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Housed in a 1964 structure whose modern lines and central fountain greatly complement what’s on view, this anthropology museum is a repository of the most important pre-Hispanic treasures modern Mexico has discovered. The works are displayed in exhibits that trace the entire history of the Americas’ indigenous population, from the Bering migration to the present day. Exhaustive (and sometimes exhausting) in scope, many visitors choose to jump ahead to “greatest-hits” galleries focusing on name brands like the Aztecs (to see their misnamed calendar stone); the Maya and their artifacts; or the Olmec culture, famed for its colossal (and quite sensual) head sculptures dating back to Mesoamerica’s earliest recorded eras.

Located on the westernmost point of the island, and on the far end of Negril’s cliff side, the historic Negril Lighthouse is missed by many a visitor who don’t go beyond Rick’s Cafe during their stay. It was built in 1894 by French Company Bubbler & Bernard, on a water-filled tank 14 feet deep, to keep the tower secure even in the event of an earthquake. Initially powered by gas lamp, in 1985 it was replaced with solar energy. The tower stands 66 feet high and its light rises at 100 feet above sea level. Its light flashing automatically every two seconds. It’s worth walking down the West End and finding the superintendent so you can walk up the over 100 steps and take in the coastline view. - Image by Abir Anwar (https://flic.kr/p/GkzfR)

Once a separate town, the leafy colonial neighborhood known as Coyoacán has long been absorbed into the city at large, but retains a separate, old-fashioned air that’s impossible to resist. Restaurants and ice cream parlors (plus some venerable, divey cantinas) cluster around the quarter’s two central plazas that fill daily with strolling families, bootblacks, balloon sellers, and organ grinders. Feeling noshy? Locals swear by the esquites (stewed and seasoned corn kernels) on offer at a street stall next to the Sanborns store, right on Plaza del Centenario. A walk down Calle Francisco Sosa takes you past some of the city’s most valuable (often colonial-era) residences and ends at adorable Plaza Santa Catarina, with its petite parish church and a handful of friendly watering holes when it’s time for a drink or a snack.

Though his reputation is now arguably overshadowed by that of his former wife, painter and muralist Diego Rivera—commissioned by Mexico’s postrevolutionary governments starting in the late 1920s to adorn several national monuments in complex, pageantry- and allegory-laden wall paintings—was among the first Mexican artists to gain worldwide acclaim. Many of his finest works are on display in the Centro Histórico. Perhaps most spectacular are Rivera’s portrayals of Mexico’s millennia-long history, as seen in the Palacio Nacional on the Zócalo (Mexico City’s main square; take a state-issued ID for admission to the palace); a more contemporary depiction of socialist workers’ struggles (and one which includes a Frida Kahlo cameo) decorates a courtyard at the Secretariat of Public Education. One of the artist’s earliest pieces can be seen inside the amphitheater at the San Ildefonso museum. Additionally, the dazzling Sueño de una Tarde Dominical en la Alameda Central, a surrealist who’s-who of Mexico’s turbulent fin de siècle, is the chief artwork on display at the nearby Museo Mural Diego Rivera.

This all-but-plain-Jane spot—in Clavería, a neighborhood “no one” knows—is in fact among the most delightful lunches in the city, the project of architect turned chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo, who decided to take the neighborhood restaurant his parents had run for decades to the next culinary level, yet without ever losing touch with his roots. The queen-bee hostess and waitstaff make sure every diner feels special, with plenty of talk about what’s fresh this season—and what’s so good it’s about to run out. Items on offer cover everything from refined versions of street classics to exquisite, almost exotic, wild-game preparations whose recipes come from some of Mexico’s remotest corners. Live music and an excellent mezcal cart sweeten the already delicious deal.

The close-in neighborhood called Colonia Roma was first developed at the dawn of the 20th century as a high-end suburb laid out along tree-lined boulevards and plazas. Prominent families erected elaborate residences in architectural styles ranging from neoclassical to art nouveau and even neo-Moorish. A century later—despite some ups and downs—the district is at a peak as one of Mexico City’s most fashionable areas, and old mansions now serve as retail spaces or smart dining rooms that open out onto the street, day and night, in that marvelous dolce vita way. Stroll the quarter’s main drag, Álvaro Obregón, afternoons and evenings, for a complete sampling of its urban pleasures; shopaholics with an eye for edgy design won’t want to miss the whimsical boutiques that line adjacent Cerrada Colima. Deeper dives into side streets and nearby plazas turn up even more surprises when you’re ready for a walkabout.

Never underestimate the power of shocking pink. The intimate but lively dining room at Dulce Patria—the smash hit by celebrity chef Martha Ortiz—feels not unlike a stage set. Soon after 2 p.m., it starts to fill with high-powered ladies-who-lunch types, cooing over a menu of updated Mexican classics with extravagant, architectural presentations that are at least half the fun. That said, chef Ortiz’s flavorful sculptures really deliver: Tastes are delicate, authentic, and quite delicious. The well-balanced offering presents ample choices without overwhelming, in favorites like the corn-kernel soup, a full portfolio of quesadillas, duck mole, and an extravagant dessert list (gelatin lovers rejoice) that really does drive home the dulce part. A recent seating included telenovela stars and a former Señor Presidente. And who knew there were so many edible flowers?

Forever on the verge of being the next big target of gentrification, the district known as Santa María la Ribera—northwest of downtown—retains its neighborhoody, down-at-the-heels charms. Its streets are home to a mix of old-school cantinas (all perfectly visitor-friendly) and mom-and-pop restaurants, alongside some neglected architectural gems, hipster coffeehouses, and standard-issue, sometimes grimy local businesses—in short, it’s still real. The district’s centerpiece is its central plaza, known as the Alameda, and its exuberant Moorish-style gazebo (it started life as the Mexico Pavilion at a long-forgotten world’s fair). Recently restored and awash in color, the kiosk is a gem—and the proud emblem of the barrio. Note some amazing old mansions and the spooky Institute of Geology lining the plaza. The nearby Museo Universitario del Chopo—housed in a glass-and-cast-iron former natural-history museum—is a renowned center for avant-garde art that leaves no viewer less than provoked.

What began with Azul y Oro—chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s high-end university “refectory”—is now a multi-restaurant group famed for an almost museum-like reverence for traditional Mexican cooking in all its infinite variety. The downtown iteration, called Azul Histórico, is a gorgeous space in the courtyard of a 17th-century colonial palace (once inhabited by descendants of the Emperor Montezuma) and is now one of the Centro’s most sought-after tables, terribly romantic beneath its tree-and-candlelight canopy. Menus are seasonal and themed—often focusing on cuisine from Mexico’s regions and states—and are sure to present some delicacies even most Mexicans never knew before. Ask questions and swing just beyond your comfort zone. Out-of-towners and locals alike love the flair with which dishes emerge from the kitchen, in extravagant, eye-catching Mexican pottery.

One of Mexico City’s most historic neighborhoods—a once-independent city-state politically joined to the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan—Tlatelolco is a fascinating side trip few tourists make. At its center lies the district’s so-called Square of the Three Cultures, where a colossal public housing development (of revitalized interest to architecture buffs) surrounds a 17th-century Spanish church (notably embellished with stained-glass windows by 20th-century artist and architect Mathias Goeritz) as well as the ruins of pre-Hispanic Tlatelolco pyramids and other structures. In addition to being the exact spot on which the Aztec empire fell, the square was also the site where Mexican armed forces perpetrated a bloody 1968 massacre of university students and political activists. Tragedy aside, the area is still home to thousands of hardworking average Joes, and the community garden, known as the huerto, is pure down-home bucolic charm; it’s well worth a pop-in.

On this episode of Where to Go, Aislyn Greene speaks about Menton with Jenn Rice to uncover the lemon groves, three‑star dining, and seaside charm that make this Riviera town a top pick for 2026.

The system of canals and chinampas (cultivated artificial islands fashioned from the area’s swampy soils) that has survived in the far-south neighborhood known as Xochilmilco once stretched all the way to the Centro. To this day, the community is known for its plant nurseries and vegetable gardens. These ancient landscapes now contribute to what has become one of the most singular pleasure gardens in the world, where visitors hire “gondoliers” to propel boats known as trajineras as they sail these channels in the company of floating mariachis and food vendors, partying teens, and extended families out for a picnic lunch. Since a tour is usually a four-hour-plus investment (it flies by), ask your oarsman to take you to Xochimilco’s more-rural precincts, where you’ll enjoy marvelous quiet, far from the madding crowd, in the company of cranes, curs, and picturesque cornfields.

Situated roughly halfway between Da Nang and Nha Trang, Qui Nhon is a quiet coastal town with a curvy beach that is refreshingly low-key. It doesn’t get the hordes that visit Nha Trang to the south (the stretch of sand isn’t quite as alluring here), and certainly lacks the development that is a feature of Da Nang’s beaches, resulting in a city that is remarkably unaffected by the unstoppable reach of tourism—note the number of fishing boats that still dot the water here. There are some fine Cham ruins in the vicinity, including the Thap Doi (meaning Double Towers) and the Banh It Towers, as well as the Long Khanh Pagoda, constructed by a Chinese businessman in the 18th century.

Several restaurants are squeezed between the colorful fishing boats and flashy yachts in the ever-so-cute Palio Limani (Old Harbor) of Spetses. At Tarsanas, wooden tables are lined up along the pier. The yachties know that the Kaloskami brothers have their own caïque, so the catch of the day comes straight from their boat to their grill. In addition to simple grilled fish, these guys have a thousand ways with seafood, including red mullet ceviche, sea bass sashimi, creamy fish soup, and whole bream baked in a sea salt crust.

There are certainly flashier beach clubs on Capri, but Torre Saracena is a relaxed place with killer views of the Faraglioni rock formation and a terrific restaurant that locals love. For the beach part of the equation, swim in the transparent aquamarine waters and lounge on the narrow beach of white pebbles or the wooden deck built over the water and set with chairs and umbrellas. For the restaurant part, head to the terrace over the beach. The food there is extraordinary. Try tiny, pepper-flecked sautéed shrimp, cold octopus salad, and pasta e piselli, a comforting mix of basil, peas, cheese, and spaghetti. (To call the food “locally sourced” is an understatement: Beside the kitchen door, some shallow saltwater pools are filled with live oysters, clams, and lobster.)