Among the tree-lined streets and urban calm of Mixcoac, in front of the iconic Parque Hundido, there is a house that, beyond its walls, holds the echoes of the childhood of one of Mexico's most illustrious poets: Octavio Paz. This property, which struggled against abandonment and oblivion, but today is being restored, was the home where the future Nobel Prize in Literature found the first seeds of his vocation. Through its history, the house and the surrounding neighborhood reveal an intimate facet of Paz, deeply rooted in the memory of a Mexico City that no longer exists.
Mixcoac: a neighborhood that inspired
In the early twentieth century, Mixcoac was still a neighborhood with rural overtones. Known for its cobblestone streets, spacious gardens and air of provincial tranquility, it was a popular destination for families seeking to escape the hustle and bustle of the growing Mexico City. At the time, Colonia Nochebuena, where Paz's house is located, was a semi-urban space where trains still crossed the alleys and cedar trees shaded the strollers.
In this context, the house where Octavio Paz spent his early years was steeped in culture. His grandfather, Ireneo Paz, a committed liberal, journalist, editor and writer, owned a vast library that would be fundamental in the formation of the young Octavio. It is easy to imagine him there, a curious child exploring the pages of books that spoke of history, politics and literature, while the windows of the house framed the Parque Hundido.
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The house: symbol of a memory in danger
The property, which once belonged to the Paz family, was originally built by Valentín Gómez Farías, a key figure in the country's political history. However, despite its historical and cultural relevance, the house has fallen into a worrying state of disrepair. For decades, it remained in legal dispute until 2019 when it was vacated and transferred to the hands of the Mexico City government. The stated purpose was to turn it into a cultural space, a project that would transform this vestige into a place where Paz's legacy could be celebrated. But until a few months ago, time seemed to have stood still: the house was empty, abandoned, threatened by humidity and neglect, in a neighborhood that also faces the pressure of real estate development.
The eviction of the property was a controversial act that faced criticism and divisions. For years, the house had been inhabited by tenants who defended its permanence as an act of rootedness. The expulsion of these families and the lack of progress in the rehabilitation plans have left a tangible void, both in the physical space and in the cultural narrative of the place. What does it mean, in a country like Mexico, that the places where its great artists and thinkers lived are relegated to abandonment?
Today the house has been restored and is completely renovated. However, it is still unclear what the future of this property will be.
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Paz's relationship with Mixcoac
For Octavio Paz, Mixcoac was not only the place of his childhood, but a symbolic territory that would infiltrate his work. In his texts, Paz frequently evoked nostalgia for a Mexico that was transforming before his eyes. His poetry and essays, imbued with a profound exploration of time and memory, can trace part of their origin in the reflective and melancholic atmosphere he breathed in his youth in Mixcoac.
Although the neighborhood has changed drastically since those days, some things remain. The Parque Hundido, with its peculiar design and Olmec heads, remains a cultural epicenter of the neighborhood.
An uncertain future for a priceless past
The current state of Octavio Paz's house in front of the Parque Hundido raises questions about our relationship with cultural heritage. Although there are projects to convert it into a studio-library that pays homage to the life and work of the poet, progress has been slow.
Octavio Paz wrote: "The past is full of news that we cannot decipher; it is a present that hides something from us and makes it known to us at the same time". Perhaps, in the history of this house, there is a call to decipher that news, to rescue what can still be saved and to remember that the memory of a poet is also the memory of a country. What would Mexico be without its poets, and what would its poets be without the places that formed them?
Octavio Paz's house, with its walls worn but full of promise, is still waiting for us to ask him those questions. And that, in our answers, we find ways not to let it disappear.