Basílica de Guadalupe

The account, written down in Nahuatl in the seventeenth century as the Nican mopohua, has Juan Diego crossing Tepeyac hill in December 1531, ten years after the fall of Tenochtitlan, and meeting a young woman who speaks to him in Nahuatl and asks for a church on that spot. The bishop wants proof. She tells Juan Diego to gather roses — flowering out of season — in his cloak, and when he opens it before the bishop the roses fall out and the image is on the cloth.

Historians argue about almost every part of this: the dating of the documents, whether Juan Diego was a single person, and what the shrine's placement on a hill associated with an earlier goddess meant to the people who came to it. The Church's own position is settled — Juan Diego was canonised in 2002 and the Virgin of Guadalupe is patroness of the Americas — and 20 million or so visits a year make the theological argument beside the point for a visitor.

What is not in dispute is the image's role afterwards. The banner of Guadalupe was carried in the independence war in 1810 and in the Revolution a century later, and the figure is on car windscreens, market stalls and tattoos across the country. Coming here is the shortest route to understanding how thoroughly Mexican identity and this image are braided together.

The new basilica (1976). A circular concrete tent by Pedro Ramírez Vázquez — the architect of the Anthropology Museum — seating about 10,000 with no internal columns, so that everyone can see the altar. The tilma hangs above and behind it, and four moving walkways run beneath, carrying visitors past at a fixed pace. Ride them twice if you want a second look; nobody minds.

The old basilica (1709). Beside it, and tilting: like everything in this valley it has been sinking, and the list is obvious from the plaza. It was the shrine until the new building took over and it is now open again after decades of stabilisation.

Tepeyac hill. Stairs and a ramp climb behind the basilicas past the Capilla del Cerrito, built where the apparition is placed, and the Panteón del Tepeyac. Ten minutes up, and the view back over the plaza and the north of the city is the best reason to make the climb. The gardens on the way hold the sculpted scene of Juan Diego before the bishop.

The rest: the Capilla del Pocito, a small eighteenth-century domed chapel that is the prettiest building on the site; the parish church; and the Museo de la Basílica, which holds colonial painting and votive offerings. The plaza itself, the Plaza de las Américas, is enormous and on ordinary days mostly empty.

12 December, the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe, brings pilgrimages that are counted in millions, many of them walking or cycling for days and arriving overnight on the 11th. Roads north of the centre close, the metro is packed and the plaza is a sea of people. If you want to see it, come knowing that it is a pilgrimage and not a sight; if you do not, keep the whole of 11 and 12 December clear.

Otherwise: early morning is calm and the light on the plaza is good; Sunday is the busiest ordinary day, with masses through the morning; weekday afternoons are quiet. Services take priority over sightseeing everywhere on the site, and the walkways under the tilma run regardless.

One practical pairing: the shrine sits on the road north towards Teotihuacán, which is why nearly every pyramid tour stops here. Doing both in a day on your own is possible by metro and coach, but tight — the tour that combines them exists precisely because the geography invites it.

Getting there. Metro La Villa-Basílica on Line 6, three minutes on foot from the gate; about 35 minutes from the Zócalo with one change. An app car takes 25 to 45 minutes depending on traffic. Getting around has the fares.

Dress and behaviour. It is a working shrine: shoulders covered, hats off inside, quiet during mass, and no flash. Photography is otherwise normal.

Bags and security. Bag checks at the gates on busy days.

The neighbourhood. La Villa is an ordinary working district and the streets immediately outside the gates are full of stalls selling religious goods; it is busy and safe by day, and there is no reason to linger after dark.

Eating. Food stalls line the approach; the sit-down options are basic. Plan lunch elsewhere.

The efficient version is the Monday: Teotihuacán in the morning and the basilica on the way back, which is exactly what the combined tour does at $68 with lunch. Doing it independently means the coach from Terminal Norte out and the Metro Line 6 back, which works but leaves little slack.

If you are coming on its own, take a morning: 90 minutes on the site and back in the centre for lunch. Where the whole trip goes is on the Mexico City city guide.