All posts by The Eye Mexico

Beach, Village and Urban Living in Mexico. We are a community-based magazine focusing on culture and life in Mexico.
Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Jewish Pilgrimage Festivals in Mexico

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By Marcia Chaiken and Jan Chaiken—

Among the many pilgrimages that occur in Mexico, probably the ones with the oldest historical foundations are some Jewish observances. Known in Hebrew as the Shalosh Regalim, the “three pilgrimage festivals,” the observance of these ancient practices was carried here by Jews who accompanied the Spanish conquistadors. They were practiced in secret, since the Spanish Inquisition imposed the death penalty on those who carried out Jewish observances.

Historically, the three Jewish pilgrimages occurred in the land of Israel during times when Temples existed in Jerusalem: Solomon’s Temple, between the 10th and 6th centuries BCE, and the Second Temple, between 538 BCE and 70 CE.

Three times each year, marking the beginning of the spring barley harvest, the beginning of the summer wheat harvest, and the end of the annual fall harvests, Jewish law, as written in the Torah (Jewish scriptures), commanded that members of the twelve tribes of Israel travel from their home territories, largely by foot, up to the Temple in Jerusalem carrying specific offerings.

The three pilgrimages were known by names that are still used around the world, including in Mexico today. The spring harvest pilgrimage was also known as Passover (Pesaj); the beginning of the summer pilgrimage, Shavuot; and the fall pilgrimage, Sukkot, or the Feast of Booths (Cabañuelas).

In addition to offerings of the choicest of the harvest, each of the pilgrimages required sacrifices of animals brought by the pilgrims to the priests at the Temple. The Passover sacrifice was a one-year-old unblemished male lamb. The lamb was a reminder of the sacrifice of a lamb and shared meal that took place about 3,300 years ago on the night before the Israelite slaves were freed in Egypt and began their long journey toward the Promised Land.

Shavuot involved offerings of first fruits and loaves of bread baked from the choicest early wheat, along with a diverse selection of domesticated animals. Once again, the animals were chosen from the best of the herds and flocks and examined to ensure the absence of any blemish. These sacrifices reenacted the ceremonial offerings that, according to the Torah, took place at the foot of Mount Sinai, where the Ten Commandments were given to the Israelites.

The most noteworthy animal sacrifice for Sukkot entailed seventy bulls offered over the seven days of the pilgrimage festival. Temple rites for Sukkot also involved a far less bloody ceremony: the water ceremony. Pilgrims lined the path the priests followed from the Temple down to a pool of water at the bottom of the Temple Mount.

As the priests descended to fill their ceremonial bowls and climbed back up to the Temple, the pilgrims sang and danced in joy. They continued singing and dancing as the priests poured the water, together with wine, over the Temple altar, assuring all that there would be sufficient rain to produce abundant crops in the following year.

Pilgrimage to Jerusalem came to an end in 70 CE when the Roman army besieged the Temple Mount, almost completely destroyed the Temple, leaving only the Western Wall standing, killed a large portion of the Jewish population in the Holy Land, and sent thousands more into exile. With the destruction of the Temple and the end of priestly sacrifice, it fell to the rabbis to decide how Judaism could continue without pilgrimages to the Temple Mount or flesh-and-blood offerings. The discussions and debates that followed were recorded for posterity. Although physical pilgrimage ceased, the rabbis continued to refer to the festivals as the Shalosh Regalim, and each holiday remained a hag, the Hebrew word for pilgrimage, linguistically related to the Arabic hajj.

Since the end of the Inquisition in Mexico in 1820 and Mexico’s independence from Spain shortly thereafter, the Shalosh Regalim have been openly practiced by observant (and not so observant) Jews. Passover seders, often large family and community gatherings, retell the story of the Exodus from slavery in Egypt. On the seder table, along with other symbolic foods, is a shank bone, a reminder of the original sacrificial lamb. On Shavuot, meals traditionally include grains and fruits reminiscent of those once harvested and brought to the Temple. On Sukkot, ceremonies involve four species of ancient plants. A bundle of willow, palm, and myrtle, called the lulav, when shaken produces a sound likened to falling rain. Although the water ceremony exists only in memory, Jews still sing and dance as they shake the lulav and pray for a year of sufficient rain to foster the coming crops.

As the hag of Passover ends, those gathered for seders often call out in Spanish, “Este año estamos aquí; el próximo año, en Jerusalén.” (“This year we are here; next year, in Jerusalem.”)

2026 Festival Dates
Passover begins on the evening of Wednesday, April 1, 2026, and concludes Thursday, April 9, 2026

Shavuot begins on the evening of Thursday, May 21, 2026, and concludes Saturday, May 23, 2026

Sukkot begins on the evening of Friday, September 25, 2026, and concludes Friday, October 2, 2026.

Drs. Marcia and Jan Chaiken have been married for 62 years and have published many justice system research reports together.

Huatulco

A Pilgrimage Nobody Asked For

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By Kary Vannice—

When people talk about pilgrimage in Mexico, they usually envision a basilica or a shrine of spiritual significance, someplace established, sanctified, religious. A place where the route is well known, the motivation clear, and the rules are understood. The local community, for better or worse, is built around the incoming seekers.

But Huautla de Jiménez in the state of Oaxaca never had that luxury. What occurred there in the 1950s and 60s didn’t align with the natural order of a pilgrimage destination. The people there didn’t want to be a destination, and yet, without their consent, the world arrived anyway.

At the center of it all was a curandera (a healer) named María Sabina, of the Mazatec tradition, a local woman who performed ceremonies using psilocybin mushrooms to heal illness, resolve inner conflict, and restore energetic balance. Her ceremonies were based in ancient knowledge and were performed for local people and “hometown” problems.

But in 1955, a United States banker turned amateur ethnomycologist, R. Gordon Wasson, visited Huautla and participated in one of María Sabina’s ceremonies. The experience affected him so deeply that he published an account of it in Life magazine.

And for Huautla, a town that had existed in near anonymity for centuries, this cast them directly into the limelight. Life was one of the most widely read magazines in the United States, and in a single article, Huautla was transformed from a place into an idea and, for many readers, into a destination.

Wasson’s story presented the town not as a community, but as a doorway, a spiritual gateway that anyone who wanted could walk through. So, people came by the thousands to the small, remote village that was not prepared for global “fame,” nor in any position to receive it.

Traditionally, pilgrimage sites develop over time. An infrastructure of support builds itself around the seekers who gravitate there. Communities have time to negotiate and navigate their relationship with the influx of outsiders. Huautla had no such opportunity. Visitors arrived faster than the town could accommodate them.

And unlike most pilgrims, they did not come at a specific time of year, or on a significant date that could be prepared for and, more importantly, recovered from. They came in a constant, unrelenting stream, consumers of an experience they knew little about. And many came without regard, reverence, or respect for the local people or their customs.

Sadly, their influence changed the local ceremonies forever, destroying the very thing they sought. The psilocybin mushrooms, once honored as “living wisdom,” became objects of curiosity and experimentation.

María Sabina herself once said, “From the moment the foreigners arrived, the mushrooms lost their purity. They lost their force. The strangers spoiled them.”

But the strangers didn’t just spoil the mushrooms. They spoiled the sense of place, the sacredness of ancient customs, and they fractured the bonds of the community. The small village acquired a global reputation it did not choose and, ultimately, could not control.

The history books remember María Sabina as someone who “opened the door.” A very convenient story for those who do not have to live with the consequences of its telling. Sabina was blamed by her community for the unexpected and unwelcome impact of the outsiders and lived much of her later years in isolation as an outcast, alone and disheartened.

This is the part of the story that rarely fits the pilgrims’ romanticized narrative. Something they forget is that those who come can go home again, but the place cannot. Huautla will never again return to the humble, unassuming mountain town of its ancestors. It is forever changed and has been forced to adapt to the year-round seekers who still come in search of the mystical.

The story of Huautla shines a light on an uncomfortable question: who gets to decide when something sacred becomes a destination?

The people who came believed they were on a spiritual journey. But pilgrimage, in its traditional sense, implies responsibility, relationship, and a shared understanding between those who arrive and those who receive. In a modern world that makes access easy and distance irrelevant, there will be more places like Huautla, and more communities asked to adapt to stories they did not write.
Seen this way, the story is not really about María Sabina, or even about mushrooms. It is about what happens when the outside world decides something is meaningful and forgets that the people who live there are the ones who must live with what that meaning becomes.

Kary Vannice is a writer and energetic healer who explores the intersections of culture, consciousness, and daily life in Mexico.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

“I’m going to Graceland, Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee
I’m going to Graceland
Poor boys and pilgrims with families
And we are going to Graceland
My traveling companion is nine years old
He is the child of my first marriage
But I’ve reason to believe we both will be received in Graceland”
Paul Simon, singer and songwriter

If you are reading this, you have probably already undertaken a lot of journeys to get here. A pilgrimage is often associated with religion, but there are many other roads than the one to God that lead to salvation. Maybe salvation is too powerful a word for some journeys- communion, perhaps.

It would make sense for this topic to tell of my own journey to my Mexican life almost 30 years ago, but when I think of pilgrimage, I think of a road trip I took with my daughter.

Even though I had already been living in Mexico for close to 15 years, I had several items in Canada that I didn’t want to part with: art my father left me when he died, a few pieces of furniture. We all have things we don’t want to part with just yet. I purchased an old Canada Post truck, filled it up, and my nine-year-old daughter and I took a road trip from Montreal to Huatulco.

It was hot, like driving in a sardine can. The radio didn’t work, but we had an iPod that played music through a speaker. In college, I was briefly obsessed with a book called Reflections on the Birth of the Elvis Faith, which likened the Elvis following to a religious phenomenon. So when my daughter and I found ourselves rumbling along the highway near Memphis, Tennessee, the words to Paul Simon’s Graceland came back to me: “My traveling companion is nine years old.” Without hesitation, we veered towards Graceland.

What back in the 1970s what was considered a mansion now just looked like a large suburban house. I asked people on the shuttle if it was their first time, and for most, it wasn’t. For many, it was an annual pilgrimage; for some, like us, a curiosity. Were we part of the pilgrimage or observers?

We toured the house, and when we reached the Jungle Room, my daughter said, “Like the song.” She meant Walking in Memphis – we had listened to it on some stretch of highway through Ohio.

Saw the ghost of Elvis
On Union Avenue
Followed him up to the gates of Graceland
Then I watched him walk right through
Now security they did not see him
They just hovered ’round his tomb
But there’s a pretty little thing
Waiting for the King
Down in the Jungle Room

As people, journeying, searching, and having faith in something other than our own immediate existence is perhaps the most unifying human experience. Does it really matter if we call this feeling and belief by different names?

See you next month,

Jane

San Miguel de Allende

The Year of the Horse

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By Roger D. Jones—

There are moments in history when humanity is asked, softly but unmistakably, to remember what it once knew. The horse has always been one of our greatest teachers.
Before machines carried us forward, horses did. Before modern medicine, they carried the wounded. Before therapy had a name, horses regulated our nervous systems with their presence, rhythm, and breath. Across cultures and continents, the horse has symbolized freedom, endurance, sensitivity, and profound intelligence.

Year of the Horse is an invitation to slow down. To listen. To restore a relationship that has quietly suffered in an age of speed and extraction.
Why 2026 Is the Year of the Horse
In the Chinese lunar calendar, 2026 marks the Year of the Horse, beginning with the Lunar New Year in February. In Chinese tradition, the Horse represents energy, intelligence, loyalty, perseverance, and freedom, as well as a deep sensitivity to environment and leadership. The Horse is not ruled through force—it responds to clarity, trust, and mutual respect. When treated well, it gives everything. When misunderstood or pushed beyond its limits, it suffers quietly.

In places like San Miguel de Allende, where tradition, artistry, and community remain deeply woven into daily life—this symbolism feels especially present. Here, the relationship between humans, animals, and land is not abstract, but lived, observed, and felt.
Edgar Cayce and the Future Role of the Horse
The American mystic and healer Edgar Cayce (1877–1945) spoke of a future in which humanity would need to rebalance—between technology and nature, intellect and intuition, power and compassion. In several readings, Cayce suggested that horses would again become essential not as beasts of labor, but as agents of healing, emotional regulation, and spiritual grounding.

Cayce emphasized that horses respond to the inner condition of humans rather than command alone. In this way, they reveal imbalance without judgment and harmony without words. Whether approached as prophecy or symbolism, his insight aligns with both ancient wisdom and modern science: horses help humans remember how to be whole.

Horses as Healers: Living Examples
Across the world, and increasingly here in central Mexico, equine-assisted healing therapies are offering quiet, powerful support to people navigating emotional and neurological challenges.

Autistic children often experience improved emotional regulation, focus, and nonverbal communication when working with horses, whose calm presence and predictable rhythms provide a sense of safety without verbal interaction.

Veterans and first responders coping with post-traumatic stress frequently find that horses respond to their internal state with honesty and without stigma, helping restore trust, confidence, and nervous-system balance.

Individuals dealing with trauma, grief, or major life transitions often report that time spent with horses creates space for presence, emotional release, and reconnection—especially when traditional talk-based therapies fall short.

These outcomes are not based on force or training tricks, but on relationship, consistency, and respect. The Year of the Horse is not a campaign and not owned by any organization or individual. It belongs to anyone willing to approach horses with humility, patience, and respect. You do not need to own a horse to participate. You only need to care.

Editorial Note
For readers wishing to engage directly with equine rescue and education efforts highlighted in this year-long series, visit http://www.EsperanzaEquina.com.

Huatulco

Poem: Parrot’s Roost

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By Julie Sullivan

Who made the world
Who made the mango trees and the parrots
Who made this mango tree

Whose branches bend under the heavy weight of green mangoes that hang heavily above my head like big green teardrops ready to fall.

Who made the parrots
the ones who arrive each morning squawking about the new day to roost in the mango tree I see from my bedroom window.

The green ones who leave each evening flapping and squawking their warning about evening.

Their wings flapping and showing a flash of red under their wings as they soar above my head
I get a glimpse. like a little girl showing off her red underwear on the swing.

I don’t know exactly what prayer is, but I do know how to face the sun as it rises and feel the cool breeze caress my face.

I know how to be still and notice.

How to admire all of creation and be hopeful and patient as life unfolds before me like a mango slowly turning from green to yellow.

I know how to listen to the ocean crashing on the rocks and imagine the colors of the fish swimming over the coral reef. I know how to watch the baby turtle make its journey across the sand only to be swept away by the next wave. Doesn’t everything ripen and fall too soon.

Tell me what will you do with your one wild and precious life.

Julie Sullivan is from Baltimore, Maryland where she taught reading at a private school for many years. Before moving to Huatulco in 2022, she lead a poetry and creative writing group called Women With A Story. This poem was inspired by Mary Oliver’s Summer Day.

Huatulco

Pulse of Life in Polychromy: Abdías García

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By José Palacios y Román—

In every corner of Oaxaca State, we find characters who, in their fullness, weave their stories onto canvases imbued with sweet colors and ancestral references. The earthly force of ancestral roots, and connections with influences from other cultures, African, Eastern, and European, that impact our culture give us a unique cosmogonic vision that is manifested in art.

Creators express this wealth of emotions and feelings through the art of painting to remember our primordial origin: that of the tlacuilos who translated philosophy, thoughts, and history into aesthetic language in pre-Hispanic codices.

Painter Abdías García Gabriel was born on a ranch called El Paraíso, near Santa María Huatulco. The exuberant tropical aroma overcomes the daily limitations of coexistence and austerity, a lesson for life. Since childhood, he has drawn on paper and also with his imagination. This is where his dedication to painting begins, with effort, dedication, and determination.

First a path, then a trail, and finally the path to academic training at a university in the fine arts. Abdías studied drawing, various techniques, and painting. Discipline and determination have earned him recognition as an artist.

His other source of inspiration has been teaching: teaching in order to learn. He has been teaching classes since 2005 to children, youth, and adults. This activity relieves his students, who release frustrations by expressing their emotions.

Abdías is consistent with his journey in pictorial art, having found his own language and style, one that goes beyond joy, pleasure, and aesthetic enjoyment: these are creations that have filtered through his veins, sensitivity, and good taste.In front of his canvases, he provokes, recreates, nourishes, and encourages the spaces where his work is found.

I invite you to collect works by this artist who inspires taste and enjoyment with art as a creation and expression of the tropics in the Mexican Pacific the Oaxaca coast.

The opening of the exhibition will be on January 23, 2026 at 06.00 pm. Abdias will be presenting his most recent artwork “Nocturnal Dreams”, with music and wine. Entrance is free.

Huatulco

Oaxaca Avanza: How Art, Youth, and Community are Transforming Huatulco

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By Bianca Corona—

In Huatulco, a place known for its natural beauty and strong sense of community, a group of young locals is quietly, but now very visibly, reshaping what collective action and true sense of community can look like in a small town like this. Oaxaca Avanza is a civil association formed by young people from Huatulco with a shared goal: to build alliances, create access to tools and strategies, and actively contribute to making their municipality and Oaxaca state as a whole, a better place for everyone to live in, enjoy, and prosper.

Their official public launch came to life through a project that blended art, urban renewal, and community involvement: the Corredor Mural, a once neglected pedestrian walkway located near a school close to La Crucecita, now reborn as a vibrant, colorful, and meaningful public space.

From a Forgotten Space to a Living Corridor
The inauguration of Oaxaca Avanza and the Corredor Mural was a celebration filled with energy, creativity, and gratitude. Behind that moment, however, were months of planning and a full week of intense community work. Artists, neighbors, musicians, vendors, and volunteers came together to transform a space that had long been associated with neglect, insecurity, and disuse.

What was once a grey, deteriorated corridor is now a place filled with color, intention, and life. It’s now transformed into a space where people feel invited to walk, gather, and connect directly to Huatulco’s culture, through art.

The decision to start with this corridor was deeply intentional. Oaxaca Avanza’s newly opened office is located at one end of the space, and for the team, the daily reality of seeing the area’s challenges became a call to action. The corridor borders a kindergarten, children’s play areas, and residential homes, yet had become a site for trash accumulation, vandalism, and unsafe activity.

Rather than approaching the problem through exclusion or enforcement, the group chose a different path and use artistic expression as a tool for transformation.

Art as a Collective Act
The Corredor Mural was conceived as an inclusive, collaborative project. Led artistically by renowned Oaxacan muralist Irving Cano, the initiative brought together mostly Huatulco-based artists, along with a small number from other parts of Oaxaca. Each artist worked within a shared theme, Huatulco and the Coast, while maintaining complete creative freedom within their assigned space.

The murals collectively tell a story: from marine life and coastal landscapes to human presence and local identity. Each piece reflects a personal vision of Huatulco, shaped by the artist’s own experience of growing up, living, or creating in the region.

Importantly, no artist was paid. Every participant joined voluntarily, contributing their time and talent from the heart. In return, artists were given visibility, a public platform for their work, and the opportunity to exhibit and sell their art during the week-long activation of the corridor.

Seven Days of Community in Motion
For seven consecutive days, the corridor became a living cultural space. Visitors were invited not only to see the finished murals, but to witness the creative process itself. Watching blank walls evolve day by day into powerful and colorful works of art. To encourage participation, Oaxaca Avanza organized daily pop-up markets, live music, and small community gatherings down the walkway. Local musicians performed voluntarily, artisans set up booths without fees, and food vendors rotated throughout the week, creating a dynamic and ever-changing atmosphere. Each day felt different. Some days drew families and children, others brought students, artists, or athletes. What remained constant was the sense of shared ownership and collective pride. That’s what I’d call, “Orgullo Huatulqueño.”

No Logos, No Branding, Just Purpose
One of the most striking aspects of the project is what isn’t visible on the walls… logos. The entire project was funded through personal resources and outsourced support, deliberately avoiding corporate branding or sponsorship recognition on the murals themselves. For Oaxaca Avanza, this decision was essential. The murals belong to the community, not to any brand, institution, or organization…including their own.

Beyond Art: A Broader Vision for Huatulco
While the Corredor Mural is Oaxaca Avanza’s first official public project, it is far from their first community effort. The group has been active for several years, supporting vulnerable individuals, local initiatives, sports teams, and animal protection efforts. Often executing these outreaches informally and without public visibility.

The formalization of the association and the opening of a physical office mark a new chapter. The long-term goal is to become an authorized donation recipient, allowing individuals, businesses, and institutions to support future projects transparently and at a larger scale.

Looking ahead, Oaxaca Avanza envisions initiatives in culture, sports, animal welfare, public space rehabilitation, and community development, always guided by collaboration rather than politics, and inclusion rather than division.

A Space That Invites Participation
The Corredor Mural is not meant to be a static art installation. It is envisioned as a living space in which one can host markets, performances, bicycle tours, community gatherings, and cultural events. By bringing the corridor back to life, the project adds not only beauty, but also a new point of interest for residents and visitors alike.

It also serves as a reminder that improving quality of life is not limited to infrastructure or policy. Beauty, creativity, and shared spaces play a powerful role in how people experience safety, belonging, and pride in where they live.

An Open Door Forward
At its core, Oaxaca Avanza is an invitation. An invitation to participate, to propose ideas, to collaborate, and to contribute. Whether through time, creativity, resources, or simply presence. As Huatulco continues to grow and evolve, initiatives like this demonstrate what is possible when young people take ownership of their community and choose cooperation over division. The Corredor Mural is just the beginning.

Artist Recognition:
1.- Joel Montes
2.- Alejandra Elizabeth Aguilar Aguiar
3.- Lianne Aranza León Sánchez
4.- Edgar Ares Moscosa Bazar
5.- Marina Valdepeña
6.- Judith Martínez Caballero
7.- Janette Santiago Antonio
8.- María Eugenia Valle
9.- Alma Drew
10.- Diego Uriel González
11.- Odette Carolina Cabrera1
12.- Fernanda Butista
13.- José García López
14.- Yuri Enríquez
15.- Grisel Adriana
16.- Alina Sofía Reboredo Damasco
17.- Ariel Núñez Zabaleta
18.- Corina Lucio Olvera
19.- Alma Montero
20.- Fefo Loya Gartol
21.- Betina
22.- Carlo Sérbulo Alducin
23.- Michelle López García
24.- Roberto Hernández
25.- Julio César García Rodríguez
26.- Fernando
27.- Ángel Ernesto Rivera López
28.- Edwin Fierros
29.- Luis Antonio Ortiz Enríquez
30.- Roberto Domínguez
31.- José Martínez Adolfo
32.- Valois Prieto Alvarado
33.- Carlos Mendoza Salina

Huatulco

The Evolution of the Charro Mexicano

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By Julie Etra—

The word charro first appeared in Spain, most likely linked to the Basque word txar, meaning “bad” or “unimportant.” It was originally a derogatory term used to describe unsophisticated people from the Salamanca region of northern Spain. The modern Mexican charro, however, is an elite horseman of the distinctly Mexican equestrian sport known as charrería, which embodies gallantry, tradition, and national heritage—a stark contrast to the term’s humble origins.

Horses originated in North America approximately 55 million years ago, but this early, dog-sized mammal—barely resembling the modern horse—became extinct around 10,000 years ago, likely due to a combination of climate change and human hunting.

Christopher Columbus’s second voyage, when he established the first settlement at La Isabela on Hispaniola (present-day Dominican Republic). Hernán Cortés later brought around 16 horses from Cuba to the Yucatán Peninsula in February 1519—a seemingly small number that nevertheless proved critical to the conquest of Tenochtitlan.

Cortés most likely introduced a small, hardy breed known as the Garraño, which can still be found today among the few remaining breeders in northern Portugal, where the horses still run free. Measuring between 123 and 135 centimeters at the wither (the ridge where the neck meets the back), there are approximately 2,000 Garraños left. They are prized for their calm temperament, sure-footedness in rough terrain, and endurance. These horses were bred in Mexico and became the foundation of the Mexican Galiceño breed, also known for its intelligence, stamina, and smooth gaits.

Other horse breeds popular in Mexico include:
Creole (Criollo): A native horse bred for hardiness and adaptability
American Quarter Horse: Highly valued for its power, short-burst speed, and musculature—essential traits for ranch work and competition.

Azteca: Developed beginning in 1972, this official Mexican breed was created specifically for charrería. Azteca horses consist of three breeds—Andalusian, Criollo, and Quarter Horse—combining the elegance and classical dressage ability of the Andalusian with the strength and speed of the Quarter Horse and the toughness of the Criollo.

Spanish: Pure Spanish (Pura Raza Española) and Lusitano horses are known for their elegance, agility, and suitability for classical dressage maneuvers, which are showcased in the charreada event known as the Cala de Caballo.

Arabian: Arabians, famed for their endurance and commonly used in long-distance races, are also favorites among charros.

Origin of el Charro Mexicano
The origins of the Charro Mexicano date back to the colonial era of large cattle ranches, or haciendas, which were later broken up after the Mexican Revolution. Initially, Spaniards prohibited the local population from herding cattle on

horseback. As ranching operations expanded, this restriction proved impractical, and eventually both mestizos (people of mixed Spanish and Indigenous descent) and Indigenous workers were permitted to manage cattle from horseback.

Charros adopted a distinct saddle to differentiate themselves from the military and learned Spanish riding and herding techniques such as lassoing and roping. What began as protective leather clothing worn by ranch workers in harsh landscapes gradually evolved into a recognizable form of dress. After the Mexican Revolution, the charro became a powerful symbol of national identity.

By the 1930s, charrería had been formally recognized as Mexico’s national rodeo sport, further institutionalizing the charro and popularizing the attire. Mariachi music, which originated in the state of Jalisco, along with the Golden Age of Mexican cinema (1936–1956), frequently featured charros, cementing their image in Mexican cultural identity.

Female charros are known as charras. Historically, they did not work cattle, but in 1953 they began participating in traditional equestrian competitions known as escaramuzas, initially as children’s teams. By the 1960s, women were formally competing in charrerías. (see the article by Ana Dominguez on page 6)

The Cala de Caballo is one of the most prestigious competitions in charrería, testing the refined skills of both horse and rider. The event evaluates the horse’s ability to run, stop abruptly, and turn within a confined space, highlighting responsiveness to the reins and the rider’s control. Judging, conducted by a panel of three, is based on posture, precision, and overall execution.

Evolution of the Attire
The elaborate outfits worn today evolved gradually from the leather garments of early vaqueros to softer chamois and eventually to the Traje de Charro. According to the Mexican Federation of Charrería, there are five categories of attire: Work, Semi-Gala, Gala, Grand Gala, and Formal. Work attire is the simplest, while Formal attire—typically black—is reserved for the most ceremonial occasions.

Charros (the beans)
Charros also refers to a traditional preparation of pinto or bayo beans, originally cooked in camp by charros using whatever ingredients were available. Today, the dish often includes bacon or other meats, chiles, onions, garlic, and tomatoes—cada chef tiene su propio toque: every cook adds their own personal touch.

Visit the Museum of Charrería, CDMX
The Charrería Museum in Mexico City houses unique artifacts from different historical periods of Mexico’s most emblematic cultural tradition. It is located in the historic center of the city, in a former monastery on Izazaga Street. Isabel La Católica 108, Centro, Cuauhtémoc, 06080 Ciudad de México, CDMX
http://www.museodelacharreria.org.mx