Tag Archives: Mexican Culture

The Long Political Tradition of Murals in Mexico

By Marcia Chaiken and Jan Chaiken—

When the word “art” is mentioned in the same sentence as “Mexico” our minds leap to our memories of outstanding “murals.” Whether in the largest cities of Ciudad de México or Guadalajara, or small special places such as San Miguel de Allende or Huatulco, during return visits we are drawn back to experience again the murals that are etched in our minds. And we are always astonished to see details that have eluded us and to learn more about the history that inspired them during our many decades of exploring them.

It seems that a blank wall stimulates human artistic creativity. Some of the walls of caves in the mountains of Europe are decorated with prehistoric drawings of animals that were hunted or perhaps worshipped in the past. And although we found these 50,000-year-old creations awe-inspiring, they did not prepare us for the breathtaking murals in Bonampak, deep in the jungle of the state of Chiapas. In bright colors and detailed drawings, each of the murals in three temple rooms open a window to the life the elite Maya lived there more than twelve centuries ago. Displaying wars, musical events and religious rites, the Bonampak murals also have a political intent that is innate to the best and most famous of Mexican murals through the centuries – in this case establishing the hereditary right to rule of the portrayed nobility.

Centuries later, after the Spanish invasion, Catholic orders also used murals to demonstrate their right to rule New Spain and subjugate the indigenous people. Using artists’ techniques developed in Europe during the Renaissance, including understanding of human anatomy and ability to portray visual perspectives, the murals often presented the lineage of specific Catholic orders in tree-like form, tracing the founders and current religious heads of that era back to Jesus. We frankly find these monochromatic murals adorning convents and other religious buildings in cities around central Mexico including Cuernavaca, San Agustín de Acolman, and Malinalco, less memorable and inspiring than earlier and later works. Rather than drawing on the creativity of the native muralists, they were copies of prints from Spain that were painted by people who had been enslaved by the religious orders.

The Mexican Revolution, which began in 1910, challenged the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz and helped inspire one of the most prolific periods of mural art in Mexico. But even before the upheaval in 1910, the writing was literally on the wall. In 1906, Gerardo Murillo, known as Dr. Atl, published a manifesto calling for a distinctly Mexican art inspired by the country’s Indigenous cultures rather than European models. Closely allied with President Porfirio Díaz, Treasury Minister Alberto Pani, and the revolutionary Venustiano Carranza, Dr. Atl became the hero and teacher of three major muralists after the revolution: Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros.

These “three greats”, although linked together by art school affiliation (San Carlos Academy), revolutionary ideology and chronology, had radically different backgrounds. Diego Rivera, born in 1886 in Guanajuato, was a child prodigy producing drawings as early as age 2, including sketches on the walls of his home. His parents encouraged his art studies in the San Carlos Academy in Mexico City and then in Europe. Rivera was part of the now well-known avant-garde group breaking traditional forms of art, including Pablo Picasso. Although he was immersed in the paintings of the Impressionists including Gauguin and Matisse, he developed a style that was much more rooted in Mexican indigenous art, using bright colors and flat perspectives.

Orozco, on the other hand, was born in Jalisco in 1883 and as a child moved to Mexico City where his parents struggled financially. They decided that José should become an agricultural engineer and sent him to study in a rural area. Orozco contracted rheumatic fever and returned home to Mexico City. Shortly after, his father died of typhus and, to help support his family, Orozco became a draftsman and then was commissioned to paint portraits of recently deceased people. His interest in art was sufficient to begin classes at the San Carlos Academy. But before he could establish himself as an artist, another tragedy occurred; while he was mixing chemicals for fireworks, an explosion greatly injured his left hand and arm. His left hand and wrist needed to be amputated after they became gangrenous. Orozco struggled on, taking menial artistic jobs – but he was forever sensitized to poverty and pain in the world around him. These are reflected in the grey and red murals he eventually produced.

Squeiros, the youngest in the triad, was born in Chihuahua in 1896 to a well-to-do family who supported his desire at age 12 to study art and architecture in Mexico City. The young Siqueiros was a firebrand and soon was part of the prerevolutionary activists who demanded social change – including a successful student strike at the San Carlos Academy. He joined the Mexican Revolution Army at age 18 and advanced rapidly through the ranks. His political activism continued long after the Revolution, and he later became an outspoken Communist whose convictions shaped both his art and his life. His military career continued in Spain during the Spanish civil war. As part of this career, Siqueiros developed a passion for new technology. His murals reflect both the horrors of wars and the influence of technology.

In the decade following the revolution, all three of these artists received government grants to adorn much of the historic central area of Mexico City with their murals. These works are accessible today in the Palacio de Bellas Artes and other government buildings. The House of Tiles, (currently a restaurant and store owned by Sanborns) also has a fine example of a mural by Orozco. The intent of all these murals was less an appreciation of art than political propaganda – portraying the grandiloquence of both the Mexican and Russian revolutionaries. The murals pitted the excesses of capitalism (especially Rivera’s) and fascism (Siqueiros’) against the dream of the working class achieving independence. Both for Rivera and Siqueiros, fascination with new technology and its promise of freeing the masses from back-breaking labor became a staple topic in their work. For all three, documenting the pain and oppression of humanity under repressive regimes was paramount.

In Guadalajara, Orozco created monumental murals exploring Mexico’s history, from the struggle for independence to the violence, contradictions and aspirations of modern society. They are located in the Government Palace of Jalisco, the Museo Cabañas, and the Museum of Arts at the University of Guadalajara. As the fame of the three spread throughout the world, universities and philanthropists, especially in the US, commissioned murals – but for their artistic value and technological portrayal. Some of those who commissioned the murals had not done their homework and were aghast when the portraits of Russian revolutionaries appeared on their walls; in fact, Nelson Rockefeller ordered a mural by Rivera in Rockefeller Center covered up and then destroyed because it included a portrait of Lenin. But many murals are still accessible in major US cities and universities. Most of the art is still there as well as the political history.

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

Alebrije

By Julie Etra—

This whimsical and intricately painted form of wood sculpture is unique to the state of Oaxaca, and more precisely to the Valley of Oaxaca, where it originated. Primarily animals, the fantastical objects can include hummingbirds, coyotes, jaguars, unicorns, rabbits, raccoons, dinosaurs—well, you name it.

Origins

Last winter, while in Oaxaca City, I had the dumb luck to stumble upon a special, temporary exhibit of alebrijes at the museum in the Church of Santo Domingo.

The art form’s origin is relatively recent. In Mexico City in 1936, artisan Pedro Linares developed a high fever and accompanying nightmares that included imaginary animal-like monsters shouting the word “alebrijes.” Upon awakening and recovering, he recalled the creatures from his dreams and began creating them using cardboard and paper (aka papier-mâché, or a version thereof).

Manuel Jiménez Ramírez took the original concept of the cardboard figures created by Linares and transformed it using wood from copal trees native to the region. Jiménez Ramírez, an Oaxaqueño, was from San Antonio Arrazola, a community on the outskirts of Oaxaca City.

The original location of Jiménez Ramírez’s workshop is still active and run by his family successors, with the men primarily preparing the wood and doing the heavier work of sculpting, and the women pursuing the painstaking, patient and detailed work of painting the figures.

Lucky me, I was the only visitor on a sunny Saturday in February 2026 and received a very personal tour of the family facility, complete with a pictorial history, workshop, gallery, cats and dogs, various family members, and a garden where I had a chance to ask one of Jiménez Ramírez’s sons a few questions.

The Wood

The wood is soft and malleable and comes from trees in the genus Bursera (commonly known as copal). This group of trees is common in the tropical dry forests of coastal Oaxaca and produces fruit on which a variety of birds and mammals feed.

There are more than 100 species distributed throughout the Americas, with many found in Mexico, particularly in the states of Guerrero, Michoacán and Oaxaca. I have identified five species in our area, but the botanical inventory Flora de la Costa de Oaxaca, México: Lista Florística de la Región de Zimatán lists 11.

These trees are common in our forests, with one recognizable species being Bursera fagaroides, known locally by various common names and recognizable by its peeling bark.

The Jiménez Ramírez family explained that not all species of Bursera are suitable for carving and that Bursera tecomaca is one they prefer. After a little research, I found that copal resin, rather than the wood itself, also has uses as a preservative and is commonly burned as incense.

Other species of Bursera used for sculpting include:
Bursera glabrifolia: Commonly called copalillo, this is a preferred wood due to its softness and lightness.
Bursera bipinnata: This species is known as copal santo or copal blanco.
Bursera copallifera: This species is commonly known as copal ancho.

Jiménez Ramírez also worked with other woods, including zompantle (aka colorín, Erythrina coralloides), palo de águila and cedar. The first two were collected locally, while he purchased the latter from vendors in Valle Nacional and the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.

Regulation

As one of Jiménez Ramírez’s sons explained to me, artisans and communities play a role in managing the supply of wood to avoid overexploiting the resource. Wood may be sourced from local forests, communal lands or private initiatives.

There are also independent reforestation projects. Faced with the risk of overharvesting and shortages due to high demand, communities such as San Martín Tilcajete have launched conservation projects, including Palo que Habla (Sticks That Talk), to cultivate copal trees, primarily copalillo.

There have also been efforts to protect the identity and origin of Oaxacan alebrije handicrafts. Such protections, however, are distinct from the rules governing the harvesting and sale of wood.

Given the variation in figures available at tourist destinations, I don’t know how consistently these protections are enforced.

Jiménez Ramírez obtained his wood from vendors in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec and Valle Nacional, as well as locally.

Creating the Figures

Tools used for carving the green wood are typically quite basic, consisting of knives and machetes. Wood is selected for its shape and its correspondence to the animal or figure being created, which often includes delicate appendages such as ears, spines and tails. These are inserted or pegged into the main body of the sculpture and can be conveniently removed for transport.

Commercial enamel paints were initially used, but these days, once the piece has dried and hardened, a coat of white base paint is often applied to enhance the brilliance of acrylic or vinyl paints. Tiny dots, lines, symmetrical and asymmetrical patterns, and even fibers sometimes adorn the sculptures.

Where to Shop

Since the early days, dozens of sculptors have continued developing the art form, with varying degrees of complexity.

I am told that very elaborate (and expensive) pieces can be found in San Martín Tilcajete, south of Oaxaca City, where there are workshops and galleries. Street vendors generally offer simpler carvings and a seemingly endless supply of hummingbirds.

Several stores in Huatulco offer high-quality pieces if you want to shop locally, as do shops in Oaxaca City.

The small but lovely Museo Estatal de Arte Popular de Oaxaca in Santa María Coyotepec, south of Oaxaca City, also had some excellent pieces in its museum store. It is worth a visit.

Since I have not been to San Martín Tilcajete, I can’t compare it with San Antonio Arrazola, which I thoroughly enjoyed and where I purchased an outstanding sitting coyote.

Julie Etra is a vegetation restoration
specialist and botanist.

Alebrijes: From a Fever Dream to a Oaxacan Art Form

By Shannon Jiménez—

Few examples of Mexican folk art are as instantly recognizable as alebrijes. Brilliantly colored and covered in intricate patterns, these fantastical creatures might combine the body of a jaguar with wings, horns, scales, or other features drawn entirely from the artist’s imagination.

Today, alebrijes are strongly associated with Oaxaca, where artisans carve figures from copal wood and decorate them with extraordinarily detailed designs. But the story of the alebrije actually begins hundreds of kilometers away, in Mexico City.

The Birth of the Alebrije

The original alebrijes were created in the 1930s by Mexico City artisan Pedro Linares López, a master of cartonería, the traditional craft of making figures from paper and cardboard.

According to Linares, while seriously ill he fell unconscious and dreamed of a strange forest inhabited by fantastic creatures. Some combined parts of different animals: a donkey with wings, for example, or a rooster with the horns of a bull. As the creatures appeared, they repeatedly shouted a mysterious word: “alebrije.”

When Linares recovered, he began recreating the creatures he had seen, using the paper and cardboard techniques he already knew. His brightly colored figures eventually attracted the attention of artists and collectors, including Diego Rivera, and his work became known in Mexico and abroad.

Contrary to a story sometimes repeated about the name, the word alebrije is not derived from the Spanish word alegría, meaning joy. Linares maintained that alebrije was simply the strange word he heard in his dream.

From Mexico City to Oaxaca

The wooden figures that most visitors now associate with alebrijes developed separately in Oaxaca. Woodcarving had existed in Oaxacan communities long before the alebrije appeared. Artisans traditionally carved animals, masks, toys, religious objects, and figures connected with local celebrations and everyday life.

One of the most influential Oaxacan carvers was Manuel Jiménez Ramírez, from San Antonio Arrazola, near Oaxaca City. Jiménez helped transform traditional animal carving into a distinctive artistic form, producing imaginative creatures that appealed to collectors and visitors.

Over time, the name alebrije, originally associated with Linares’ fantastical cartonería figures, began to be applied to these colorful Oaxacan woodcarvings as well. The tradition expanded particularly in communities such as San Antonio Arrazola and San Martín Tilcajete, which today are internationally known for their carved and painted figures.

How Oaxacan Alebrijes Are Made

Oaxacan alebrijes are traditionally carved from copal, a wood prized by artisans because it is relatively soft and workable when freshly cut.

The artist first studies the natural shape of a branch or piece of wood, sometimes allowing its curves and irregularities to suggest the animal that will emerge. The basic form is carved with tools such as machetes, knives, and chisels.

Separate elements—including ears, horns, wings, and tails—may be carved individually and attached later. Once carved, the wood must dry. It is then sanded and prepared for painting. Cracks that develop during drying can be filled before decoration begins.

The painting is often as impressive as the carving itself. Artists cover the figures with dots, lines, geometric forms, flowers, scales, and other elaborate patterns. Some artisans use extremely fine tools—even the thorn of a maguey—to create minute details.

Alebrije making is frequently a family enterprise, with carving and painting skills passed from one generation to another. However, the old generalization that “men carve and women paint” does not accurately describe every workshop today. Both men and women work as carvers, painters, designers, and master artisans.

Alebrijes, Tonas and Nahuales

Another popular misconception is that alebrijes are inherently ancient Zapotec spirit animals. The relationship is more complicated.

Ideas surrounding tonas and nahuales have deep roots in Indigenous cultures of Oaxaca, and contemporary artists sometimes draw upon these traditions when creating their work. Some artisans explicitly describe their figures in relation to nahuales or other spiritual concepts.

But alebrijes themselves are not an ancient pre-Hispanic art form. The term dates only to Pedro Linares and the twentieth century. The Oaxacan wooden tradition represents a fascinating meeting of older Indigenous carving practices, individual artistic innovation, tourism, the international folk-art market, and the influence of Linares’ fantastical creatures.

A Living Oaxacan Art

What began as one artisan’s fever dream in Mexico City evolved into something quite different in Oaxaca.

Oaxacan artists took an existing tradition of woodcarving and pushed it in remarkable new directions. Today, workshops continue to experiment with increasingly complex carving, painting, and design, while individual families develop styles recognizable as their own.

No two handmade pieces are exactly alike. Some resemble recognizable animals—rabbits, coyotes, jaguars, cats, armadillos—while others combine features from several creatures or spring entirely from the artist’s imagination. That individuality is part of their appeal. An alebrije can be playful, elegant, strange, whimsical, or even slightly unsettling.

And although they have become one of the most recognizable forms of contemporary Mexican folk art, their history is surprisingly recent: a Mexico City dream transformed by generations of Oaxacan hands.

Shannon Jimenez is the owner of La Vivienda Villa in Huatulco, Mexico.
http://www.lavivienda.com.mx

Xandú: A Celebration of Memory, Art and Tradition

By José Palacios y Román—

Across Mesoamerica, communities have honored the connection between the living and the dead for centuries. In Mexico, these traditions have become intertwined with the Catholic observances of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. Each year, on November 1 and 2, Día de Muertos brings families together to remember loved ones through altars, offerings, food, music and celebration.

In Zapotec tradition, Xandú is associated with Día de Muertos and the remembrance of those who have died. Drawing on this heritage, the Huatulco Hotel Association, together with hospitality partners in Tangolunda, La Crucecita and Santa Cruz, is organizing the second edition of the Xandú Festival.

The festival takes place on October 30, 2026, at Plaza de la Guelaguetza, also known as Plaza Benito Juárez, across from Marina Chahué.

Last year’s inaugural celebration began with a parade of illuminated floats winding through the streets before arriving at the plaza. There, residents and visitors gathered for food, drinks, live music and dancing. The festival brought together local businesses and the wider community in a celebration of Huatulco’s cultural traditions.

Art and Tradition in the 2026 Edition

This year, visual art will play a larger role in the festivities. Art Gallery Copalli and the women’s collective La Magia del Color have issued an open call inviting artists from across the Oaxacan coast to submit work by October 10.

Artists are encouraged to explore Mexico’s spiritual heritage, cultural roots, traditions and collective memory.

A selection committee will choose 24 works for exhibition during the festival. RE/MAX is sponsoring the art competition and will purchase the winning painting.

Beginning November 2, the selected works will be exhibited at Art Gallery Copalli in Tangolunda, where they will also be available for purchase.

The Xandú Festival offers residents and visitors an opportunity to experience Día de Muertos traditions while discovering the work of artists from the Oaxacan coast.

Festival: October 30, Plaza de la Guelaguetza, across from Marina Chahué.

Art exhibition: Beginning November 2, Art Gallery Copalli, Tangolunda.

Admission is open to everyone.

 

To Delay the Third Death

By Tonya Harmon—

I’m writing a memoir. It’s an exploration of the generations of my father’s Slovak family and what I inherited from them. I certainly don’t speak Slovak, and I wasn’t born in Slovakia. What, then, exactly did I inherit?

In conducting research for the book over the last 20 years, I became immersed in the past lives of relatives who were long gone and, in many cases, people I’d never even met. Their names appeared in a church registry for a birth or baptism, marriage or death, and little else. I wanted to know so much more about them: how they lived, what they ate, what they stood for, and what they believed in.

Where do you go to find these details, and can you even unearth them for a person who died nearly a century ago on another continent?

I decided to start with the living. I studied the picture of my family on the day they left Yugoslavia in 1938 and tracked down a woman who was a teenager at the time.

Julka was 14 when our families emigrated to Canada together and was in her late eighties when we met. She remembered my great-grandfather’s bakery and how she would walk past the other bakeries to go to his, the best in town. Every day at the end of the school day, my great-uncle Andy would ride his bike to the schoolyard and ring his bell. His basket was filled with baguettes and zemle, plump round rolls, and kifle, the crescent-shaped rolls said to have inspired the croissant.

Julka remembered the taste of the kifle and how she had spent her whole life searching for one that tasted as good as she remembered but never found it. Julka died a few months after our interview.

She remembered the day the picture was taken, that it was raining, and that her boyfriend had arranged the send-off. My great-grandmother had stood behind the camera, taking one last picture of her son, daughter-in-law, and only granddaughter, Datka. “My eyes will never see you again,” she said.

I traveled to Yugoslavia to meet relatives and learned about my great-uncle Stefan, the family jokester. Once at a wedding, he’d sprinkled hot paprika on the toilet paper and sat back laughing as people came out of the outhouse hopping and itching. He also hid ammunition in the water well for partisans fighting against fascists in WWII.

On the internet I found a website in Slovak written by an elderly man who had lived his whole life in the same village as my family. He had written about the history of the town and my family. I tracked Jan down and we began a decade-long conversation through Facebook, him in Slovak, me in English. We traded stories and genealogical facts and became friends. I was devastated when he died suddenly two years ago.

As I traveled to meet people and collected historical facts about the places and times they lived in, the lives of my long-gone relatives slowly started to come alive for me. I found the family recipe for the kifle Julka remembered and made them, enjoying the taste as much as Julka did. I saw bundles of drying peppers hanging from the porches in the village where Stefan had lived. I wrote to the German government requesting details about family members who had been arrested and read bureaucratic records containing unanswered letters from relatives begging for information about their loved ones.

In 2011, Jaro Miklović took me from house to house in my family’s hometown. At each stop, food appeared before we had finished asking questions: sausage, bread, cakes, glasses raised in welcome. Albums came out. I took pictures of photographs hanging on walls and held family samplers stitched more than a hundred years earlier.

Again and again, someone who had been a stranger, appearing only as a name in the family tree, stopped feeling like one.

Over the years, recipes crossed oceans. Photographs resurfaced. Distant relatives found one another. Objects and stories moved from one branch of the family to another.

Living in Mexico has made me think differently about what it means to remember the dead. Here people sometimes speak of Las Tres Muertes, the Three Deaths.

The first death is when the body stops working and the heart stops beating. The second is when the body is buried. The third comes when the last living person who remembers you forgets your name. That is when you disappear completely.

The idea is often connected to Día de Muertos. Families build an ofrenda and place photographs on it, lighting candles, telling stories, and putting out the favorite foods of the people who have died, believing this may entice them to come home for the day.

It is one of the most beautiful things about living in Mexico. It is colorful and joyful, but underneath it is something very serious. Remembering is an act of love, and perhaps also an act of preservation.

I thought about this when I received an email from a woman looking for an old friend named Juan Carlos. She had known him in the early 1970s. He was the first cousin of my aunt’s former husband, part of another Slovak immigrant family whose members had settled in both Canada and Argentina. She found me because of something I had written about the death of my aunt’s twenty-three-year-old daughter, Karla, in 1993.

I vaguely remembered Juan Carlos. He had visited our family in Montreal once. He was tall and thin and very kind and was studying to become a pediatrician.

I had to tell her that he had died young, more than forty years earlier.

A few years later, she wrote again.
This time she wanted to speak to his sister.
I sat looking at the email.
After all those years, she still remembered him.
His body had died, he had been buried, but his name had not disappeared.
She still remembered.

Maybe Slovak families have been doing the same thing in their own way all along, not with marigolds and sugar skulls, but with recipes, family trees, photographs kept in drawers and hung on walls. And with names repeated at our kitchen tables.
With a woman writing to me more than forty years later asking about a young man she had once known. Memory, it appears, traveled farther than the people themselves.

I came to Mexico believing I had followed my own route very far from home. Instead, I found myself living in a place that understood what I had been doing for years.

My great-grandmother’s crystal bowls in my armoire are part of that ofrenda. So is the kifle, the family tree, the photographs I copied from albums, and the stories told at the kitchen table.
So is this book.

For a long time, I thought I was collecting evidence.
I understand now that I was also collecting people.
Julka. Andy. Stefan. Jan. Jaro. Karla. Juan Carlos.
Each time I recover a name from a church register, identify someone in a photograph, translate a letter, or repeat a story, that person is back with us for a little while.
Perhaps that is what family history is for.
To delay the third death.

Tonya Harmon lives in SMA and is a wealth of knowledge about food and cheese: http://www.EmpressofCheese.com

 

The Art of Belonging: How to Live Like a Local in Mexico City

By Carole Reedy—

Famed author Maya Angelou once said: “I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.”

Wherever we are, most of us yearn for connections, familiarity, and comfort. You can find these feelings even while traveling … if you are armed with knowledge and savvy.

Here are some tips to assist you on your journey in one of the grandest cities of the world. If you have the luxury, allow yourself time to wander, absorb the culture, history, way of life, and routines of the locals.

Before the more practical recommendations, let’s reflect on a philosophical perspective. Despite the hustle bustle of the city, take time to roam (or as my friends and I say “flaneur”) through the neighborhoods (called colonias) that sprinkle the Valley of Mexico. Don’t pack too much in a day, as traveling around the big city takes time and energy, too.

Enjoy the unexpected and unanticipated joys of the moment. Look up and around … at the trees, sky, and skyscrapers. There are surprises around every corner. If you are fortunate enough to come in March, the jacarandas will be in full bloom.

Cover of The Eye's Passport to Mexico, a free guide featuring 100 unforgettable travel experiences across Mexico, including food, culture, nature, beaches, and adventure.
Download your free Passport to Mexico and start checking off 100 unforgettable experiences across Mexico. Click the cover to get your copy.

Be open to the people on the street and metro or while shopping. Unlike the French, Mexicans will welcome you even though your Spanish may be not quite correct, or even if it’s nonexistent.

If you are like other visitors to this bewitching city, your memories will remain vivid long after you depart. Here are some practical ways to make your sojourn uncomplicated and rich.

Greetings!

First impressions are said to be the most important, and none is more so than the first words out of your mouth when greeting someone on the street, entering a room or a store, or addressing a waiter.

Friends visiting Mexico City (Ciudad de Mexico) are often surprised at how, in this heavily populated city, people take the time to greet one another. Americans in particular have a tendency to always appear to be in a rush, speaking rapidly and without the formality of a greeting.

The first words out of your mouth when entering a room, a meeting, or store, or simply on the street, should be buenos días (good morning), buenas tardes (good afternoon), or buenas noches (good evening or night). Another useful phrase is just buen día, short for que buen día (literally, may it be a good day – Spanish loves the subjunctive).

A smile goes a long way and is always appreciated. Mexicans always take time for a formal greeting before the chatter begins!

Time and pace

No hay prisa is a good motto to practice during your visit, be it for a week or a year. Literally the phrase means “there is no hurry.” Although some actions and attitudes may be interpreted as “slow and lazy” by some foreign cultural standards, Mexicans are deliberate and formal in their manners, which is actually considerably more sane than the frenzied manners of many foreigners.

Mexicans are patient. Often you will see lines of people waiting for a service. No one is yelling or complaining. People just wait and chat, somehow knowing that stress, and therefore raising their blood pressure, doesn’t do anyone any good or make the line move any faster.

“Why is everyone always late?” They aren’t. The concept of time is different south of the border. If you are invited to a party at 7 pm and show up at exactly 7 pm or, God forbid, earlier, you will be alone and your hosts may not even be dressed yet. It seems that guests stroll in when they want, and everyone thinks that is just fine. Not to worry. No one else will! You won’t miss dinner. If you’re invited for 8 pm, you may not eat until 11.

You may notice that if a business advertises its opening at 9 am, employees may not show up until 9:30 or so. Banks that open at 9 am (an institution you may think would be punctual) may open their doors on time but the employees will just be strolling in and preparing their desks for the day. Go with the flow.

Most entertainment events do not start exactly on time, but they do make an effort to begin within the half hour. Movies do begin on schedule, as do bullfights. When you’re at a supposedly sold-out live concert and you look around 10 minutes before it begins, you may wonder where everyone is. Look around 20 minutes later, and you will see a full house. Arriving early is neither the norm nor fashionable.

Ahorita is the most confusing Spanish word for foreigners. Literally, it means RIGHT NOW. But it never actually does. It can mean anywhere from five minutes to two hours, or even tomorrow morning. If a worker tells you he will return ahorita, the fact is you don’t know when that will be. Take it with a grain of salt. He may as well be saying “who knows?” If you do need a definite answer, ask a more definite question.

My Mexican friends know our northern habits, and therefore they do try to arrive close to the designated time when meeting me. You may not be able to change your lifelong habits, but wait patiently, and if you are on time by your standards, enjoy the ambience or, as I do, always carry a book with you!

Transport, Traffic, and La Hora Pico

Mexico City has a fine public transport system used by millions of people every day. The most used and popular are the Metro (mostly underground) and the Metrobus, which is a bus with its own lane. Cars NEVER drift over to the Metrobus lane; the fine for disobedience of this law is huge. Ambulances are allowed though.

Both systems are easy, and both use the same card for entrance. The metro is 5 pesos and the Metrobus is 6 pesos (basically 25 cents in US currency). The cards are available at all metro stations. There are maps online. Plus, there are actually two apps, chock full of information: Metrobus CDMX and AppCDMX.

The most important information to keep in mind, however, is La Hora Pico, or rush hour. It is a horror in Mexico City, and even the person who experiences no form of claustrophobia may experience a small panic attack when you observe the crushing hoards in action on public transport.

The hours to avoid public transport or driving: weekdays 7 am to 10 am and then again 5 pm to 9 pm. This applies to all areas of the city. Arrive at your destination early and enjoy a cappuccino if need be.

Metrobus and Metro cars are clean and efficient. The first car of each transport train is designated for women, children, and the elderly. Please honor this, as all of us do.

City buses are available in many parts of the city. There are lots of bike lanes, and it appears more people use them daily. If you travel north in the city or far south you may see cable cars as public transport. In Ixtapalapa, the home owners paint creative designs on their roofs for the enjoyment of the cable car riders.

Do beware of bikes and motorcycles. They seem to believe traffic laws are not written for them, running red lights and essentially just doing as they please. Helmet laws are in effect.

If you are an Uber user, you should be quite content with the service here. The cars are clean and well maintained, unlike many taxis. The drivers are, for the most part, a delight and very often talkative, some speaking English. If you do speak some Spanish, this is a good way to practice. Strike up a conversation; they too enjoy practicing their English.

In every way, Ubers are better than taxis, including reasons of safety and the price of your journey. Do not enter a taxi that accepts only credit cards; it is a scam that will charge your card more than the actual price. I do have a taxi sitio (taxi stand) in my neighborhood that I trust, but for the most part Ubers are the better choice, an important factor being that you are not watching the meter run while sitting in traffic.

Ubers know the quickest and safest routes. You can call them right on the street as well as from a designated location.

Banking

Here are a few money-saving and helpful tips about ATM withdrawals.

First of all, to avoid fraud, always use a bank ATM. A big money saver is to refuse the rate of exchange the bank ATM offers you when you enter your card. Most ATMs provide instructions in both Spanish and English. Just press NO when it reads “Do you accept this rate of exchange?” That way you will receive the exchange rate of your personal bank, which will be assuredly less.

It is best to do your cash withdrawals during weekdays. The ATMs run out of money on the weekends and especially during puentes, three-day weekends.

The cost of an ATM transaction also varies by bank, so if you are not happy with the rate at one bank, try another.

You will always get Mexican pesos at the bank ATMs. Should you need US dollars, you will need to visit a casa de cambio (money exchange).

The Joy of Eating

With the more practical matters out of the way, let’s end with a short discussion about Mexican eating habits and protocols.

The grand capital is replete with restaurants for every eating preference and idiosyncrasy. You may feel overwhelmed when you look online for your favorite. So, here are some general options to narrow down your choices.

The meals. Instead of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all of México enjoys desayuno, comida, and cena.

Desayuno is eaten before 10 am. Comida, the main meal of the day, begins as early as 1 or 2 pm and is served until 4 or 5 pm. Cena is a light evening meal offered from 7 to 10 pm. This is the habit in Mexican homes. Restaurants often adapt to foreign timetables for eating, and since restaurant times may vary, best to check hours on line.

Street food. To eat or not to eat? My guests’ favorite question, and my advice is benign: It is up to you. There are risks involved everywhere, but more so from street vendors. Often there is no running water in the puestos de comida (food stalls), and employees often handle money and food simultaneously.

The food is usually delicious, and it’s certainly quite cheap. Millions of Mexican workers eat it every day. I confess to eating street taco carnitas occasionally, even though I may experience gastrointestinal backlash the next day.

Market eating. Everyone enjoys the huge buildings that house mountains of fruits, vegetables, meat, and often household items. There are also small restaurants inside the markets. One of my favorites is Mercado Medellin (located in Roma Sur on Campeche and Medellin streets). The market has two locations for restaurants, so be sure to ask one of the vendors where to go.

Chains. Here are some unexpected spots that serve great Mexican meals.

The most famous chain store that also houses a restaurant is Sanborns, owned by the world-famous entrepreneur Carlos Slim.

To this day, the distinct dress of the Sanborns waitresses is famous, going back more than a century ago. Collector and dealer of folk art and archaeological artifacts Francis Davis was invited to open a Mexican curio shop inside the Sanborns Casa de los Azulejos, located in Centro. Davis designed a uniform for the servers and according to some, it was loaded with typical Mexican references. It adds such charm to the restaurant.

Sanborns has a good variety of Mexican food which is quite tasty and traditional. There are Sanborns shops located all over the city. There you will find books, scarves, pharmaceuticals, jewelry, perfumes, and electronics, with the merchandise varying from store to store. It is a practical place to shop, and it is a legend.

Another excellent chain for Mexican food is the Bajio restaurants. Like Sanborns, they are located all over the city. The food is outstanding with a good variety. I frequent the one in the Reforma 222 shopping center. Carnitas are a specialty.

Tipping. Waiters and waitresses receive very small salaries – thus they depend on tips. Some owners do not even pay a salary, the workers’ only compensation being tips. Twenty percent is traditional if the service is good. So please tip your wait staff.

Crème de la crème restaurant. Since I’m always asked about this, I will reluctantly address it here. Based on the reaction of my visitors and reviews, the best upscale restaurant is Rosetta, located in Roma Norte, with the Rosetta bakery, located on the next block, as the choice for the best cafe. Definitely the best pastry is the cafe’s Mil Hojas, covered at greater length in my article “Where the Locals Hang Out: The Unsung Treasures of CDMX” (February 2025).

Soak in the sunshine and joy of this city that is unlike any other.

“One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.” Hermann Hesse

Keep Exploring Mexico

Get your free Passport to Mexico and start checking off 100 unforgettable experiences.

Download the Passport →  Click Here

Orizaba: A Mountain Jewel in Veracruz

By Alicia Flores—

Nestled in the heart of the mountains between Puebla and Veracruz lies Orizaba, a city that many travelers still overlook—but shouldn’t. With its colonial architecture, cool climate, and surrounding natural beauty, Orizaba offers a unique mix of history, culture, and outdoor adventure that feels both surprising and welcoming.

The first thing you notice when you arrive in Orizaba is how green everything is. The city sits in a valley below the towering Pico de Orizaba—the tallest mountain in Mexico and the third-highest in North America. Known in Nahuatl as Citlaltépetl, or “Star Mountain,” this dormant volcano dominates the horizon and adds a quiet majesty to the landscape. Even if you’re not planning to climb it (which takes serious mountaineering experience), just knowing it’s there changes the way you see the place. The mountain is more than a backdrop—it feels like a guardian.

The city itself is small but full of charm. The historical center is easy to explore on foot, with well-preserved 19th-century buildings, wide plazas, and iron-laced balconies that speak of a prosperous past. One of the best ways to start your visit is with the Teleférico de Orizaba—a cable car that glides from the city center up to Cerro del Borrego. The views are breathtaking, and once at the top, you can explore walking trails or visit the museum that explains the mountain’s role during the French Intervention in the 19th century.

Cover of The Eye's Passport to Mexico, a free guide featuring 100 unforgettable travel experiences across Mexico, including food, culture, nature, beaches, and adventure.
Download your free Passport to Mexico and start checking off 100 unforgettable experiences across Mexico. Click the cover to get your copy.

Back in town, Orizaba is proud of its art and culture. The Palacio de Hierro (Iron Palace) is a standout building designed by Gustave Eiffel—the same engineer who gave Paris its famous tower. This unique structure houses several small museums, including one dedicated to Mexican beer and another with a collection of masks from around the country. It’s also a great spot to learn more about the local history, including the city’s importance during the Porfirio Díaz era.

One of my favorite things to do in Orizaba is walk along the Río Orizaba. The river cuts through the town and is lined with walking paths, murals, and even small animal enclosures that serve as a sort of open-air zoo. It’s a peaceful place for a morning stroll or afternoon break, and the cool mountain air makes it feel refreshing even during the warmer months.

For more history and dining options, visit the Poliforum Mier y Pesado, or Iron Palace, an early 20th-century orphanage, then a school, then a retirement center, built in the French style. It has wonderful ironwork, beautiful gardens, and hosts cultural events. There are a couple of museums, one of which, the Museo del Traje, showcases traditional clothing. The restaurants lean to the upscale, but there are a couple of less expensive cafes. The Poliforum is located on Oriente 6, 1653, a couple of kilometers east of the historic center.

Food in Orizaba is hearty and delicious, shaped by the surrounding regions and the city’s own traditions. Expect tamales wrapped in banana leaves, chiles rellenos in local-style sauces, and sweet treats like jamoncillo (a kind of milk fudge) and toritos—a strong local liqueur made from fruit and sugarcane alcohol. Markets and casual restaurants offer some of the best flavors, but you’ll also find a growing number of cafés and bakeries run by young entrepreneurs bringing fresh energy into the culinary scene.

Because of its location, Orizaba makes a great base if you want to explore more of central Veracruz. Nearby towns like Córdoba or the coffee-growing region of Huatusco are perfect for day trips. But even if you don’t leave the city, Orizaba offers enough beauty and history to keep you happily occupied.

There’s something grounded and genuine about Orizaba. It’s not polished like a resort town, and it’s not trying to be something it’s not. The people are warm, the pace is relaxed, and the air smells faintly of pine and distant rain. It’s a place that doesn’t shout to be seen, but rather invites you to slow down and notice.

If you find yourself looking for a lesser-known part of Mexico to explore—one that blends mountains, culture, and heart—Orizaba might just be your next favorite stop.

Keep Exploring Mexico

Get your free Passport to Mexico and start checking off 100 unforgettable experiences.

Download the Passport →  Click Here

You may like these articles:

The Art of Belonging: How to Live Like a Local in Mexico City

Red Clay Ceramic-producing Maestras of San Marcos Tlapazola

World Cup Fever!

By Jed Pitman—

There are moments in history which are coupled with the question, “Where were you when…?”

I’m thinking of the assassination of JFK, the news that Princess Diana had died in a car crash in Paris, the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the USA and, if you are a bit younger, the day Jay Z and Beyonce got hitched. Continue reading World Cup Fever! →