shelves so that many are neatly piled up.  You can find most books in Spanish at these stores.

And while many, especially Gandhi and El Péndulo, have one or two shelves of books in English and French, here it tends to be hit and miss.  You might find occasional books of interest, but you are less likely to find a specific title. (For some you can check availability online.)

Buying eBooks in Mexico

Since eBooks are virtually borderless, there are as many options in Mexico as anywhere else.

Amazon’s Mexico shop sells Kindles, and you can usually find almost any book published in English or Spanish in the local Kindle store.  Apple Books are an option for those who use Apple devices —iPhone or iPad— although they don’t have a dedicated eReader like the Kindle.

There’s no accounting for taste, and online reviews show some people are impressed with the Apple Books app, others not so much. For those using Android, Google Books is an option, and again, it has the disadvantage of not having a dedicated eReader.

In Mexico, the Gandhi and Porrúa book chains have an agreement with Kobo Books and sell Kobo eReaders, which are popular in Canada and parts of Europe like France and Italy. (The Canadian digital bookseller Kobo was acquired by Japan’s Rakuten Group in 2012, so the app says Rakuten Kobo, although people still widely refer to Kobo books).

Both Gandhi and Porrúa sell eBooks on their own websites, which can be downloaded onto the Kobo reader or using the Kobo app installed on devices, and you can also download eBooks directly from the Kobo website.

Depending on how budget conscious the reader is, it can be advantageous to keep open several options, as sometimes a title will be available on one platform and not another, or cheaper on one than another.

The Kindle, Kobo, and Google Books apps are available on Apple and Android, but the Apple Books app isn’t available on Android.

Finding books not published in Spanish

When you are looking for a particular physical copy of a book not published in Spanish —such as a new release— the options are to stock-up on a trip abroad, or order it from a book seller online—most of which will ship books to Mexico with no problems, but not necessarily that quickly. If you want a particular book right now, eBooks are the way to go.

Mexico’s department stores and big box stores have book sections, but these vary widely in selection and quality. There are about 150 Sanborns stores with magazine sections offering international titles published in English, but not much in the way of books published in English beyond current best-sellers.

Fancy browsing

Even the most bourgeois of us like to dig around for books in a bohemian atmosphere, and for that there are plenty of elegant bookshops—although that isn’t where most Mexicans go to buy reading material.  This collection of independent bookshops lists a selection of niche bookstores in the capital, curated by a local expat blogger.

“Rush hour” is actually a bit of an understatement. It starts at about six in the morning and runs through to 10, then it resumes from one to three in the afternoon during school terms, and closes out the day from six to 10 at night.

A cursory glance at a long stream of cars advancing slowly but inexorably into town each weekday morning, and out of town again in the evening, suggests that the average number of travelers per car is one point something.

People who are otherwise quite passive can become very annoyed when the prospects of reaching their destination on time are threatened by the refusal of others to let them through. Everybody knows that some days it can be impossible, but many places — schools, for example — no longer accept it as an excuse for arriving late.

It’s been said that if you can drive in Mexico City, you can drive anywhere in the world. The newcomer to driving in the capital will discover that the horn can be a more useful accessory than indicators to turn or change lanes. A signal to change lanes can actually cause someone coming up behind to speed up and keep you from doing so.

According to the Mexico City government, over 21 million trips a day are made in the capital and the adjacent parts of the Estado de Mexico.  In Mexico City alone, there are over 3 million vehicles registered, of which more than ninety percent are private cars. Numbers vary from year to year, but the city government once cited a study showing private cars accounted for 16% of trips, slightly more than the Metro but much less than micros.

Not surprisingly, since it takes up so much of people’s time, traffic congestion is a frequent topic of fill-in conversation, beating even the weather or sports. It’s not unusual to hear people wonder why we can’t be like other major cities around the world, where commuters leave their cars at home and take public transport. For some the question is mostly rhetorical, since they already have the answer. They wouldn’t be seen dead on the Metro. The question should be rephrased as why can’t other people leave their cars at home so I can drive more comfortably to work?

A bygone era of old-world coffee shops

In years past, the coffee shop/restaurants run by Chinese immigrants —of which there were several in and around the Chinese quarter of downtown Mexico City and more beyond that— were nearly always full.

The “café chino,” as these were only ever referred to, was typically a long thin hall moving back from the street front. Half of the façade would be taken up by a glass window filled with different kinds of sweet bread to eat in or take away (and the odd bluebottle).

Down one side of the entrance would be the coffee bar and the cash register, and the other side would be taken up by a row of tables or booths.  The specialty of the house would be café con leche: a small amount of concentrate would be poured from a metal coffee pot into the bottom of a glass mug, and hot milk from another poured on top, with the server lifting the spout farther and farther from the mug as it filled, creating, if done precisely, a frothy top.

Black coffee —café americano— was steam-pressed from the machine behind the bar, and each cup was charged at the same rate.  Hygiene was hardly of first importance to the café chino, and patrons did well not to be over-zealous inspecting the specks on the table or trying to steal a glance at the kitchen.

Perhaps the king of coffee shops was Café La Habana, on the corner of Bucareli and Morelos, a stone’s throw from the historical Chinese clock.  La Habana brewed the strongest coffee, served in thick white cups that were slightly wider at the base than at the brim (awkward for stirring).  It was popular among intellectuals and, being about a block from such erstwhile giants of the Mexican press as Excelsior and El Universal, a frequent meeting place for journalists of the old school: threadbare suits, beaten-up leather briefcases stuffed full with dog-eared press releases, political “tips” several times removed from reality.

The emergence of contemporary coffee houses

Against this, the chain restaurant/coffee shops such as VIPS, TOKS, and Sanborns provided free refills on drip-brewed coffee, competing in quality with “Golden Cup” plaques awarded by the Mexican Coffee Council, and in convenience with quick-service bars where the temporarily idle could while away several hours loading up on caffeine without having to keep paying.  This is still true today, although people are generally much more rushed.

In addition to these places, with the advent of the mall culture there sprung up a number of smart coffee shops —Coffee House, Coffee Station, and so on— which added snacks, coffee paraphernalia, and an assortment of home-grown and imported coffees, ground or whole, to the standard offerings while also increasing the number of derivative beverages to their range of refreshments on offer.

And then Starbucks came.  Agreeable to the modern business class, the tourist looking for something familiar, and the lover of things American, this comfortable hybrid of convenience and recreation proliferated and also became a favorite daytime hangout of the country’s middle-class youth.

Straddling this period from local shop to chain to franchise is Bisquets Obregon, which developed from La Perla de Oriente on Alvaro Obregón Avenue in the historical Colonia Roma.  Like the café chino, Los Bisquets is also a place to get café con leche, and the house specialty, scones.  Brighter and cleaner, with its characteristic green and yellow décor, the restaurant also sports a selection of freshly-baked sweet bread at the front counter.

Small independent coffee shops continue to thrive

Perhaps the most famous of the traditional Mexican cafés is El Jorocho, that serves quality coffee principally sourced from Veracruz; customers can also buy the beans and ground coffee in bags for home brew.  This family-run shop was set up in Mexico City during the early 1950s in the heart of the bohemian district of Coyoacán—a neighborhood that remains one of the capital’s most popular quarters for friends and families to meet and spend an afternoon or evening out together.

In towns and cities across Mexico, small independently-run coffee shops continue to trade, and thrive.  Like the local neighborhood tienditas, they have prevailed even in the presence and growth of franchise coffee shops.

The owners of these independent establishments often create comfortable nooks where patrons can meet, socialize, and take light refreshment amidst informal and often homely surroundings that are usually more intimate and feel less rushed than the cookie-cutter franchises.

Serendipitous discovery of independent coffee houses can happen by taking an exploratory walk down side streets of any towns you visit or asking locally.  Digital generations are likely to consult their map-app, or search on Instagram.

Chilango is the name given to inhabitants of Mexico City, who are notorious in the provinces for being obnoxious when they venture out of town. The expression chilango initially referred to people from the provinces who migrated to Mexico City, although it later came to be applied to those born and bred in the capital, and that is now the commonly and universally accepted usage. The opposite of chilango could be provinciano.

The chilangos’ disdain for the provincianos’ lack of sophistication has earned them a reputation for being both pedantic and manipulating. It’s not only their sacred CDMX (Mexico City) license plates that supposedly exempt them from red lights and no-parking signs in one-horse towns, they’re also the ones who talk about nothing but money and Instagram, and between sips of piña colada loudly and condescendingly proclaim that they could stay here forever—knowing full well that they couldn’t.

The charm of the colonial towns, the relaxing atmosphere of the holiday resorts, are only good for the chilangos when they need to rest from the daily rush of the capital, the pushing and the shoving, the traffic snarls, horn-blowing and general stress that ultimately make them important.

They’ll pay outrageous sums of money for specific brands of clothes, shoes, and electronic goods at their local mall, but will haggle down the most reasonable price asked by the local artisan at a handicrafts market.

There’s a saying in certain parts of Mexico, particularly the north and the west, that goes: haz patria, mata un Chilango — “do something for your country, kill a Chilango.” This is a bit misleading. Despite their negative idiosyncrasies, particularly seen from the provinces, the chilangos make up a great deal of the domestic tourism in Mexico—and some tourist towns and villages situated within a short drive of the capital absolutely depend on chilangos taking weekend sojourns. (The capital accounts for a fifth of gross domestic product, and Mexico City, which engulfs parts of the adjacent Mexico State, is home to one sixth of the country’s population.)

The chilangos’ bad name is a generalization which often turns out not to be the case. In that sense, people from Monterrey are said to be stingy; people from Puebla not very bright; people from Jalisco and its capital Guadalajara are said to be  particularly priggish. The chilangos just happen to have more negative traits than anyone else.

Strays in Mexico

Stray dogs in Mexico are generally not treated very well, and the most common reaction of street dogs is to dodge when humans come close, probably a conditioned response to having been frequently kicked or stoned or hissed at to scat.

One overblown fear is that you could catch rabies. Years of government vaccination campaigns —since 1990— has reduced this probability to practically zero. In 2005, officials noted 125 cases of rabies among dogs and cats in nine states, compared with more than 3,000 cases in 1990 in 29 states. The latest data from Mexico’s health ministry demonstrate that in 2017 there were just three cases in three states—and not every case affected humans.

According to estimates from health officials, there are around 100,000 reported cases a year of dogs attacking humans, of which nearly half were vaccinated dogs, suggesting that dogs with owners are just as likely (or unlikely) to bite you as strays. This is in a population of 130 million people, and an estimated 18 million to 20 million dogs.

Concerns about stray dogs that have been mentioned by different local governments carrying out round-up campaigns include health problems caused by feces, and in one case in northern Durango state, dogs were said to be a threat to drivers as they crossed the highway.

Precise data are hard to come by

While there appear to be fewer street dogs every time you look, the number of dogs with owners seems to be increasing, along with other security measures in residential areas. (Keeping a dog is a deterrent to burglars.) Statistics in this case don’t go very far—the maze of data on the country’s National Statistics Institute web site turns-up little meaningful data about man’s best friend.

They don’t say, for example, how many dogs get taken for walks every day and how many are left to rot on rooftops, barking in desperation at anyone who walks below, and raising their level of excitement if the pedestrian is accompanied by a dog.

Trends observed by watching dog walkers

A walk in the park —or in one of Mexico City’s trendy neighborhoods where younger generations can be seen walking their dogs instead of pushing baby buggies— of a morning or an evening turns up a fair amount of anecdotal evidence about the habits of people and their dogs. The ‘poop scoop,’ for example, is becoming increasingly common, although it’s still sensible to keep an eye on the ground before you.

In middle-class suburbia, there is a good deal of oneupmanship when it comes to owning a dog. It’s not very practical to staple a pedigree certificate to the animal, and so the more obvious implicit superlatives are biggest, rarest, most expensive—things that people just know and dogs just don’t care about.

With many city dwellers living in apartments, sub-compact dogs appear to be more plentiful than the larger breeds. Schnauzers and Pugs enjoyed a period of popularity in recent years, although their fame has become overshadowed by the Bulldog. But most likely, as more and more people get Bulldogs, and their novelty wears-off, a need will arise for a new “in” dog.

Learn more about caring for pets in Mexico

Mexperience publishes guides and articles about bringing pets to Mexico and caring for them here:

• Latest articles about pets in Mexico
• Dog walkers in Mexico
• Bringing your pets to Mexico