My favourite Airbnb: a bright loft in Mexico City with vintage decor and a lush patio

It will, however, leave you mentally redecorating your own home into a slice of mid-century modern Mexico City. The king-size bed (which was firm but gloriously comfortable after an arduous journey characterised by multiple delayed flights) sits atop a beautiful red woven rug I’d have liked to have taken back to New York with me; the dome-shaped bedside lamps were both vintage; and mahogany sideboards and wide wooden floorboards popped against the crisp white walls, which were punctuated by tall potted palms.

Other nice details: a stack of records including a Mexican press of a Beatles album, a mint condition Rolleiflex camera propped on a shelf, a spinning globe, and a glass case containing what appeared to be screen-printed artist zines. There were also all the essentials I’ve come to expect from an Airbnb like this one: strong Wifi, a French press, and a spotless bathroom complete with a rain shower.

And then, of course, there was that “secret garden.” A few steps down the path leading from the loft, I arrived at another gate. Behind it? The private terrace which had so beguiled that reviewer, covered in swaying pink flowers and palm trees, as well as families of cacti standing tall. Plus, a set of table and chairs for long breakfasts and lunches, and a gaggle of woven rockers to kick back in – made better with fresh coffee or a glass of mezcal in your hand. The only thing that prompted me to leave eventually was the music drifting over the wall from another building, a call from the city that there was still so much more to explore.

Which I did, joyfully – although, as I had suspected, Mexico City wasn’t quite as I had left it. A bar I remembered fondly had either changed hands or closed down entirely, and I couldn’t find a bookshop that my pre-pandemic self had once carelessly wiled away an hour in. One thing I had near-constantly dreamed of since my last visit was Contramar’s legendary tuna tostadas, but it was impossible to get a table thanks to the throngs of Instagrammers already lined up for their meals. In the end, I gave up on bargaining over a Monday morning table and meandered through Roma until I eventually stumbled upon a newly opened spot that served large helpings of aguachile to a bustling crowd, all of whom seemed as thankful as I was to be back in the world. I retreated back to my loft happy and full a few hours later, eager to enjoy the sun from my terrace. Mexico City had changed, but so had I. And thankfully, I’d found a place to stay that knew just what I needed.

This article was originally published on Condé Nast Traveler.