The Spooky, Secret World of Mexico City's Oldest Metro Stations

Mexico City, an urban labyrinth of contradictions and contrasts, is a city that never ceases to astonish those who care to look deeper. Its sprawling streets and sky-piercing buildings may seem a world apart from its ancient Aztec foundations, but its underground Metro network, ironically, is one of the best-kept doorways to the city's soul.

And at the heart of this subterranean world are the oldest stations, which hold stories that go far beyond the quotidian rumblings of trains. These stations, like hidden crypts, are riddled with secrets—some historical, some mystical, and some downright quirky. Welcome to a journey that uncovers the mystery-laden narrative embedded in the heart of Mexico City’s oldest Metro stations.

Pre-Hispanic and Colonial Mexico

Pino Suárez station, one of the original 16 stations inaugurated with Line 1 in 1969, seems like a routine stop in the bustling cityscape. It serves as a major transfer point between Lines 1 and 2, which makes it a chaotic hub, filled with hurried commuters brushing past one another. Yet, beneath its fast-paced exterior lies a secret—a secret from a time before trains, buses, or even Mexico City itself.

As you descend into Pino Suárez, you're greeted by an unusual sight: an ancient pyramid. Yes, a pyramid. Templo Ehécatl, a pre-Hispanic structure dedicated to the Aztec god of wind, was unearthed during the construction of the station. What’s remarkable is that this pyramid dates back to the 15th century and was carefully preserved as part of the station's architecture. Though miniaturized compared to its more famous counterparts like the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon in Teotihuacán, the Templo Ehécatl is a haunting reminder that Mexico City was once the great Tenochtitlán, a sacred city built atop a network of lakes and temples.

But that’s just the historical secret. There are also ghostly whispers about the station, with tales of an apparition that has been spotted around the temple at night. Workers claim to have seen a spectral figure of a priest wearing traditional Aztec garments, silently drifting through the underground corridors. Some believe this is the spirit of a former guardian of the temple, watching over it as the modern world races past. Whether or not you believe in ghosts, the presence of the ancient in the heart of the modern is a mystery that adds an enigmatic layer to this seemingly mundane station.

Echoes of a Forgotten Prison

Tacubaya station, another of the original Line 1 stations, has an unassuming air on the surface. But once you step inside, you are descending into a place with a dark past. Tacubaya, now a bustling neighborhood, was once a colonial outpost and later a quiet suburb where Mexico’s elite escaped the city’s feverish pace. Yet, few people know that this station sits atop what was once a notorious 19th-century prison.

The Tacubaya Prison was known for its harsh conditions and the high-profile criminals it housed during the turbulent years following Mexico's War of Independence. While most of the prison has been swallowed by time and urban sprawl, some say that during the station’s quieter hours, you can still hear the faint clinking of chains and the hushed voices of prisoners who once languished there.

Legend has it that some prisoners even attempted to escape by digging tunnels underneath the prison—a labyrinth of secret passageways that may still exist, buried beneath layers of modern infrastructure. During the Metro’s construction, workers reported finding strange voids and hearing eerie echoes in places where there shouldn’t have been any. Could these have been remnants of those long-forgotten escape routes? The city authorities have kept mum, but the mystery lingers.

The Murals of Surrealism and the Dead

Unlike other stations with shadowy secrets, Candelaria on Line 1 offers an artistic enigma. It’s a station that, on first glance, feels oddly out of place with its vibrant colors and surrealist decorations. Inaugurated in the same year as the others, Candelaria has carved out its own quirky reputation. As you walk through, the murals that line the walls catch your eye. They depict a world where Mexico’s colonial past and Aztec heritage blur into something bizarre, a sort of parallel universe where the city’s history is reimagined through the lens of surrealism.

But there’s more to these murals than meets the eye. Many of them are tributes to the Mexican Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) tradition, showing skeletons engaged in everyday activities—playing music, shopping, and even boarding trains. The murals seem playful, but they’re part of a larger commentary on death’s omnipresence in Mexican culture. Some art historians believe that these images were influenced by the works of José Guadalupe Posada, the famous Mexican artist whose skeleton figures, known as calaveras, became iconic symbols of social critique.

There’s also a lesser-known theory: that the Candelaria murals were strategically placed here because the station itself is a sort of underworld. You are, after all, underground, journeying between realms—an allegory for the passage between life and death. It’s said that some commuters, particularly those with ties to Mexico’s indigenous cultures, perform subtle rituals or say quiet prayers here, asking for safe passage not just through the Metro system, but through life itself.

A Fabled Source of Healing

If you want to dig deeper into Mexico City’s colonial past, the Salto del Agua station on Line 1 and Line 8 is a hidden gem, rich with myth. This station takes its name from the Salto del Agua Fountain, a baroque masterpiece from the 18th century that once served as the endpoint of one of the city’s vital aqueducts. The fountain no longer functions, but it remains a symbol of the city’s need to tame water—a constant challenge for a metropolis built on a lakebed.

The real secret of Salto del Agua, however, lies in the underground springs that once flowed freely here. For centuries, these waters were believed to have healing properties, attracting pilgrims who came to wash their ailments away. The original fountain may have dried up, but locals still whisper about secret underground wells beneath the station that tap into these mystical waters. Some believe that the waters could still offer healing, hidden somewhere beneath the platform. It’s a tantalizing thought: as thousands of people hurry past, perhaps only a few know they are traveling above a forgotten source of ancient rejuvenation.

The Art Deco Portal to Other Dimensions

Bellas Artes is not just one of Mexico City’s most beautiful Metro stations; it’s a living art gallery. Opened in 1969 as part of Line 2, Bellas Artes lies beneath the Palacio de Bellas Artes, a cultural center famed for its opulent Art Deco design. The station itself echoes this grandeur, with walls covered in intricate tilework and Art Nouveau decorations. But it’s the station’s peculiar geometry and symbolism that intrigue conspiracy theorists and mystics alike.

Some claim that Bellas Artes is built on a vortex of energy, where ley lines—mysterious alignments of energy—converge. According to this theory, the station acts as a portal to other dimensions, accessible only to those who know how to tap into the city’s ancient energy grids. It’s said that at certain times of the day, if you stand at specific spots within the station, you can feel an unexplainable force pulling at you. Whether or not you believe in metaphysical portals, there’s no denying the palpable energy that courses through Bellas Artes.

Beneath the crisscrossing tunnels and busy platforms of Mexico City’s oldest Metro stations lies an untapped wellspring of history, myth, and mystery. Each station is a secret world unto itself, guarding the pre-Hispanic rituals, colonial intrigue, artistic subversion, and even mystical energies. For the everyday commuter, these stations are mere stops on the way to work or home. But for the curious traveler, they are the gateways to another dimension of Mexico City—a dimension where the past and present, the mundane and the magical, collide.

So next time you find yourself in the depths of Mexico City’s Metro, slow down, look around, and listen closely. You might just uncover a secret of your own.