Mexico City is literally a living palimpsest. That image of historical layers is perfect because every excavation is like opening a history book. The Templo Mayor appeared almost by accident when electric company workers found the Coyolxauhqui stone in 1978. Imagine that! They were doing routine work and suddenly: boom, a monumental Aztec goddess.
What you describe about Tenochtitlán is especially impressive. The Spanish were genuinely amazed when they saw it: a city of 200,000+ inhabitants (larger than any European city at the time) built on a lake, with causeways, aqueducts, and floating gardens. Bernal Díaz del Castillo wrote that it seemed like something from an enchanted tale.
And yes, the tragic irony is that the same hydraulic engineering the Spanish destroyed is what now causes the city to slowly sink. The lake is still down there, reminding us.
That coexistence (and clash) you mention is part of what makes the city unique: you can have breakfast tacos in a 16th-century colonial building, work in a 21st-century glass tower, and end the day watching Aztec dancers in the Zócalo over the ruins of the Templo Mayor.
It really is one of the most culturally rich cities on the planet, where pre-Hispanic past and modernity live side by side every single day. What an incredible place to call home or to study.
Ah, "Chilangolandia"! I love that term - only someone who's actually lived and worked there would use it so naturally.
Working in the CDMX has given me a different perspective than just visiting. I experienced the daily reality of that historical collision of the traffic on Reforma, the smell of comal and exhaust mixing, maybe getting stuck when they closed streets because they found yet another archaeological site during construction.
After living there, when I see news about Mexico City or images like the one I shared about those historical layers, it hits differently. I'm not just looking at abstract history, but remembering actual streets, actual neighborhoods, the weight of walking on all that memory.