Life in Santa Úrsula before Mexico City’s big stadium changes

Mexico City’s Banorte Stadium sits in a working-class neighborhood where daily life has been turned upside down. Construction for the 2026 World Cup has been loud, messy, and endless, turning familiar streets into obstacle courses. Some people lose customers because detours keep shoppers away. Others worry about bills piling up as foot traffic drops. The official plan promises nicer sidewalks and bike lanes, but right now residents feel the squeeze. Pedro Andraca’s grocery store used to buzz with customers. Now shelves fill up slowly between road closures and construction dust. He says the work isn’t just at the stadium—it’s all around. The same story appears everywhere: longer commutes, weaker services, and homes that feel less safe. The money and attention are supposed to stay when the tournament ends, yet everyday problems are piling up now and there’s little reassurance about the future. Underpasses that once hummed with vendors now sit half-empty. Guillermo López Ortega’s tailor shop stays open, but the silence speaks louder than words. His neighbors’ stalls stay shuttered, and the future feels blank. Marí Zamora’s print shop survives month-to-month, unsure if she’ll be forced out. Some corridors have already been cleared, but no one knows when the rest will follow or what help will arrive.The changes stretch beyond stores. Sex workers who once worked sidewalks along Calzada de Tlalpan now face blocked paths and police patrols that don’t protect them. Promises of food or cash aid vanished quickly. Monserrat recounts a meeting where officials talked about temporary support, but nothing ever arrived. Heavy machinery and trench diggers make it harder for clients to reach them, yet their voices rarely appear in the city’s official plans. Back in the halls of government, the message is all about control and progress. Big security operations and cartel arrests get headlines, but protests in the streets show a different reality. People march for missing loved ones and for justice that never arrives. The gap between the shiny image Mexico wants to show the world and the struggles on the ground widens every day. The clock is ticking toward the World Cup opener. Cranes still swing at dawn, sidewalks still disappear overnight, and no one has answered the biggest question: after the tournament ends, which parts of this neighborhood will still belong to the people who live here?