Art Week stretches well beyond Zona Maco’s official dates, with events before and after the fair. Satellite fairs like Feria Material and Salón ACME have grown alongside the main event. At the same time, exhibitions, talks, and parties animate the neighborhoods of Condesa, Roma, Polanco, and Juárez.

From Monterrey to Mexico City

Founder Zélika García took three years to gather 25 galleries and hold the first edition — originally called “Muestra” — in 2002 in Monterrey. After its success, she brought the fair to Mexico City in 2003, where it was renamed “Maco” (México Arte Contemporáneo) and later became “Zona Maco.” The 2024 edition marked the fair’s 20th anniversary, drawing a record-breaking 81,000 visitors, with similar attendance in 2025 when 200 galleries from 29 countries participated. The fair has a direct economic impact on the city during the event, with hotels, restaurants, and local businesses all benefiting from the influx of international visitors.

A distinctive Latin American voice

The two largest fairs in Latin America, Zona Maco in Mexico City and SP-Arte in São Paulo, are both still independent and, notably, both founded by women. This independence has allowed Zona Maco to maintain its distinctive regional character.

The fair is tightly curated with just 125 galleries compared to the much larger Art Basel Miami Beach’s 286 galleries. Yet while Art Basel Miami Beach 2024 attracted more than 75,000 visitors, Zona Maco’s 81,000+ attendance in the last two years demonstrates its growing appeal for art lovers.

Unlike Basel, over half of the galleries at Zona Maco are from Mexico and Latin America, and offer a cultivated roster of museum-caliber artists and an engagement with traditional materials, modern politics, and Latinx-centric themes. “People come to this fair to see different art from Latin America,” says Luis Maluf of the São Paulo gallery. “There are new collectors from around the world, and we have more space than at other fairs to show our Latin American artists.”

Zona Maco 2026 Schedule:

Wednesday, February 4:

• Exclusive collector and museum preview; 10 a.m.-12 p.m.
• VIP Guests; 12 pm-5 pm
• General Public; 5 p.m.-8 p.m.

Thursday-Friday, February 5-6:

• VIP Guests; 12 p.m.-1 p.m.
• General Public; 1 p.m.-8 p.m.

Saturday, February 7:

• General Public; 12 p.m.-8 p.m. 

Sunday, February 8:

• General Public; 11 p.m.-6 p.m. 

The post Zona Maco 2026 is Mexico City’s biggest Art Week yet appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Welcome to Mexico Well-Read!

I am delighted to be reviewing books about Mexico, this infinitely fascinating, inspiring, gorgeous, sometimes frustrating country we all love. I hope you’ll join me here each month to discover your next great read. I’ll cover fiction and nonfiction on a wide variety of topics, by Mexican and international authors. Books available in English that came out in the last couple of years as well as brand-new releases and forthcoming titles. 

I’m particularly on the lookout for underappreciated gems that more MND readers should know about, so please feel free to send suggestions in the comments.

A little about me, Ann Marie Jackson, your trusty guide: I am a book editor with a boutique editorial agency based in San Miguel de Allende, grateful for the amazing privilege of leading a literary life in Mexico. I work with traditional publishers, hybrid presses and indie authors. My own award-winning novel, “The Broken Hummingbird,” is set in San Miguel, where I’ve lived since 2012. And, of course, I am a voracious reader, especially of all things Mexico.

‘This Mouth is Mine’ by Yásnaya Elena Aguilar Gil

With great wit and enormous charm, Gil has done the seemingly impossible: She’s made a book about topics as potentially grim as the death of languages and systematic discrimination against speakers of Indigenous languages an extremely enjoyable read. With vivid anecdotes, approachable prose and a sense of humor, she invites us to care about the vibrancy of Indigenous languages and the people who speak them. It is in all our interests to advocate for a future in which a diversity of language and culture is celebrated rather than homogenized.

As The Times Literary Supplement put it, “‘This Mouth is Mine’ is an important reminder that the linguistic is political and that linguistic discrimination tends to intersect with racism. [The essays show that] Indigenous languages are modern languages too, as suitable for writing rock lyrics, tweeting jokes, or explaining quantum physics as Spanish and English.” 

Gil is a leading defender of linguistic rights who develops educational materials in indigenous languages and documents languages at risk of disappearance. She has also co-presented with Gael García Bernal a documentary series about environmental issues in Mexico.

Half of the world’s languages will die

UNESCO predicts that within the next 100 years, an astounding half of the 6,000 languages currently spoken in the world will go extinct. The University of Hawaii’s Catalogue of Endangered Languages reports that every three months, a language dies somewhere in the world, and the rate will only increase.

As Gil points out, “Never before in history has this happened. Never before have so many languages died out. Why are they dying now?” 

The answer, she believes, lies in the fact that 300 years ago, the world was carved up into 200 nation states, and “in order to construct internal homogeneity, a single language was assigned value as the language of the state. [Other] languages were discriminated against and suppressed.”

In Mexico’s case, in 1820, when the Mexican nation was established 300 years after the Spanish conquest, 65% of the population spoke an Indigenous language. Today, Gil notes, “Only 6.5% are speakers of an Indigenous language, while Spanish has become dominant. Two hundred years ago, our languages were majority languages: Nahuatl, Maya, Mayo, Tepehua, Tepehuán, Mixe, and all other indigenous languages.”

“Did we suddenly decide to abandon our languages? That’s not what happened. There was a process, driven by government policy, that devalued our languages in favor of just one, Spanish. For our languages to disappear, our ancestors had to endure beatings, reprimands and discrimination for speaking their mother tongues.”

Today, there are many misunderstandings about Mexico’s Indigenous languages — for example, that they are only oral. As Gil explains, “There is evidence of writing on stone, on codices, and a long colonial tradition in the Latin script that dwindled and almost disappeared with Independence, when the government stopped accepting Indigenous language texts. 

“Now they’re starting to be written again … There are even languages such as Isthmus Zapotec that had important publications throughout the whole of the twentieth century… writing in Zapotec has an almost uninterrupted written tradition dating back to 500 B.C.”

Defending Indigenous languages today

The accelerated, unprecedented loss of world languages should get more attention because language loss is a key indicator in the well-being of Indigenous peoples. Gil sees reasons for hope, however, in the successes of language activists in various parts of the world. 

The Hawaiian language, for example, was at high risk of disappearing, but recently the number of speakers has grown dramatically. Gil credits the fact that “It’s [now] possible to go all the way through from preschool to university studying in Hawaiian.” 

“Similarly, in New Zealand, Maori language nests have created new speakers,” she said. And there are other examples. Gil believes that if new generations are to learn at-risk languages, extensive activist efforts such as these are required.

“I believe the movement [in Mexico] to support literature in languages other than Spanish will be greatly enriched if publishers, festivals, fairs, bookshops and readers were to open up to the great diversity of languages and poetics that currently exists — all on the same level, all complex and equal,” Gil said. “Though that might seem an impossible utopia, the state of things is gradually changing.

“The [National Autonomous University of Mexico], for example, organizes the Carlos Montemayor Languages of America Poetry Festival, where it’s possible to hear creators in Zapotec, Portuguese and Mixtec speak in the same forum. Which should be the norm.”

Being bilingual is not the same as being bilingual

In one anecdote, Gil recalls visiting Mexico City for the first time and being delighted by all the ads for bilingual schools and jobs; with a child’s naivete, she assumed that Nahuatl must be highly valued in the capital. She quickly learned that is not the case — only English carries a premium. 

“If you were a teacher, speaking an Indigenous language implied having a lower salary and less prestige within the education system. To put it simply, I came to understand that being bilingual is not the same as being bilingual.” 

Gil writes passionately about the connections between defending Indigenous territories and Indigenous languages. 

“In the movement to recognize Indigenous rights, we’re proud of the ways we resist but still wish we didn’t have to. Resistance implies the existence of an aggression. Resistance,” she acknowledges, “is exhausting.”

Ann Marie Jackson, author of “The Broken Hummingbird,” welcomes you to Mexico Well-Read. Photo by Jessica Patterson.

Join the conversation about ‘This Mouth is Mine’

Once you’ve read it, feel free to share in the comments below the insights you drew from this thought-provoking book, as well as your suggestions of recent (published within the last two years) and forthcoming titles you’d like to see me review.

Ann Marie Jackson is a book editor and the award-winning author of “The Broken Hummingbird.” She lives in San Miguel de Allende and can be reached through her website: annmariejacksonauthor.com.

The post Mexico Well-Read: ‘This Mouth is Mine’ by Yásnaya Elena Aguilar Gil appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The fashion of football fans wearing their team colors during games (whether in the stadium or a local bar) has turned replica shirts into a US $10 billion industry. Nevertheless, many predict that there is plenty of growth left in the market, with a projection of it reaching $20 billion by the end of the decade. 

Some of the 2026 kits, made by Adidas and Puma, were released just before Christmas; those by Nike, as well as most “away” kits — also an important section of the market — are expected to come out in March and April. “Cool fans” often opt to wear these.

Football fashion in Mexico

When fans got their first look at this Cup’s Mexico shirt, there was a collective sigh of relief. Mexico has a reputation for producing some classic football shirts, both for the national team and for the Liga MX clubs. Although fashion is a matter of personal taste, Mexico did receive two nominations on “The 100 best football kits of all-time” list published by the British magazine FourFourTwo — one of the most accepted of such lists by fans.  Club America’s 1994/95 shirt took No. 20 on this list, and the Mexico World Cup shirt of 1998 was No. 16.

However, fans had a few concerns leading up to the release of the 2026 kit, as recent years had brought some underwhelming designs. The 2024 “peacock” shirt was unpopular, and in 2025, Mexico broke with tradition at the Gold Cup and played in black. Influenced by both Mariachi bands and the Mexica Empire, it was not a bad design, but it did not win the country’s soccer fans’ support, with many disapproving of the move away from the traditional green! 

Then, in April 2025, there was a buzz on the internet when pictures of the 2026 shirt and it appeared we were heading for another break from tradition: The leak revealed a green shirt with three thick vertical bars down the center, a design that appeared to be loosely based on the 1978 World Cup away shirt. 

This had been a reasonable design at the time, but it now looked dated. These early drafts of the 2026 shirt resulted in internet-wide cries of horror, and so Adidas went back to the drawing board.

Kudos on the current design for ‘El Tri’ in the 2026 FIFA World Cup

The design officially released has met with universal praise, being closely based on the classic design of 1998. What made that shirt so unique is that Mexico moved away from the big international sports companies, instead turning to a local firm, ABA Sport, which, since entering the market, had produced some excellent designs for Mexican clubs. 

The 1998 shirt used the standard green with red-and-white trims but drew from the country’s cultural heritage with the Mexica calendar incorporated into the design. This was a brave idea which could have flopped, and had the Mexica image been any more pronounced on the shirt, it would have looked far too cartoonish. Luckily, the image enhanced the design and didn’t dominate it. 

The 2026 shirt, while adapting much of the 1998 design, has used a more subtle motif, to good reviews — a welcome “return to the more daring,” according to the Cult Kit website, while the ESPN reviewer noted that the  “elaborate pattern and eagle crest are sure to elevate this to instant ‘modern classic’ status.” 

A 7-stage guide to the history of Mexican national team soccer shirts

1928-1954

When Mexico made its debut in a major international football tournament at the 1928 Olympics, the team played in dark-burgundy shirts with black or dark-navy shorts. It is uncertain why these colors were chosen above the green, red and white of the national flag. 

One story is that the dark-burgundy color was linked to the Mexica, who created a similar color by crushing the tiny insects that lived on the prickly pear cacti. That is an interesting historical fact, but there is no evidence that this inspired the modern football shirts. Given the snobbish attitude of the day — soccer was still strongly influenced by private sport clubs such as Reforma — the idea that the burgundy shirts were worn in honor of the Spanish National team might have traction. 

For whatever reason, Mexico used burgundy shirts with dark shorts for its first three World Cup tournaments and retained these colors as its second-choice uniform for many years after that. 

1950

Mexico arrived at the Estádio dos Eucaliptos Stadium in Porto Alegre, Brazil, for their last game of the 1950 tournament to find their burgundy kit clashed with the red shirts of their opponents, Switzerland. There was a 20-minute delay while the local side, Cruzeiro de Porto Alegre, rounded up their blue-and-white striped kit and lent it to the Mexicans. Incidentally, this happened again in 1978 when both France and Hungary arrived at the stadium with their second choice, white shirts. On that occasion, France played in the green-and-white stripes of the Argentinian Club Atlético Kimberley. 

1958

The switch to a green shirt with red-and-white trimmings, colors inspired by the Mexican flag, finally came at the 1956 Pan-American Games. The World Cup kit two years later was a plain green shirt with a touch of red on the white shorts. 

1962-1970

Green with various red-and-white touches has remained Mexico’s official colors in every World Cup since 1958. However, on several occasions, the team has reverted to the old burgundy colors for at least one of their games. This has not always been easy to explain. 

While one of the teams is obviously obliged to change colors if there is a clash, what constitutes a clash is more complicated than it might seem. Television audiences have to be considered, and that could be tricky in the days of black-and-white sets, when blue and green shirts might appear on screen as similar shades of grey. In addition, shirts that were fine for an afternoon game might pose problems for an evening match played under floodlights. 

Mexico tended to turn back to the darker shirts later in the tournament, leaving us to wonder if, after two games and two visits to the laundromat, the green shirts were simply feeling a little worn out.

1978

Mexico failed to qualify for the 1974 World Cup, and when they returned to the tournament in 1978,  burgundy had been dropped as their secondary color. For the opening game against Tunisia, they wore the new second jersey — a white shirt with broad vertical red and green bands — complemented by red shorts. The design was popular, but the tournament was a disaster for Mexico.

1994

The great Mexican goalkeeper Jorge Campos was famous for designing his own kit, and none were more outlandish than the “hurt your eyes” shirts he wore in the 1994 World Cup. These unforgettable neon-colored designs reportedly took inspiration from the colors of his native Guerrero. But at 1.70 m, Campos was also small for a goalkeeper, and it didn’t hurt that the shirts were designed to make him appear taller.

1998

An all-time classic, and a design that has influenced this year’s kit. Enough said.

2022 

Mexico stole the show in Qatar. Not only was the new green design a big fan favorite, but the second jersey with eye-catching Mexica designs in red was considered one of the best shirts of the tournament.

In a few months, thousands of supporters will be wearing the new shirts in the Azteca Stadium as they watch Mexico kick off their 18th World Cup campaign. It should be a colorful start!

Bob Pateman is a Mexico-based historian, librarian and a life-term hasher. He is editor of On On Magazine, the international history magazine of hashing.

The post The World Cup is 6 months away — but the fashion show has already started appeared first on Mexico News Daily

When Gaspar de Portolá, the new California governor, sailed into San José del Cabo on Nov. 30, 1767, “the soldiers, who had come with exaggerated notions about the wealth of the Jesuit missions, hastened to seize the treasures of Mission San José del Cabo; but, with the exception of the church ornaments, nothing of value was discovered,” wrote Zephyrin Engelhardt in his 1908 book on the Spanish missionary period, “The Missions and Missionaries of California: Vol. 1, Lower California.” 

“They then proceeded to Mission Santiago and encountered the same poverty. Like all the Jesuits in the missions, Father (Ignacio) Tirsch of Santiago had not the least suspicion of what was coming, and no reason or opportunity for concealing anything. Portolá next took his men to the silver mines and convinced himself of their poverty, and the penury of those who feebly worked them.”

José de Gálvez and the shift in Franciscan focus

After a little more than 70 years of missionary work on the Baja California peninsula, the Jesuits had accumulated no wealth but had founded 17 missions and “saved many souls.” 

The Franciscans, who replaced them, would remain in Baja California for only five years, establish only one mission — the Misión San Fernando Rey de España de Velicatá, about 35 miles southeast of El Rosario — and leave the peninsula’s missions even poorer than they already were.

The Franciscans were chosen as successors to the Jesuits by José de Gálvez, the visitador general, whose newly endowed authority had made him the most powerful man in Mexico (or Nueva España, as it was then known). 

Gálvez arrived in July 1768 to reorganize the peninsula, unveiling his plans for California to the dozen or so Franciscan friars, led by Mallorcan Junípero Serra, who himself had only been in residence since April. 

The most ambitious of these plans was the commitment to establishing missions in Alta California — now the U.S. state of California. How much of this shift in focus northward was influenced by the evident poverty of the missions in Baja California is unknown. However, by early 1769, land and sea expeditions were bound for San Diego. By July of that year, Serra had founded the first Alta California mission there. Serra would later found eight more missions in Alta California, an achievement for which he has since been controversially canonized as a saint by the Catholic church. 

Portolá, also integral to the expedition, saw his role as governor expand to include both Alta and Baja California.  

How Baja California paid for the settlement of Alta California

Not everyone benefited from this northern focus, which by 1777 had seen the capital of Las Californias shift from Loreto in Baja California to Monterey in Alta California. To be blunt, the settlement of Alta California was largely paid for by looting the meager coffers of Baja California’s missions and squeezing money from the peninsula’s lone successful entrepreneur. 

“To lessen the expenses for the proposed missions, Gálvez decided that the old establishments (the missions in Baja California) should aid in founding the new ones by donating vestments, sacred vessels and other church articles,” Engelhardt wrote. “From the inventories, he saw that all could assist a little, which, with what he had obtained from the extinguished missions, would supply at least three new missions. He himself proceeded to Todos Santos to collect what could be spared, and he directed Fr. Serra to do likewise on his trip to the north from all the missions, not excepting Loreto.”

Also contributing was the one rich man the peninsula had so far produced: former soldier Manuel de Ocio. After reaping some timely intel from Cochimí Indians about 400 pounds of pearls thrown onto a beach in Mulegé after a violent storm in 1740, Ocio retired from the Loreto presidio to found a mine at Santa Ana in 1748, a few miles south of the Baja California Sur mining towns that subsequently sprang up in San Antonio and El Triunfo.

Ocio’s mine wasn’t that impressive in terms of the amount of silver it produced, but by 1751, it had reached the limit necessary for him to register it with the Spanish crown and pay taxes. In addition to the workforce of 300 he acquired, many from the Mexican mainland, he also ran thousands of head of cattle and managed to buy 14 homes in Guadalajara as a real estate investment. 

Gálvez, seeing that Ocio had what little wealth there was on the peninsula, established his headquarters at Santa Ana and ruthlessly pumped the mine owner to help fund the expedition to Alta California. Indeed, according to Harry W. Crosby’s definitive book, “Antigua California, Mission and Colony on the Peninsular Frontier, 1697-1768”: 

“Manuel de Ocio’s little empire provided the ship that made possible Portolá’s coming; the further use of his ships, his mules, mule drivers and stores made possible the prompt launching of the expedition to the north. Without that which was commandeered from Ocio, Gálvez’s plans would have had long setbacks. But Ocio received no thanks and ultimately no reward nor even the recompense promised by royal officials.”

As if that weren’t bad enough, two of Gálvez’s imported miners murdered Ocio in 1771 after robbing his storehouse.

Indigenous peoples and the disaster of Gálvez’s policies

If Ocio was ill-used by Gálvez, so, too, were the Indigenous peoples of the Baja California peninsula. Gálvez believed the Jesuits had coddled the Indians; he was intent on using them as a free labor source, including in the salt mines at Isla del Carmen, off the coast of Loreto. 

“Gálvez made elaborate plans for the transformation of the California missions using Serra and the Franciscans as the agents for the changes he thought necessary,” author Dave Werschkul pointed out in “Saints and Demons in a Desert Wilderness: A History and Guide to Baja California’s Spanish Missions” (2003):

“Among Gálvez’s decrees were the reduction in the number of missions, elimination of the visitas (sub-missions), and the movement of Indians from one area to another to meet the labor requirements of the more productive agricultural areas. The results were a disaster. In 1769, one ranchería of 44 Indians was moved from San Javier to San José del Cabo. All but three died.”

The native inhabitants of Los Cabos, the Pericú, also saw their numbers continue to dwindle. In 1768, the year the Franciscans took over, there were 178 Indians at the Santiago mission under Fr. José Murguía and 70 at San José del Cabo, which had been raised back to full mission status under Fr. Juan Morán. Three years later, in 1771, those numbers were 70 and 50, respectively, or a total of only 120 throughout Los Cabos. 

Likely, these were mostly still Pericú, although as noted above, Gálvez was not above importing Indigenous people from other parts of the peninsula to help facilitate agricultural production for the missions.

Disease remained the primary culprit for the diminished numbers. Many Indigenous people were killed by the 1769 epidemic that also killed Fr. Morán, as well as the French astronomer Jean-Baptiste Chappe d’Auteroche, who had traveled to San José del Cabo to observe the 1769 Transit of Venus, which he did successfully before his death. 

The exact disease that decimated Indigenous numbers is not known. An outbreak of measles was known to have occurred that year, with typhus and yellow fever also conjectured.

The Franciscan era’s legacy in Los Cabos

The Jesuits had been careful to keep the population of Baja California restricted to missionaries, Indigenous and presidio soldiers. Some soldiers were married. Esteban Rodríguez Lorenzo, for example, one of the original 10 to land at Loreto in 1697, married María de Larrea on the mainland during a hiatus from his duties in 1707. They had seven children, the first true family of settlers on the peninsula. Rodríguez was also the first man permitted by the Jesuits to raise his own cattle. 

But as local historian Pablo L. Martínez was quick to note in his “Guía Familiar de Baja California, 1700-1900” (1965), the first real secular community to arise on the peninsula came about because of the need for workers at Ocio’s mine. Santa Ana thus became a kind of cradle for early settlers, with some of the most esteemed Los Cabos families, such as the Cotas, arriving during this early period. 

Gálvez, for all his faults, was the first to initiate a call for colonists. 

“Besides making strong efforts to improve the conditions of the natives, Gálvez paid special attention to the project of colonizing Lower California with Spaniards,” Engelhardt wrote. “On Aug. 12, 1768, he issued a decree setting forth the privileges offered to colonists and the regulations by which they were to be governed. Government lands were separated from mission lands and offered to Spaniards of good character on easy terms. 

“The chief obligation was that the settlers would make improvements and pay a small annual tax to the king. The first to avail themselves of these advantages were discharged soldiers and sailors from Loreto, but there were few others before 1821.” 

These discharged soldiers, sailors and their families, along with the workforce at Santa Ana, would form the roots of the communities that would eventually arise in San José del Cabo, Cabo San Lucas and elsewhere in the region now known as Los Cabos. 

But, first, there was one more Catholic missionary order to come to the area — that of the Dominicans, who took over the missions in Baja California after 1773, when the Franciscans decided to concentrate their efforts solely on Alta California. 

Chris Sands is the former Cabo San Lucas local expert for the USA Today travel website 10 Best and writer of Fodor’s Los Cabos travel guidebook. He’s also a contributor to numerous websites and publications, including Tasting Table, Marriott Bonvoy Traveler, Forbes Travel Guide, Porthole Cruise, Cabo Living and Mexico News Daily.

The post Mission days in old Los Cabos: the Franciscan Era appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Welcome to MND Tutor! This interactive learning tool is designed to help you improve your Spanish by exploring real news articles from Mexico News Daily. Instead of just memorizing vocabulary lists or grammar rules, you’ll dive into authentic stories about Mexican culture, current events, and daily

Mexico was once home to remarkable dinosaurs that roamed the land for over 170 million years. The northern regions, especially Coahuila, are rich with fossil discoveries. From terrifying beats soaring above the ground, to fearsome hunters stalking the forest, Mexico had several incredible species of dinosaur.

These prehistoric giants once dominated what is now Mexican territory before vanishing 66 million years ago. To discover more, why not check out Andrea Fischer’s original article?

To get started, choose your level of Spanish:

🌵 Choose your level of Spanish
— Choose Level —🇲🇽Beginner🌵 Intermediate🌶️ Advanced

Let us know how you did!

The post MND Tutor | Dinosaurios appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The museum is named for Gene Byron, a Canadian artist (related by birth to the British Romantic poet Lord Byron), who bought the former silver and gold hacienda in 1962 with her Spanish husband, Virgilio Fernández.

Who was Gene Byron?

Gene Byron was a Renaissance woman — originally a successful Broadway actress and radio performer, she later became a painter. Influenced by Mexico’s muralists, she moved to Mexico in the 1940s, visiting diverse parts of the country like Veracruz, Guerrero, Chiapas, Yucatán, Campeche and Oaxaca. 

In Mexico, she continued to paint, but added design and restoration work to her repertoire. She specialized in mid-century modern design, creating distinctive tin and copper lighting, wall sconces and decorative items, often incorporating hand-painted tiles. Her artwork was exhibited in museums in Houston, San Antonio, Chicago, New York and Mexico City.

Meanwhile, Fernández, born in Morocco, became a Communist at a young age and was working as a nurse in Madrid when the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936. He spent much of the war as a medic on the front lines of Madrid and Guadalajara, Spain, participating in some of the most decisive battles of the Civil War alongside volunteers from across Europe and America. 

How Gene Byron and Virgilio Fernández met

In 1938, Fernández was captured by Nationalist forces and interned in a concentration camp in France. He later escaped and was exiled to Mexico, where, along with over 25,000 other Spanish refugees, he was welcomed. He spent the rest of his life in exile in Mexico.

Fernández studied pediatrics in Monterrey, where he met Byron. They moved to Guanajuato in 1958, buying the former Santa Ana hacienda, which they restored, transforming it into both their home and a gathering place for artists and creatives. 

Byron decorated and furnished the ex-hacienda with many of her own designs. The couple lived there together until she died in 1987. Today, it is still full of her furniture, paintings and even the light fixtures and other metal accessories that she designed. 

Byron’s home becomes a museum

 

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A post shared by Casa Museo Gene Byron (@museogenebyron)

In 1997, Fernández and his second wife, Estela Cordero, decided to convert the house into a museum. This was no small task because the property was an immueble catalogado (listed on Mexico’s historic register) and they had to acquire lengthy permissions for any changes, even minor ones, from INAH, the federal department that protects and preserves Mexico’s archeological and historical structures.

Today, the property encompasses a museum, gardens, a restaurant, a gift shop and the apartment where museum director Estela Cordero now lives, and where she and Fernández lived until he died in 2019. One of the last surviving members of the International Brigades fighting the Spanish Civil War, Fernández passed away in 2019 at age 100.

The museum maintains a permanent collection of Byron’s work but also offers visiting exhibitions, literary presentations, book talks, art workshops and weekly classical music and jazz concerts. With its extensive gardens and courtyard, the museum is also a popular venue for large functions. 

A popular venue for art exhibitions and special events

The restaurant, located on the grounds with a view of trees, offers Mexican cuisine with European influences, and is open from 8:30 to 1 p.m. and then reopens from 2 to 6 p.m. The gift shop sells artisanal products, designs by Gene Byron — such as lamps, mirrors, and ashtrays — and rebozos and other fabrics.

In her role as the museum director, Estela Cordero selects Mexican and international artists to display their work there. Currently, there are shows by the Canadian oil painter and part-time Guanajuato resident Martine Bilodeau, as well as two Spanish artists, Luis González and Miguel Sánchez de San Bernardo. 

Speaking with Cordero, she said she sees several trends in contemporary Mexican art: the fusion of pre-Hispanic and folk art with modern techniques and perspectives; art as a social commentary on cultural issues such as violence, machismo, inequality, migration, gender, feminism and identity; and the mixing of traditional art forms with experimental, immersive techniques like multimedia, digital art, videos and performance art.

Only a 10-minute taxi ride from Guanajuato’s center, the museum is well worth a visit. And while you’re in Marfil, you can enjoy two other local assets: Stroll along the nearby tree-lined Camino Antiguo (Historic Walk) and visit another ex-hacienda, San Gabriel de Barrera, which contains 17 themed gardens. 

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are available on her website, authory.com/LouisaRogers

The post Guanajuato’s unknown, quirky, historic museum you won’t want to miss appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Mexico’s unrest, America’s money

To grasp Morrow’s significance, return to Mexico in the 1920s: a country still recovering
from revolution and rewriting the rules of sovereignty. The Constitution of 1917, notably
Article 27 declared that everything above, on and below Mexican soil belonged to the
nation. That principle directly challenged foreign oil concessions awarded during the
Porfirio Díaz era.

By 1920, Mexico was the world’s second-largest oil producer, home to Mexican Eagle (a
Royal Dutch/Shell subsidiary), Jersey Standard and Standard Oil. American and
European investors watched nervously: a nation with shifting politics and a new
constitution looked less like a neighbor and more like a precarious asset.

President Álvaro Obregón offered a stopgap in 1923, recognizing foreign property rights
in exchange for diplomatic recognition. His successor, Plutarco Elías Calles, later
deemed the agreement unconstitutional and issued fresh 50-year exploration permits,
enraging companies that believed their long-term claims had been secured.

Simultaneously, enforcement of Article 130 — curbing the Church’s political
role — sparked the Cristero War, a brutal conflict that drew appeals for U.S. intervention
from clerical networks. Mexico’s domestic battles had become entangled with foreign
business and public opinion.

The outgoing U.S. ambassador, James R. Sheffield, personified a hard line, reflecting
an older, force-first approach to Latin America. When Dwight Morrow, a senior partner
at J.P. Morgan & Co., which held much of Mexico’s US $514 million external debt, was
appointed ambassador in 1927, many Mexicans braced for “dollar diplomacy” in a
diplomatic coat and tails.

‘Ham and eggs’ diplomacy

Morrow arrived with a different playbook. His strategy rested on three deceptively simple
principles: respect Mexican sovereignty, cultivate genuine personal ties with Mexican
leaders, and recast conflicts as legal problems rather than theatrical confrontations.
American papers nicknamed him “the ham and eggs diplomat” for his routine breakfasts
with President Calles. The label belied the seriousness of those meetings. Over morning coffee, the two men tested ideas, lowered tensions and created a private space
for candid negotiation.

When Calles raised the oil question, Morrow answered not with threats but with a lawyer’s framing: this was “a question of law.” By urging legal channels — Mexican courts and legal process — he enabled Calles to reach a compromise without appearing to capitulate to foreign pressure.

The 1927–28 oil settlement remains contested. In November 1927, Mexico’s Supreme
Court removed time limits on foreign concessions for companies that had undertaken
“positive acts” (drilling, infrastructure) before 1917. Nationalists denounced the decision
as a surrender to foreign interests; Morrow’s supporters hailed it as proof that diplomacy
and law could trump coercion. Historians today offer a nuanced view: Calles was by
then a pragmatic modernizer, and Morrow provided a diplomatic offramp that allowed
him to retreat from unsustainable positions while preserving domestic legitimacy.

Faith, violence and quiet deals

Morrow’s mediation in the Church–State conflict required a subtler touch than oil
diplomacy. In 1927, he joined Calles on a northern tour. It was an image that startled some: an American Protestant banker riding beside an anticlerical revolutionary general. For Calles, the gesture signaled that Morrow was there to enable settlement rather than
dictate terms.

Between 1928 and 1929, Morrow quietly coordinated talks between Vatican envoys and
Mexican officials. The June 1929 “arrangements” did not restore the Church’s
prerevolutionary privileges, but they halted open hostilities: public worship resumed,
priests registered and the Church stepped back from direct political activity while the
state retained legal ownership of ecclesiastical property but allowed effective control
over church life. The deal reduced bloodshed, eased refugee flows and stabilized a
tense border situation. For Morrow, religious pragmatism was crisis management: a
peaceful Mexico was also a secure one.

Soft power, Mexican style

If breakfasts and back channels stabilized politics, Morrow’s most imaginative initiatives
targeted perception. He understood that shaping how Americans viewed Mexico would
be as important as resolving legal disputes. So he turned to spectacle, personalities and
museums to make Mexico legible and attractive to U.S. audiences.

In December 1927, Charles Lindbergh, fresh from his transatlantic triumph, flew to
Mexico at Morrow’s invitation. More than 150,000 people greeted him in Mexico City;
Calles publicly welcomed the aviator. Lindbergh toured Xochimilco, watched Revolution
Day parades and was feted for a week. It was an upbeat counterstory to headlines about
unrest. The visit also yielded a humanizing subplot: Lindbergh met and later married Anne Morrow, the ambassador’s daughter. The romance drew American attention and
softened public perceptions, mixing glamour with diplomacy.

Canonizing “Mexicanness”

Morrow’s cultural diplomacy reached institutional heights in 1930 when the Metropolitan
Museum of Art in New York opened “Mexican Arts,” a sweeping exhibition of roughly
1,300 objects that had debuted months earlier in Mexico City. Backed by the Carnegie
Corporation and the American Federation of Arts, and energetically supported by
Morrow, the show presented pre-Hispanic artifacts alongside colonial works, modern
muralism and popular crafts. Morrow lent pieces from his collection and helped secure
funding.

The exhibition offered a curated argument: Mexico had deep historical roots and a
vibrant contemporary culture. Touring U.S. cities for two years, it helped recast Mexico
in American eyes from a land of uprisings and banditry to a nation with a continuous
civilizational story and modern ambitions. The narrative aligned neatly with Mexico’s
postrevolutionary nationbuilding project — mixing Indigenous and European elements
into a celebratory mestizo identity — while also channeling that narrative through
American tastes.

Rivera, revolution and a banker’s check

Morrow’s most provocative cultural gamble came in paint. In 1929, he commissioned
Diego Rivera’s mural “History of Morelos, Conquest and Revolution” for the Palacio de Hernán Cortés in Cuernavaca. Rivera and Frida Kahlo worked at Casa Mañana, the Morrows’
country home, while completing the fresco, which depicts conquest, exploitation and
peasant uprising with blunt political clarity. That a former J.P. Morgan partner would
finance a fresco criticising colonial domination looks paradoxical — and it was. Mexico’s
Communist Party accused Rivera of selling out; U.S. conservatives fretted that
American funds were underwriting radical art.

Morrow’s logic was pragmatic: supporting Mexican artists, even when their work was
politically charged, signaled respect for Mexico’s cultural autonomy and helped
normalize its government before foreign audiences. A portion of Rivera’s work later
toured U.S. museums, linking Mexican muralism to the American art world.

Elizabeth Morrow’s curated Mexico

Elizabeth Cutter Morrow was no mere hostess. She turned Casa Mañana into a living
display of textiles, ceramics and folk objects, organized exhibitions of Mexican crafts in
the United States and wrote for American audiences about Mexican art. Her aesthetic
smoothed Mexico into a cohesive mestizo image, one appealing and accessible to U.S.
patrons, but which tended to obscure the poverty and marginalization behind many crafts.

Still, her efforts connected artisans with collectors and institutions, institutionalizing a
form of bilateral cultural exchange that endured, however unequal its dynamics.

The shadow of J.P. Morgan

Morrow formally resigned from J.P. Morgan on taking the ambassadorship, but his
banking past mattered. The bank’s role in financing Mexico’s foreign debt and Wall
Street’s interest in Mexican stability gave his appointment immediate market effects:
bond prices rose on news he was taking the post. Morrow was, at bottom, a
businessman in diplomatic guise. He delivered what American capital wanted — manageable debt, protection for oil interests and no sweeping expropriations—yet did so through negotiation that preserved Mexican dignity.

A shared project of modernity

Plutarco Elías Calles was a pragmatic modernizer, not a radical like Zapata or Villa. He
sought to build a postrevolutionary state through schools, infrastructure and a cultural
program that recovered Indigenous pasts and fostered national cohesion. Morrow’s
diplomacy complemented that agenda. By promoting Mexican art and culture in the
United States, he lent international validation to Mexico’s nation-building narrative.
In return, Americans were offered a reassuring story of a neighbor on a path to stability.

Dwight Morrow embodied a paradox. He defended U.S. interests within an unequal
system, but he chose negotiation, legal process and cultural engagement over coercion.
He did not upend the power imbalance between nations, yet his methods reduced
violence and allowed Mexico’s postrevolutionary state to consolidate legitimacy without
the spectacle of foreign intervention.

A century on, Morrow’s tenure offers a practical lesson: diplomacy that respects
sovereignty, leans on law and pairs political negotiation with cultural exchange can
defuse crises and reshape perceptions. That approach does not erase the realities of
power; it simply shows that skillful, respectful engagement can prevent escalation and
open channels for mutual understanding.

In 1927, when military intervention remained conceivable, that was a significant achievement — and one worth remembering whenever international relations risk being reduced to slogans rather than solved through sustained, patient diplomacy.

Maria Meléndez writes for Mexico News Daily in Mexico City.

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Mastodons, mammoths and gigantic bird-like lizards — some of the world’s most impressive prehistoric species once roamed our country. To honor their impact and legacy in our present-day megabiodiversity, here’s our list of the most remarkable dinosaur species to roam Mexico for millions of years.

Where the dinosaurs were

The northern region of the country has seen abundant paleontological discoveries. Many species of “dire lizards,” as described by Gaceta UNAM, roamed throughout what is now Coahuila, a paleontological mecca due to its abundance of fossils. However, the northern states of Baja California, Sonora, Nuevo León and Chihuahua have also been of academic interest to paleontologists worldwide.

But while northern Mexico stands out from the rest of the country for its rich prehistoric fossil sites, central states like Michoacán and Puebla have also recorded significant discoveries, as documented by the Autonomous University of Aguascalientes. Further south, dinosaur remains have been found in the present-day region of Oaxaca and even along the coast of Guerrero.

It’s worth noting that these super-cool dinosaur species not only lived in the territory that now belongs to Mexico, but also often inhabited other parts of North America and possibly extended south of Mexico and further into the continent.

On a side note, during excavations for the Felipe Ángeles International Airport, workers unearthed a series of perfectly preserved mammoths. It was a find heralded by major media outlets around the world. Dubbed “Tierra de Gigantes” — the Land of Giants — this is the largest mammoth site in the world recorded to date. Due to the great number of well-preserved remains, the government even built an impressive site museum to display them.

It’s worth noting that prehistoric mammals such as mammoths are not considered dinosaurs. But Mexico does have an exceptional collection of fossil remains of ancient reptiles, unlike any other in the world.

So, which dinosaurs inhabited prehistoric Mexico?

Using the paleontological remains of both animals and plants, we can trace back in time what the current territory we now call Mexico was like (in biological terms, at least) in the age of the dinosaurs. Here’s a look at which dinosaurs have been found by paleontologists to have lived in Mexico in prehistoric times.

Quetzalcóatlus

This ginormous prehistoric lizard-bird inherited the name of our beloved feathered serpent god, Quetzalcóatl, the Lord of the Skies and the Wind. With a wingspan at times estimated at up to 16 meters, this was an azhdarchid pterosaur from the Late Cretaceous that lived on the North American continent about 66 million years ago, in the northern state of Coahuila. With a super sharp beak and stiff necks, these prehistoric animals are thought to have measured up to 10 meters tall.

Think of it as an enormous and very ancient vulture. As it fed mainly on carcasses of other smaller animals and soared over prehistoric Mexico’s skies, I can’t think of a better description for it. Given the impressive size of their vertebrae, some paleontologists dismiss this possibility, thinking instead that they caught their prey in mid-flight.

Megapnosaurus

Also known as “the great lethal lizard,” these prehistoric lizards are among the oldest deadly predators found in North America. This species inhabited the continent 200 million years ago, and was characterized as a small and agile predator (compared to its gigantic congeners, that is), only 3 meters long.

Based on the paleontological sites found, it is thought that these animals lived in herds, teaming up with their family members to hunt and feed. Impressively enough, these ancient lizards figure among the dinosaurs with feathers!

Gorgosaurus

Gorgosaurus, a distant relative of Tyrannosaurus rex, is among the apex predators of the large American lizards. It is known to have eaten big lizards and ancient birds, as well as large herbivores. They were so large that very young specimens found weighed over 330 kilograms. On average, according to Royal Tyrrell Museum (Canada) specialists, that is only 13% of the body mass of an adult specimen.

Reaching 8 meters in length at adulthood, this species is estimated to have been able to run up to 40 kilometers per hour. Based on remains found in the states of Baja California, Sonora and some areas of Coahuila, it is believed to be the largest carnivore discovered in Mexico.

Kritosaurus

The Kritosaurus belonged to a family of hadrosaurid dinosaurs that roamed in present-day Mexico during the Cretaceous period, approximately 73 million years ago. This herbivore, about 10 meters long and weighing four tons, is currently known for its spectacularly ornate skulls. So, yeah, they basically had prehistoric mohawks.

Besides their distinctive “hairstyle,” these giant lizards could be as big as a school bus. Based on the shape of the jaw, researchers think it had some kind of organ to communicate with their family members. As if that weren’t enough, it had a sharp beak, which helped it to uproot plants, which it then processed with a complex chewing apparatus capable of crushing the fibrous vegetation of the time.

Andrea Fischer contributes to the features desk at Mexico News Daily. She has edited and written for National Geographic en Español and Muy Interesante México, and continues to be an advocate for anything that screams science. Or yoga. Or both.

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“This is not so surprising, considering that Jalisco is one of the richest sites in the world for obsidian deposits, ranking number four after Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula,” added Esparza. “Nevertheless, we are losing it. Our obsidian is starting to vanish!”

Esparza’s observations come after the recent publication of a book entitled “La Obsidiana en Jalisco” (375 pages, El Colegio de Michoacán, 2025), of which he is a co-editor.

“Twelve writers contributed to this book,”  Esparza said, “giving us an up-to-date picture of what’s happening with obsidian in this state, and by extension in all of Mexico since Jalisco has more deposits of this traditional resource than any other part of the republic.”

The sharper edge

Obsidian is natural glass produced when lava flowing from a volcano cools quickly. For example, if it flows into water.

Curiously, obsidian is chemically the same as pumice, a rock which is ejected skyward from volcanoes and is so light that it floats.

Obsidian is an excellent material for blades and spearheads because it can produce a much sharper edge than any metal. The best scalpels in the world, in fact, are those made of obsidian. But, of course, they are very fragile.

The deadly Mexica sword

Because it can be used to make excellent knives and cutters, artisans have been working it since the dawn of time and have developed ingenious techniques for producing efficient blades. The Mexica even came up with a kind of machete called the macahuitl. This was a wide, flat sword made of wood with small obsidian blades glued into a slot all around the perimeter. Spaniards testified that with one blow, a macahuitl could easily decapitate a horse.

The remains of hundreds of ancient obsidian mines and workshops can be found in many parts of Jalisco, together with thousands of discarded artifacts bearing witness to a once-thriving industry that also had an impressive artistic component.

Ancient obsidian spangles

Take pre-Hispanic spangles, for instance. These are polished, coin-sized obsidian discs, only 1 or 2 millimeters thick, each perforated with a small hole. These were apparently meant to be sewn on clothing or strung together to form necklaces or bracelets. The finest of these are not discs at all, but small figures of animals or humans.

Even more astonishing are polished obsidian ear spools, just as thin as the spangles.

Today’s obsidian artisans can’t duplicate either of these, but they are using tools and techniques quite different from pre-Hispanic ones.

Still, with their grinding wheels and polishing discs, modern artisans turn out everything from spheres, hearts and butterflies to sophisticated works of art, taking full advantage of the many colors and sheens of Jalisco’s obsidian.

From Indian blood to rainbow

“We’ve found more than 20 colors here,” says Esparza. “There’s a mixture of red and black called meca, or Indian blood, which is much sought after, along with subtle meldings of gray and green. But, without doubt, the most popular kind of obsidian is arcoiris (rainbow), which gives you a mixture of almost every color.”

Some obsidians exhibit a deep sheen that almost seems to glow. Gold and silver sheens are the most sought-after.

Some of Mexico’s finest sculptors take advantage of obsidian’s special characteristics, bringing their works of molded clay to skilled artisans who reproduce them in natural volcanic glass.

In Chapter Six of “Obsidian in Jalisco,”  Esparza lists modern workshops in the towns of Tequila, Teuchitlán, Magdalena, San Marcos and Navajas. 

A visitor to any one of these workshops will have a golden opportunity to examine a variety of obsidian. Because all the workshops are continually exchanging pieces, you can quickly see everything available in the region. That would be the perfect moment to say: “Don Eleno, do you think you could turn this gorgeous piece of blue obsidian into a dolphin?”

Cheap rubble

But you’d better not wait too long to do this; the varieties and quantities of obsidian in Jalisco are on the decline.

“A key factor behind this problem,” says Esparza, “is that obsidian — which was once highly valued in Mexico — is now officially classified as cascajo (rubble), a category that also includes gravel and clinkers. Believe it or not, today you can buy obsidian for 1 peso per kilo.”

This means that forward-looking opportunists around the world can afford to purchase Jalisco obsidian in great quantities and ship it home.

Chinese connection

Naturally, the first to disappear are rarities like rainbow obsidian. For example, it was once abundant in the remote village of La Lobera, the last place in the world you’d expect to find a representative of China out looking for bargains.

But, “it’s all gone!” a local craftsman told me some years ago. “It’s all in China now.”

Another thing international bargain hunters are looking for is high-quality obsidian in large chunks. If you’d like to create the Pietà in obsidian, you have to start with a big piece. The place to go for blocks of obsidian, a cubic meter or larger in size, is a certain quarry near Magdalena, Jalisco. 

But if you go there today, they’ll tell you, “Sorry, amigo, you are too late. The Chinese cleaned us out years ago.” Alas, you may have to forget about creating the Pietà in obsidian and sculpt a pizza instead.

Another place to which Jalisco’s obsidian is escaping is Teotihuacán.

The depletion of obsidian in Mexico

“Tourists love to buy obsidian souvenirs at this famous site,” Esparza said,” but local deposits [in México state] have been depleted thanks to entrepreneurs who have shipped the obsidian to places like Saudi Arabia, Japan and China. So artisans in the Mexico City area now come to Jalisco to buy their raw materials.”

This means if you have no obsidian knick-knacks on your shelves, you’d better visit a Jalisco workshop pronto … or buy yourself a ticket to China. 

You’ll find the book “La Obsidiana en Jalisco” (entirely in Spanish) in the Colmich Bookstore. Co-editor Manuel Prados’ obsidian photo dossier can be accessed here.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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The accidental discovery of more than 750 fossilized bones of Ice Age-era megafauna — mammoths, saber-toothed tigers, giant ground sloths and various horse species that disappeared from the Americas before the Spanish arrived with modern breeds — was first revealed more than a year ago. It was the subject of a detailed article in MND last April, which can be read here. 

More recently, however, the find has burst into the public limelight after Luis Espinasa, a biologist from the Marist University in New York and graduate of the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), briefed the media on what he called “the largest paleontological deposit identified so far in the Huasteca Potosina region.”

If all goes according to plan, part of the collection will be housed locally in the Huasteco Regional Museum AC, located in Ciudad Valles, the Huasteca’s major city. The rest will remain in the Institute of Geology of the UNAM, where specialized analyses will continue.

According to Espinasa, budget limitations are hampering the full scientific potential of the discovery. Of the 750 bones found, only five have been dated using carbon-14 testing, with results showing the oldest specimen — a saber-toothed tiger — dates back 30,000 years, while the most recent, a bison, is 8,000 years old. The research team is now seeking sponsors to finance pending scientific analyses, including ancient DNA extraction from key specimens like the giant ground sloth, bears, saber-toothed cats and dire wolves.

This cave in San Luis Potosí was hiding Ice Age giants

For safety reasons related to bats, potentially dangerous fungi and steep drops, the exact location of the cave hasn’t been revealed. The site has legal protection and authorization from the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH).

According to Espinasa, the exploration was originally intended to study blind cavefish, a species adapted to subterranean ecosystems. However, during the expedition, the team located numerous bone fragments that did not belong to present-day fauna.

Espinasa explained that the cave’s mineral conditions fostered an exceptional fossilization process, allowing the remains to be preserved in a remarkable state, uncommon in this type of environment. He added that the discovery will bring more insight into the food chains that existed in the region during the Pleistocene era.

This is not the first time Ice Age-era fossils have been found in San Luis Potosí. In 2015, scientists in Cedral, a small municipality not in the Huasteca but in the dryer altiplano region north of the state capital of San Luis Potosí, found bones of a mammoth and other animals in what was an ancient basin with springs where they had become trapped.

With reports from El Universal, La Jornada de Oriente and Potosí Noticias

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