One Night in a Kaleidoscopic, Snake-Shaped Apartment Complex Near Mexico City

Welcome to One Night In, a series about staying in the most unparalleled places available to rest your head.

On my first-ever trip to Mexico City in late 2021, I snagged coveted tickets to tour Mexican architect Javier Senosiain’s Casa Orgánica, a sculptural home that looks like it came from another universe, designed in the organic architectural style popularized by Frank Lloyd Wright that promotes harmony between buildings and the natural world around them. The tour of this property made me eager to visit other signature works by Senosiain, including El Nido de Quetzalcóatl, a serpent-shaped residential complex surrounded by gardens and forest in Naucalpan, about 30 minutes outside of Mexico City.

Built between 2001 and 2007, El Nido de Quetzalcóatl hosts 10 private apartments—seven occupied by full-time residents, one with a museum of Senosiain’s works, and two available to rent via Airbnb. Unfortunately for me, the latter were fully booked through the next year (and then some) when I planned a return to Mexico City with my grandmother and sister this past January. But when I checked again one day on a whim, I was shocked to find last-minute availability during the week we’d be there. I excitedly prepped for my three-day, two-night stay at the whimsical property.

Saturday

2 p.m.: My sister, grandmother, and I land to warm weather and clear skies, a welcome relief from the frigid temps of New York City. After collecting our luggage and making our way through customs, we decide to make two stops on our way to the complex, since we want to spend every moment of the next few days soaking in those surroundings. First, we head to the popular Panadería Rosetta for enough baked goods to feed a small army, then to a nearby grocery store to pick up some tortillas, shrimp, and pasta for our home-cooked lunches and dinners.

4 p.m.: After gathering our food supplies, we squeeze into an Uber and start the roughly 30-minute trek outside of the city, which is made longer by standstill traffic. As our driver weaves in and out of lanes with impressive precision, the dense cityscape slowly gives way to faraway mountains.

5 p.m.: We pull up to the property; on the green, lizard-shaped fence, there’s a note warning curious visitors that guest access to the complex and connecting park must be reserved through Airbnb. We ring the bell and are greeted by one of the groundskeepers, who grabs our suitcases and quickly rushes off down a winding path in a long, stone-lined tunnel that doubles as the backside of the snake’s body. The scene reminds me of Willy Wonka giving a hasty tour of his chocolate factory. As we rush to keep up, I take in my first few glances of the technicolor structure surrounded by lush forest; it’s unlike anywhere I’ve been before. We arrive at an arched door with red, blue, and yellow stained glass cutouts, and I’m prompted to enter the access code.

My sister and I rush inside the apartment: The first thing that strikes me is the lack of straight lines throughout the space. Tiled spiral steps connect the four levels, each with curved walls, rounded furniture, and large, circular windows that can be pulled opened to create an indoor/outdoor feel. The first floor holds a small office with a built-in wooden desk, an egg-shaped office chair, and an impressive collection of Mexican-authored design books. On the second level, the kitchen and living room are spacious and simply designed with earthy materials—white terrazzo counters, light wood millwork—and minimal wall art. The third floor has two bedrooms with a shared bathroom in between them, and the fourth holds the principal suite, which I claim for myself. It has what I would argue are the best views of the serpent’s head.

Not wanting to waste a minute of our time here, my sister and I head outside to explore the labyrinth-like grounds. We follow a slippery rocky path into a cave formed by the snake’s open mouth, where we walk into the darkness but get too scared and run out.

7 p.m.: There’s a knock on the door; it’s Patricia, our host, checking to make sure we made it okay. She says she’ll come by tomorrow morning for our tour of Parque Quetzalcóatl, which she offers to all guests.

As we eat our home-cooked dinner (fettuccine with shrimp), I make my way through the welcome box filled with restaurant recommendations, a guest book with notes from past visitors, and a property guide titled WHERE AM I?, which is a thought that’s flown through my mind many times in the two hours since arriving.

10 p.m.: Eagerly looking forward to tomorrow’s tour and exhausted from a long day of traveling, we decide to head to bed early. At night, the property is completely dark, allowing me to easily see into nearby units, which look similar to ours with muted palettes and circular windows. I make sure to pull all of the custom shades in my room down before falling asleep.

Sunday

1 p.m.: We meet Patricia in the parking lot and are joined by a Chilean couple and their younger son. As we all stare out at the massive snake-shaped building, Patricia explains that Quetzalcóatl—which roughly translates to "feathered serpent"—was the Aztec god of the sun, wind, and air; a mythical hero, part bird, part snake, with vibrant, multicolored feathers. To emulate the look of iridescent quetzal feathers on the building’s exterior, the ferro-cement facade was airbrushed with hues of bright orange, deep blue, and emerald green. Beyond the undulating apartment complex, the property unfolds over a lush plot of land that includes a sculpture garden and reserve for local plant life. Patricia guides us up a path that leads into the park. Let the fun begin.

Our first stop is the Jardín Flores, which features several impressively groomed hedges shaped like chameleons and snakes. We walk through a forested bamboo path with a rainbow-colored underpass to arrive at the first of three lakes on the property. This one holds two spaceship-looking structures that Patricia eventually convinces all of us to get into. She says floating across the lake is supposed to simulate being in the womb, a sensation that Senosiain’s work evokes frequently.

Next, we head over to the Plant Kingdom through a dimly lit tunnel with sparkling mosaic tiles carefully placed to mimic a snake’s slithering body. The winding tunnel opens into a room filled with giant stained glass windows that create small rainbows everywhere. The real star of the show, though, is a stone fountain that curves around the center of the room to drop water into a small pond, which Patricia informs us that previous visitors have fallen into while distractedly snapping pictures. This plant nursery is where fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs are grown and stored until they’re ready to be planted in the park. (Residents can grow their own produce in the on-site vegetable garden.) We snack on fresh strawberries, blackberries, an edible flower that tastes like garlic.

Patricia takes us to the small on-site museum that houses miniature models of all of Senosian’s works. We watch a brief documentary downstairs, and then, to send us off, she guides us through a meditation in which she tells our group to picture being born as we focus on the importance of birthing our ideas into the world.

4 p.m.: After the tour ends, we walk around the complex and find small signs of the full-time residents: laundry hanging outside a window, someone’s house cat making its way across a small pond. We spend the rest of the afternoon photographing our apartment.

7 p.m.: To switch things up for dinner, we decide to order enchiladas for delivery from a nearby restaurant. We cautiously eat on the curvilinear white couch while we watch an episode of The World’s Most Amazing Vacation Rentals that Patricia mentioned was filmed here. We spend the rest of the night watching the Netflix series and daydreaming about the other eccentric rentals we could visit in the future.

Monday 

 7 a.m.: To make the most of our last few hours on the property, we’re up and at ‘em especially early. After a quick pastry breakfast and a sip or two of tea, we head out into the brisk early morning chill. Feeling especially brave, we finally make our way to the end of the cave in the serpent’s gaping mouth. To my relief, it simply opens up to a small garden. I find myself thinking how wonderfully unique it is that a place this magical actually exists.

Top photo by Anna Dave.

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