There is a thing or two that make Uxmal one of the most distinctive expressions of the Puuc architectural style. In contrast with other magnificent Maya buildings, such as the main constructions of Chichén Itzá or Tikal, the spirit of the Soothsayer’s Temple (Pirámide del Adivino) feels almost mystical and, at the risk of sounding redundant, magical. This is a site that has enchanted every traveler who steps onto its ever-growing carpet of grass.

What we know about Uxmal

Uxmal lies in the western part of Yucatán, about 80 kilometers south of Mérida. It is considered the most representative site of Puuc architecture, which flourished roughly between 800 and 1,100 C.E. Yet archaeological evidence shows earlier occupations: one around 300 C.E. and another around 700 C.E. It was the final stage of the city, the one that produced its most iconic monuments. Such buildings continue to impress both locals and foreign visitors today.

Exploring Uxmal can feel overwhelming, but only because the city preserves endless secrets for those who look closely. As with all great architectural wonders, every engraving and every stone seems meticulously placed — sometimes for structural reasons, sometimes for symbolic meaning. From its interior corbel arches to its ornate façades, every corner has something to say.

Three Times Founded

The origin of Uxmal’s name remains uncertain, but many studies suggest it means “Three Times Founded” or “Three Times Harvested” in Yucatec Mayan. The name possibly refers to the city’s repeated resettlements during centuries of rivalry between Maya city-states.

Another possible meaning of the word Uxmal is “Future”. The name proves to be right, as the site, its silent stone monuments and its majestic architecture seem to always be waiting, sitting in expectation for future eyes to be laid upon them and new minds to decipher their hidden messages.

Uxmal’s buildings

Uxmal is known for its remarkably preserved buildings, among the finest in the Maya world. The main character of the site is, of course, the Soothsayer’s Temple, a 35-meter pyramid with an unusual oval base. It consists of five superimposed temples built at different moments, a common tradition in Mesoamerican sacred architecture. The structure was likely dedicated to Chaac, the Maya Lord of Rain and Thunder, to whom many Uxmal temples appear to pay homage.

Before the pyramid stands the Cuadrángulo de las Monjas (Quadrangle of the Nuns), named by the Spanish conquistadors for its convent-like layout. But, from what we know now, it likely functioned as a palace or administrative complex — the Maya were especially fond of enclosed courtyards.

The House of the Governor, one of the masterpieces of Puuc design, features exquisitely carved façades. The so-called “elephant trunks,” once misinterpreted by early explorers, are actually stylized masks of Chaac. On the other hand, the stone carvings that Empress Charlotte mistook for the biblical devil in the guise of a snake show is actually one of the most important deities of the Mesoamerican pantheon. Called Quetzalcoatl by the Nahua people of central Mexico, and Kukulkan by the Maya, the lord of light, creation and wisdom is a deity worshipped all over Mesoamerica, and, needless to say, it is not related to a devil of any kind.

Like many travelers whose hearts remain tied to these ruins, Stephens and Catherwood returned several times. “The ruins of Uxmal presented themselves to me as a home,” Stephens later wrote, “and I looked upon them with more interest than before.”

Your visit

If Uxmal is on your bucket list, here’s what you should know before you go:

How to get there: The easiest route is to drive from Mérida, though ADO buses also depart from the city’s main terminal.

Weather: Expect heat and sun year-round; bring a hat, sunscreen and plenty of water.

Entry fees: Visitors must pay two separate fees: one to the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) and another to the State of Yucatán. 

Time needed: Given the size of the site, set aside at least three hours for the visit.

Post scriptum for explorers

In case you have the adventurer expertise of Stephens and Catherwood, Uxmal must not appear to be a challenging visit. There are other sites on the Puuc route that are worth visiting: Kabah, Sayil, Xlapak and Labná.

Although the architectural resemblance is undeniable, each one has its own personality and exposes different aspects of the Maya cities of the moment. In contrast with Uxmal, these sites still have a lot of archaeological work to be done. The upside is that they are also less crowded and can be explored at a slower pace.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante and Cosmopolitan.

The post Inside Uxmal, the Puuc jewel hidden in Yucatán’s hills appeared first on Mexico News Daily

“I always have new ideas, but when I am working, I do what the painting asks of me, like a water spring that flows slowly. It will go away, but it will never end. I do feel tired, but when I’m there … it’s so beautiful I feel like I’m in elementary school again.”

A few days before his 102nd birthday, Monroy received us at his apartment in Cuernavaca, Morelos, where he has spent the last six decades of his life. The place is full of color, light and art materials of all kinds, including brushes, pastels and a big, empty canvas on his easel for an artwork he promised to his son, the renowned musician Guillermo Diego.

The kid

It is not easy to imagine him as a child. He spent his early years in Tlalpujahua, Michoacán, where he was born in 1924. After the mines ran dry, Monroy’s family left their hometown in the late 1920s and arrived in Mexico City to look for other ways to make a living. His parents, Sabás Monroy and Ignacia Becerril, had 10 children, no money and nowhere to go in the metropolis.

But the Monroys have always believed that things would work out. Guillermo’s dad left his family for a few hours at the Buenavista train station. He came back with a job and a place to live in Peralvillo. Some years later, they moved to Colonia Guerrero, one of the neighborhoods located a few blocks from Alameda Central, where La Esmeralda was situated. In this art school, he met Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, who later became his beloved teachers.​

The student

Monroy recalls arriving at La Esmeralda with wide eyes, amazed by everything that could be created there. “When I arrived at (the La Esmeralda School), I felt at home, (I knew) I had to stay there.”

Even though his family couldn’t afford for him to stop working — he was 16 by then — his father asked him to follow his passion because nothing compares to doing the one thing you love. “Don’t worry. We will always have some beans for you here. Do as you like,” his father told him.

Of course, it was all worth it. Monroy studied with some of the most important artists at the time (Francisco Zúñiga, Rómulo Rozo, Feliciano Peña, Raúl Anguiano, Agustín Lazo) and quickly became one of the four Fridos, the students of Frida Kahlo. Kahlo, who suffered from numerous health problems, had a brief career as a teacher at La Esmeralda. As a result of her worsening health, she invited her students to come over and paint in her garden, a suggestion from her pupils.

Of the students invited, only four attended the sessions devotedly: Fanny Rabel, Arturo García Bustos, Arturo Estrada and Guillermo Monroy. As time went by, they became more than students to Kahlo and Rivera; the young artists were now their colleagues and part of their family.

Frida, as a teacher, introduced them to mural art, a passion that has followed them their whole lives. They collaborated with Diego on the stone-mosaic murals at Anahuacalli, and some of them later created their own in Centro SCOP, representing the four elements. Monroy was in charge of the earth.

From pupil to master

He learned not just to be an artist but to be a teacher. He started working at Secundaria 1 in Mexico City. After that, he was invited to work at the Regional Institute of Fine Arts in Chiapas. Monroy continued his journey in local art schools, for he was interested in decentralizing culture. This path led him later to Acapulco, Guerrero, where his first and only son was born: Guillermo Diego, named after him and his master. The beach town would be the last stop before his final landing in the state of Morelos.

Coming from the regional schools in the south of the country, Monroy wanted to create a place where people from Cuernavaca and its surroundings could build careers in the arts; he was the missing piece of the foundation of the Instituto Regional de Bellas Artes de Cuernavaca (IRBAC). There, he spent his working years as a teacher and colleague of those pursuing careers in visual creation. He remembers his students and feels accomplished for helping them pursue their shared passion.

The fighter

Guillermo Monroy has devoted his life to fighting for what he stands for. He has lost friends and family along the way and has been lucky enough to make it out alive to continue with the commitment. He often thinks about Luis Morales, one of his dearest friends, who was killed during a protest for workers’ and tenants’ rights. Also, when he was in his early 20s, he joined the Mexican Communist Party through the invitation of José Chávez Morado. Since then, an essential part of his life has been dedicated to seeking justice and raising his voice.  

The man, today

To this day, Monroy continues to learn anything he comes across. “I’m using pastels, I’m learning the technique,” he says while he displays his latest artwork in front of us. “It’s so simple and so wonderful. To know that something you couldn’t do before, something you were never taught, you are learning by yourself. You have to be the one to discover all this.”

At the moment, he is working on a series called “Dinamismo de una geometría plástica continua” (The dynamism of a continuous plastic geometry), an exploration of what are all the possible outcomes of a single line. 

The couple of hours we spend with him are not enough to unveil a hundred years of existence. As the conversation draws to a close, he confesses that he enjoys telling his story. We can absolutely say we enjoy listening.

“I would love to tell you everything from start to end … As you listen to it, I feel it … What lies ahead? Who knows?”

We say goodbye to Monroy, not without asking what his expectations are for turning 102. His response — I think — is not very different from what he has always expected from life.

“What more do I want? I want for us to keep seeing each other, for us to be happy, to hug each other, to congratulate each other, and keep on moving.”

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante and Cosmopolitan.

The post To be 102: An interview with painter Guillermo Monroy, Frida’s surviving student appeared first on Mexico News Daily

It was Christmas Eve in 1985, and nearly everyone in Mexico City was celebrating with family and loved ones — almost everyone. On the outskirts of the capital, two young veterinary students had a very different plan in mind: robbing the National Museum of Anthropology.

Christmas shadows

For six months, the alleged perpetrators of the heist, Carlos Perches and Ramón Sardina, planned exactly how they would enter the museum. The two inspected every possible entrance and exit. They conducted a meticulous review of the museum’s most valuable and beloved artifacts and visited the museum at least 50 times to ensure that everything would be under control on the day of the robbery. Finally, during the December festivities, they decided to make their move.

According to the investigation afterward, they climbed over one of the museum’s walls and entered through an air duct. Despite the presence of nine guards on site, they managed to slip past security and reach the exhibition halls. At the time, the museum had no alarm system, and many artifacts were likely neither individually cataloged nor insured.

The Crown Jewel

It is estimated that Carlos and Ramón entered the building between 1:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m., a perfect three-hour window to remove around 140 pieces from the museum’s galleries. The precision of the selections made it clear they had studied not only every room, but also the artifacts themselves and their histories.

Among the objects taken were the famous Mask of Pakal, the Bat God Mask and the Obsidian Monkey Vessel, along with smaller pieces of gold jewelry and jade ornaments. That same morning — while children across the country were opening Christmas gifts —journalist Jacobo Zabludovsky announced the dramatic news that a gang of thieves had looted one of Mexico’s most important historical institutions.

Facing the Consequences

The director of Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) at the time, Enrique Florescano, stated that the robbery was not discovered until the next day, when the night guards switched shifts with the morning staff. He also maintained that the heist was not an isolated event but part of a wave of art crimes that had taken place in different countries throughout the decade.

The Mexican government partnered with the media to encourage citizens to report any information that might help locate the missing pieces. Shortly afterward, INTERPOL joined the search, and Mexico reinforced its borders to prevent the perpetrators from leaving the country.

No apparent motive

Nearly four decades later, the motive behind the theft remains a mystery. From a trafficking standpoint, the artifacts were so valuable that they would have been impossible to sell.

Their historical importance makes them priceless, and their uniqueness makes them perfectly traceable. Any attempt to traffic them would have immediately revealed the culprits. Likewise, it is improbable that any buyers existed; no collector, no matter how bold, would risk possessing such recognizable artifacts.

Aftermath of the museum heist

The National Museum of Anthropology did not close its doors and continued to receive visitors. Surprisingly, attendance actually surged. Thousands of people of all ages came to marvel at the empty display cases.

“After the robbery, the museum was visited much more than before. People came to see the empty cases, which relates to that saying: ‘You don’t know what you have until you lose it,’” actor Gael García Bernal remarked about a film (“Museo,” 2018) inspired by the historic event.

In the end, the artifacts did resurface — but in the most unexpected way. Four years after the robbery, Carlos Perches’ mother found the pieces while cleaning her son’s closet. Shocked and terrified, she went straight to the museum carrying suitcases filled with priceless artifacts, bringing the dramatic chapter to a close.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist, and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante, and Cosmopolitan.

The post The Christmas night that Mexico’s National Anthropology Museum was robbed of its treasures appeared first on Mexico News Daily

For the Mexica or Aztecs — who ruled over much of modern-day Mexico between the 14th and 16th centuries — the winter solstice was a celebration of Huitzilopochtli, their patron deity, the “Sun Lord” who presided over government, war and commerce.

Huitzilopochtli, the warrior hummingbird

In Nahuatl (the language of the Mexica, which is still spoken by millions of people today), Huitzilopochtli means “Hummingbird on the Left” or “Left-Handed Hummingbird”. This mystical name refers to the fierce nature of hummingbirds, who, despite their pretty looks, are willing to protect their nests with unexpected violence. The Nahuatl word huitzillin, meaning hummingbird, comes from huitztli, or thorn, a stinging metaphor for both beauty and pain. In Mexica poetry, these birds are commonly associated with arrows that fly swiftly towards their enemy.

Huitzilopochtli is the ruler of the south, a region of combat and sacrifice; of the wars and rituals that nurture the sun with blood. Symbolically, the solar south is also midday, and the north, the land of the dead, is the lunar midnight.

The birth of the sun

Several Mexica testimonies, recorded during the early decades of the colonial period, tell the tale of Huitzilopochtli’s birth, a mythical story that explains the origin of day and night. It starts when Coatlicue, the Mother Earth, finds a precious feather one day while she is sweeping her temple. She keeps the feather under her skirt, and a few moments later, she realizes it is gone —and she is pregnant.

Coatlicue shares the news with her four hundred sons and her only daughter, but they are not happy. For them, Coatlicue’s unexpected pregnancy is a dishonor, especially since they do not know who the father is. Her daughter, Coyolxauhqui, commands her brothers to kill their mother before her child is born. Coatlicue seeks refuge in a sacred mountain, where she gives birth to a son, Huitzilopochtli, fully armed and ready for war.

Huitzilopochtli protects his mother, the Earth, by facing his brothers, whom he defeats single-handedly (he is, after all, a hard-to-defeat, left-handed warrior), and his xiuhcoatl, the serpent-shaped solar rays. He cuts off Coyolxauqhui’s head. His sister is then turned into the moon, who is defeated once every month, when her power becomes too strong, and his now enslaved brothers become the stars. This is how the sun constantly saves the Earth from the forces of night.

Solstice rituals in Tenochtitlán

The myth of Huitzilopochtli’s birth is represented in the most important temple of the Mexica, the Huey Teocalli or Templo Mayor of their capital, Tenochtitlán, located in the heart of Mexico City. Upon its top would be an image of Huitzilopochtli, the sun. At its bottom, a disk-shaped stone represented his sister, Coyolxauhqui, the moon. During special festivities, war captives were sacrificed on the Huey Teocalli; their bodies would roll down the temple’s staircase, imitating the sacrifice of the warrior lady.

This place would have been the setting for the rituals dedicated to Huitzilopochtli. Written sources speak of a feast called Panquetzaliztli or “Raising of Flags,” which was celebrated around the winter solstice, the moment when the newborn sun defeats the moon. Panquetzaliztli is one of the 20 18-day-long months of the Mexica calendar, which dictated religious life in their city and most likely throughout their domain. To the subjects of the Mexica, Huitzilopochtli was the deity of foreign power and domination, the invincible lord of the enemies.

Justice is sometimes ironic. The top of the Huey Teocalli is long lost, and the image of Huitzilopochtli was most likely one of the first destroyed during the conquest. Coyolxauhqui’s carved disk was preserved and casually stumbled upon in 1978. Hers was the first discovery at the now thoroughly excavated archaeological site.

Panquetzaliztli ceremonies

In his 1580 treaty “Historia de las Indias de Nueva España e Islas de Tierra Firme” (“History of the Indies of New Spain”), Dominican friar Diego Durán recalls one of the ceremonies carried out during Panquetzaliztli in honor of Huitzilopochtli: “There was a feast dedicated to this said great idol, and it was that (they) sculpted him in dough, in a size that a man could carry him in arms and run so swiftly that the others could chase but never catch them.”

According to Durán, this race was called ipaina Huitzilopochtli or Huitzilopochtli’s rush. The fastest man in Tenochtitlan would carry the image of the deity and run “down the street of Tacuba … arrive at Tacubaya, and from Tacubaya he would go to Coyuacan and from Coyuacan to Huitzilopochco, and from there he would return to Mexico.” The circuit encompassed much of today’s Mexico City center-southern part, which would have been adorned with flower arches and paper flags to welcome the triumphant Sun Lord. Other people would follow them along the route. If any of them matched the runner, the author emphasises this would have been a very scarce occasion — they would attain a special blessing from Huitzilopochtli.

The sacrifices

Along with Durán’s book, one of the most precious sources for understanding Mexica ritual life is the “Historia General de las Cosas de la Nueva España” (“General History of the Things of New Spain”), compiled by the Franciscan Bernardino de Sahagún between 1540 and 1585. According to Sahagún, during the first days of Panquetzaliztli, women and men alike would sing and dance to hymns. The whole Mexica society would have been preparing for the most sacred moment of Huitzilopochtli’s feast, when the Lord of War demanded sacrifices of foreign captives during Panquetzalilztli.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist, and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante, and Cosmopolitan.

The post Panquetzaliztli, the ancient Mexican winter solstice feast​ appeared first on Mexico News Daily

It is estimated that around 10 million people undertake this pilgrimage, often with entire communities coming together. Buses, pickup trucks and trailers transport people to the sanctuary located on Tepeyac Hill. Prayers are offered to Our Lady of Guadalupe for children to be born healthy, for work to come quickly and for the sick to be healed. 

For those who grew up on the northern edge of the city, the devotion lived during these days feels absolutely magical: People fill the streets, coming from every corner of Mexico; the faithful stop traffic dead in the Tepeyac religious complex.

The Villa de Guadalupe complex currently comprises la Capilla del Cerrito, la Capilla del Pocito, the old basilica and the new basilica. Of the many architects who have contributed to this complex, Pedro de Arrieta and Pedro Ramírez Vázquez stand out for their work. Fittingly, their shared name, Pedro, comes from the Latin word for “stone.”

Where does the popularity of the Virgin of Guadalupe actually come from?

Coatlicue, Cihuacóatl, Tlaltecuhtli and Xochiquétzal are just a few of the faces of the goddess Tonantzin, worshipped by the Mexica (the autonym for the Aztec civilization) at Tepeyac. All these deities represent the feminine forces of fertility and creation. 

Therefore, when Gonzalo de Sandoval, one of conquistador Hernán Cortés’ captains, promoted devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe — the patron saint of the city of Extremadura, Spain — at Tepeyac, the local population saw her as another manifestation of the sacred figures they had honored for centuries. Yet it would take a few more decades before her most famous image appeared. It is precisely this painted picture that is preserved in the Villa of Guadalupe. 

Syncretic and enduring, the figure of Tonantzin has been reinterpreted throughout history. Today, many images draw on Mesoamerican tradition and blend it with Catholic symbolism to create a mestiza deity that reflects the origins of the people who venerate her. The reappropriation of Indigenous elements by communities today has produced new forms of syncretism that balance Catholic and Mesoamerican spirituality.

The first basílica, by the first Pedro

Now known as the Templo Expiatorio a Cristo Rey, the old basilica was begun in 1695 under the direction of architect Pedro de Arrieta. This first version of the sanctuary opened its doors in the spring of 1709, with a novena to inaugurate it. 

Like much of Mexico City, the basilica was built on a lakebed, which caused significant structural damage to the building over the years. But it was the construction of the neighboring Capuchinas convent that eventually made the temple unsafe and largely inaccessible to visitors.

In the 19th century, the restoration began, turning the baroque building into a neoclassical church. From 1804 to 1836, renowned architect Manuel Tolsá oversaw the project, directed the changes, and even designed a new altarpiece with help from architect José Agustín Paz. The process took longer than expected because of an interruption from 1810 to 1822, caused by the War of Independence.

Then, in 1921, amid rising anticlerical tensions in the early 20th century, the temple was the setting of a bombing. In what some call physics and others call a miracle, the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe suffered no damage in the attack. 

According to physicist Adolfo Orozco, who conducted a study on the case, the attack exploded with such violence that all the windows nearby were broken, but the canvas’ protective glass remained intact. The faithful say a bronze crucifix placed in front of the Virgin protected the image from harm.

The ephemeral basilica

During the 50th anniversary of the Virgin’s coronation, in 1970, Fray Gabriel Chávez de la Mora realized that there was not enough space for visitors. People had to wait long hours to see the Virgin, standing in the sun, so he came up with an idea: an ephemeral basilica. 

Though unconventional at the time, Chávez de la Mora decided to place an enormous tent in the church’s atrium. This structure would allow more people to gather for Mass during this special day. 

He quickly realized the expansion should not be temporary, so he called in architects Pedro Ramírez Vázquez and José Luis Benlliure.

The second basílica, by the second Pedro

In the course of his life, Vázquez built two temples: one guards the country’s archaeological treasures (the National Anthropology Museum), the other guards its faith. 

In designing the second basilica for Chávez de la Mora, the architect wanted to reference the earlier ephemeral basilica the friar had created, as a reference to the massive crowds of Our Lady of Guadalupe and the need to accommodate them.

Along accessibility lines, Ramírez Vázquez designed the sanctuary’s interior without columns so that the Virgin could be seen from every corner. To him, nothing should stand between the worshippers and their object of faith. 

On the outside, the architect tried to depict the crown at the top and a cross with extended arms, ready to receive every pilgrim. However, the modern image of the new basilica sparked mixed reactions: Visitors were accustomed to the traditional architecture of the first basilica, with its small spaces and neoclassical elements. 

As decades went by, however, the new structure was accepted, though older people still remember the first temple dearly. 

If you are ever in Mexico City in mid-December, head to the Tepeyac to witness a spiritual commitment to Our Lady of Guadalupe older than both basilicas.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist, and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante, and Cosmopolitan.

The post Why are there two Basílicas to Our Lady of Guadalupe? appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The name Yucatán reportedly comes from the encounter of two completely different worlds. When Spanish colonizers arrived in this part of the country, locals were stunned by the conquistadors’  language and said two things in response: “ma’anaatik ka tánn” (I don’t understand you) and “uh yu ka t’ann” (listen to how they speak) — both expressions in the Mayan language. Supposedly, the Spanish misunderstood that the Maya were telling them where they were, but as time went by, Yucatán became the name of the peninsula and one of Mexico’s states.

If you’re planning to stay more than a couple of days around Mérida, the capital of the state of Yucatán, the best idea is to rent a car to explore all the natural and human-made wonders the city and its surroundings have to offer.

Mérida

Among the most stunning Mexican destinations, Mérida is a city with low-rise buildings and high security ratings; it’s consistently listed as the safest city in Mexico. Whether you are a night owl or an early bird, Mérida will keep you safe so you can enjoy everything it brings to the table.

One of the stops that’s a must on your itinerary is the Mercado de Santa Ana, on Calle 47, right behind the park that gave the market its name. The food vendors at this community market offer a menu as broad as the crops that grow in the region. From traditional panuchos to colorful fruits, there’s something for every palate.

Once you’ve had breakfast, you can walk a few steps and find Paseo de Montejo, the Yucatecan “Champs-Élysées.”

Museums in Mérida

Although the “French fever” in Mexico is long gone, this corridor, named in honor of the Spanish conquistador Francisco de Montejo, features buildings such as Las Casas Gemelas, two luxurious mansions whose architectural plans even appeared in the French magazine La Construction Moderne, which highlighted their European style and design. Despite some changes being made, the interiors still resemble Parisian mansions, and they have turned into one of the most visited museums in the city.

Not far from Las Casas Gemelas, the same architect built Palacio Cantón, a colonial palace that now houses the Museo Regional de Antropología. Entering the building feels contradictory because while the walls and ceilings scream colonialism, the rooms display different temporary exhibits related to Mexican culture, popular traditions and Mesoamerican archaeology. It no longer has a permanent collection, as its treasures were moved to the Gran Museo del Mundo Maya, a 15-minute drive away from Palacio Cantón, on the way to Puerto Progreso. 

Even though this museum is located a bit far from the city center, the ride is worthwhile if you are a culture and history buff. The permanent collection holds 1,160 pieces from a wide swath of periods of Maya culture, including textiles, ceramics, jewelry and stelae.

Ice cream, dining and more

Back in the city center, enjoy a delicious sorbet at Sorbetería Colón, one of Mérida’s oldest ice cream shops. As you wait for night to fall, you can take a look at Fernando Castro Pacheco’s murals at the Palacio de Gobierno, which depict different stages of Mexican history and portray characters like Jacinto Canek, a Maya hero who rebelled against the landowners who exploited his people.

Before you leave, you must have dinner at the Museo de la Gastronomía Yucateca, a place to learn and eat at the same time. In every bite, you’ll get to know the ingredients that make this one of the best places to taste the peninsula’s cuisine. And, if you are a foodie, keep an eye on their social media to find out when you can witness the unearthing of the traditional cochinita pibil, a regional dish that’s cooked underground.

Merida’s ring of ancient cenotes

Before you leave the Yucatán peninsula, don’t miss out on seeing the pristine waters of a cenote. The Maya considered these natural underground pools a portal to the underworld, and it’s no wonder why: Cenotes — or sinkholes — are windows to the intricate water system that lies beneath the peninsula.

The formation of this ring of cenotes owes its existence to the same ancient asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs. Its impact weakened the land around where it landed, leaving a lot of crumbling caves that became these amazing cenotes. 

A fun fact: You can tell the age of a cenote by how open it is. The roof of the underground cave collapses with time, so as they age, they look less like a cave and more like a pond.

One of the best options for visiting various cenotes in a day is heading to the town of Cuzamá. This place is known for its route of three cenotes, with each one offering a completely different experience. Instead of walking, you can travel the route in small mule-drawn wagons, enjoying the natural beauty along the way.

As you enter these deep natural pools, beware of the damage that visiting can bring to them and the ecosystem they support. Avoid using chemical products like sunscreen, makeup or perfume. You’ll be shocked by the wonders cenote water can do for your skin!

Celestún

Puerto Progreso is the closest beach to Mérida, but if you’re willing to drive a little bit further, Celestún is a perfect place to see the ocean, not just for its beautiful sunsets and delicious food but also for the protected mangrove reserve there at Playa Norte.

Although an opportunity to walk in the Caribbean sand should never be dismissed, the mangrove at Celestún will be the highlight of the visit. As you go into this wetland forest, you’ll see all the species living in this ecosystem — from herons to iguanas. But perhaps the main characters of this landscape are the bright-pink flamingos that enjoy the mangrove’s waters.

Izamal

The community of Izamal is a beam of sunlight in the middle of Yucatán’s jungle. Even if you wanted to, it’s impossible to take your eyes off the yellow buildings that give the small town its nickname, “la ciudad amarilla.” It has also been called the “City of Three Cultures,” as it combines Mesoamerican constructions, colonial buildings and contemporary architecture.

A few blocks away from the town’s main square, you can find Kinich Kakmó, a huge architectural complex created by the local Maya between 400 to 700 A.D. This pyramid is one of the tallest Mesoamerican buildings in Mexico, and some interpretations of its name have suggested that it means “fire macaw with sun face,” referring to the unceasing sunlight that covers the town year-round.

After a long walk around town, you can make a stop at Kinich Izamal, a restaurant whose menu is full of local recipes. It has a wooden kitchen with a dedicated area for making tortillas from scratch and some of the most traditional dishes of the region.

A week isn’t enough

Whether you come for history, nature or food, a week in Yucatán will not be enough, so be careful: Once you taste the peninsula’s charm, you might find yourself planning your return trip before you’ve even left.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist, and visual storyteller. She has directed three documentary films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante, and Cosmopolitan.

The post How to make the most of your next visit to Yucatán appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Murals weren’t made just for aesthetics; they were a tool in a country where nearly 90% of the population couldn’t read or write. Today, those numbers have changed, but the purpose of muralism remains: to showcase historical events whilst expressing the artists’ visions of the nation’s future.

Even though it’s been a while since muralism saw its golden days, these massive pieces of artwork continue to captivate locals and foreigners alike, creating a strong bond between art and national identity. What’s portrayed in the murals is meant to be remembered as history — at least, one version of it.

First, let’s talk about the Revolution

The Mexican Revolution was a movement that exposed the urgent necessities of a marginalized population, tired of an authoritarian government represented by dictator Porfirio Díaz and his three-decade regime. When the majority of the Mexican population realized that just a few could live a dream life, while the others literally starved, revolutionary ideas started shaping what became an armed movement.

Although the beginning of the confrontation served as a catharsis for the population, the latter part of the war evolved into an internal dispute over who should be in charge once the war ended. And so, the battles were guided more by politics and less by the possibility of a better life. 

However, confrontation between those in power and those who worked the land had a specific flavor, as it became the first Revolution of the 20th Century. The Mexican Revolution was also the first led by the working class, which deeply inspired the motifs on which muralism is based.

The Big Three: Siqueiros, Rivera and Orozco

At the same time that Diego Rivera was holding his first solo show after returning from Europe, David Alfaro Siqueiros was on the battlefield, and José Clemente Orozco was in the trenches of Veracruz, listening to revolutionary speeches by Dr. Atl. One thing was certain: the three of them were forging their inner artists to become Los tres grandes — the “Big Three.”

When visiting the Palacio de Bellas Artes, you’ll find yourself surrounded by their creations. But even in that shared space, you won’t feel the same standing before Siqueiros’ “Tormento de Cuauhtémoc” or Rivera’s “El hombre controlador del Universo.” And both feelings differ, of course, from the one you get when staring at Orozco’s “Katharsis.” Siqueiros overwhelms you with intensity, violence and movement; Rivera invites reflection through order, symbolism and balance; Orozco’s chaotic energy and cartoonish characters laugh at everything — and everyone.

Diego Rivera

Even though Rivera presented himself as a revolutionary man, there was a part of him that was a little bit of an outsider. He never really knew what being on the battlefield meant (like Siqueiros and Orozco did). Yet, he had the opportunity to experience art as few artists can: on a scholarship before World War I took its toll on Europe.

Diego tried every technique and met every (or almost every) renowned name of the time. From his long-lasting friendship with Pablo Picasso to his brief but intense marital life with painter Angelina Beloff, he was learning everything he could from the Old World to bring it back home … and so he did.

David Alfaro Siqueiros

Siqueiros’ nickname “El Coronelazo” didn’t come easy. The muralist left the Academia de San Carlos — the only art academy in Mexico at the time — to join the revolutionary army. As a teenager, Siqueiros was already a soldier, fighting for the causes he believed in —a characteristic that led to his later participation in the Spanish Civil War and the student movement of 1968.

After the war was over, David Alfaro Siqueiros changed the gun for a paintbrush. Besides being one of the founders of the muralist movement, he was also a precursor in experimenting with 3D paintings, introducing the use of pyroxilyn on walls and canvases.

José Clemente Orozco

The connection Orozco had with the Revolution grew as he learned from his teacher, Dr. Atl. During the war, both were part of La Vanguardia, a newspaper that pursued revolutionary causes, like “building the Revolution” through text and pictures.

Orozco recalls Dr. Atl’s lessons: “We had to learn from the old masters and from foreigners, but we could do as much, or even more, than they did. Not out of pride, but out of confidence in ourselves, an awareness of our own being and of our destiny.”

Unlike his two partners, Orozco’s art represented not reality in its most literal form, but a satiric and always critical version of it. As he did at La Vanguardia, the characters of his murals showed their worst traits. That is the main reason he is sometimes left behind. Whereas Siqueiros and Rivera capture the essence of the Revolution, Orozco criticizes the whos and the hows, filling his pieces with discomfort.

There’s no trinity without a godfather

To understand muralism, we must return to the moment of its birth. The Mexican Revolution had ended, but the struggle for food, shelter and national identity continued. What did it mean to be Mexican?

With the intention of answering that question, the newly appointed Secretary of Education, José Vasconcelos, created a movement that could do both: create an identity for the re-established nation and produce works of art to show the world what Mexico had to offer. It all began with the buildings under his authority: Escuela Nacional Preparatoria and Secretaría de Educación Pública.

It has been said that Escuela Nacional Preparatoria, located in the colonial building that once served as Colegio de San Ildefonso, is the cradle of muralism, and those who say so are not wrong. The halls and corridors that hosted high school alumni also witnessed Dr. Atl’s first experiments on muralism, a task interrupted by the Revolution. 

Reimagining Mexico’s history

Once the war ended in 1922, Vasconcelos hired 35-year-old Diego Rivera to paint “La Creación,” inside the school’s amphitheater, a symbolic piece that portrays Adam and Eve and the creation of something new. It was related to the beginning of Diego’s muralist career, but also with the whole movement — something was about to happen at San Ildefonso and the world would be stunned by it. 

This historical place preserves in its walls the works of young muralists such as Jean Charlot, Fernando Leal, Ramón Alva de la Canal and Fermín Revueltas. Orozco was also invited to this muralist assembly, of course. The murals displayed scenes of Mexico’s history, from Hernán Cortés to current local celebrations. These paintings depicted every color in the country’s light prism.

On the other hand, Diego was also commissioned to design two government buildings: Secretaría de Educación Pública and Palacio Nacional. The first held the national offices of the Ministry of Education, the second was the headquarters of the Mexican presidency. While the murals in both buildings were inspired by social and political events, Secretaría de Educación Pública’s (S.E.P.) artwork shows a deeper representation of the ongoing revolutionary process of the country.

Rivera shows us what the soldiers were fighting for, trying to share their history with every visitor of the S.E.P. It is no coincidence that in one of the most intense panels, Rivera painted portraits of three artists delivering weapons to the working-class fighters: fellow muralist David Alfaro Siqueiros, photographer Tina Modotti and a young, revolutionary Frida Kahlo, who would later become his life-long partner.

Before and after the ‘Big Three’

In contrast to Italian muralism, which reached its peak with Michelangelo’s “Sistine Chapel,” Mexican muralism stems from something deeper, something rooted in Mesoamerican cultures. Think of the wall paintings at Bonampak or the magnificent frescoes in Teotihuacán. Even the now-bare Templo Mayor was once covered in color during its golden age.

Muralism wasn’t created; it was rediscovered, not only in format but in its technique. Muralists moved from European encaustics to the traditional fresco used by Mesoamerican artists for millennia. 

As poet Octavio Paz wrote in “Los Privilegios de la Vista,” the Revolution created the perfect opportunity to reflect on what the century-old nation had done right and what path it should follow toward the so-called “civilized world.”

“Our painting is a chapter of modern art. But at the same time, it is the expression of a people who have just discovered themselves and who, not content with recognizing themselves in their past, seek a historical project that will place them within contemporary civilization.”

Although muralism, as the movement led by Rivera, Siqueiros and Orozco, no longer exists, the walls still call for color, and artists continue to answer. From the murals painted along the U.S. border to the marvelous rótulos that accompany street vendors, muralism remains.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist, and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante, and Cosmopolitan.

The post From guns to paintbrushes: How the Mexican Revolution shaped the muralism movement appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Escaping the city for a weekend can be the perfect excuse for a trip with friends or a romantic getaway with your partner. Just an hour and a half from Mexico City, Cuernavaca offers the perfect setting to leave behind — if only for a while — the traffic and rush, and reconnect with art and nature.

A getaway to Cuernavaca is not for everyone. You need to slow down, give the birds of the area a chance to be heard and let your skin tan in the (almost) permanent sun that this part of Mexico offers. And, when you are done unwinding, you can let yourself discover the cherry-picked collection of art its inhabitants have brought and created. Here’s how to make the most of your next visit to the “City of Eternal Spring.”

Day One

8 a.m. – Villa Vivaldi

If you leave early, start your morning at one of Cuernavaca’s most beloved restaurants: Villa Vivaldi. The place welcomes you with a charming local atmosphere — you’ll be surrounded by lush greenery on its open terrace while enjoying authentic Mexican breakfast dishes. Even if you’re not into sweet breakfasts, don’t skip their pastries. They’re the house specialty.

Where? Pericón 102, Miraval.

10 a.m. – Parque Estatal Urbano Barranca de Chapultepec

To truly disconnect from everyday stress, there’s nothing like immersing yourself in nature. Visiting the Barranca de Chapultepec Urban State Park is the perfect plan to take the word “getaway” seriously.

Where? Bjd. de Chapultepec 27, Chapultepec.

2 p.m. – La Panga

Let’s be honest: great seafood is a hit anywhere. If you love the flavors of the sea, head to La Panga after a morning of exploration. Their shrimp broth and grilled octopus are exactly what you need to refuel after a long walk.

Where? Avenida Río Mayo 1, Altavista.

4 p.m. – La Tallera

To add a cultural touch to your day, visit La Tallera — the art space designed by famed muralist David Alfaro Siqueiros. This contemporary art museum was originally his personal workshop and now exhibits painting, sculpture and audiovisual art. When Siqueiros began its construction, he called it “a mother that gives birth to art,” which is why its name is in the feminine form.

Where? Venus 52, Jardines de Cuernavaca.

7 p.m. – La Verdad Sospechosa

Ending the day with a drink in hand is a must. Your last stop: La Verdad Sospechosa, a cozy speakeasy in downtown Cuernavaca. Their signature cocktails are exceptional, and their food menu perfectly complements them.

Where? Juan Ruiz de Alarcón 13 PB, Cuernavaca Centro.

The next day

10 a.m. – Mercado Central

To truly get to know a place, you have to taste it — and there’s no better place to do that than the local market. Here you’ll find colorful fruit stands and the best traditional breakfasts in town. From tacos acorazados to pancita, having breakfast at Mercado Central is an absolute must when visiting Cuernavaca.

Where? Adolfo López Mateos 1319, Cuernavaca Centro.

Noon – Museo Morelense de Arte Contemporáneo (MMAC) Juan Soriano

The Juan Soriano Museum of Contemporary Art has a garden you’ll never forget — because it’s filled with sculptures. Between its art-filled galleries and peaceful library, this museum ensures you’ll want to return to Cuernavaca just to experience it again.

Where? Dr. A. Nápoles Gandara, Amatitlán.

2 p.m. – Museo Robert Brady

Like any true collector, Robert Brady was a lover of art in all its forms. Throughout his life, he traveled the world collecting pieces until he fell in love with Cuernavaca in the 1960s and bought Casa de la Torre, now the Robert Brady Museum, which preserves his full collection. Inside, you’ll find pre-Hispanic, Asian and African artifacts — and if you love modern art, you’ll be thrilled to see works by Frida Kahlo and Rufino Tamayo.

Where? Nezahualcóyotl 4, Cuernavaca Centro.

4 p.m. – Bule Restaurante

This restaurant’s concept revolves around clay. Large clay jars greet you at the entrance, and all dishes are served in handmade clay plates. Their traditional Mexican cuisine is the perfect way to wrap up your trip through Morelos, though the flavors will definitely make you want to come back.

Where? Matamoros 603, Cuernavaca Centro.

6 p.m. – Heladería Mil 800

You can’t say goodbye to Cuernavaca without trying the ice cream at Mil 800. Located on a terrace near the Cathedral, this local favorite changes its flavors seasonally — and every single one is unforgettable. You can also order your ice cream as a milkshake or a decadent affogato.

Where? Comonfort 2, Cuernavaca Centro.

Lydia Leija is a linguist, journalist, and visual storyteller. She has directed three feature films, and her audiovisual work has been featured in national and international media. She’s been part of National Geographic, Muy Interesante, and Cosmopolitan.

The post 36 hours in Cuernavaca: How to make the most of your next getaway appeared first on Mexico News Daily