There is a clear obsession with Frida Kahlo in North America — that is to say, the North America that lies north of the Mexican border. Her recognizable unibrow is plastered on bags, keychains and prints you can buy for US $5 off Facebook and frame yourself (guilty). Art fans and Mexaphiles are well-versed in her tumultuous love affairs and traumatic health issues. It’s obvious what the general public thinks of her: a media magnet, worthy of her own blockbuster movie and Barbie doll. 

The concept of “Fridamania” first appeared as far back as the early 1990s; the Los Angeles Times published a commentary entitled “Fridamania — Where Will It All End?” in 1992. This term would appear in several more respected publications throughout the years, including Emory International Law Review’s 2021 critique of the cult phenomenon “Owning Frida Kahlo.”

What do Mexicans think?

The problem with Frida’s popularity is that it generally overlooks not only her art — “Is it that good?” — but also what Mexicans actually think of her. It’s a rare day when one sees a chilango donning a graphic tee with Frida’s face awash in neon colors. In fact, the odds of seeing Frida on a tote bag in New York City are higher than in the Mexican capital — unless, of course, it’s hanging off the shoulder of a visiting New Yorker. 

Ever wondered if  Frida Kahlo is as popular a figure in her homeland or if she’s simply a product of excellent marketing? Well, the answer is both clear and nuanced.

MND took to the streets. Not literally, but we reached out to 24 born-and-raised Mexicans from Mexico City to Puebla to Guadalajara between the ages of 26 and 51 for their opinions on the Frida Kahlo craze. 

Each respondent works in a different career and is from a class sector that ranges between middle-class and wealthy. Among some of their professions were in the arts, hospitality, education, e-commerce, medicine and tech. 

We used the curated set of questions below to find out what a sampling of Mexicans thinks. 

Question 1: Is Frida Kahlo overrated as an artist? 

In terms of her actual art, responses were split down the middle, revealing a fundamental tension in how Frida’s creative legacy is viewed. On one side, there’s recognition of genuine talent; on the other, a belief that her work’s market value has been unnecessarily inflated. Andrés, whose professional background includes art analysis, captured the essence of this duality: 

“I think she is a bit overrated as an artist, especially regarding the prices her work has reached on the market. This is because there are artists who I believe have the same merit but haven’t been valued economically like she has.”

Rosa, an educator, was even more blunt. 

“Totally [overrated]. Her painting is quite basic compared to all the drama that’s been created around her life and that artificial feminism her fans attribute to her. Artists like Remedios Varo and Leonora Carrington were much more creative and had much more interesting proposals.”

But hospitality expert Gael, who also dabbles in art dealing, pushed back on the question. 

“I don’t think she’s overrated. It seems to me that she reflects the essence of Mexican culture to the world, and people are willing to pay for her works at the same prices as great international artists.”

The results of a social media poll we did on this question mirrored this divide: 58% of respondents said yes, Frida is overrated, while 42% said no.

What emerges is less a consensus on Frida’s talent and more a critique of the forces at work around her that created a pathway to fame. 

“I think artistic talent alone is not enough to access the international art market,” Gael noted. “There must be other aspects that stand out to position oneself as Frida Kahlo did.”

Question 2: How does Frida compare to other Mexican artists? 

When asked to place Frida within the pantheon of Mexican artists of her era, respondents consistently named the same titans: Diego Rivera, Rufino Tamayo, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros. While it appears most agree that Frida belongs in this conversation, so do many others who haven’t achieved her level of global recognition, many said.

Andrés was quick to acknowledge her legitimacy. 

“Without a doubt, Frida is one of the best Mexican artists of the 20th century, on par with Diego Rivera himself, Clemente Orozco, Rufino Tamayo and/or Leonora Carrington,” he said. “And, yes, I feel she reflected so much of our country and its idiosyncrasies.” 

Yet in the same breath, he also noted, “Probably Rivera, Tamayo or Orozco would have at least the same artistic merit as Frida, even though they didn’t have the international reach that she did.”

Gael framed her fame within a broader artistic movement. 

“Frida Kahlo forms part of an intellectual and artistic current of Mexico from that era, along with the great muralists and other artists of international stature.”

Question 3: Which other Mexican figures deserve recognition? 

Beyond those aforementioned, the most telling response came from Sara and María, both marketing professionals.

“There are thousands, and we don’t even know their names. Perhaps that’s also because all the other women (artists) are undervalued.”

Beatriz, a tourism professional and writer, pointed to figures outside the art world entirely. 

“I think there are others, like Antonieta Rivas Mercado, who did great things for Mexico, like promoting the secretary of education or creating the symphony orchestra of Mexico.”

Has an entire ecosystem of female talent been overshadowed by Frida’s star power? A UNAM study seems to support it: Women artists were marginalized in teaching posts and exhibitions during the entire first half of the 20th century, despite a pool of comparable painters within the Kahlo circle, including María Izquierdo, Aurora Reyes and Nahui Olin. Yet, while Frida Kahlo’s paintings top the US $50 million mark, Izquierdo’s highest sale closed at less than half a million.

Question 4: When did Frida start appearing everywhere? 

Nearly everyone agreed: They learned very little about Frida in school. Beatriz recalls that “in school she appeared as part of the official discourse,” as more of a link to cultural nationalism than as one of Mexico’s artistic greats. What everyone interviewed remembers is her sudden ubiquity, and exactly when that happened.

“About 25 years ago, she started to become popularized as part of Mexican culture,” Lucia, an e-commerce expert, stated. 

Andrés pinpointed the same era.

“While she was always present in Mexican culture, I think she had a radical surge, caused in part by North Americans, at the end of the 20th century.” 

This coincides with the 2002 Hollywood movie “Frida,” starring Salma Hayek, which Ana, a public relations agent, noted as the reason Frida “took on importance and relevance. She became more fashionable.”

Rosa remembers the frenzy building even before the film’s release. 

“For me, the international boom arrived with the movie, or even before, when Salma Hayek and Madonna were vying to bring ‘Frida’ to the screen.”

The timeline reveals Frida’s current iconography as neither long-standing nor organic. It’s recent, manufactured and heavily influenced by forces outside Mexico.

Question 5: Is Frida overrated as a pop culture icon?

The answer, overwhelmingly, was yes — but with an asterisk attached.

“Few have seen her work; she’s more a pop culture symbol,” Lucia said plainly. 

The sentiment was repeated by David, an AI developer. 

“Her history is fascinating, but she’s become too cliche.”

Maria and Sara drew a comparison that landed like a punch.

“It’s clear that it’s very different for foreigners than for Mexicans. It’s like Cinco de Mayo.” 

The analogy is apt: In Mexico, May 5 is a relatively minor holiday, not even a federal one requiring a day off for workers. In the United States, however, it’s become a commercialized celebration of “Mexican culture” that often bears little resemblance to actual Mexican traditions.

Is Frida also a symbol co-opted, commodified and sold back as something it never was? Rosa thinks so.

“She went from being a supposed socialist icon to the merchandise of cultural capitalism. Today, Frida functions the same as Che (Guevara) on a T-shirt: a depoliticized symbol, comfortable and ready to sell.” 

Beatriz, however, sees both sides.

“She’s been put on a pedestal as if she had made great reforms or influenced movements,” she said, adding that while Diego Rivera did influence movements and portray many aspects of everyday Mexican life in his murals, he is hardly the pop icon Frida is today. “Still, I’m grateful to Frida that, thanks to her, Mexico receives a lot of attention and more cultural appreciation.”

Conclusion: The paradox

So is Frida Kahlo overrated? The answer depends entirely on what you’re rating.

As an artist, the majority of Mexicans I spoke with placed her firmly among the greats of her generation — but no greater. As a pop culture phenomenon? Wildly overrated, a product of media machinery and North American fascination that has little to do with her actual contributions to art. The 24 Mexicans we surveyed suggested that Frida’s international role as a symbol of female strength, Mexican identity and dramatic suffering doesn’t resonate the same way in her homeland.

The late Mexican Nobel laureate Octavio Paz once questioned whether Frida Kahlo could be both a great artist and “a despicable cur.” Today, the question might be: Can someone be both a great artist and an overhyped brand? 

Yes, both things can be true. But what Mexicans understand that many foreigners do not is that while Frida Kahlo may be extraordinary, she’s certainly not unique.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

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For a group of students in their third year at Escuela Secundaria Técnica No. 117 “Guillermo González Camarena,” water cuts were a daily reality that disrupted their home life, education and daily routines. But rather than simply endure the crisis, these teenagers decided to find a solution.

Now, their innovative response has earned them recognition as one of just 33 global finalists for the 2026 Zayed Sustainability Prize. The students are competing against projects from 173 countries for up to $150,000 in funding with their self-made hydrostations — modular machines that literally pull drinking water out of thin air.

From water crisis to community innovation

The students’ journey from victim to innovator reflects what their teacher, Professor Rogelio Monreal Moreno, calls a transformation “from worry to action, and from action to consciousness.” During the peak of the crisis, these students made a decision that would change their entire approach to learning.

“Finding the problem was the easiest part,” one student explained. The challenge was creating a solution that would work independently of existing infrastructure.

By combining solar power with Peltier technology, the students were able to extract moisture from humid air, a process that produces clean water continuously, without drilling, chemicals or dependence on external suppliers. The teens designed and assembled the hydrostations themselves, generating water to feed school gardens, drinking fountains and small planters called “BioCápsulas” in which they grow produce.

The project extends far beyond water production. The students have created what they call “AD COGNIS,” a complete educational ecosystem that transforms their school into a living laboratory of science and sustainability. Through the “ECOmunidad” digital platform, students track data, share progress and participate in environmental challenges. The “ECOnocedor” program develops leadership skills, STEM capabilities (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) as well as community service.

“More than learning content, students have learned to see themselves as capable of sustaining something real,” Monreal Moreno explained. “This project took them out of the role of ‘completing an assignment’ and put them in the role of understanding a problem in their environment and acting on it.”

Competing on the global stage

The Zayed Sustainability Prize, established in 2008, recognizes innovative solutions that improve access to healthcare, food, energy, water and climate resilience. Previous winners have impacted over 400 million people worldwide. This year’s competition is particularly fierce, with entries increasing by 30% over last year.

The Mexican students face formidable competition in the Global High Schools category. They’re up against initiatives like Kenya’s solar-powered vaccine refrigeration serving over 1 million people, South Korea’s disease-free potato production benefiting 15 million people, and Rwanda’s smart water ATMs serving over 500,000 people.

What distinguishes the Mexican project is its comprehensive educational approach that goes beyond just technology. While many finalist projects address water access, these students have created both the technical solution and an entire framework for environmental education and leadership development.

Student voices and family pride

For the students involved, the recognition brings both excitement and responsibility. “My parents are happy and proud,” shared one participant, capturing the community support behind the project. Another reflected on the broader significance: “Getting to this prize is a great inspiration for many young people.”

The project has surprised fellow classmates and engaged students in fields ranging from graphic design to photography — all contributing to prototype development and project documentation. Monreal Moreno observed students transitioning from asking “what if it doesn’t work?” to declaring “let’s make it better.”

No inventions come without challenges, and water scarcity wasn’t the only obstacle they faced. The students encountered multiple hurdles in developing their solution. For one student, the hardest part was the development of the idea. “It takes a lot of creativity to figure out how to make it better, and it takes a high level of research.” Another student noted that while the project has proved successful locally, the group is still “missing a way to industrialize it,” scaling their solution beyond their school.

The educational impact extends beyond technical skills. Students have developed teamwork, communication and organizational abilities, but most importantly, what Monreal Moreno describes as “authentic self-confidence, the kind that emerges when their work makes sense and serves others.”

Looking to Abu Dhabi and beyond

The winners will be announced at the Zayed Sustainability Prize ceremony on Jan. 13, 2026, during Abu Dhabi Sustainability Week. At the time of writing, the students were working to raise funds for the international trip, in itself an exercise in learning project management and employing community engagement.

Regardless of the competition outcome, the project already represents something bigger: a model for how technical education can address real-world problems while developing the next generation of environmental leaders. The students plan to expand their network to other schools, sharing open-source manuals and promoting environmental self-sufficiency.

Their initiative demonstrates that innovative sustainability solutions can emerge from anywhere, and especially from young people with the creativity and determination to transform challenges into opportunities. In a region that faced “day zero” for its water supply, these students have created not just a technological solution, but a new way of thinking about education, community resilience and youth leadership.

As student Victoria explained, “The project inspires us because we’re learning by doing something very useful.” Her words capture what makes this initiative so remarkable — students addressing real problems while transforming their own education in the process, proving that the most powerful solutions often flow from genuine understanding and determination.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

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This breakdown follows the leavened wonder’s journey from — you guessed it — Spain, to the fertile central valleys of New Spain around 1520. In my ongoing quest to showcase Mexico as a unique and interconnected culture born the moment Cortés shook hands with Moctezuma, one could argue that bread culture rose the same way: through indigenous and European collaboration.

Mexico’s bread culture: built on cultural exchange

Understanding bread’s journey through Mexican history reveals an important truth: Mexico’s bread culture has always been a story of adaptation and exchange. If nearly 80% of consumption is white bread, perhaps Hart’s observation about market gaps was less cultural insensitivity and more market analysis. The question isn’t whether an expat can contribute to Mexico’s bread scene, but rather why cross-cultural culinary exchange suddenly became controversial in a country whose entire bread tradition is built on it.

Today, bread makes its way into the digestive tract of millions of Mexicans thanks to an abundance of panaderías. One UNAM geographer calculated 9,806 bakeries in Mexico City and its metro area alone. So yes, Mexicans make bread — but it’s mostly white bread. CANAINPA (Cámara Nacional de la Industria Panificadora) reported in 2019 that around 70–75% of bread consumed in Mexico is white bread or pan blanco/pan de caja, including bolillo, telera, and sliced bread. Such statistics suggest there was, indeed, a gap in the bread market, and perhaps Hart wasn’t totally off-base when he said the bread culture could use a boost.

The real question is: does it really matter? Can we have our widened variety of bread and eat it too?

How wheat came to Mexico: Juan Garrido’s three grains

Prior to the Spanish conquest, the closest thing Mesoamericans had to a sandwich was the mighty tamal. Maize dough played a central role in daily consumption

In addition to maize dough’s central dietary role in Mesoamerican society, native seeds like amaranth were often ground to make alternative doughs and flat cakes. The missing ingredient — wheat — would sail its way across the Atlantic with the Spanish, adapting quickly to Mexico’s fertile central valleys.

Documented petitions between Hernán Cortés and the crown mention the grain, as does local legend. Sixteenth-century chroniclers like Alexander von Humboldt credit Juan Garrido with wheat’s successful cultivation. According to the story, the Kongo-born, Afro-Spanish soldier found three stray grains of wheat mixed into a sack of rice during an expedition to New Spain. He planted the trio in a garden near Mexico City, which produced 180 more grains. Garrido replanted this seed, and before long, bread was everywhere. Was wheat’s arrival story embellished to encourage overseas investment? The answer is murky at best. Whatever the real origin, what’s certain is that Puebla quickly became “Mexico’s breadbasket,” supplying flour to Mexico City and beyond.

From Spanish elite to colonial staple

In the beginning, it was only the “upper crust” of society, in this case, the Spaniards, toasting the bun’s arrival. Reports referencing historical documents from 1559 show a viceregal decree forcing reluctant farmers to expand wheat production by requiring a portion of their taxes be paid in grain. Farming practices like this made locals more comfortable with wheat, and over the course of decades, they began incorporating bread into their daily diets.

By the late 1700s, bread was a big deal. A “gremio de panaderos” (bakers guild) was formally established and regulated by Viceroy Marqués de Croix in 1770, establishing a licensed loaf monopoly. The new regulations limited baking and selling bread to master bakers who had passed specific examinations. This framework imposed strict controls on weight, price, and most importantly, quality: selling reheated, spoiled, or underweight bread was strictly prohibited. Anyone caught doing so would be hit with a pan malo (bad bread) fine at best — guild expulsion at worst.

Yet it wasn’t just bakeries churning out loaves by day. Archaeologists have found bread ovens in convents dating back to the 16th century, showing that bread served as both a daily staple for nuns and alms for the poor. Early recipes, notably those for buñuelos from Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz’s Convent of San Jerónimo, have been discovered in convents from Mexico City to Querétaro.

The Industrial Revolution: From Stone Mills to Bimbo

During the late 19th century, Mexico’s bread industry underwent a technological revolution. Roller mills, grinding systems, and early mechanical mixers replaced traditional stone-and-hand methods. Larger flour mills could now produce significantly more dough. Mexico City’s Porfiriato saw huge waves of European immigration and urban investment, and Basque entrepreneurs opened bakeries, including La Vasconia, the city’s oldest, combining traditional handwork with modern methods.

This same era saw pan dulce explode in popularity. Sweet breads had started taking shape in convents, likely influenced by pre-Hispanic cakes made of corn and honey, but they really took off when French baking techniques met Mexican flavors in the late 19th century, resulting in pastry varieties like cuernitos, conchas, and orejas.

Soon, businesses in Mexico City started producing bread on a quasi-industrial scale. With the founding of Bimbo in the 1940s came fully industrial production lines with American-style tunnel ovens, and the transition to mass-produced, standardized packaged bread was complete. Traditional panaderías stuck around though, and even today they occupy the artisanal side of a dual-sector industry.

Bread vs. tortilla: Who wins in Mexico?

Without a doubt, corn still reigns as the most consumed grain in Mexico, and in the bread vs. tortilla battle, the tortilla wins by a landslide. Industry reports citing CANAINPA put bread consumption around 35–36 kg per person per year, where about 80% consists of white bread and around 20% is pan dulce. At 56–75 kg per person per year, tortilla consumption more than doubles bread intake, and can be even higher in rural areas.

A regional twist can be found in northern Mexican states like Sonora, Chihuahua, and Baja California, where wheat tortillas have all but replaced corn tortillas. Agricultural conditions in Mexico’s northern borderlands favor large-scale wheat cultivation, and the flour tortilla’s elastic texture makes it ideal for burritos and sobaqueras. If centuries of history teach us anything, it’s that outsider techniques and perspectives are often exactly what’s kneaded – while still suiting local palettes.  

In a land where wheat and corn coexist peacefully, one can only hope British and Mexican bakers can too — after all, there’s plenty of dough to go around.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

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Evolution of Mexico City’s boutique scene

From Olympic Hospitality to economic crisis

Through the 1980s and 1990s, Mexico City’s hotel scene was limited to pensiones and upscale chains along Reforma and in Polanco, like the Presidente InterContinental Mexico City. Following the city’s selection as host for the 1968 Olympics, notable properties appeared, including Camino Real Polanco — considered a modern Mexican masterpiece at the time — and the Gran Hotel Ciudad de México, a Neoclassical beauty converted from a 19th-century shopping mall. The city’s reputation for hospitality was taking shape, but within narrow confines.

This foundation would soon be tested. The 1980s brought dramatic shifts to the capital’s tourism landscape through a combination of national debt crisis, inflation and the devastating 1985 earthquake. A temporary drop in visitor numbers devastated the tourism sector, and 20% of the city’s hotels would be destroyed. This destruction sparked an important trend: private investors and federal authorities began pouring substantial resources into rebuilding and modernizing the damaged center zone, investments that would eventually establish Mexico City’s dominant role as a cultural hub and business destination.

The birth of boutique hospitality

The stage was set for boutique hospitality through rapid neighborhood gentrification (especially in Roma, Condesa, Juárez and Polanco), a surge in international tourism, and a wave of architectural restoration that turned historic mansions into design-forward properties.

Perhaps the most catalytic factor in Mexico’s hospitality scene was the founding of Hoteles Boutique de México in 1999. The marketing organization promoted a consortium of small, upscale, independent hotels throughout the country, chosen for their distinctive character and personalized service; details otherwise drowned out by standardized chains. Canadian-born founder John Youden selected about one dozen member properties to launch the nationwide portfolio, including Mesones Sacristía de la Compañía in Puebla, which remains a member today. Notably, no hotel in Mexico City made the initial cut.

The Condesa DF breakthrough

The breakthrough came in 2005 with Condesa DF. Housed in a 1928 French Neoclassical mansion on a tree-lined avenue in Condesa, Grupo Habita and Paris-based designer India Mahdavi transformed the property into a minimalist masterpiece inside while preserving the structure’s historic facade. Its central courtyard and rooftop terrace overlooking Parque España quickly established the hotel among Mexico City’s premier stays while cementing Condesa’s reputation as a nexus for architecture, fashion and contemporary art.

Today’s boutique landscape

Since then, the capital’s boutique hotel scene has flourished dramatically. Properties reflect their neighborhoods’ distinct characters: Condesa and Roma capitalize on Art Deco or Belle Époque facades; Polanco properties lean toward luxury; Historic Center properties emphasize their historical significance. As Colima 71’s owner told me during a walk through the iconic, contemporary enclave on the street of the same name, “boutique hotels are a business of details.” Attention to detail that often includes Mexican amenities, welcome treats like locally-inspired drinks and Mexican art on the walls. This focus on design details helps explain why such hotels attract recognition from respected collections like Design Hotels and Small Luxury Hotels. 

Today, major publications including Condé Nast Traveler, Vogue and The New York Times frame Mexico City’s new generation of boutique hotels as integral to its status as a global style and food capital. It should come as no surprise that, simultaneously, the boutique scene has become much more expensive in recent years. One STR report showed average room rates during the 2024 Independence Day period about 20% higher than the year before, and ranks Mexico City among the country’s fastest‑rising markets.

With this impressive and growing landscape of boutique properties established across Mexico City’s most culturally rich neighborhoods, I wondered which ones industry professionals themselves hold in the highest regard. Two names were mentioned with notable consistency: Brick and Casa Polanco.

Brick Hotel

Neighborhood integration

Brick’s location on Calle Orizaba puts it among neighbors that sit shoulder-to-shoulder with low-key cafes and bars, giving the block an immediately walkable, neighborhood feel rather than a “hotel zone” vibe. The hotel’s turn-of-the-century brick façade, with tall windows and wrought-iron details, reads more like a stylish private residence than a commercial building. So it slips naturally into Roma Norte’s architectural rhythm of preserved Porfiriano houses and discreet, design-forward storefronts. That subtlety is part of the first impression: Brick doesn’t dominate the street; it mirrors the neighborhood’s mix of history and reinvention.

Architecture and design

Like many of Mexico City’s most emblematic boutiques, Brick occupies an early‑20th‑century mansion in the European‑influenced Roma neighborhood, originally built for the head of the Bank of London & Mexico using distinctive bricks imported from England. After a meticulous renovation, the current hotel blends preserved Belle Époque bones with contemporary Mexican design, art and custom furniture. Suites — including some bilevel spaces with private terraces overlooking the streets — sit within the elegantly restored main house, complemented by a more modern section with sleek, neutrally toned rooms, generous windows and multiple shared terraces that reinforce its discreet, grown‑up atmosphere.

The Guest Experience

The hotel attracts a stylish adult crowd, drawing wedding parties and couples alongside seasoned travelers seeking a local feel rather than traditional sightseeing experiences. Most hoteliers who recommended Brick described it simply as “classic” — a property that delivers high-end hospitality through a calm, monochrome, design-forward look with darker accents and neutral tones.

Casa Polanco

Park-side elegance

Casa Polanco commands one of Mexico City’s most prestigious park‑front addresses in Polanco, with its cream‑toned, Spanish Revival–style façade, balconies and tall windows looking directly onto Parque Lincoln. The property preserves the feel of a grand mid‑20th‑century private residence rather than a conventional hotel, and outlets like Travel + Leisure and the Michelin Guide repeatedly single it out as one of Polanco’s standout boutique lodgings.

Residential architecture

The architecture showcases cream-colored stucco walls, ornamental Juliette balconies and tall, arched French windows, while interiors feature high ceilings, elegant staircases and original moldings paired with contemporary interventions like large steel-framed interior windows and minimalist custom millwork.

As a small luxury property with fewer than 25 rooms and suites offering park views and balconies, Casa Polanco emphasizes privacy, quiet and understated luxury. The property showcases Mexican design and craftsmanship through stonework, textiles and art integrated throughout its polished framework.

My personal favorites

While these represented the hoteliers’ clear consensus, my personal research revealed other exceptional properties. During my visits, I found myself particularly drawn to Casa Ignacia — a discreet oasis where a team of eight has remained together since the hotel’s opening, creating an atmosphere enhanced by bold colors, leafy courtyards and a rooftop hot tub. I also like Nima Local House, a four-room stone-walled mansion featuring tiled floors, wrought-iron balconies and a serene palette of whites and grays punctuated by abundant greenery.

Which one is for you?

Brick suits travelers seeking immersion in Roma Norte’s restaurant and bar scene, offering a buzzy social atmosphere within an authentic urban townhouse setting. Casa Polanco appeals to those prioritizing quiet luxury, park views and personalized service alongside sophisticated Mexican craftsmanship.

For those drawn to more intimate, design-forward experiences, Casa Ignacia offers vibrant charm with exceptional personal service, while Nima Local House provides serene minimalism in a four-room setting. Both represent the smaller-scale, character-rich properties that make Mexico City’s boutique scene so distinctive.

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In short, it was built that way.

A resort born from computer calculations

Cancún’s history is remarkably short. Unlike Mérida or Puebla, it didn’t spring from an ancient village. In fact, the city didn’t exist until the federal government and Banco de México decided to develop it in 1969. A development team targeted an existing sandbar off the tip of the Yucatán peninsula — then home to only a few small settlements, jungle and mangroves — using advanced computer technology and geographic research. They evaluated specific criteria, including climate, beach quality, hurricane risk, workforce and distance to the U.S. market, determining that this would be the perfect place to create a vacation hub.

The goal was ambitious: build a desirable, accessible destination that would rival other Caribbean spots and Miami while generating millions of tourist dollars. The economic dream of creating a flashy beach resort flanked by turquoise Caribbean waters and lush jungle would come to fruition — no matter the cost.

INFRATUR and the land grab

The timing was strategic. In the late 1960s, Acapulco was the crown jewel of Mexico’s coastline and a favorite getaway for Mexican and Hollywood elites. However, it was nearing the end of its golden age when overcrowding and pollution began to dull its glamour. The country desperately needed an alternative destination to replace the Pacific paradise while also attracting northern neighbors.

Banco de México established INFRATUR, a tourism-infrastructure trust designed to finance large-scale tourism projects. The trust moved swiftly, quietly purchasing over 12,000 hectares of coastline to lease in parcels to investors and hotel developers. The area would be divided between the tourist zone, the lagoon system, conservation land and urban area.

Not everyone welcomed this blueprint. As whispers about the project reached local landowners and speculators, a scramble erupted to capture land or inflate its value before the bank claimed it. It didn’t matter. Construction began in 1970 anyway, backed by federal funds and financing from lenders like the Inter-American Development Bank. Within a few years, the project consumed around one-fifth of Mexico’s federal tourism investment, a clear signal of its political focus.

Breaking ground in paradise

The sandbar was priority number one, but it could only be accessed by boat – hardly feasible for transporting the abundance of materials and manpower needed. Engineers solved this by building a road from Puerto Juárez, along with a provisional airstrip. Large-scale dredging removed mangroves and opened access between the lagoon system and the sea.

The project evolved in 1974 when the newest iteration of the fund, FONATUR (Fondo Nacional de Fomento al Turismo), took control and introduced a three-phase strategy: Phase 1 focused on the hotel zone; Phase 2 emphasized the mainland urban area for employees; Phase 3 involved the international airport and infrastructure to establish Cancún as a major destination.

FONATUR wielded unprecedented control, acting as landlord, developer and gatekeeper over all movement within the emerging city. This power allowed the fund to manipulate land distribution through negotiated deals and exclusive invitations. Consequently, a relatively small circle of large hotel chains, Mexican business groups and foreign partners secured the best-served, highest-value sites along the hotel zone.

The price of paradise

This selective development strategy came with significant costs, both social and environmental. The cherry-picking of investors sparked unrest among the expanding population of workers and informal settlers who found themselves excluded from the best areas, even as they built — and eventually staffed — the new resort destination. Many ended up in rapidly expanding inland neighborhoods with precarious housing and limited access to drinking water, drainage and even public transport, far from the polished image in Cancun’s advertisements.

Environmental consequences proved equally severe. Researchers documented how Cancún’s tourism boom led to pollution and erosion affecting Nichupté Lagoon, beaches and coastal ecosystems, necessitating almost-constant artificial beach replenishment. Damage to the surrounding aquifer resulted in contaminated waters and increased flood risk that disproportionately affected low-income neighborhoods. The dramatic loss of mangrove cover left the city vulnerable to dangerous storm surge and coastal flooding.

From first lobbies to spring break legends

Despite these growing pains, the resort took shape. When construction finally moved from survey stakes to actual hotels, the first wave of properties felt almost like a private club in the jungle. Government backing helped finance early hotel-zone projects, including high-profile names like the Hyatt Cancún Caribe and the Camino Real, alongside one of the earliest properties on the strip, the then-modest Playa Blanca (now living its provocative era as Temptation Cancun Resort).

This intimate resort experiment didn’t last long. By the 1980s and 1990s, Cancún had exploded into a full-blown spectacle: neon-lit discos, mega-clubs with laser shows and all-night parties that crowned it as a spring break capital. Venues like Coco Bongo mixed Vegas-style shows with thumping dance floors, turning a night out into the kind of over-the-top performance tourists bragged about for years.

The shadow city

While the hotel zone partied, Cancún, the city, grew in its shadow, essentially serving as a mainland hub for workers and services. INFRATUR and later FONATUR planned a gridded urban core and early residential areas to house government employees and tourism workers. However, migration quickly outpaced planning, and by the 1980s, thousands of people from other parts of Mexico had already arrived looking to capitalize on extensive job opportunities.

The municipality of Benito Juárez became one of the country’s fastest-growing urban areas and now houses nearly one million residents. This accelerated growth consistently outstripped infrastructure development, creating persistent issues with traffic, garbage collection and drainage that continue to plague the city today.

The modern challenge

Today, Cancún’s wild-child reputation endures, but in moderation, and Quintana Roo now boasts more than 130,000 hotel rooms. Current initiatives include new governance structures and major infrastructure projects like the Nichupté vehicular bridge — an 8-11 kilometer elevated road directly linking downtown Cancún to the hotel zone.

While promoted as essential for managing visitor loads and providing hurricane evacuation routes, environmental groups and court challenges question whether a massive bridge through a protected lagoon can ever be truly low-impact. It represents yet another battleground where the costs of “connecting” Cancún’s next growth phase are fiercely debated.

From computer calculations on a sandbar to a sprawling resort empire, Cancún stands as both triumph and cautionary tale — a testament to what can be built when governments dream big, and a reminder that paradise always comes with a price.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

The post The history of Cancún: How Mexico built a paradise from scratch appeared first on Mexico News Daily

While the rise from a national brand to Cholula’s global presence today may seem an overnight success, it was actually 100 years in the making, involving family cooks, tequila titans, baseball stars and an advertising strategy that would eventually conquer palates from Austin to Amsterdam. This is the story of how authentic Mexican flavor, wrapped in sustainable beechwood and backed by brilliant marketing, built a global hot sauce empire that proves good taste knows no borders.

The legend behind the label

According to the Cholula lore, Camilla Harrison was working as a cook for the Cuervo family — as in Don José Antonio de Cuervo, the tequila titan. One day, the story goes, while experimenting in the kitchen, she came up with a locally infused version of sangrita, the red peppery sauce generally used as a complement to the agave spirit. 

Her mixture of citrus juices, piquín and árbol chili peppers, vinegar and spices captivated the Cuervo family’s taste buds, enough that the family bought the rights to Harrison’s creation, standardized her recipe and produced the sauce at factory scale to sell as a versatile table condiment. 

No documented evidence exists to confirm whether or not Señora Harrison received any financial compensation, though local lore speculates it’s her caricature on the label. It’s possible that by the time the sauce hit Mexican shelves in the mid-20th century, she was no longer alive — that is, if she ever existed at all. 

But the Cuervo family’s decision to name their sauce not after their city but an ancient one would prove to be marketing genius.

Sacred geography, secret recipe

The choice to name the sauce “Cholula” rather than “Chapala” wasn’t accidental. Mexico’s 2,500-year-old city of Cholula lies at the base of Popocatépetl volcano, the longest-inhabited city in North America and home to the largest pyramid in the world by volume. 

The city today is known for churches, sopa Cholulteca and this little bottle of hot sauce that actually comes from Jalisco. How did that happen? 

From a brand psychology perspective, naming your sauce “Cholula” taps into an ancient Mexican archaeological and cultural powerhouse. This distinction far surpasses the usual playfulness of bottled sauce brands, the name signaling history, continuity and something more serious than your average hot sauce. This broader implied link between regional cuisine and deep-rooted traditions aligns well with the consumer search for “authentic” Mexican flavors in global markets. 

In other words, Cholula’s symbolic geography gives this tiny bottle of hot — and not overly so — sauce instant credibility in a crowded marketplace.

Riding a Mexican-food wave 

In the 1970s, the West witnessed a surge of interest in Mexican cuisine, notably after British-born food writer Diana Kennedy published the cookbook “The Cuisines of Mexico” in 1972 in the U.S.

The book has been largely credited with changing how the English-speaking world viewed Mexican food. Tex-Mex chefs like Stephan Pyles and Robert Del Grande became household names in the ’80s, defining the flavorful cuisine as a trendy alternative to an otherwise bland American diet. To top it off, the number of Mexican immigrants to the U.S. more than tripled between 1970 and 1990, according to Pew Research. 

This perfect storm of factors caught the eye of the Cuervo company, which saw a clear path to commercial success. 

When Cholula Hot Sauce launched in Austin, Texas in 1989, it quickly spread throughout the U.S. via supermarket chains. Twenty years later, Cholula would emerge as one of the country’s leading hot sauce brands; by 2020, its annual retail sales reached approximately US $96 million. This success is owed, in part, to McCormick & Company’s acquisition of Cholula Hot Sauce in the same year.

From baseball diamonds to pizza boxes

Cholula’s marketing genius lay in understanding American culture beyond just taste buds. The company seized upon baseball as a promotional tool, running a prominent “Order of Cholula” campaign with New York Mets pitcher Noah Syndergaard around 2017, in which he discussed using the sauce as part of his routine. 

Significant investment in baseball sponsorships also included a multiteam ‘Cholula Flamethrower’ MLB program that combined in‑stadium and on‑air exposure, placing the sauce at concession stands. The widespread presence throughout “America’s favorite pastime” led to the creation of the Cholula Porch space at the Texas Rangers’ Globe Life Park in Arlington. 

A Cholula marketing campaign in the late aughts centered around then New York Mets star pitcher Noah Syndergaard marketed Cholula to American millennials as a passionate lifestyle choice and raised the hot sauce’s visibility in the U.S.

These sports partnerships helped move Cholula from a niche Mexican‑restaurant condiment into a broader part of American food and fan culture — although not without some friendly competition from a brand from the U.S. South.

David vs. Goliath: Taking on Tabasco

The Cholula and Tabasco brands compete for the same condiment real estate — on diner counters, in stadium condiment offerings, on brunch tables and in supermarket aisles — but they occupy distinct spaces in terms of origin, flavor and brand personality. 

Cholula is marketed by McCormick as a Mexican hot sauce with medium heat and a rounded, food-first flavor profile meant to “go on everything,” supported by strong placement in North American restaurants and grocery chains.

Tabasco, produced by the McIlhenny Company on Avery Island, Louisiana, is framed as a foundational American brand, known for its sharp, vinegar-forward, fermented chili taste and its longtime use in hospitality, airlines and home kitchens worldwide. 

Both use hot peppers as their base, but the fundamental difference lies in flavor philosophy: Tabasco ages mashed peppers and salt in white oak barrels, then blends them with vinegar, which dominates the taste. Cholula’s approach prioritizes the peppers themselves, so you instead taste the piquín and árbol peppers, not the vinegar or the wood. 

McCormick explicitly positions Cholula as a premium brand that can compete in the same spaces where Tabasco traditionally dominated, offering different flavor experiences but solving the same basic consumer need: a trusted, everyday hot sauce that enhances rather than overwhelms food.

A global phenomenon

Today, Cholula has official distributors across Europe, with dedicated sales managers within United Kingdom and German distribution networks. Major British retailers like Tesco stock it alongside traditional favorites. British consumers specifically seek it out as an alternative to vinegar-heavy sauces, wanting “developed and well-rounded pepper flavor without a searing hot punch” — a perfect example of why Cholula succeeded where other hot sauces couldn’t. 

Market research now lists Cholula among the major players in the European hot sauce market, with the U.K., Germany, France and the Netherlands emerging as leading consumers. The scramble for hot sauces in Europe highlights a broader cultural shift, as demand for Mexican cuisine and spicier condiments moves these flavors from niche products into everyday pantry staples. 

The Cholula Effect has spread beyond the plate, showing how genuine cultural products can transcend borders and make the world a more flavorful place, one wooden cap at a time.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

The post The Cholula Effect: How a Mexican hot sauce conquered global palates appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Upscale New Year’s Eve restaurants in Mexico City

Fónico – “Fónico a la Gatsby” NYE Party

Perfect for: Couples, special occasions, groups
Atmosphere: Fine dining with Art Deco glamour and vintage vibes
What to expect: This high-end Mexican restaurant occupies a heritage mansion in Roma Norte, where Chef Billy Maldonado reinterprets northwestern Mexican flavors with modern creativity. The restaurant offers tasting-menu presentations and craft cocktails in a Gatsby-era aesthetic.
NYE celebration: Two seatings available – early seating 6:00-8:30 p.m. (1,950 pesos) or late party seating from 9:30 p.m.-4:00 a.m. (2,980 pesos, 4,100 with open bar). The late seating includes live music and a festive party atmosphere.
Reservations: OpenTable | Fonico Website

Galea Mediterranean Cuisine NYE Tasting Menu

Perfect for: Food enthusiasts, couples, intimate celebrations
Atmosphere: Michelin-recognized Italian cuisine with classy ambiance
What to expect: This acclaimed Italian restaurant in Roma honors artisanal techniques and conscious hospitality, crafting each dish with precision in an intimate setting. Galea has earned recognition from the Michelin Guide and features Mediterranean-inspired cuisine led by Chef Rafael Zaga and Chef Michelle Catarata.
NYE celebration: Single seating 5:00-8:30 p.m. (maximum 3-hour stay). Choose between a 3-course menu (1,500 pesos) featuring eggplant tartlet, langoustine ravioli and truffle mille-feuille, or a 5-course menu (2,700 pesos) showcasing black truffle porchetta and caramelized milk bread with Reblochon cheese.
Reservations: Galea Reservations

JW Marriott Polanco – Sendero Restaurant NYE Gala

Perfect for: Couples, families, multi-generational celebrations
Atmosphere: Refined hotel dining with contemporary Mexican cuisine
What to expect: This polished restaurant inside JW Marriott Polanco features contemporary Mexican and Latin American dishes built around local, seasonal ingredients in an elegant, comfortable dining room. The refined atmosphere works equally well for romantic dinners and family gatherings.
NYE celebration: Buffet dinner 7:30 p.m.-11:30 p.m. includes sparkling wine and traditional 12 grapes. Dinner starts at 2,900 pesos per person (850 for children under 12). Room packages are available with the gala dinner and a New Year’s Day brunch featuring endless mimosas.
Reservations: Sendero OpenTable | JW Marriott Polanco

Speakeasy & Sophisticated Party Venues for NYE

The Midnight Monkey New Year’s Eve Celebration

Perfect for: Couples, jazz enthusiasts, refined party-goers
Atmosphere: Intimate 1920s speakeasy with live jazz and burlesque shows
What to expect: This exclusive speakeasy recreates the Prohibition era with authentic Art Deco style, hidden-bar atmosphere and live entertainment. The venue features classic cocktails and immersive golden-age experiences in an intimate setting.
NYE celebration: Starts at 10:00 p.m. with premium open bar, gourmet canapés, live music and “the countdown that sets the tone for 2026.” The party is set to last until 2:00 a.m.
Reservations: Midnight Monkey | OpenTable

Grupo RosaNegra NYE Celebrations (Multiple Venues)

Perfect for: Groups seeking glamour with live entertainment
Atmosphere: High-energy party dining with shows and performances
What to expect: Collection of upscale Masaryk venues where dinner transforms into entertainment. Taboo offers Mediterranean beach-club vibes with DJs; Parole provides cozy Italian romance with live musicians; RosaNegra delivers Latin glamour with percussion and sparklers; Chambao features steakhouse-supper club atmosphere; Mestiza offers relaxed social dining perfect for cocktail sharing.
NYE celebration: Each restaurant offers a 4-course dinner with a live show, DJ and midnight Moët & Chandon toast. The celebration runs from 8:00 p.m.-2:00 a.m. with emphasis on elegant dress and table-based socializing.
Reservations: Grupo RosaNegra

Traditional & Casual NYE Dining in Mexico City

Gran Cantina Filomeno New Year’s Eve Tradition

Perfect for: Friend groups and families seeking an authentic Mexican atmosphere
Atmosphere: Historic Mexican cantina with Porfirian-era charm
What to expect: This traditional cantina operates from a historic Porfirian mansion, serving classic Mexican cantina cuisine with generous botanas, premium tequila and mezcal selections. The venue features live mariachi music, domino tables and card games in an authentic golden-age Mexican social setting.
NYE celebration: The evening begins at 9:00 p.m. with a dinner-only option (2,200 pesos) or dinner plus open bar (4,000 pesos). Includes live music and a traditional midnight toast.
Reservations: Cantina Filomeno OpenTable

Botanero del Bosque NYE Dinner

Perfect for: Groups, casual celebrations
Atmosphere: Lively cantina-style venue with vintage-modern décor
What to expect: This restored Centro Histórico venue revives traditional Mexican “botanero” culture, where complimentary snacks accompany every drink. The space features vintage-meets-modern design, with live cantina music and communal seating arrangements perfect for group celebrations.
NYE celebration: Starts at 8:00 p.m. with a 4-course dinner, New Year’s toast, live music and traditional 12-grape midnight ritual.
Reservations: Botanero del Bosque

Free Outdoor NYE Events in Mexico City

Angel of Independence (El Ángel) NYE Street Party

Perfect for: Large groups, budget-conscious celebrants, cultural experiences
Atmosphere: Massive street party with festive crowds
What to expect: Mexico City’s primary public New Year’s Eve celebration centers around the iconic Ángel de la Independencia on Paseo de la Reforma. This free event features live music or DJ performances, city-organized light shows and fireworks at midnight. Sections of Reforma close to traffic, creating space for dancing and street celebrations.

Zócalo Fireworks & Historic Celebration

Perfect for: Families, cultural enthusiasts, budget-friendly options
Atmosphere: Historic communal celebration in the heart of Mexico City
What to expect: The classic countdown takes place in Mexico City’s main plaza, surrounded by the Cathedral and National Palace. This massive public gathering often includes stage programming, concerts, fireworks and building projections at midnight.
Upgrade option: Reserve terrace dining at Balcón del Zócalo or La Terraza del Gran Hotel for elevated views of the square before joining the street celebration.

Unique NYE Experiences in Mexico City

Xochimilco Trajinera NYE Boat Parties 

Perfect for: Friend groups, party enthusiasts
Atmosphere: Festive floating celebration on traditional boats
What to expect: Nighttime floating parties on decorated trajineras through Xochimilco’s canals. These unique celebrations include open bar service, live music (DJ, mariachi or banda), tacos and snacks, with boats often connecting to create larger floating dance floors for a distinctly Mexican New Year’s experience.
Booking: Reserve through platforms like Fever or GetYourGuide. Choose between shared or private boat options. Most tours are during the day.

Teotihuacán Sunrise Experience (January 1st)

Perfect for: Couples, cultural enthusiasts, early risers
Atmosphere: Spiritual, scenic new year beginning
What to expect: Start 2026 with sunrise hot-air balloon flights or early morning visits to the ancient Teotihuacán pyramids. Watch the year’s first light illuminate these archaeological wonders, often followed by a celebratory breakfast and optional guided tours.
Booking: Schedule with balloon operators, including Flying Pictures or Globos Aerostáticos for January 1st flights. 

NYE Spa & Wellness Experiences in Mexico City

Nima Urban Spa Wellness Retreat

Perfect for: Couples, small friend groups, solo relaxation
Atmosphere: Tranquil urban wellness sanctuary
What to expect: This intimate Roma Norte spa offers curated “Spa Half-Day” packages including hydrotherapy circuits (sauna, steam, contrast showers), 50-minute massages, 45-minute facials and light refreshments. The experience provides a mindful body and mind reset before or after NYE celebrations.
Booking: Nima Urban Spa

Thai Spa Temazcal Spiritual Cleansing

Perfect for: Couples, wellness seekers, cultural enthusiasts
Atmosphere: Traditional pre-Hispanic spiritual cleansing
What to expect: Authentic temazcal (steam bath) rituals from Mesoamerican traditions, conducted inside stone or brick domes with herbal infusions poured over heated volcanic rocks. Guided sessions include breathing techniques and intention-setting, available at Polanco and Roma Norte locations.
Pricing: Basic 40-minute temazcal sessions start at 499 pesos, with extended rituals combining massage and body treatments available.
Booking: Thai Spa

Tips for last-minute NYE planning in Mexico City

• Book immediately: Popular venues fill up quickly, especially for NYE celebrations.
• Confirm dress codes: Upscale venues typically require elegant attire.
• Plan transportation: Traffic increases significantly on NYE; consider ride-sharing or designated drivers.
• Check the weather: December in Mexico City can be cool; bring layers for outdoor events.
• Currency: Most venues accept credit cards, but carry pesos for street vendors and tips.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

The post A last minute guide to New Year’s Eve plans in Mexico City appeared first on Mexico News Daily

This charming hub blends the region’s rich Maya heritage with elegant colonial architecture, accented by bright colors and geometric patterns, soaring ceilings and pillared courtyards. The sun-drenched streets and the plazas are artfully landscaped. As my iPhone’s collection of photos grew, I wondered aloud and often: Why is Mérida so darn cute?

The city’s combination of European and Maya styles

The city of Mérida was created in 1542, when the Spanish initiated its construction over the ancient Maya city of T’hó. The location was ideal to establish a colonial stronghold, with its established trade routes and freshwater accessibility, as well as its reasonable distance from the coast. Preexisting infrastructure provided workers with building materials, such as the repurposed stones you can see today in Catedral de San Ildefonso and Casa de Montejo. 

Over the years, Mérida served as New Spain’s administrative seat in the Yucatán. For this reason, it was sometimes the site of Indigenous uprisings.

Once the 20th century rolled around, Mérida’s economy exploded, thanks to the henequén trade, further developing the capital. Henequén, a plant native to the Yucatán Peninsula, produces a famously sturdy fiber of the same name that’s used in rope, sacks and fabrics. It is still essential today in the agriculture and shipping industries.

The product was largely exported to the United States for twine in the second decade of the 1900s, averaging a regional income of US $24 million per year. Much of that wealth surge was redirected into beautifying the city. Today, Mérida’s unique look marries European elegance and Maya design. 

Here are the details that make it so cute.

Its colonial-era architecture

If you’ve entered any of the museum mansions, you’ve probably noticed ceilings that soar up to 6 meters (20 feet) high. These airy abodes served two purposes: showcasing a family’s societal status and adapting to the regional climate. Yucatán summers can be stifling. Before air conditioning was standard, high ceilings were used to trap the heat, keeping interiors cool and improving airflow.

Additionally, thick walls, central courtyards and large doors and windows were also constructed within these colonial villas to facilitate cross-breezes and provide shade and maintain a pleasant indoor temperature.

Most of Mérida’s neighborhoods are marked by their own leafy square, reminiscent of both Mayan markets and Europe’s outdoor central plazas. Each is lined with a church, some with government offices. All are meticulously landscaped with trees and flower beds. You’ll also notice sets of “lover’s chairs,” romantic double-seated benches said to have been commissioned by a protective father so his daughter and suitor could converse with some physical distance built in.

The crown jewel of Merida’s squares, Plaza Grande, is framed by the cathedral, Casa de Montejo, and the government palace. Archaeological excavations have revealed Maya structures and colonial paving stones beneath, making the main square a living testament to the city’s multilayered history.

The henequén boom era: Turning local fiber into fortunes

Colorful and geometric, these cement squares are called pasta for the paste they’re made from. Originally a tradition brought over to the Yucatán from Barcelona starting in the mid-1800s, pasta tiles were extremely durable, lasting a century or more, and were revered as a symbol of status and wealth.

During the 20th-century economic boom, 60 small factories were built here to satisfy an ever-increasing demand, where skilled artisans made each tile by hand. A single worker, known as a ladrillero, could make between 80 and 130 tiles per day, pouring colored cement into an iron mold, pressing them into shape, then leaving them to dry for a week.
Most tiles were crafted in floral or geometric patterns, though it was rare to see identical motifs as neighbors competed to install the most unique designs.

Perhaps the grandest display of henequén wealth in Mérida was Paseo de Montejo. Built between 1888 and 1904 and inspired by Parisian boulevards, this tree-lined avenue was designed by city authorities and wealthy aristocrats to display their newfound prosperity.

Named after the Spanish conquistador who founded Mérida, the boulevard features wide sidewalks, landscaped plazas and roundabouts called glorietas. The historic center is another example of European-style urban planning, where a distinctive grid layout features sidewalks dotted with lampposts and wrought-iron balconies imported from Europe.

Barons who capitalized on the henequén trade commissioned grand casonas that emulated Beaux-Arts, French and Italianate architecture, such as manicured gardens, porticos, Carrera marble floors and pasta tiles. Many of these old mansions can be found today on Paseo de Montejo, where they’ve been converted into museums, restaurants and hotels.

One such mansion-turned-museum, Quinta Montes Molina, retained many of its original accents — stained glass from Tiffany’s and Limoges china — including, so they say, the owner’s spirit: Local legend claims Avelino Montes Linaje, who bought the mansion from a Cuban businessman during the Mexican Revolution, continues to wander the halls.

Embracing Indigenous identity

After the Mexican Revolution, Mérida embraced its Indigenous identity by incorporating architectural details inspired by Uxmal and Chichen Itzá. Starting in 1915, architects began integrating Maya elements into new construction — think serpent motifs, corbeled archways, geometric fretwork and traditional mask features. This style came to be known in Mexico as Neomaya.

Rendón Peniche Sanatorium, which currently houses UNAM’s Peninsular Center for Humanities and Social Sciences, is a great example of Neomaya — also known as Maya Revival— architecture. Maya-related decorative elements were also making a comeback, and many houses were outfitted with hammocks for sleeping in the traditional Yucatán style.

It’s a living canvas

Much of Mérida’s charm lies in the weathered paint layers on many of its colonial facades. The tropical sun, seasonal rains and humidity cause exterior paint to fade and flake while newer coats are applied over older layers. The result is numerous textured walls where blue, pink, ochre and turquoise overlap, with slabs of plaster and brick revealed beneath.

Historic restoration projects are tasked with intentionally preserving this “palimpsest” quality, highlighting the city’s ability to continuously adapt and showcasing its timeworn character.

Speaking of layered paint, the colors themselves cover a spectrum of hues, from soft pastels like teal, rose and yellow to intense shades of azure blue and brilliant magenta. Vibrant colors reflect the region’s tropical climate and Caribbean influence, often inspired by the Yucatán sea, sky and bright-red flamboyán trees. Historically, specific colors were used for their spiritual significance rooted in Maya beliefs and Catholic traditions, such as blue representing safety and red conveying vitality.

Mérida’s colorful buildings also serve a practical purpose: Unlike white or stone facades, colors help to diffuse the strong Yucatán sunlight and diminish the glare, enhancing the city’s vibrant street life.

So why is Mérida so cute? It’s the perfect storm of history, culture and climate creating something entirely unique. Maya foundations, Spanish colonialism, henequén wealth and tropical weathering have all left their mark, yet somehow Mérida has blended these influences into its own distinct character. The result is a city that wears it beautifully, charming every visitor who discovers its colorful streets.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

The post What makes Mérida Mexico’s cutest city: 8 architectural secrets revealed appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The Soviet linguist, known for his unconventional mind, had never seen a Maya ruin, never felt the humid air of the Yucatán, never touched an ancient stone carving. But from his remote office more than 10,000 kilometers away, Knorozov managed to crack the Mesoamerican code that had stumped scholars for centuries.

From WWII Berlin to Moscow: How war led to a breakthrough

Born in the Soviet Union in 1922, Knorozov, a fair-skinned, dark-haired intellectual, spent his early 20s at the start of World War II hopping from village to village to avoid army conscription. Between relocations, Knorozov studied Egyptology at the local university. 

He was eventually conscripted and sent as a Soviet artillery spotter to Berlin, where he stumbled upon something precious. Inside a crate of Nazi materials marked for destruction, Knorozov found a collection of rare reproductions containing three Maya codices. He took them home.

The codices consisted of three screenfold books with bark paper and coated with stucco. The Dresden Codex, at 74 pages, contained precise Venus tables, lunar eclipse cycles and ritual almanacs demonstrating the Maya’s sophisticated understanding of celestial mechanics. The Madrid Codex, the longest of the three at 112 pages, featured extensive almanacs and divinatory texts that showed the intertwining of Maya daily life with their complex calendar systems. The fragmentary Paris Codex, at just over 20 pages, offered crucial references to Maya mythology and new year ceremonies.

Back in Moscow after the war, Knorozov also worked extensively with a Spanish manuscript by Franciscan bishop Diego de Landa, called “Relación de las cosas de Yucatán.” This text, written in 1566, attempted to document Maya culture and writing by assigning each glyph to a letter of the Spanish alphabet.

While studying these materials, Knorozov came across an article by the German scholar Paul Schellhas entitled “Deciphering Mayan Hieroglyphs: An Unsolvable Problem?” The author dismissed Mayan written language as indecipherable. Many academics of the time accepted Schellhas’s conclusion. 

Knorozov saw it as a challenge.

The mathematical method that decoded Maya hieroglyphs

Studying the codices in Moscow, Knorozov began to question the prevailing assumptions about Mayan writing. How could a civilization capable of producing such detailed celestial calculations possess an unsophisticated writing system? His in-depth analysis of de Landa’s work revealed two crucial errors. First, de Landa had tried to match Mayan symbols to Spanish letters, but with 355 symbols, it was clear that Mayan writing didn’t work like a simple alphabet. Second, he’d missed that the system was mixed: symbols could represent entire words (logograms) or syllabic sounds, depending on their position.

Knorozov developed a statistical approach that was revolutionary for its time: Working methodically through the codices, he counted symbol frequencies and tracked their positions. How many times did each symbol appear? Where in the text — at word beginnings, middles or ends? This positional analysis revealed patterns that previous scholars had overlooked, patterns that would prove crucial to unlocking the meaning behind Maya script.

His mathematical approach gave him confidence in his conclusions, but convincing the academic world would prove a different challenge entirely.

When Soviet science met Western skepticism

The academic establishment of the 1960s was in no way ready for a Soviet solution to their Western puzzle. Eric Thompson, the leading British Maya expert, blatantly dismissed Knorozov’s 1963 book “The Writing of the Maya Indians” as fundamentally flawed. Thompson’s skepticism carried weight, as he was the Western authority on Maya studies.

But this wasn’t just scholarly disagreement. Cold War tensions made Western academics suspicious of Soviet research. How could a linguist who’d never set foot in Maya territory, who worked from reproductions rather than original stones, crack a code that had stumped generations of field researchers? To many Western scholars, the idea seemed implausible.

Vindication finally came in 1973 at the Palenque Round Table conference. Thirty researchers — including art instructor Linda Schele and undergraduate epigrapher Peter Mathews — gathered to work on Mayan inscriptions. When they applied Knorozov’s methods to the Tablet of the 96 Glyphs, they achieved something remarkable: they deciphered actual names of Maya rulers, including the great king K’inich Janaab’ Pakal. Suddenly, the stories on Maya stones made sense, and the dates, dynasties and personal names would change the course of Mexican history. Thompson, his biggest rival, would die two years later without acknowledging Knorozov’s revolutionary contributions.

The man behind the discovery: Academic quirks and scholarly focus

Beyond his groundbreaking scholarship, Knorozov was a figure of fascinating contradictions. Described by colleagues as an introvert, he possessed a sense of humor that manifested in unexpected ways. His most famous quirk — it has been said that he listed his Siamese cat, Asya, as coauthor on academic papers — reflected the scholar’s playful approach to rigid academic conventions.

Knorozov maintained an intense work ethic, spending countless hours studying in institutions like the Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography in Leningrad and the University of Moscow. His motivation came from intellectual challenge rather than conventional academic pathways, and when faced with the widespread idea that Mayan hieroglyphs couldn’t be cracked, he decided to solve an unsolvable problem.

Despite his revolutionary discoveries, he remained remarkably modest about his achievements. His personal life reflected the focused lifestyle typical of Soviet intellectuals: He got married, had a daughter named Ekaterina and a granddaughter named Anna and lived a life largely dedicated to his scholarly work. When he finally visited Mexico in the 1990s, colleagues noted his surprise at being received as a hero, suggesting a man more comfortable with codices than celebrity.

Knorozov’s triumphant Mexico visits

In 1990, nearly 40 years after his discovery, Knorozov finally traveled to see the Maya lands that had consumed his career. 

Invited personally by the President of Guatemala, Vinicio Cerezo, Knorozov traveled first to Guatemala and then made three subsequent visits to Mexico, visiting the Maya ruins of Palenque, Mérida, Uxmal and Dzibilchaltún. He was greeted with great admiration and respect, celebrated as a hero for having unlocked one of the greatest historical and linguistic mysteries of the Americas.

The man who had given a voice back to the ancient Maya civilization was embraced by modern Maya communities and Mexican scholars. The Mexican government awarded him the Order of the Aztec Eagle in 1994, making him an honorary Mexican — a fitting honor for someone whose heart, he said, “always remained with Mexico.” 

Knorozov died in Saint Petersburg in 1999.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

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Those who can, leave — but to where? Circumstances during the war didn’t leave much room for preference. The United States maintained strict immigration quotas — created under the National Origins Act of 1924 — with no special provisions for political refugees. Britain was under siege. 

But one country offered something different: Mexico.

Why Mexico became a refuge for Surrealists

Mexico offered an appealing refuge in three ways. For one, President Lázaro Cárdenas had established an asylum policy during the Spanish Civil War — anyone who could escape Franco’s Spain would be granted entry to Mexico. Also, Mexico’s wartime economic boom had created opportunities for artists to find patronage and exhibition spaces. Finally, Mexico City had established cultural infrastructure that included galleries like Galería de Arte Mexicano, workshops like the Taller de Gráfica Popular and a vibrant artistic community.

Over 20,000 Spanish Republicans arrived by 1940.

When French poet and writer André Breton, a cofounder of the Surrealist movement, visited in 1938, he declared Mexico “the most Surrealist country in the world.” But getting to this promised land would require harrowing journeys that would change both the artists and Mexico City’s artistic landscape forever.

Three dramatic escapes across the Atlantic

Leonora Carrington’s escape reads like a psychological thriller: The young British artist had been living with Max Ernst in southern France when fascist police arrested him. Alone and terrified, Carrington fled to Madrid, triggering a complete mental breakdown. She was committed to a psychiatric hospital, where she endured horrifying treatments that would later influence her surrealist paintings.

Upon her release, Carrington went to Lisbon and connected with Renato Leduc, a Mexican poet and diplomat who offered her a marriage of convenience to escape. Mexican consulate to France Gilberto Bosques — often hailed as “Mexico’s Oskar Schindler” for issuing at least 1,500 life-saving visas to Europeans escaping fascism — granted her entry. Carrington sailed to New York, then finally to Mexico, to start over.

Spanish artist Remedios Varo’s journey began earlier. After fleeing Franco’s regime in 1936, she and her activist boyfriend, poet Benjamin Péret, found themselves starving in Nazi-threatened Paris, living under constant threat of arrest. 

When France fell, they managed a harrowing escape to Mexico through Marseille, the last open port before Europe’s complete closure.

Austrian painter Wolfgang Paalen and French poet Alice Rahon took a circuitous route through the Pacific Northwest, where Paalen collected Native American artifacts even as they ran for their lives. They arrived in Mexico City together in September 1939, personally invited by Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. 

The reception: Mexican artists’ mixed reactions to European refugees

These European creatives arriving in Mexico City entered a complex artistic battlefield. Some welcomed them with open arms; others gazed upon these foreign intellectuals with deep suspicion.

Inés Amor, director of the Galería de Arte Mexicano, became the refugees’ most powerful ally. Her gallery had been founded in 1935 as Mexico City’s first contemporary art space and was renowned as the country’s most influential venue. Amor understood that these refugees brought international connections and artistic innovations that could elevate Mexican art on a global scale, and provided exhibition opportunities – she became Leonora Carrington’s primary dealer in 1956. 

On the opposite side of the spectrum was Frida Kahlo, who famously and fiercely resented the influx of fresh artistic talent. Despite hosting André Breton and other Surrealists in her famous Casa Azul, she had much to say when they weren’t listening. 

Letters to photographer Nickolas Muray are fueled with anger, including statements like “They are so damn ‘intellectual’ and rotten that I can’t stand them anymore.” She called Breton “an old cockroach” and declared she’d rather “sit on the floor in the market of Toluca and sell tortillas than have anything to do with those ‘artistic’ [expletives] of Paris.”

Kahlo’s resistance wasn’t just personal. She also had strong feelings about being categorized within the confines of a European movement.“’I never knew I was a Surrealist until André Breton came to Mexico and told me I was one,” she reportedly told her dealer in 1938.

A creative explosion: Surrealism meets Mexican culture

The deeper conflict lay between Mexico’s nationalist Muralists and the international Surrealists. The Muralists were creating a new Mexican identity for a post-Revolution Mexico, exactly at a time when nationalist themes were downright traumatic for the Surrealists. Mexican muralists focused deeply on portraying the realities of Mexico’s pre- and post-colonial history and elevating its Indigenous heritage. 

Surrealists, by contrast, wanted to face anything but reality – after all, they had just fled a real-life nightmare and used dream interpretation and mental imagery to escape those horrors. Meanwhile, as Marxism split into factions, the groups supported different sides and the Surrealist community faced marginalization.

Despite the tensions, something extraordinary happened when European Surrealism collided with Mexican culture — the art world transformed. 

Exposición Internacional del surrealismo

Wolfgang Paalen organized the “Exposición Internacional del surrealismo” at Galería de Arte Mexicano in January 1940. All the greats of the time were on the walls: Dalí, Ernst, Rivera, Varo, Manuel Álvarez Bravo, Jean Arp, René Magritte and Meret Oppenheim. The show unveiled Frida Kahlo’s monumental “Las dos Fridas,” a quintessentially Surrealist painting (despite her resistance to the label).  

What made this show stand out was Paalen’s decision to display the contemporary works alongside pre-Columbian artifacts from Rivera’s extensive collection. This bold act bridged the gap—metaphorically and conversationally—between Mexican and European artists.

Women also faced a whole new world of artistic freedom. In Europe, female Surrealists had been largely confined to supporting roles. Mexico offered them the creative independence they’d never before experienced. Varo, Carrington, and Hungarian-born photographer Kati Horna formed an intense friendship based on shared fascination with Indigenous cosmologies, alchemy, metaphysics and the tarot. Artist Alice Rahon created ethereal paintings inspired by ancient Mexican codices. Varo developed her signature style that blended science and mysticism. Carrington began incorporating Mexican spiritual traditions and Celtic mythology into her fantastical paintings.

The legacy: how Surrealist refugees transformed Mexico City’s art scene

The arrival in Mexico of Surrealist refugees helped turn the nation’s capital into one of the most dynamic and cosmopolitan cultural centers in the Americas during the 1940s.

The transformation began in the neighborhoods where they settled: Roma became the epicenter of international artistic life, flourishing with salons, galleries and the bohemian culture that defines the Mexico City neighborhood to this day. Remedios Varo, her husband and Horna lived and frequented cafes near Orizaba. Carrington lived on Calle Chihuahua 194 for 60 years; her former home is now a research center housing her own personal archive. 

Today, Roma is home to dozens of cutting-edge galleries like the Olivia Foundation; the bordering Condesa neighborhood hosts international spaces like Mexico City’s outpost of the König Galerie. According to Mexican artist and Casa Wabi founder Bosco Sodi, the capital’s gallery scene is “buzzing with energy reminiscent of Berlin two decades ago.”

Nearly eight decades later, Mexico City stays true to its roots as an artistic haven for refugees. Since 2007, the capital has been an active member of the International Cities of Refuge Network (ICORN) through Casa Refugio Citlaltépetl, where endangered creatives find the same outlet that those wartime refugees once received. And so Mexico City continues a tradition established in the 1940s, proving that some cities are destined to be refuges where art and safety intersect.

Bethany Platanella is a travel planner and lifestyle writer based in Mexico City. She lives for the dopamine hit that comes directly after booking a plane ticket, exploring local markets, practicing yoga and munching on fresh tortillas. Sign up to receive her Sunday Love Letters to your inbox, peruse her blog or follow her on Instagram.

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