Masking Up in Mexico City

Published 10/06/2022 in Scholar Travel Stipend

Written by Caroline Chiu | 10/06/2022

Two years and a few days after Covid-19 shut down New York City and global travel, I found myself on a flight to Mexico City. I had just finished my third set of quarterly medical school exams, and I wanted to celebrate the few days I had off in between quarters with a trip to a city that many of my friends had fallen in love with.

I was a little apprehensive about taking this trip, especially as I hadn’t traveled internationally for some time. Even as a seasoned traveler, the pandemic had introduced new factors to consider. The Omicron wave of the 2021 holiday season demonstrated an elevated transmissibility that was affecting more fully vaccinated and boosted individuals than previous strains. No testing was required to enter Mexico, but a negative test was required to return to the U.S. What would happen, for example, if I tested positive for Covid-19 and was unable to travel home as planned? How could I be precautious and reduce the chances of this situation happening while still letting myself relax and enjoy the trip?

At this point in time, mask mandates were starting to lift in many parts of the U.S., but were still required in airports and airplanes. Presuming my fellow passengers would be respectful of the mandate, and that I would be mindful of replacing my mask between bites and sips when eating and drinking, I was optimistic I could keep myself at minimal risk of exposure on the way there and back. But I was curious what I would learn about Covid-19 attitudes when I landed in Mexico City, and how they would compare to those I witnessed back at home.

It was past 9PM when I landed at Benito Juarez International Airport, so I ordered an Uber and headed straight to my hostel in Roma Norte. I relished the feeling of warm air on my skin when I stepped out of the air-conditioned airport. When I arrived at my hostel around 10PM, a couple guests were still awake and lounging on the outdoor roof, enjoying the warmth, too. As we chatted, I considered how Covid-19 spreads much less effectively in the open air. I wondered if Mexico City’s inherently more outdoor-friendly climate, at least at this time of year, was correlated with reduced transmission rates.

The next morning began with a group breakfast on the hostel roof. The hostel was run by a local couple—Hugo and Claudia—who cared deeply about facilitating a welcoming culture for their guests. Breakfast was intentionally served within a short 30-minute window on the outdoor roof to encourage all guests to be there at the same time and get to know one another. I greeted the two people I had met the night before, and sat down next to some new faces. As could be expected at a hostel, most were well-seasoned travelers. There were Americans like me, either on a school break or taking PTO, and therefore in Mexico City for a handful of days. I also met several Europeans, who as I discovered over my years of traveling, have different attitudes about work and travel. Encouraged by generous vacation policies and a culture that values exploring other parts of the world, they were often on trips spanning months, with Mexico City serving as just one stop out of dozens across many countries.

Despite our varying backgrounds, the pandemic was a unifying topic that came up in conversation. Among this young, adventurous hostel audience, I learned that most shared my current perspective: vaccines were widely available in our respective countries, which empowered us to take on the risk of international travel. We respected wearing masks when appropriate and required, but otherwise we were ready to start making choices we wouldn’t have blinked an eye at in our pre-pandemic lives.

After breakfast, Hugo and Claudia organized a free bike ride around the city. We walked  to the Angel de Independencia, a monument located on a major boulevard (Paseo de La  Reforma) in downtown Mexico City, to pick up our free bikes. Hugo and Claudia explained to us  that in an effort to promote citizen wellbeing, the local government closed major streets,  including the Paseo de La Reforma, to pedestrian-only traffic and sponsored outdoor wellness  activities. 

As we biked across the city, I passed by thousands of locals enjoying the beautiful weather on foot, on bikes, and on rollerblades. There were platforms for local fitness studios to  teach free classes such as Zumba, and public water stations set up along the Paseo de La  Reforma to encourage hydration. Our ride also took us through two beautiful parks: Chapultepec  and Parque de España, with the former rivaling New York City’s Central Park as one of the  largest city parks in the Western Hemisphere. Closing city streets to pedestrian-only traffic is one  of the few initiatives that receives bipartisan support in the U.S., but even in New York, a fairly  health-conscious city, I’ve never seen public street closures that specifically promoted exercise  and fitness on as large of a scale as I did that day in Mexico City. Studies have shown that  Covid-19 is significantly more severe in patients with comorbidities correlated with a sedentary  lifestyle, which includes obesity, hypertension, cardiovascular disease, and diabetes. What if  more cities in the world were intentional with funding programs that promoted fitness? 

After the long bike ride, all of us were ready for a filling lunch. Hugo and Claudia took us  to Pescadito, a taco chain famous among locals and tourists alike. As we deliberated over the  menu, Hugo helpfully shared that they were usually satisfied with two tacos each, maybe three if  they were really hungry. When I received my food (I opted for a quesadilla), I couldn’t possibly  imagine how it would fill me—I was used to much larger American sizes. I looked around the  table, and none of the Europeans, most of whom ordered two tacos, seemed fazed. But the fellow  American and I exchanged a glance and I knew we were thinking the same thing. This  experience was not the first time that I noticed how Americans have gotten used to eating more  and more relative to the rest of the world. I could easily imagine ways that cities could fund  programs or work with urban planners to design neighborhoods (e.g. sidewalks) that promote an  active lifestyle, but I was at a loss when thinking about solutions to collectively reduce our  excessive portion sizes when we have all gotten used to eating so much. 

Later that afternoon, I wandered around Roma Norte, the neighborhood surrounding the hostel. I felt like I was walking through the streets of the West Village in NYC on a beautiful day. The whole city was still outside, except now they were in outdoor cafes and restaurants, spending time with friends and family. One noticeable difference, however, was the prevalence of masks, even when outdoors. In the downtown neighborhoods of NYC I frequent the most, mask wearing is almost non-existent when outdoors. Only a few predominantly Asian-immigrant neighborhoods—Chinatown and Sunset Park, for example—have I noticed a significant outdoor masking culture, and even then, it’s generally among the 50+ population. But perhaps I just found myself in a particularly mask-sensitive neighborhood of Mexico City.

The last day of my trip happened to fall on the spring equinox, which Hugo and Claudia shared was a historically auspicious day to visit the ancient pyramids of Teotihuacan. That morning, I was joined by thousands of locals who were following the footsteps of their ancestors: dressed in white, they placed their arms outstretched towards the sun, hoping to receive some of its good energy that was purported to peak on that day. It was a moving sight to see. As for masks, the park officials strictly reinforced mask wearing upon entry to the grounds—and for the most part, locals kept them on even when away from large crowds. So perhaps the mask attitudes I saw in Roma Norte weren’t isolated.

Since returning to the U.S, I’ve compared vaccination rates between Mexico City and New York to test my hypothesis that perhaps there is some correlation between vaccinations and masking. According to estimates from the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation (IHME), on March 20, 2022, roughly 75% of the people living in New York State (no city specific estimates available) and Mexico City were fully vaccinated. While one is a state-level statistic and the other a city-level statistic, the numbers are proximal. The IHME also tracks the percentage of the population that self-reports mask wearing—on that same date, 79% of Mexico City residents reported wearing masks, compared to 29% of New York State residents.

I don’t have an answer for why there is a difference in masking attitudes at a similar vaccination rate, but I can’t help but wonder if the systemic differences between the two cities, both natural (e.g. climate) and man-made (e.g. prevalence of parks, government-sponsored outdoor activities, a culture of smaller portion sizes in Mexico City), are factors that promote a citizenry that is more inclined to take action to protect their health and well-being. Both the Milken Family Foundation and the Milken Institute are committed to researching and educating the public on the ways we can lead more productive and satisfying lives: from my trip, it seems like perhaps Mexico City has found some ways that American cities can learn from.