I got my wish: New York University accepted me, and I spent several years immersed in the New York City scene, absorbing everything that an expensive American education promises: intellectual rigor, professional networks, the intoxicating energy of a global city. 

It was a wonderful experience, but it broke the bank and sent me through the spiral of New York City extremes: late nights, hustling ambition, ruthless competition — and some intense partying. When I look at my student loan balance today, I can’t say there are no regrets.

Now, decades later, I find myself on the other side of the equation, as a college professor running a business in Mexico City. I’ve started asking questions I never thought to ask as a teenager: What does higher education look like here in Mexico? What is the price range? What programs are Mexican universities strongest in? How are schools here different from universities around the globe? And, perhaps most importantly, how are these schools regarded internationally and in the workplace? 

The landscape of Mexican higher education

Mexico has 1,250 registered universities serving a nation of 128 million. At the apex sit institutions largely unknown to Americans but integral to Mexican society and Latin American academia.

Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM) is a giant: Founded in 1551, it’s one of the oldest universities in the Americas and enrolls over 350,000 students. Its brutalist architecture main campus, a UNESCO World Heritage site, sprawls across former lava fields in southern Mexico City. This is where Mexico’s presidents, intellectuals and Nobel laureates have been educated for generations.

Then there’s Tecnológico de Monterrey, known as “el Tec.” Founded in 1943 by Monterrey industrialists, it’s Mexico’s premier private university, with 26 campuses nationwide: Think Mexico’s Stanford, focused on innovation and entrepreneurship.

The Instituto Politécnico Nacional (IPN), founded in 1936, serves as the public counterpart, specializing in engineering and technical fields. The Metropolitan Autonomous University (UAM) in Mexico City focuses on social sciences and humanities. Private institutions like Universidad Panamericana and Anáhuac University cater to upper-middle-class families seeking Catholic educational values and smaller class sizes.

Yet by global metrics, Mexican higher education remains invisible. Not a single Mexican university appears in the top 100 of the QS World University Rankings or the Times Higher Education World University Rankings for 2025–2026. UNAM has slipped to No. 136 on QS’s rankings. Tec de Monterrey ranks seventh in Latin America, but No. 187 worldwide. Compare this to MIT’s near-perfect scores or Oxford’s century-long prestige and the gap between Mexico’s universities and these academic titans seems unbridgeable.

The price of prestige

Undergraduate programs in Mexico paint an encouraging picture: UNAM charges a symbolic cuota of approximately 0.25 pesos (practically free) per year, plus minor fees like 490 pesos for the admission exam. For many Mexican students, it’s highly accessible. IPN operates similarly, with semester fees around 400 pesos, making technical education accessible to working-class families historically locked out of professional careers.

The private institutions tell a different story. Tec de Monterrey charges around 350,000 pesos (about US $19,600) annually; expensive by Mexican standards but accessible to the growing middle class via scholarships. Universities like Anáhuac and Panamericana reach around 150,000-200,000 pesos (about US $8,500–$12,000) per year.

Even at the high end, these prices seem quaint. A single semester at NYU now exceeds $60,000. Full cost of attendance pushes $90,000 annually.

This creates a paradox that global rankings can’t measure: accessibility versus prestige. While I was accumulating debt that takes decades to repay, Mexican students were earning degrees for a fraction of the cost. The question becomes: What is that prestige worth?

Why the rankings gap persists

The machinery of global university rankings operates on assumptions that favor wealthy, English-speaking institutions. Statistics such as research volume and the number of academic citations per faculty member carry enormous weight. Many of these metrics require sustained funding, international collaboration networks and publication in high-impact English-language academic journals. Mexican universities, operating with tighter budgets and publishing primarily in Spanish, find themselves automatically disadvantaged.

Internationalization presents another barrier. Elite institutions assemble diverse student bodies and faculty from around the world. Mexican universities serve primarily Mexican students, a model that makes a great deal of sense for a national education system but reads as provincial in global metrics.

Reputation perpetuates existing hierarchies. Academic and employer panels recognize names they already know: Harvard, Oxford, the Sorbonne. It’s a self-reinforcing cycle where prestige begets prestige.

What rankings miss

Yet Mexico’s academic world reveals what rankings cannot capture. UNAM houses world-class researchers in fields from astronomy (it operates major telescopes) to anthropology (its scholars lead excavations of pre-Hispanic sites).

Tec de Monterrey has pioneered educational models focused on entrepreneurship and practical innovation, emphasizing problem-based learning and industry partnerships. IPN has educated generations of Mexican engineers from modest backgrounds who went on to lead the country’s industrial development.

These institutions serve their own societies in deeply impactful ways. They train the doctors, engineers, lawyers and teachers that keep a nation functioning. They conduct research on local problems — water management, earthquake engineering, Indigenous language preservation — that might not generate citations in international academic research but that matter to millions.

The broader question

This raises questions about how we value education globally. The rankings industry has created a monoculture of aspiration, where universities worldwide chase the same metrics, often at the expense of contributions to their local communities. These universities pour resources into attracting international students and faculty, into publishing in English, into research areas favored by citation indices, all to climb a few spots on a list that may or may not correlate with actual educational quality.

Meanwhile, the debt crisis in American higher education continues to worsen. The average U.S. student now graduates owing nearly $30,000, and many owe far more, whereas a Mexican student who graduates from UNAM debt-free, with a solid education and connections to their country’s professional networks, may well have better long-term prospects than their American counterpart drowning in loan payments despite a degree from a “better” institution.

Looking forward

As I advise my own students now, I find myself questioning the assumptions I never thought to question at their age. The global higher education system measures international visibility but not local impact, research citations but not teaching quality, prestige but not accessibility.

Mexican universities may not currently crack the global top 100. But perhaps that says more about the limitations of our ranking systems than about the quality of education these universities provide. In a world increasingly questioning the sustainability of elite higher education’s cost structure, institutions that deliver quality education affordably might represent the future.

Monica Belot is a writer, researcher, strategist and adjunct professor at Parsons School of Design in New York City, where she teaches in the Strategic Design & Management Program. Splitting her time between NYC and Mexico City, where she resides with her naughty silver labrador puppy Atlas, Monica writes about topics spanning everything from the human experience to travel and design research. Follow her varied scribbles on Medium at medium.com/@monicabelot.

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Because there are only two entrances (and exits) to the colonia, things can get pretty congested. As vehicles wait on narrow streets for lights that will let them get back onto the main road, it’s common for a car to be waiting right on top of the tracks. We’re scrunched up, and people are impatient to get out of there. To make matters more dramatic, the lights for going straight or turning left are incredibly short; if not everyone’s paying attention, it’s perfectly possible for only three cars to make it out at a time.

In case you’re wondering, let me put your mind at ease: no, there are no railway crossing gates. There might be a sign somewhere that indicates there’s a track there, but honestly, if there is it doesn’t stick out enough to be memorable. 

Wait, I found it!

So how do you know a train is barreling down the tracks? Well, they’re usually pretty good at blowing the train whistle when they know they’re about to pass a highly-trafficked area. Also, you might see it if you turn your head. Those two indicators are about it.

Like many countries in the Americas, passenger train service was a big deal in the 19th and 20th centuries in Mexico. In 1937, President Lázaro Cárdenas nationalized Mexico’s train service, creating the Ferrocarriles Nacionales de México (the Mexican National Railroad).

Alas, the automobile increased in popularity and affordability as the 20th century wore on, and passenger trains became less and less utilized.

Regular passenger train service ended in Mexico with the 1995 Constitutional Railway Reform. According to Infobae, “The scarcity of public resources…and the conviction that state ownership did not guarantee better management of the sector” were the main arguments in favor of privatizing the railways. Private companies would improve the now pretty decrepit rail infrastructure in ways the government couldn’t (or wouldn’t) afford to. Those private companies, however, were only interested in maintaining freight service. It was the final nail in the coffin for passenger service.

Those students of more recent history, though, know that one of former President López Obrador’s (2018-2024) biggest goals was reviving passenger train travel. His two biggest signature projects in this area were of course the Maya Train and the Interoceanic Railroad.

Now, I’m on Team Train. Anything that helps get us to a point where more public transportation is available is, to me, a good idea. In a place absolutely stuffed to the brim with individual vehicles, it’s nice to know that the government is prioritizing opportunities to travel efficiently and quickly around the country. Every person on a train or a bus, after all, is one less stuck in traffic (well, a bus can get stuck in traffic, but you know what I mean).

How are the trains doing? Well…

Let’s set aside the recent derailment for a moment (we’ll get to it later, I promise).

The Maya Train is working, after having gone over budget and facing backlash from environmentalists and local communities. Well, what’s new? Most big projects in most places in the world take longer than they’re meant to and cost more than originally estimated. That part gets a resounding shrug from me. And of course, any project is always going to have its detractors; things will be lost when a big project that requires land comes to town. I’m not here to argue whether it’s a “net good” or a “net bad,” for now. It needs more evaluation time.

Is it making money? No, and likely won’t for a couple of decades. But you know, sometimes you just have to build it and hope they’ll come. After several decades of Mexicans having zero access to passenger train travel, it’s going to take a while for them to start considering it a real option. I mean at this point, a couple of generations of Mexicans have never been on a train at all. It could take some time to get people using it.

It could especially take people a while to start using it if they think they might die when they’re on it.

I’m speaking now, of course, of the terrible end-of-year tragedy on the Interoceanic route that killed 13 people. (It was certainly not the only train-related accident of late. As Mexico regrows its railway system, accidents with other vehicles have been increasing).

We still don’t know exactly what happened. We do know, though, that some passengers perceived the train as going “extra fast” as it approached the curve. Was that it? I’m literally on the edge of my seat waiting for those results.

I have my suspicions, of course. Like many government projects — especially the “incorruptible” Morena ones — corners get cut and questionable decisions are made. (For some good reporting on how exactly, check out El País’s articles on irregularities both with the Maya Train and the Interoceanic Train.)

Sometimes it seems that asking Mexican politicians to not engage is corrupt behavior is like asking toddlers to hang out unsupervised in a candy shop and not eat anything. Really, what do we think is going to happen?

Also, can someone tell me what the freaking Navy knows about trains? Serious question.

So if we want trains to regain their footing (or railing, as it were), what do we need to do? At least regarding this accident, Sheinbaum promised to “…look for the best certification body so that, if they make recommendations on what needs to be done about these curves or … to make the route safer, we can take them into account.”

Okay, good. Good start. Certification body. Might I suggest a certification body from…China? Japan? France? Really, just anywhere where they already have admirably functioning train systems in place? And then could they stick around and help us build out the system once what’s here already is fixed? At the very least, how about an exchange program: we send Mexican railroad engineers to China for a few years to learn from the best.

Because you can’t get people to trust you unless you prove yourself trustworthy. And unfortunately at this point, even those of us who really, really want to see these train projects succeed would be hesitant about boarding.

And for God’s sake, can we please get some of those automatic railway crossing gates? Maybe it’s just me, but I think drivers should be told pretty dramatically if they’re in danger of getting run over by a train. Then there are the bozos who think they’re Speedy Gonzalez and can outrun it that need to be physically stopped.

Passenger trains could be all over Mexico. But to get people to actually use them, they’ve got to have a reasonable assumption that getting close to or on them will not lead to death.

Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, sarahedevries.substack.com.

The post If we love trains, we need to love train expertise appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Our mission at Mexico News Daily is to be the most balanced and complete source of news and information about Mexico. Day in and day out, we are waging a constant battle against those who are in the “misinformation for clicks” business. Occasionally, we run into someone else trying to show the “real Mexico,” only to find out that the real motivation behind the curtain is to sell real estate, health supplements or something worse. It seems like just about everyone these days is trying to get your attention about something, only to sell you something else.

I get it, it’s the world we live in. But it does highlight the need to make us as consumers (or scollers on social media) more aware. I guess you could say it’s the modern-day version of being offered something free in return for listening to a timeshare presentation. It sounds good at first, but then quickly turns into: Let the buyer beware!

It is with that backdrop that we were intrigued by Steve. Servant Steve lives in Mexico with his family and posts on Instagram, Facebook and TikTok. He creates short videos in which he tells stories about what he sees in Mexico that “they don’t show you” back home. His stories hit a chord with us as they seemed genuine, heartfelt and true. He highlights the preconceived notions of topics as broad as family, faith, raising children, the definition of middle class and personal safety — just to name a few. His message resonated with us as he — like our team at MND — is inspired to show the Mexico they often don’t tell you about. So we reached out to him.

Click on the link below to watch the latest episode of “Confidently Wrong” in which we interview Steve. His story, his motivation, his message and his passion are fascinating. Check it out and get inspired!

Travis Bembenek is the CEO of Mexico News Daily and has been living, working or playing in Mexico for nearly 30 years.

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Can you see a pattern here? I sure do.

I’m hooked, you’re hooked, we’re all hooked. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the dude driving the train that went off the rails in Oaxaca was scrolling on his phone in the minutes before (victims so far have simply commented on the speed with which a sharp turn was approached.)

I’ve been musing lately with my partner that the only way to make an interesting movie lately is to set it in the “before times” — you know, before we had powerful, fast smartphones with the whole of human knowledge and entertainment at our fingertips. Some plots cause the characters to lose their phones for some reason, while others simply pretend they haven’t taken over our collective attention spans. Hallmark and Lifetime-type movies especially tend to create a special world where people practically forget they have smartphones in the first place. A phone rings, they pause as if trying to figure out what’s making the sound, and then fish it out from the bottom of a bag? Please.

Lots of movies and shows these days are set in the past, I think, to get around this problem. Why? With everyone walking around with their eyes glued to a tiny computer, there’s just less novel activity to notice.

What does this have to do with Mexico?

Well, Mexico’s being swept up in the same technology as the rest of the world is. As of 2024, over 80% of the Mexican population were internet users, with most of them accessing the internet on their phones.

Uh-oh.

The internet, of course, is not in and of itself bad. It’s a tool, and there’s a lot of great things to be found — like this website, for example! Smartphones are also a tool, as are computers, as is the much-hyped but fairly brain-smoothing Artificial Intelligence. And as much as I gripe about too many screens, I still got my kid a new iPad for Christmas (in my defense, I can control app use and screen time).

Perhaps it’s the ability to take these “tools” with us everywhere that’s the problem. When I arrived in Mexico in 2002, cell phones were still a relatively new thing. Some people had radio-like “Nextels” instead, actually. They were really noisy and made the users sound super important.

I had access to the internet back then, but I had to go to the internet café across the street to use it. I’d write some emails and maybe chat on MSN Messenger for a bit — the preferred platform then — and then go about my business. I’d do that maybe once or twice a week. These days, it’s nearly impossible, and not a little panic-inducing, to even think of going an entire day without my phone. What if something happens?

Most often, of course, nothing happens, and the phone serves as simply a distraction device. I have conversations on WhatsApp and check my email. And though I’ve long since removed the “slot machine” apps from my phone (goodbye, Facebook and Instagram!), I still find myself reaching for it in times of boredom or anxiety, simply as something to do. Does the fact that I mostly use it to read news articles make it any better? [Editor’s note: Yes, if it’s MND] Maybe for my brain, but certainly not for my social skills.

To make things more complicated, we actually miss out on a lot of important things without it. How many locals do you know, for example, that you can get a hold of by any means besides WhatsApp? Banks require smartphone verifications, and essential communication for our jobs happens over an array of messaging platforms.

You could give them a ring, except for the fact that most people don’t even answer their phones anymore. Extortion by phone is so rampant, and landlines are becoming a thing of the past. The option to simply ignore your phone is really just a privilege. We’re expected to be forever available on it, while expectations for in-person availability have plummeted.

In the end, the feeling now is that the tech overlords have simply won. We’re addicted, and now we’re so addicted that we can’t do much to stop them. All of us, I believe, have a hunch that it can’t be good for us, the way smokers must have before there was actually hard evidence of the damage smoking caused.

Shortages of available land and water for AI? Oh yes, that does sound very bad! We’ll think of what to do about it as soon as we’re done watching this TikTok.

And that right there — I mean, it was a joke, but still — is our whole problem. Look up while sitting in a café or the park these days and I guarantee you’ll see at least half of everyone, workers included, with their heads bent toward their phones. No more chatting in public transport; everyone’s in their own private world now. For introverts, it’s likely a welcome change. For me, it’s scary and sad.

And then there’s our poor little atrophying brains.

Like Travis said, AI particularly has the real potential to make us dumber. And like the insidiousness of smartphones themselves with their unlimited endless scrolls, I fear that by the time the majority of us realize we need to do something about the damage they cause, especially to kids, it will be too late. For all the hype of AI, most people are using it as simply another distraction.

Mexican companies are mostly using it to be “more productive,” which, as far as I can tell, is code for saving money on writers and translators [Editor’s note: see me].

Maybe there are some good things coming as a result. I mean, murder and crime are down, no doubt in part because would-be criminals are too busy watching funny YouTube shorts.

But when we go along with the rest of the world in allowing our phones and endless scrolls and unlimited access to both the real and the AI-generated distract us, we lose something. Casual chats in lines and on buses disappear. Opportunities to hang out, to convivir. We don’t learn each other’s languages.

Being social is a skill, and one that Mexicans have traditionally excelled so much at that they’re famous for it. But Mexicans aren’t immune to the technology that’s seducing us all. I hope we can get a handle on it before we’re all zombies.

Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, sarahedevries.substack.com.

The post Mexico isn’t immune to the seduction of the smartphone appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Lupita’s story is part of Mexico News Daily’s ongoing “My American Dream is in Mexico” series, which explores the rising movement of Mexican-Americans choosing to build their lives in the country their families once left. Through these profiles, the series examines what motivates their return, how they navigate the in-between of two cultures, and the unexpected sense of belonging they often rediscover along the way.

From the Bay Area to New York City

Lupita Ramos was born and raised in the Bay Area, the eldest daughter of Mexican immigrant parents who came to the United States in search of better opportunities. Her upbringing was firmly blue collar, shaped by early responsibility and parents who worked hard to create stability. She grew up in San Bruno, in a neighborhood where Mexican culture wasn’t something you visited — it was the everyday. “You don’t even need to speak English,” she says. “We lived in the section where all the Mexicans lived in. We had all the ties.”

That closeness to community did not mean assimilation came easily. Lupita came of age during a time when speaking Spanish at school was discouraged, even punished. She remembers being reprimanded for using Spanish and being considered for ESL placement simply because she was Mexican, despite being fluent in English. At home, Spanish was nonnegotiable. She was expected to speak it properly, alongside an upbringing steeped in music, traditions, and cultural expression. That immersion would later shape her professional path.

At 18, Lupita began working in Hispanic media, starting in radio promotions geared toward Mexican audiences. From promoting bailes and nightclubs to outreach at soccer matches like Mexico versus the U.S., her early career revolved around cultural spaces she knew intimately. “Everything I’ve ever done has been Mexican,” she says. That throughline carried into corporate media buying, where her cultural fluency became a professional asset and consistently placed her in Hispanic and Latino markets.

Lupita met her husband while attending San José State University, where she also became the first in her family to go to college. He was born and raised in Mexico City, and their connection felt immediate. The two married young, and just five months after their wedding, they moved to New York City after Lupita was accepted into graduate school.

What followed was nearly a decade defined by ambition, movement, and possibility. New York became the place where Lupita fully stepped into adulthood, both personally and professionally. She and her husband traveled often, explored the East Coast, and made their first trips to Europe. “We were living that hustle life,” she says. At the time, motherhood was not yet part of the picture, and New York offered exactly the energy she wanted in her twenties.

A new chapter begins

Turning 30 brought a subtle shift. It wasn’t urgency as much as awareness. Around her, friends and colleagues struggled to get pregnant, prompting Lupita to consider uncertainty for the first time. Despite her academic and professional confidence, motherhood felt unfamiliar. She assumed it might not come easily.

Then it did.

Lupita became pregnant while living in New York, a city she genuinely loved. But as the initial joy settled, she began to imagine what daily life would look like with a child and realized how little space the city allowed for the presence she wanted as a mother. Long commutes, rigid work schedules, and childcare costs clashed with the family life she envisioned. “It just didn’t make sense,” she recalls.

The decision wasn’t about leaving New York behind, but about recognizing that the life she had built there no longer fit what came next. California, where her parents lived, felt like one option. But it was her husband, who had spent nearly 14 years in the U.S., who suggested Mexico. His family was in Mexico City, and the idea of raising their child closer to extended family felt grounding.

Lupita had visited Mexico City before, but only briefly. “I didn’t imagine a life here,” she admits. Still, the more they talked, the more the move felt less like a leap and more like a natural progression.

She gave birth in the United States in 2018, mindful of healthcare and citizenship. Two months later, once her son received his passport, they moved to Mexico City. What began as practical conversations became a turning point. The city she once knew only as a destination became the place where their life as a family would begin.

The demands of motherhood

Motherhood, Lupita says, is not something you ease into. It arrives fully formed and immediately rearranges everything — time, energy, identity. The change isn’t inherently negative, but it is all-encompassing. Without a strong support system, the weight of that shift often lands squarely on the mother.

“You don’t get a moment to yourself,” she says. “You can’t get sick. You can’t stop. You’re the nurse, the teacher, the comfort — the everything.”

Even with a partner who helps, the balance never feels equal. There are physical realities, like nursing, and emotional ones that are harder to quantify. Lupita describes how a woman’s needs are slowly deprioritized, not by intention, but by necessity. Rest, solitude, and even basic self-care begin to feel like luxuries rather than expectations.

Motherhood also reshapes identity in quieter ways. A woman doesn’t stop being herself, but she becomes layered beneath responsibility. Lupita found herself constantly evaluating her actions, replaying moments in her head, questioning every response. “Was I too soft? Was I too harsh? Should I have cuddled more?” she asks. The mental load, she explains, never shuts off.

She points out how emotionally demanding that responsibility can be, especially when it comes to shaping how children understand the world. Mothers often carry the invisible labor of emotional regulation — teaching empathy, offering reassurance, managing feelings — while also absorbing guilt when things feel imperfect. “Our brains are constantly going,” she says. “That’s why it’s exhausting.”

For Lupita, this emotional weight was one of the clearest indicators that she couldn’t do it alone. The idea of raising children without a village felt unsustainable. In New York, that support felt out of reach. In Mexico, it was built into daily life. When she became overwhelmed, she could call her mother-in-law and ask for help without explanation. “She’s my village,” Lupita says. Sometimes, that help meant something as simple as space. “I would sit on my couch, no TV, no phone, just staring at the wall. Just decompressing.”

That kind of support, she believes, is not a luxury — it’s essential. Motherhood, in all its intensity, becomes more manageable when it is shared. Without that, it is often the mother who carries the heaviest emotional cost.

Motherhood clarified what she needed most, and it reshaped how she viewed the decision to build her life in Mexico City.

A new life in Mexico City

When Lupita moved to Mexico City in 2018, the adjustment was far from seamless. Family members questioned the decision, viewing it as a reversal of sacrifice. She had a master’s degree, a career, and a life in the U.S. Why return to Mexico to focus on motherhood?

At the time, Mexico City felt very different from the version many recognize today. English wasn’t widely spoken in neighborhoods like Condesa or Roma, and Lupita was careful not to stand out. She went from navigating New York independently to feeling constrained by logistics, language, and unfamiliar routines. With a stroller and no sense of the city yet, even simple tasks required planning. Much of her independence faded almost overnight.

Socially, the transition was just as challenging. She arrived into her husband’s world — his family, his friends, his city. Despite being Mexican-American, she was often reminded that she wasn’t Mexican in the way people expected. “People assumed I would adjust easily,” she says, “but being Mexican-American and being Mexican here are very different things.”

What anchored her through that period was her children.

Gradually, Lupita began to rethink success and stability. The American Dream, as she once understood it, no longer felt like the right reference point. In the U.S., providing a certain lifestyle would have required working more and being present less. In Mexico, life moved at a different pace. Family was prioritized. Community shaped daily life. There was room to be present.

Over time, she rebuilt her sense of self. She learned the city the way she once learned New York, slowly and intentionally. She pushed herself to make friends and to show up as more than a mother. “I had to rewire myself,” she says. “You’re more than a mom.”

Mexico City became less about adjustment and more about fit. Not perfect and not effortless, but sustainable.

Raising children with new perspectives

Raising her children in Mexico has sharpened Lupita’s awareness of what she wants them to learn beyond academics. In Mexico City, social inequality is visible in everyday life, and she sees value in her children witnessing that reality early on. It allows her to teach empathy, gratitude, and kindness — lessons she feels are harder to cultivate when life is more insulated.

She also notices a difference in how children move through the world. Compared to the U.S., where screens often dominate childhood, daily life in Mexico still emphasizes presence and social interaction. Children accompany adults on errands, greet neighbors, visit mercados, and participate in public life. Family time moves at a slower pace, with shared meals and outings that include children rather than sidelining them.

Her children don’t yet think of themselves as bicultural. To them, Mexico is simply home. They attend school here, prefer Spanish, and feel rooted in their neighborhoods. The U.S. exists more as a reference point, much like Lupita’s own childhood visits to her parents’ rancho in Guadalajara.

That grounding has reinforced her decision to stay, especially given the political and economic uncertainty in the U.S. Knowing her children are bilingual and able to move between countries if needed offers reassurance, but for now, she feels their environment supports the values she wants to pass on.

Education remains the one area where she feels conflicted. Mexico’s private school system can be insular and highly stratified, and she’s aware of the bubble it creates. While her son attends a school that works for their family, she wishes there were more diversity and broader exposure. It isn’t ideal, but it’s a compromise she’s willing to make — for now.

Looking ahead

Lupita doesn’t feel the need to define the future too rigidly. She imagines her children eventually experiencing life in the United States — high school, prom, sports, college — while remaining grounded in Mexico. What matters most to her is flexibility and the ability to respond to different seasons of life.

“Yes,” she says, “I’m definitely living the Mexican dream.”

The American Dream, as she experienced it, centered on possibility through achievement. Education, income, upward mobility. In Mexico, the focus has shifted. It’s less about accumulation and more about the kind of life being built. The pace is slower. Time feels less scarce. Family and community shape daily life.

Lupita is clear-eyed about the tradeoffs. Not everything is easier, and systems work differently. But for this chapter, the values Mexico reinforces align with what she wants for her family. After years of hustle and movement, she has chosen a life that leaves room to dream — not just about what her children might become, but about how they will live.

Rocio is a Mexican-American writer based in Mexico City. She was born and raised in a small village in Durango and moved to Chicago at age 12, a bicultural experience that shapes her lens on life in Mexico. She’s the founder of CDMX IYKYK, a newsletter for expats, digital nomads, and the Mexican diaspora, and Life of Leisure, a women’s wellness and spiritual community.

The post My American Dream is in Mexico: Lupita Ramos appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum has done a fantastic job at keeping her firecracker counterpart north of the border relatively calm. Ideologically, they might as well be opposites. But as I’ve said before, there’s no greater skill a Mexican politician can have than knowing how to keep literal gangsters happy-ish. And if you can deal with narcos, you can deal with Trump.

But this isn’t meant to be a year-in-review. Who’s got the memory for that? Instead, I thought I’d outline a list of wishes I have for Mexico in the coming year.

Without further ado:

1. That we’ll finally get a handle on our justice system. Getting justice ain’t easy around here, that’s for sure. Between undertrained and underpaid police forces and narcos making sure everyone knows who the real bosses are, it’s an uphill battle. AMLO had it partially right — that lack of opportunities for young people certainly contributes to the problem of crime. But that’s not the only thing that needs to be solved. A growing militarized National Guard makes me a tad nervous, I’ll admit. But drawing the “on-the-ground” law enforcement that needs to be happening away from super localized forces seems to be doing some good. And how have all our newly elected judges been doing? Well, it’s early. The jury’s still out (get it?). But crime is down, and that’s a win. Let’s hope for more!
2. That the peso will keep doing well…but not too well. Oh, Mexican peso. You are making me sad. Please stop?           
   This is, of course, a complicated one. On the one hand, we want Mexican currency to do well, and it is doing well. On the other hand, for those of us depending on US dollars to live down here, things are tough and getting tougher. And remember, “rich” expats aren’t the only ones living on U.S. dollars: families relying on remittances from abroad are, too. As prices continue to increase and the dollar continues to lose value, it sure feels like 2023 is back again!
3. That the root of gentrification — inequality — will be addressed and made less painful. There’s been quite a bit of talk about gentrification this year. Once protests kicked off in Mexico City’s choicest neighborhoods, it seemed there was no going back. Now, it’s a complicated topic with its true root in economic inequality and the power that we allow money to have these days.
   And while workers aren’t starting to see their fair share fast enough for this crazy socialist, we’ve certainly made some progress this year. The minimum wage is up, and a 40-hour work week is in sight. This is only true for the formal sector, of course, but hey — it’s a start. Now if we could just figure out how average workers might earn enough to buy houses for themselves…

   

4. That Mexico’s migrants and returning immigrants will find their place. When I think of immigrants living in the U.S. right now, it’s all pain, pain, and more pain. Deportations have not only ramped up — even for those with legal permission to be there — but some gratuitous torture seems to have been thrown in for good measure. “Detention centers” resembling concentration camps in their treatment of those inside are popping up like dandelions with, so far, no sign of stopping.
   Even so, home is home. If I were told I had to move back to the U.S. immediately, I’m not sure what I would do. For those who’ve lived in the U.S. for years, the transition back can’t be easy; especially when it comes to the vast difference in wages. What will receiving so many people back mean for us? Hopefully, all good things and new ideas for how to make things better for all of us.
5. That we’ll get a real handle on our natural resources and their equitable distribution, and will go up, up, up in clean energy! I was very excited when Sheinbaum was elected, in part because of her background as a climate scientist. Finally, a president who would make room for clean energy in Mexico!
   I won’t lie — I’d really hoped she’d move faster. Pero algo es algo, and hopefully with time we’ll see renewable energy plants popping up everywhere, as well as water catchment systems become standard equipment in most homes. This place is too pretty to pollute.
6. That we’ll actually let government workers professionalize. Every time we get a new governor in Veracruz, it’s the same thing: a bunch of people lose their jobs. Why? Because the new government “brings in their own people,” often owing them favors for help they gave during the campaign. This means that soon after, you suddenly have lots of new people working in government posts. This isn’t true for every single job, but true enough that many simply have to “reinvent the wheel” with every change.
   In addition to not letting people get really, really good at certain jobs, it’s practically begging for corruption. “Get what you can now because later you’ll be out of a job with few chances of getting the kind of insider-help you might now.” Yikes.
7. Public transportation infrastructure will get some major investments and updates. In my head, I have several “fantasy routes” for my city, Xalapa. Its car population has literally doubled over the past few years, and man, it’s a drag. I’d personally be willing to take buses almost everywhere if they were even a little reliable time-wise. As it is, we’re all at a standstill — there are just too many vehicles on the road.
   But if I’d take a bus, I bet a lot of other people would, too. We could leave our cars at home, using them just for getting groceries or going on road trips. So far I’ve got 5 fantasy routes (at least 50 buses per route) and counting. Perhaps at least a few of them will show up this year?

Happy 2026, Mexico. I hope all our dreams come true.

Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, sarahedevries.substack.com.

The post Wishes for the New Year in Mexico appeared first on Mexico News Daily

If you live in a bi-cultural home, or have Mexican extended family and friends, you’ll have no choice: if they invite you over for dinner, recalentado will be a part of your life for quite a time this January.

Between the rush and the pending tasks that the end-of-year festivities left behind, it seems that this Mexican tradition is a great way to deal with the start of a new year. There are, however, some security and nutritional measures to keep in mind. Here’s what to know.

What on Earth is recalentado, anyway?

We, Mexicans, have serious attachment issues with our food. Especially the leftovers. That’s why the recalentado season lasts so long. It’s even longer than the dreaded Guadalupe-Reyes, the horrible tradition of getting drunk every day from Dec. 12, the Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, to Jan. 6, the Day of the Three Wise Men (Día de Reyes). Believe it or not, Mexicans eat Christmas leftovers even past the January festivities.

Although the fridge is stuffed with recalentado Tupperware — and it often is kind of stinky by now — Mexican families find it impossible to simply throw everything away. Abuelas and aunties still find extraordinary excuses to prepare turkey tortas with a romeritos topping. Is this safe to consume?

Holiday leftover protocols

In an interview with Mexico News Daily, nutritionist Ana Teresa Copca explained, “Leftovers can be enjoyed safely for approximately 3 to 4 days after preparation.” Any dish should be safe to consume if refrigerated after cooling, “as long as the food has been stored properly,” she added. To securely store food after serving, she suggests a simple protocol:

Do not leave the food at room temperature beyond 2 hours after serving, as this “prevents bacteria from multiplying.”

Store in airtight containers and divide into small portions.

When reheating food, make sure it is piping hot, not just lukewarm.

If a strange odor, color or texture appears, do not consume it.

Although she acknowledges the cultural value recalentado has during the holidays in Mexico as a way to “prolong that festive atmosphere at home a little longer,” the nutritional aspect of proper eating should always be taken into account. Copca, however, is not an advocate of categorizing “foods as ‘healthy’ or ‘unhealthy.’” Consumers should “focus on the nutritional value of each dish.” If your recalentado was homemade “with fresh, balanced ingredients,” she said, “its nutritional value isn’t lost simply by reheating them.” In some cases, science shows “that some foods develop a better flavor the next day.”

Do we really need to get rid of the Christmas leftovers?

Beyond the holidays, Copca considers recalentado to be “a very useful practice in everyday life,” as it contributes to proper meal planning throughout the year. In countries like Mexico, in which food has a fundamental cultural and sentimental value, these practices foster “togetherness, family history and even nostalgia,” she noted.

​​So, although kids — and basically anyone — can get tired of eating exactly the same thing throughout the holidays, it seems it’s not a bad idea at all! Amidst the hustle and bustle of the holidays (and the lethargy that follows), the practice of reheating food could bring us some calm this post-holiday season. Mainly because you don’t have to worry about preparing something to eat or thinking about ordering anything: the food is already ready to be reheated — if we observe the safety measures, of course.

In addition to the safety recommendations, which we can never stop emphasizing, the specialist suggests avoiding guilt during this time of the year, as seasonal dishes are “also part of our culture and a way to connect with others.” 

Not only that. Being mindful about what we eat is also a way to connect with our own bodies, “their cravings and satiety.” In her own clinical experience, “food is more than just nutrients: It’s memory, tradition, love and presence.” 

So — just how long will the recalentado last? Until the plastic containers in the fridge are empty, according to honorable Mexican tradition.

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.

The post How long will the recalentado last? appeared first on Mexico News Daily

That portrayal closely mirrors the rhetoric of U.S. President Donald Trump. Across speeches, social media posts, and televised interviews, Mexico is often cast as a country willfully flooding the United States with drugs and failing to control migration. In a Fox News interview on Saturday, January 3, following recent events in Venezuela, Trump even hinted at the possibility of conflict much closer to home.

“Your vice president, JD Vance, said that the message is pretty clear: that drug trafficking must stop. So was this operation a message that you’re sending to Mexico, to Claudia Sheinbaum, the president there?” Fox’s Griff Jenkins asked.

“Well, it wasn’t meant to be, we’re very friendly with her, she’s a good woman,” Trump began. “But the cartels are running Mexico. She’s not running Mexico. We could be politically correct and be nice and say, ‘Oh, yes, she is.’ No, no. She’s very, you know, she’s very frightened of the cartels. They’re running Mexico. And I’ve asked her numerous times, ‘Would you like us to take out the cartels?’ Something is gonna have to be done with Mexico.”

Trump’s language frames Mexico less as a neighbour or partner and more as a looming threat. For those who’ve never travelled south of the border, this one-dimensional depiction can easily become the dominant lens through which the country is viewed.

The reality, however, is far more intricate.

Misrepresented blame

One of Trump’s most frequent claims is that Mexico is deliberately flooding the United States with fentanyl, leading to hundreds of thousands of deaths. While the CDC confirms the opioid crisis has indeed resulted in more than 100,000 overdose fatalities annually in the U.S., attributing this tragedy solely to Mexico oversimplifies a deeply complex issue.

Fentanyl does cross into the U.S. from Mexico, but through criminal networks, not as a matter of government policy or national strategy. Drugs are most often smuggled through legal ports of entry, frequently by U.S. citizens, using increasingly sophisticated methods. Mexican authorities actively work to disrupt these networks, often at considerable risk and cost.

Trump’s framing isn’t only misleading, it shifts responsibility away from U.S. demand, domestic trafficking networks, and the public-health dimensions of addiction. Drug trafficking is a shared challenge, and rhetoric that ignores this reality strains cooperation on both sides of the border.

The reality of enforcement

Trump has argued that Mexico does little to control migration and that declines in border crossings are solely the result of his policies. This narrative omits key facts.

Mexico enforces its immigration laws rigorously, often under extraordinary strain. Data from the Migration Policy Institute documents checkpoints, detention centres, deportations, and patrols along Mexico’s northern border, many operating with limited resources and constant scrutiny.

Reducing this reality to slogans about walls and tariffs overlooks the complexity on the ground. Mexico isn’t passively allowing migration, it’s managing a regional humanitarian crisis in real time, while absorbing pressures that never reach U.S. headlines. This effort, while imperfect, reflects the work of countless officials and citizens navigating difficult circumstances.

Exaggerating the threat

Trump often describes Mexico as a cartel-run state where danger is omnipresent. While violence certainly exists, it’s uneven and highly localized. Data from Mexico’s National Institute of Statistics and Geography shows that large areas of the country, including Mérida, Querétaro, Oaxaca, and most neighbourhoods of Mexico City, remain notably safe.

In these places, daily life looks much as it does elsewhere. People walk through parks, shop in markets, and sit in cafés without the constant fear implied by Trump’s portrayal.

Distorted narrative

Trump has repeatedly claimed that Mexico doesn’t cooperate enough with the U.S. in terms of extraditions. This assertion is demonstrably false and is supported by U.S. Department of Justice data that highlights Mexico’s long history of extraditing criminals to the U.S., often under significant political pressure and real danger to the officials involved.

Cooperation between the two countries extends well beyond law enforcement. Extraditions involve complex legal and diplomatic considerations and mischaracterising this history undermines trust while fueling unnecessary suspicion.

An oversimplification

Throughout 2025, Trump maintained that walls and tariffs could single-handedly resolve border issues. In reality, migration and trade are shaped by deep-rooted forces including inequality, violence, labour demand, and global supply chains. Treating these challenges as problems with simple, mechanical solutions obscures their true nature.

Trade deficits, which Trump frequently cites as evidence that Mexico is exploiting the U.S., are similarly complex. They reflect consumer behaviour and market dynamics, not wrongdoing. Tariffs, moreover, are paid by U.S. importers, costs that ultimately land on American businesses and consumers, not on Mexico.

Inflated numbers

Trump routinely inflates figures related to illegal crossings, drug deaths, and cartel activity. These exaggerations fuel anxiety and suspicion among audiences watching from afar. For those of us living in Mexico, they more often provoke frustration and disbelief.

Day to day Mexico is vibrant, functional, and resilient. The lesson isn’t to dismiss data, but to approach dramatic claims with scepticism and to balance statistics with lived experience.

Residents here often navigate between two competing narratives: the Mexico we know, and the Mexico portrayed in political theatre. That distinction shapes how we live, where we settle, and how we explain our lives to friends and family back home. It reminds us that Mexico isn’t a monolith defined by danger, but a country of nuance, contradiction, and endurance.

Beyond fear driven narratives

Trump’s narrative about Mexico reflects a broader pattern of exaggeration and blame-shifting. For those relocating to or already living in Mexico, the takeaway is simple: the country is richer, more vibrant, and more complex than any Trump headline or speech suggests. Bureaucracy can be frustrating, crime exists, and governance can feel bewildering at times, but daily life goes on. Families gather, businesses grow, markets buzz, and communities support one another.

Rhetoric has consequences. Words spoken from a political stage shape perceptions, influence policy, and colour everyday interactions. Statements like “Something is gonna have to happen to Mexico” carry weight well beyond the moment they’re uttered.

Charlotte Smith is a writer and journalist based in Mexico. Her work focuses on travel, politics, and community. 

The post Opinion: Why Donald Trump is wrong about Mexico appeared first on Mexico News Daily

New Year’s Eve in Mexico isn’t a quiet, reflective pause with a classy drink and a vague promise to be better. It’s loud, crowded, emotional, deeply superstitious, and weirdly optimistic. It’s part family reunion, part spiritual reset, part performance art, and everyone understands the assignment.

Let’s start with the main event

At exactly midnight, people attempt to eat 12 grapes in 12 seconds, each grape representing a wish for one month of the coming year. If a grape tastes sour, that month might come with a bit of negativity. If it’s sweet, so too is the wish, so too is the month.

Someone always underestimates the size of the grapes. Someone else forgets to make wishes altogether and ends up frantically whispering things like “health, money, world peace” while chewing at record speed. There’s usually one person who finishes early and feels unbearably smug, and another who’s still chewing grape number nine well into the New Year, refusing to accept defeat.

But it doesn’t matter, because the wishes count anyway. Mexico is generous like that.

Then there’s the underwear

If you didn’t grow up celebrating New Year’s in Mexico, the underwear situation may come as a bit of a surprise. Here, your destiny starts in your drawers, both the ‘chest of’ and the wearable kind.

Red underwear is for love. Yellow is for prosperity. White is for peace. Green is for health. The colour choice is a direct conversation between you and the universe, and it’s best not to be vague.

Markets fill up with bright, lacy, aggressively symbolic underwear. Abuelas buy it for their grandkids. Amigas gift it with a wink. No one’s embarrassed, because this is serious business.

Some people hedge their bets and wear multiple colours. Some commit hard to one goal. And some insist they don’t believe in any of it, while quietly choosing yellow, just in case.

If you step outside just as the clock strikes midnight, you may notice something else entirely. People are running with suitcases.

Don’t panic! They’re not fleeing the party. They’re manifesting travel.

The tradition is simple. You grab a suitcase and take a quick walk or run around the block at midnight to invite adventure in the coming year. The size of the suitcase varies, but the enthusiasm does not.

Teenagers sprint, laughing. Adults jog with determination. Someone’s padre takes it far too seriously and disappears for a full five minutes. There’s always at least one person who’s never left the country but runs anyway, hopeful, breathless, dragging a suitcase that’s mostly empty but full of intention.

In some parts of Mexico, the year doesn’t just begin, it burns.

Families make an año viejo, a dummy stuffed with old clothes, cardboard, and sometimes handwritten notes listing everything they want to leave behind. Bad habits, bad luck, bad years, and even bad relationships are fed to the fire at midnight.

Watching it burn is dramatic and oddly peaceful. The air smells like smoke and closure. People stand quietly for a moment, faces lit by the flames, as if the fire might actually understand what it’s being asked to destroy. For a few seconds, it feels like it does.

New Year’s Eve food in Mexico is not subtle.

Tables groan under bacalao, romeritos, pozole, tamales, and dishes that only appear once a year and somehow take three days to prepare. Everyone swears they’re too full, yet everyone eats more anyway.

Plates are refilled. Recipes are debated. Someone insists it tastes better this year; someone else insists it doesn’t. Both are lying, because it always tastes of tradition, exactly as it should.

As midnight arrives, fireworks erupt across Mexico’s largest cities and smallest pueblos alike. The noise is unavoidable, echoing through streets and patios, lighting up the sky whether you’re ready or not. Music spills out from everywhere. People hug with the long kind of intention where you feel everything from the year you’ve just survived.

Some cry. Some laugh. Everyone is fully present.

No matter how old you are, New Year’s in Mexico is a family affair. Even if you swear you’re going out later, you start at home.

There are toasts from tíos who never usually give speeches. Resolutions are announced loudly and forgotten immediately. There’s advice you didn’t ask for, and those long hugs you didn’t realise you needed.

Someone brings up last year’s messes. Someone says, “This year will be my year.” And everyone believes it.

New Year’s Day is slow

Leftovers reappear. Coffee is strong. Stories from the night before are retold with generous embellishment. There’s a feeling of reset, and not because everything is suddenly perfect, but because the year feels open. Like a blank notebook you fully intend to write in neatly this time.

New Year’s in Mexico isn’t about perfection or becoming a brand-new person overnight. It’s about hope with humour. It’s about saying, “I don’t know what’s coming, but my grapes and I are ready.”

It understands that life is a bit frantic, so celebrations should be too. It understands that superstition and laughter can coexist. It understands that starting fresh doesn’t require silence, but rather fireworks, running shoes, and red underwear.

And maybe that’s why it feels so good.

Because when Mexico welcomes a new year, it kicks the door open, eats twelve grapes, grabs a suitcase, and dares you to believe, even for a moment, anything is possible

And as with most things, following Mexico’s lead is a very good idea.

Charlotte Smith is a writer and journalist based in Mexico. Her work focuses on travel, politics, and community. You can follow along with her travel stories at www.salsaandserendipity.com.

The post New Year, the loud, beautiful, Mexican way appeared first on Mexico News Daily

We’ve collected some of the best Mexican and expat perspectives on these changes.

Mexico City’s cultural melting pot

In Mexico City’s Roma and Condesa, who really counts as a “local” in neighborhoods built on a century of migration? This timely essay traces Syrian Jewish shopkeepers, European refugees, U.S. veterans and today’s digital nomads to show that gentrification is about class and policy, not passports. Walk through protests, rent freezes, Airbnbs and new housing reforms in a nuanced look at a city forever shaped by newcomers.

A short history of immigration in Roma and Condesa

Is tipping really helping?

In a Mexico City café, a casual “How much should we tip?” opens up a bigger, uncomfortable question: can generosity accelerate gentrification? This thoughtful essay follows a former U.S. restaurateur turned San Miguel local as she dissects 10–15% norms, “gringo taxes,” chronic overtipping, and who really benefits. If you live, work, or vacation in Mexico, it might change how you reach for your wallet.

The tipping point: Is your overgenerous gratuity in Mexico a form of gentrification?

Paradise lost

Once a sleepy Maya port, Tulum is now ground zero for the glittering, pseudo-spiritual elite known as the Tuluminati. This razor-sharp piece skewers tech-funded “shamans,” US $1,000-a-night eco-hotels, ketamine-fueled “healing” raves, and cult-leader chic fashion — while listening to locals worried about eviction, rising prices and fragile cenotes. Read how enlightenment, entitlement and Instagram transformed a jungle coastline into the world’s most photogenic cautionary tale.

Tuluminati takeover: How a coastal Yucatán city became a hub for high-end hippies

A local view on ‘those’ gentrification protests

In Mexico City’s Roma, what happens when you realize you helped create the gentrification you now resent? In this candid, Mexican-written essay, a former “niña fresa” charts 11 years of rising rents, lost corner shops, Airbnbs, anti-gringo protests, and the government’s deliberate tourism push. It’s a raw, nuanced look at love for a neighborhood, complicity, xenophobia and what repairing a fractured community might really take.

Another side of the story: A Mexican perspective on gentrification

The golden cage

In one of the most impactful pieces we’ve published this year, María Ruíz discusses the effects of gentrification on her hometown of San Miguel de Allende. In this deeply personal essay, she weighs the beauty, jobs and cultural festivals foreign residents brought against soaring housing prices, displaced traditions and neighbors pushed to the outskirts. From altars that vanished downtown to libraries, nonprofits and jazz festivals, discover how gentrification here is both wound and lifeline — and why everyone who moves in shares responsibility.

The ‘golden cage’ of San Miguel de Allende: A local perspective on gentrification in the world’s best city

The post A changing Mexico: Gentrification and protest in 2025 appeared first on Mexico News Daily