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Mexico City’s mammoth cathedral was built across three centuries (1573–1813)—starting soon after Cortés and his allies vanquished the Aztec Empire—using stones taken from a destroyed indigenous temple. Today’s sanctuary serves up contrasts between unadorned neoclassical walls alongside exuberant gilt chapels and altarpieces as well as a massive pipe organ, with some baroque elements, that’s still dusted off and played from time to time. Be sure not to miss the high altar, and consider shelling out for a visit to the sacristy, with its glistening dome, grand canvases, and massive cabinets, fit to hold an archbishop’s entire stock of holy utensils. And for a queasy view of how much the ground beneath the city is sinking, note how chandeliers appear to list in comparison to the chapel’s vertical lines.

This week on Travel Tales by Afar, we hear from professor and life-long traveler Jim Kitchen, who in the space of one year, traveled 66 miles into space—and seven miles down to the ocean floor.

Fans of real-deal sushi-bar Nipponese are united in huzzahs for Rokai, a sliver of a restaurant in a low-key, high-end section of the Cuauhtémoc quarter, north of the Reforma. Japanese-born chefs Hiroshi Kawahito and Daisuke Maeda change up the menu daily, depending on what’s available at markets (they make great use of some of the best fish that comes in from Baja California); regulars like to nosh omakase-style for a multiple-course tasting at the chef’s discretion. Quality sakes add a rosy glow to the precision with which every creation comes over the bar in this spare but fashionable setting. Reservations are recommended.

A sliver of a boutique, with several levels, and discreetly tucked into a quiet street in the Juarez neighborhood, Loose Blues artfully serves up a clever selection of accessories and apparel for its deliberately insouciant, hipster clientele. Its curatorial strategy starts with staples like vinyl LPs and midcentury barware, then drills down to men’s and women’s clothes and footwear that walks a line between Bettie Page, lumberjack, and future shock. Once you’ve loaded up on Hawaiian shirts and skinny-girl jumpsuits, as well as tattoo-inspired and other Mexi-kitsch artworks, retreat to the upstairs café and restaurant, whose airy industrial vibe complements a menu of delights like herbal teas, artisanal brews, and light Japanese fare.

Is this polished industrial space, in an odd corner of the Centro, the thinking man’s disco? Organizers prefer to speak in terms of a cultural center, and the installation’s multiple spaces are venues for everything from literary events and screenings to a dynamic agenda of live-music performances. But it’s the DJs and dancing that are bringing in crowds, crowds that are alternative and low-key, creative, sex-pref-neutral, and seemingly little impressed that their hangout has become so fabulous. Priced-to-move libations and overall edginess keep the crowd skewing young; the space’s various environments add variety to your night out—and sometimes there’s even a place where you can chat (or canoodle) without screaming.

Upstairs from her flagship Delirio boutique (also worth a duck-in), a beautiful town house is home to chef Mónica Patiño’s Casa Virginia, featuring a changing seasonal menu that takes creative advantage of Mexico’s wide-ranging culinary variety. Its sunny dining room and nostalgic “shabby chic” details cannot fail to delight; its family-style servings are great for sharing. Recent specials included an endive salad and two artichoke preparations, a squash soup, a Mexican-style osso buco, and a rack of lamb. All ingredients are locally sourced and most of the herbs—a key element in everything Patiño does—are grown on the roof. There can be few more civilized meals anywhere in Mexico City.

A major driver in the city’s burgeoning food scene, Mercadoroma pays homage to Mexico’s beloved open markets, yet explodes the concept by renting stalls to a dizzying array of purveyors of fine food, beer, wine, and spirits, and other stuffs—all under the same roof. The experience combines picking up staples, hard-to-find cheeses, baked goods, and charcuterie with popping down here or there for a quick gourmet taco, torta, burger, or bit of barbecue. The sweet-tooth set does not leave disappointed, and a retro midcentury vibe makes the market’s shared tables particularly pleasant; the top-floor terrace is a perfect retreat on late afternoons for artisanal beers, mezcals, and a full range of cocktail options. (Check out the market’s sister spot in Coyoacán.)

A chic deli to be sure, Belmondo serves American-style sandwiches like Reubens, tuna melts, grilled cheeses, etc.—about which its young, fashionable adherents rave—but the menu holds some surprises as well, like a barbecued brisket or a chicken curry on peasant bread. The salad selection is varied and creative, in everything from an old-fashioned Cobb to exquisite local beets with goat cheese and avocado. Breakfast (weekends only before 1:45 p.m.) is also about greatest hits; think eggs Benedict and French toast or one of the very few bagels with gravlax you’ll ever see south of the Rio Grande. The place, in Roma Norte, is famed for celebrity sightings and generally crowded, yet the vibe is low-key, cool, and friendly.

Chef Eduardo García (of Lalo and Máximo Bistrot fame) applies his exquisite taste to a more traditionally French bill of fare at Havre 77, a beautiful dining room on what may be the city’s hippest half-block. Just a smattering of tables (reservations are recommended) and a handsome old-style bar inhabit two rooms and a tiny terrace in a fabulous fin de siècle mansion whose feel is still contemporary; couples favor the restaurant for its romantic, indulgent atmosphere. A pared-down menu hints at the approach: quality over quantity in Gallic standards like onion soup, oysters, a buttery steak frites, duck confit; all ingredients are excellent, leveraging the best of Mexican farms and ranches. Near perfect yet never fussy.

Chef José Andrés celebrates carnivores at this one-of-a-kind Philippe Starck–designed restaurant in SLS Las Vegas. As the name suggests, meat plays a role on nearly every plate here. A classic beef tartare is accompanied by a little skillet of Parker House rolls, and a bison carpaccio is served Buffalo-style with celery, blue cheese, and hot sauce. There are caviar flights and tiny sandwiches that amount to nothing more than bites. Among the many main courses available—rack of New Zealand lamb, chateaubriand, grilled octopus—the most famous dish is a suckling pig prepared in a Spanish cazuela so the skin gets crispy and the meat tender. For all the focus on flesh, there’s a surprising number of salads and vegetable dishes.

A wildly colorful, cartoonish emoji mural sets the scene for fun, fabulous Lalo, the casual-chic outpost from chef Eduardo García (whose Máximo Bistrot is adjudged one of the finest spots in the city). Tables for two are the first to fill, so diners usually find themselves at a long shared table, choosing from a menu of small(ish) plates that pack real flavor and cleverly blend familiar comforts with more-unusual, yet equally tempting, combinations. Breakfast faves include a sinful French toast or less conventional choices like chilaquiles in salsa verde; fluffy omelettes contain amazing cheeses and surprising ingredients. And don’t be shy with pastries. Lunch swings to raved-about pastas and pizzas, or the salad whose ingredients all come fresh from nearby Xochimilco. Artisanal beers and homemade sodas are a sensation as well.

With almost 20 years at the helm of a dining room that’s jammed every afternoon, Gabriela Cámara at Contramar must be doing something right. For one, the seafood on offer—traditional, even homey recipes, impeccably prepared—is among the freshest available. Service is quick, yet warm and enjoyable. It brings in a well-dressed, deliberately coiffed crowd that loves table-hopping, seeing and being seen, and air-kissing; but most of all, they relish digging into house specialties like the fish carnitas, the legendary tuna tostadas, and the grilled pescado a la talla (ordered by weight, and served in a red adobo or a parsley rub). Some afternoons (especially Fridays) you can’t believe the waiters have actually squeezed one more person in, yet everyone is very glad they came. Desserts are especially recommended. Open for lunch only—which may explain the sense of urgency at the door.

The splendid neoclassical church of San Felipe Neri (commonly called “La Profesa”), whose present structure was completed in 1720, is a gem in Mexico’s bustling downtown that many visitors never see, with a balanced, harmonious main chapel in sober stone and glossy gold tones. Even fewer visit the church’s picture gallery, called the Pinacoteca, home to one of the city’s most complete collections of colonial-era religious art, imposingly arrayed in a handful of high-ceilinged chambers that seem not to have changed a whit since viceregal days. No such thing as gilding the lily here.

Long the heart of the Condesa district (even during the dark days following Mexico City’s devastating 1985 earthquake), today’s Parque México is the quintessential urban park. Well-manicured with ample seating and a recently refurbished open-air forum that plays host to groovy neighborhood events as well as perennial skateboarders, the park’s venerable trees provide shade to the area’s easy-on-the-eyes crowd of joggers, dog walkers, cute old folks, and amorous teens. Along the garden’s perimeter, some of the city’s smartest apartment houses (often in flawless art deco style) share space with cool cafés, kicky boutiques, and crowded restaurants. Few city pleasures surpass Parque México’s people-watching (and pooch-watching) over coffee or cocktails, as golden sunlight streams through branches onto lively, see-and-be-seen sidewalk venues.

Lardo, a sister restaurant to chef Elena Reygadas’s Rosetta and her bakery, is especially warm and buzzy on sunny days, when the Condesa restaurant’s full facade of French doors is thrown open and its handsome crowd spills out. The kitchen applies all the chef’s singular refinements to a winning mix of Tuscan recipes that put special focus on fine charcuterie. Menu items are (perhaps deceptively) simple: poached eggs, seasoned variously; a nice selection of pizzas; fresh, vinegary salads that don’t go overboard; grilled shellfish. The complexity arises from their delicacy on the palate, where each crisp taste is savored separately—and as a part of the whole. A nice wine list encourages sobremesa, the delightful Mexican custom of lingering over the table. Breads—either the ones that come with your meal or the ones you take home from the on-site bakery—might be the best in the city.