The Escola d’Arts Aplicades Massana, approaching its centenary, remains a beacon of avant-garde experimentation and critical thinking. Founded in 1929 by the philanthropist Agustí Massana, this Center for Art and Design operates on the premise that “doing is thinking,” fostering innovation across visual arts, design, and applied arts. It was within these historic workshops in Plaça Gardunya—situated in the heart of Barcelona’s Raval neighborhood—that Monse Pla, who also creates under the name Marta Terceño, forged her artistic foundation.
Driven by a global perspective, Pla has exhibited her work across England, Italy, Sweden, Belgium, France, and Spain. Her creative evolution has been shaped by extensive travels through Asia, the United States, and Mexico. Her work resides within the realm of lyrical abstraction, deeply anchored in the natural world; trees, the sea, and shifting skies serve as both her recurring motifs and her primary creative catalysts.
Her watercolors possess a magical, ephemeral, and spiritual quality. Her subtle brushstrokes evoke pure light—appearing closer to vanishing air than to solid pigment. In the presence of her work, the physical canvas seems to dissipate, revealing a sensory energy that transcends mere visual perception. As boundaries, lines, and rigid contours dissolve, viewers are invited to look beyond the surface, transcending the paint itself to experience a deeper, almost transcendental dimension.
In celebration of this vision, Art Gallery Copalli in Huatulco is proud to host Monse Pla (Marta Terceño) for a semester-long artist residency.
The upcoming program includes:
Vital Art Workshop: A masterclass for local artists, held on Saturday, August 1, and Sunday, August 2.
Art & Fine Dining Gala: A showcase of her most recent work, hosted at the Quinta Real Boutique Hotel on Friday, August 7, at 7:00 PM.
Retrospective Exhibition: A major retrospective spanning her work since 2000, opening on December 4, at 6:00 PM at Art Gallery Copalli, Huatulco.
In a reflection from her Italian exhibition catalogue, she once noted: “It is nature that reveals itself within us through the mastery and naturalness of the brushstrokes; the shimmering reflections, the light on the water, the nuances of the sky merging with the sea, and the trees tracing a path for the spirit.”
We welcome the artist with great enthusiasm and profound appreciation, furthering Art Gallery Copalli’s commitment to building synergy within Huatulco’s creative community.
Mexico is often misunderstood by those looking in from the outside. For many, the country exists as a postcard: bright colors, mariachis on every corner, sombreros, tequila, and an endless fiesta. This image has become so exaggerated that it often borders on parody, reducing a land of immense depth to a handful of clichés. But as we at The Eye strive to show, the reality is much more layered. To truly understand the soul of Mexico—and specifically the enduring spirit of Oaxaca—one must look past the surface of the sun-drenched beaches and into the steaming clay pots of its kitchens. There, you will find the absolute foundation of daily life: corn.
If we trace the history of the peoples of this region by the domestication of maize 10,000 years ago, we would see a culture that spent millennia as Zapotec, Mixe, or Nahua long before the concept of “Indian” or “Indigenous” was imposed by colonial hierarchies. This is not just a crop; it is a living expression of geography, agriculture, and tradition. To understand why corn is considered sacred, one must look at the ancient stories that still resonate in the collective memory of the land.
The Legend of Corn: Quetzalcoatl’s Ingenuity
Before the arrival of the Spanish, according to an Aztec legend, the people fed only on the roots of plants and the animals they managed to hunt each day. Their greatest desire was to eat corn, but the golden grain grew hidden behind high, steep mountains that were impossible to cross.
The people begged the gods for help. Many of the deities, wanting to show their power, tried to separate the gigantic mountains using brute strength. They pushed and pulled with all their might, but the peaks would not budge. Time passed, and the people grew desperate. They turned to the great god Quetzalcoatl, begging him to find a way to reach the corn so they could make food to sustain their children.
Quetzalcoatl, unlike the other gods, did not want to rely on strength alone. He was a god of intelligence and ingenuity. He watched the mountains and noticed the tiny creatures that moved through the smallest crevices. To the amazement of the people, Quetzalcoatl transformed himself into a small black ant.
Without wasting a moment, he invited a red ant to accompany him on the arduous journey. For days, the two tiny insects climbed the steep, jagged slopes until they reached the snowy summit. Exhausted but determined, they descended the other side, and there they found them: the golden ears of corn the people so longed for.
They approached the most appetizing ear and extracted a single yellow kernel. Together, they began the return journey, holding the sun-colored grain firmly in their tiny mandibles. The return was even more exhausting; the load was incredibly heavy for their small bodies, and their legs buckled with every step. Yet, they refused to lose that precious cargo.
When they finally arrived back, breathless and nearly crawling, the Aztecs welcomed them with a great celebration. Quetzalcoatl gave the grain of corn to the people who rushed to plant it with immense care. In a short time, the first plant sprouted, followed by many others that eventually populated the fields. From then on, the Aztecs were able to feed their children, who grew up healthy and strong. In gratitude, they began to worship Quetzalcoatl, who became their most beloved god for all time.
The Marvel of the Tortilla
This legend mirrors a deeper truth: the survival of the Mexican people has always depended on a symbiotic relationship with nature. For thousands of years, indigenous communities refined maize varieties adapted to the region’s unique climates and soils. But the true brilliance lies in the ancient technological achievement known as nixtamalization.
By soaking the dried corn in an alkaline solution (usually water mixed with lime or wood ash) before grinding it into masa, ancient cultures transformed a simple grain into a far more nutritious and sustaining food. This process makes niacin more bioavailable, increases calcium, and improves the nutritional value of the corn. From this masa comes the tortilla, the foundation of daily life throughout Mexico.
Visitors to Oaxaca are often surprised by the sensory shift of a true handmade tortilla. Unlike the uniform, flattened versions found in supermarkets, fresh masa pressed and cooked on a hot comal produces a tortilla that puffs slightly, releasing a warm, toasted aroma of the earth itself. It is a small, quiet moment that reveals how deeply food and culture are intertwined.
This commitment to the land is also reflected in a philosophy of wasting nothing. Leftover tortillas are not discarded; they are transformed into chilaquiles, a beloved breakfast dish where corn chips (totopos) are coated in salsa and topped with cream and cheese. It is a celebration of creativity and respect for what we already have.
In Mexico, we have a beloved saying: “Panza llena, corazón contento”—a full belly makes for a happy heart. As you navigate the diverse and complex flavors of our region, I hope you discover more than just a meal. May you leave with a deeper appreciation for the land, the people, and the traditions that continue to shape Oaxaca today.
Nancy Reyes is a writer, teacher, and passionate advocate of Mexican culture.
Nancy’s Top Three Places to Eat
To help you navigate this rich landscape, here are my personal recommendations for a meaningful culinary connection in our region:
El Sabor de Oaxaca (La Crucecita, Huatulco) Located just off the main square, this family-run restaurant has been a trusted bridge to authentic flavors since 1994. It is my favorite spot for a traditional meal where the heritage of Oaxaca is served with pride. Whether you are trying their deep, dark mole or handmade tortillas, you are tasting a story of consistency and local love.
Entre Tierras (Huatulco) For those seeking deeper immersion, I recommend this intimate 8-course culinary adventure. Each course is crafted by Chef Jane Bauer using local ingredients shaped by the seasons. Held on Friday nights at the Chiles & Chocolate Cooking School, this dinner is not just a meal; it is a quiet story of land, labor, and migration. http://www.entretierrashuatulco.com
Casa Semilla (Pluma Hidalgo) When the coastal heat builds and you need a change of pace, head an hour up into the mountains to Pluma Hidalgo. Start your day at Casa Semilla, a community hub known for its freshly roasted high-altitude coffee and healthy meals made with local ingredients. Their commitment to disability inclusion and nourishment makes every bite feel like part of a larger, positive movement in the Sierra Madre del Sur.
San Agustín has long been our favorite beach for snorkeling, watching marine life, and lingering over an early seafood lunch. It’s one of the few places where spending the entire day feels effortless. You can get there by driving: it is 13 km from the turnoff just west of the airport. The road in April 2026 remained partially paved with ‘washboard’ surface in some areas but nothing intimidating and I am fine driving it alone. One can also hire a taxi but make sure you negotiate a round-trip fare and time as you are unlikely to find one-way service given its location. Phone service is intermittent or nonexistent depending on your plan, and although Wi-Fi is available for 50 pesos, power outages are common. You can also take a water taxi or sign up with one on the larger tour boats.
We follow the tides, although this reef is not as shallow as Playa La Entrega, or Riscalillo, so avoiding low tides is not as critical. Our now favorite restaurant was selected for its location, structure, and amenities, being a bit east of the more congested palapas closer to the reef, and with the high roof providing great ventilation and spectacular views from the second story. Shade for the car, showers and bathrooms are additional benefits. And food? Our limited dining experience at three different restaurants at this bay led us to believe that the menus are pretty similar, so this was a minor factor in selecting this particular palapa.
The extensive menu features seafood and fish (surprise!) in various shapes, forms, and flavors. Fish is prepared in a variety of ways such as: a la diabla (guajillo, pasilla, and chiles de árbol), a la plancha (on the grill), in mojo de ajo (sauteed in butter and garlic), and a la talla (butterflied with spices). Dorado (mahi mahi), corvina (corvina rayada), barillete (skipjack), and mojarra are typically available, but ask first. The mojarra served here is often farm-raised tilapia, which I find pretty flavorless. Don’t forget langosta (Mexican lobster, which lacks the claws of its Atlantic relative), or huachinango (red snapper), cooked whole with all the garnishes, a large meal for several people. Shrimp dishes include cocktails, which are a bit sweet since the cocktail sauce is prepared with ketchup, and large shrimp salads accompanied with sliced avocado and tomato.
Aguachile is similar to ceviche but is marinated for less time and is typically made with shrimp rather than fish. This is my favorite restaurant dish. Guacamole, black beans, and rice are all standard fare. All orders come with a basket of tostadas, saltines, and a variety of bottled salsas. Don’t forget to ask for the salsa casera, homemade and fresh in addition to the pico de gallo accompanying your order. Pulpo, or octopus, is also on the menu, but I can’t bear to eat these highly intelligent cephalopods. There are a few meat dishes, such as arrachera (flank steak), but nope—you won’t find hamburgers or hot dogs.
When we first started frequenting the palapa restaurants we were surprised by the indifference of the owners and staff to the beach vendors passing along the perimeter. This is carefully controlled, with all vendors requiring licenses, and only entering the premises with the permission of the owners. Vendors offer a variety of wares and souvenirs, from wooden spoons and other wood carvings, to T-shirts, hats, bathing suits, jewelry, and keychains. Services, such as massages, trenzas (braiding) and temporary tattoos are available. We have never found the vendors to be overly aggressive at San Agustín as opposed to those in Los Cabos, from which we fled 18 years ago.
And FOOD. There are the cacahuate (peanut) vendors, pepita (pumpkin seeds) vendors, paletas (popsicles), bolis (icy fruit treats), pay de queso (cheese pie), pay de elote (cornbread) from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, tamales, elote (corn on the cob, Mexican style), platanos fritos (fried bananas) with lechera y/o crema (condensed milk and/or cream) and coffee. Ostiones (oysters) on the half shell, a half or full dozen, and even on occasion mejillones (mussels), harvested fresh and locally, are frequently offered.
My all-time favorite beach snacks—a close tie with the plátanos fritos—are the molotes. These are deep-fried mashed plantains shaped into pastry-like parcels and filled with either cream cheese (aka Philadelphia) to appease the tourists, or more traditionally with quesillo, the tasty Oaxacan cheese. Delicious and filling, order them with lechera and crema, and enjoy the extra sweetness.
The August 2026 Food Issue explores the stories behind Mexico’s cuisine, from heirloom corn and avocados to wine, culinary traditions, and the people who keep them alive.
In a forest, gentle nature surrounds us. On the stark edge of a mountain peak, nature’s architecture lies beneath us. But at the edge of the sea, we stop. We stand where the world is wide open, where the horizon meets the sky. Where the spin of the earth jostles the oceans, and our own restlessness matches the swell and crash of waves.
The sea draws each of us in our individual ways. For some, the restlessness favours adventure, for others, the call is inward, but for all of us, the sea is ready and willing. The waters off Huatulco know that well. Long before resorts lined the shore, Spanish galleons and legendary pirates like Francis Drake prowled them. That same magnetic pull still exists today. But not every sea adventurer is a conqueror; the sea also issues a more private calling, as these three modern stories show.
Floating in a Car across the Atlantic
The restlessness of Giorgio Amoretti was legendary. This free-spirited Italian photojournalist once rode his Vespa from the Arctic Circle to Cape Town, South Africa. He then crossed the Sahara, hanging from a parachute towed by a car. Perhaps it was standing at the Cape of Good Hope, looking out to the Southern Ocean, where his restless spirit met the sea’s calling. His idea was to float across the ocean in a Volkswagen Beetle. In 1978, he was stopped by Spanish maritime authorities in his Styrofoam-stuffed Beetle and had to abandon the attempt.
Yet the dream did not die in Giorgio, and his three sons seemed to be infected by it. So much so that, 20 years later, after Giorgio received a fatal cancer diagnosis, his three sons and a friend sought to complete Giorgio’s dream. They modified a Volkswagen Passat and a Ford Taunus for an ocean crossing. On May 4, 1999, the four set out from the Canary Islands in these bizarre-looking crafts.
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To avoid the Spanish port authorities, they left well before dawn, using outboard motors until they ran out of gasoline, after which they threw the motors overboard. They had hoped that currents would pull them across the Atlantic, but they were soon stuck in a circular current far from shore. While stuck, two members of the group had to be rescued by helicopter due to severe seasickness. The remaining two car-sailors persevered, eventually breaking free of the circular current, and made progress slowly with the help of the trade winds.
The journey took longer than expected, and they ran out of provisions. But with fishing and capturing plankton in women’s stockings, an idea they got out of a survival book, they made do with a survival-level diet for four months before reaching Martinique in the Caribbean.
During their time at sea, the restless dreamer, Giorgio, passed away, never doubting his sons would complete the journey he had initiated. It is a testament to the sea’s power to inspire such beautiful madness in the human spirit. Yet, floating in a station wagon across the Atlantic is just one way the sea coaxes the restlessness out of us in adventurous ways.
Rowing 12,000 Kilometers Alone in the Pacific
Years after the floating cars arrived in the Caribbean, on the other side of the world, a fourteen-year-old Australian boy stood in front of his bathroom mirror and made a personal commitment to become the youngest person ever to row across the Pacific.
Up to that point, Tom Robinson’s restlessness had been gradual. Although his father loved the sea and sailing, Tom’s interest lay elsewhere. That is, until his family moved to a house on the Brisbane River. There, he began rowing a plywood boat to and from school, drawn increasingly to the particular silence that nature and open water provide. Then, on a solo five-day rowing trip down the Brisbane River and out to sea toward the Gold Coast, the restless call of the open ocean evoked that personal promise, although it would take nine years to realize.
In those nine years, Tom finished high school and apprenticed as a boat builder. Based on 19th-century whale-hunting boats, Tom designed and built a wooden rowboat capable of crossing the open Pacific. In 2022, Tom had his boat shipped to Peru to begin his journey, hoping to catch the same Humboldt Current that his adventure hero Thor Heyerdahl had ridden on his Kon-Tiki expedition seventy-five years earlier.
Tom’s departure was delayed for some months, putting him closer to the cyclone season. He planned to row to the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia, some 6,400 kilometres distant, to wait out the cyclone season. But the sea had other ideas. After almost three months of rowing, it became clear to Tom that he could not reach the Marquesas Islands. With supplies running low, he consulted his nautical maps and found the nearest inhabited island in the Northern Cook Islands, another 1,500 kilometres away.
Finally, after 8,000 kilometres of rowing, Tom noticed a grey smudge on the horizon and knew it to be land. He had been at sea for five months at this point and was overwhelmed with euphoria and relief upon spotting land. “Land Ho,” he yelled to the open Pacific. He had made it to the island of Penrhyn.
Tom was the first international visitor the islanders had seen in three years. He was warmly welcomed, and in the Polynesian tradition, he was given a new name, Mahuta-Hoehoe-Asanga, the warrior who has paddled from afar.
Tom joined the islanders’ work and pastimes for four months before setting off again, stopping first in American Samoa to treat an illness, then rowing through the island archipelago of Vanuatu, before setting out on the final leg to Australia.
On day 265 of his journey from Peru, his boat was hit by a rogue wave while his cabin hatch was open, flipping the boat upside down. Tom was unable to right it. As the salt water activated his emergency beacon, a passing cruise ship came to his rescue, its passengers crowded at the railings, watching the approach and recovery of a naked man sitting atop the hull of his upturned boat in the middle of the Pacific. The Pacific had taken his boat, but his restless quest was etched into history.
The Pull Beyond Adventure
The sea pulled the Amoretti brothers toward their father’s dream and pulled Tom Robinson toward a personal quest across the Pacific. But for Bernard Moitessier, the pull was something else entirely, something beyond adventure.
Moitessier is probably best known for what he did in the 1968 Golden Globe sailing race. The first race in which solo sailors would circumnavigate the globe non-stop. Moitessier’s times were impressive, and he was likely to win, except that his love of the sea and his deep mystical spirituality changed his course and the direction of his life.
After circumnavigating the globe, sailing almost 60,000 kilometres over 10 months, with just the final leg from the Cape of Good Hope to Britain to go, Moitessier quit the race. To notify race officials, he catapulted a message canister containing a written message onto the deck of a passing ship. The message was simple: “I am continuing non-stop toward the Pacific Islands because I am happy at sea, and perhaps also to save my soul.” He then carried on across the Pacific to Tahiti.
Bernard Moitessier lived until 1994, continuing his pursuit of the sea and writing several books, including The Long Way, which has become a must-read for solo sailors and lovers of tales of the sea’s pull.
In our own way, we are all familiar with the restless pull of the sea and what that means to us. It is a pull of nature, but unlike the pull we feel in forests and on mountains. The American artist Robert Henri once said, “Why do we love the sea? It is because it has some potent power to make us think things we like to think.”
Randy Jackson blends local reporting from the perspective of a seasonal Huatulco resident with explorations of life and change in Huatulco, Oaxaca and Mexico.
Email: box95jackson@gmail.com
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A visit to Huatulco offers beautiful beaches and spectacular bays. Whether you’re looking to surf, snorkel, dive, fish, or explore Oaxaca’s rich cultural traditions, there are countless ways to experience the region. Here are a few ideas to help you make the most of your next visit.
Surfing
With warm water year-round, Huatulco is an excellent destination for surfers of all levels. For beginners, Playa La Bocana offers gentle, consistent waves that provide a comfortable environment for learning. More experienced surfers often head to Playa Mojón or Barra de la Cruz, located about 30 minutes down the coast, where larger and more challenging waves can be found.
Surf lessons and board rentals are available in Barra de la Cruz.
Diving & Snorkeling
Huatulco National Park protects one of the most important marine ecosystems on the Oaxacan coast. Coral formations, rocky reefs, mangroves, and abundant marine life make it a popular destination for both divers and snorkelers. Here, you can witness the underwater whims of the Pacific—look for the sea turtles, rays and a kaleidoscope of tropical fish.
Whether you’re exploring shallow reefs or venturing farther offshore, the park is an opportunity to experience the region’s underwater biodiversity firsthand.
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Fishing
Sport fishing has long been part of life on the Oaxacan coast. Half-day and full-day excursions are available throughout Huatulco, ranging from local fishing boats to fully equipped sport-fishing yachts. The summer months are particularly exciting for catching Marlin and Sailfish.
When booking a trip, consider choosing operators that follow sustainable fishing practices and respect local marine conservation efforts.
My Top Three Huatulco Water Experiences:
San Agustin Bay Snorkeling
This bay is my top choice for those seeking raw, untouched beauty. Located within the Huatulco National Park, it protects a vital marine ecosystem where the coral formation and rocky reefs are remarkably accessible. San Agustin Bay is located a 40-minute drive from Huatulco’s Hotel district.
Sunrise at La Bocana
One of the best ways to begin your day is catching the early morning sun at Playa La Bocana. It is a vital coastal ritual that allows you to enjoy the water before the midday heat. If you surf, bring your board. Breakfast at one of the beachfront restaurants rounds out the experience.
Copalitilla Waterfalls
Go beyond the beach and visit the Copalitilla Waterfalls. It’s totally worth it! These spectacular, crystal-clear series of cascading waterfalls are surrounded by a tropical jungle of towering ceiba and mahogany trees, orchids, lacey ferns and wild cacao plants. The best time to visit is from November to May. If you are visiting during the rainy season be careful with washed out roads and muddy water.
Practical Tips for Travelers
Booking: Use trusted sources, review the contact information, reviews from other guests. The Secretary of Tourism recommends using accredited tour guides and advises avoiding services offered on public roads. For tourist assistance during your visit to Oaxaca, contact:
Reservation and cancellation fees. Carefully review the fees for the service you are hiring. In some cases, services do not accept cancellations or refunds. It is suggested that you try to plan ahead your adventures.
Weather conditions. Review weather and respect notices of closed roads or beaches, especially during the rainy season.
Stay Hydrated. Drink water and limit alcohol consumption. Schedule outdoor activities during the early morning or late afternoon hours to avoid exposure to midday sun. In cases of overheating, a cold shower is recommended as the fastest way to bring down your body temperature.
And don’t forget your camera. As a recent Bad Bunny song reminds us, we often wish we had taken more pictures. Huatulco provides plenty of moments worth remembering.
Nancy Reyes, was born in Mexicali, holds a Language Sciences PhD, blends research and storytelling to bridge the profound connections between language and Mexico’s layered cultural identity.
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“Traveler, there is no path. The path is made by walking,” wrote Antonio Machado in Campos de Castilla. The verse reminds us that uncertainty is part of being alive, part of creating your own way. That idea hits home when I think about painting in Huatulco. Like walking, art here is shaped step by step. Painting is still a young tradition in Huatulco, but it’s already bearing fruit — sometimes in unexpected ways.
When Huatulco became a tourist destination, it drew young artists. Some stayed for a while, then moved on: Marco Antonio Contreras from Puebla, Jesús Castillo from Chiapas, and José del Signo, whose fresco still covers the entire nave of the Parish of Guadalupe.
Others like Rafael Ortega, put down roots. Beyond his studio work and public murals and sculptures, he taught drawing and painting and served for years as director of the Casa de la Cultura. Those painting classes at the Casa de la Cultura planted seeds. Some students discovered a calling. Others, like Edna Guzmán, built professional careers. Abdías García became the first from the municipality to study fine arts, winning a scholarship to the Benito Juárez University of Oaxaca. Aranza León recently graduated from the same school. Also worth mentioning: Eusebio Villalobos, a painter and muralist from Pochutla, and Heriberto Palafox, with his distinguished regional career.
As Bahías de Huatulco grew, so did its art scene. Master artist Rafael Ortega opened his workshop. Tania Guzmán and the Huatulco Art Gallery joined the mix. In Tangolunda, Copalli Art Gallery — run by Liliana Gómez Martínez and cultural promoter José Palacios y Román — focuses on discovering and promoting local artists from Santa María Huatulco.
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There’s also the annual REMAX exhibition, launched by Jim and Mary Spicka with support from Bernard Healy (Kino) to showcase local and Oaxacan talent. Colectivo Tilcuate hosts occasional shows plus their yearly event, Oaxaquia.
Copalli Art Gallery has become a launchpad for emerging artists. Young talents like Aranza León, Javi Vasher, Hergón, and Abi Guzmán all held their first exhibitions there, introducing themselves to the community.
That same synergy sparked “La Magia del Color” — The Magic of Color — a collective of women artists. Twelve of them recently debuted at Copalli Art Gallery, following a moving exhibition of children and adults from the Casa de la Cultura. This is just a glimpse of how painting is taking center stage in Huatulco, right as the town itself steps into new growth.
The movement keeps going with workshops and courses, like the one this August with international artist Monse Pla — Martha Terceño from Catalonia — plus a major retrospective of her work.
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Brown pelicans (Pelecanus occidentalis) are a common and delightful sight along Mexico’s Costa Chica. I never tire of watching them swoop and glide effortlessly along the coastline, skimming just above the waves as if gravity barely applies to them.
Brown Pelican Basics.
Taxonomy
Based on fossil records, they have been around for at least 30 million years but have remained morphologically and physiologically unchanged. Their seemingly bulky body is perfectly suited to the coastal ecosystems in which they reside, including their feeding habits. Although references vary there are five to seven species of pelican worldwide. The Oaxacan coast is unusual because two subspecies may be found here: the California brown pelican (P. o. californicus) and the Eastern brown pelican (P. o. carolinensis), although most of the birds seen locally are believed to be P. o. carolinensis. Their differences are subtle, so next time you see one pay attention. They rarely venture more than 20 miles out to sea or far inland and are non-migratory.
They are relatively uniform in appearance, with of course the large white pelican being the exception (this is a fresh or brackish water species). They typically live 15-30 years in the wild although mortality is high in the first few years of life and are sexually mature at three- five years of age. Populations have rebounded dramatically from the brink of near extinction due to the pesticide DDT, which weakened the shells of their eggs, and was banned in the United States in 1972. Today their numbers are estimated to exceed 370,000.
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Feeding
Brown pelicans primarily eat fish, particularly sardines and herrings but also an occasional crustacean, egg, or amphibian. When I head out to snorkel at Playa La Entrega and see circling pelicans and cormorants, I know there is most likely a huge school of Pacific herrings, known locally as sardinas (such a beautiful sight to see). They fish by plunge-diving headfirst, with their wings tucked behind their backs, and stunning their prey before they are scooped up. Their big gular pouch is highly elastic and is perfectly suited for fishing. It can hold up to three gallons of water, which it drains before swallowing its prey. The pouch is also highly effective for regulating heat given its elasticity and large surface area.
Reproduction
Nesting ranges from Sinaloa south through Nayarit, Jalisco, and Guerrero, and finally the coastal shores of Oaxaca. They are gregarious birds and nest in colonies.
Nests are a messy but elaborate affair when built in thickets, such as dense stands of mangroves, a platform made of sticks and branches, or a simple version directly on the ground. Nesting typically occurs late fall through early June and is accomplished mostly by the females. Clutch sizes vary but typically consist of two or three oval, chalky white eggs, with both the male and the female sharing incubation and rearing responsibilities. Eggs are incubated under their large, webbed feet for 28- 30 days. The parents feed the young by regurgitating their partially digested catch into the awaiting, gaping beaks. At about 63 days they fledge from the nest and form small groups known as pods. I have never seen a pelican nest, and much to my surprise neither has the expert local guide Cornelio Ramos.
Flight
This to me is the most fascinating aspect of brown pelican behavior. I see them flying in V formations, in single file, and sometimes alone, often skimming just inches above the water’s surface. What appears effortless is actually a remarkable combination of aerodynamic strategies that allow these large birds to travel long distances while conserving energy.
Wave-Slope Soaring
Brown pelicans take advantage of wind generated by ocean waves. As wind pushes up against the face of a wave, it creates a small updraft. Pelicans position themselves in this sweet spot and essentially ride the moving air, reducing the effort required to stay aloft. This technique, known as wave-slope soaring, can reduce their energy expenditure by as much as 60 to 70 percent.
Ground Effect
When flying closer to the water than the length of a single wingspan, pelicans benefit from a phenomenon known as ground effect. A cushion of compressed air forms between the bird’s wings and the water’s surface, creating additional lift and reducing drag. This allows them to glide efficiently with minimal wingbeats, producing the elegant, low-level flight that is so characteristic of the species.
V-Formation Flying
When traveling in groups, pelicans often adopt a V-shaped formation. The wingtips of the lead bird create spirals of rising air that provide lift for the birds behind. By riding these updrafts, trailing pelicans reduce their own energy expenditure and flap their wings less frequently.
But how do they decide who leads? The answer is simple: everyone takes a turn. As the lead bird tires, it drops back into the formation, and another pelican takes its place. In this way, the flock shares the workload, making long-distance travel more efficient for everyone.
Watching a squadron of pelicans glide effortlessly along the coast may look simple, but behind that graceful flight lies a sophisticated understanding of wind, waves, and teamwork that has been refined over millions of years of evolution.
What is a flock of pelicans called?
A squadron, a pod, or a scoop. When pelicans are seen swimming or flying together in an organized formation, they can also be called a fleet.
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We are in the midst of World Cup fever. What is more Mexican than El Tri? And yet, when we dig a little deeper, we discover that football itself is an import. The game arrived in Mexico with Cornish miners in the nineteenth century and was gradually adopted, adapted, and embraced until it became something undeniably Mexican.
At what point do the blurry lines of otherness disappear? I find myself thinking about this often. Maybe because I have spent so much of my life living somewhere other than where I was born. Over the years I have been called a tourist, a traveller, an immigrant, and occasionally the word that makes me cringe the most: expat. What is the difference, exactly?
An immigrant moves somewhere permanently. An expat plans to leave? A traveller keeps moving? A displaced person had no choice? The definitions seem straightforward until you start looking closely. Then they begin to fall apart. Is it intention that matters? Money? Privilege? Time? And what about the rest of us?
Aren’t we all being displaced constantly? We move across countries and continents, but also through relationships, careers, beliefs, identities, and stages of life. The person I was at twenty is not the person writing this today. Sometimes the biggest migrations happen without ever crossing a border.
Perhaps movement is not the exception. Perhaps it is the human condition. The World Cup offers a fascinating reminder of this. National teams are presented as symbols of identity and belonging, yet many of their players have roots stretching across multiple countries and continents. Some were born in one place and represent another. Some hold dual citizenship. Some choose to play for the country of their parents or grandparents rather than the one where they were born.
These teams reflect a deeply interconnected world shaped by migration, colonial history, family ties, opportunity, and choice. And yet we remain remarkably attached to the question of origin.
Where are you from? Sometimes even when someone answers, it is not enough. “No, where are you really from?” As if birthplace alone could explain a person.
In this age of rapid technological change, global travel, and lives that increasingly unfold across multiple places, I sometimes wonder why we continue to use the location where someone first slipped into the world as one of our primary measures of identity.
Who are you really? Perhaps that is the more interesting question. The World Cup reminds us that identity is rarely as simple as a flag, a passport, or a place on a map. We are all shaped by where we come from, but also by where we go, who we love, what we learn, and the communities we choose along the way.
The older I get, the less interested I become in where people are from and the more interested I become in who they are.
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