Plaza de Tres Culturas - México City

The Plaza de Las Tres Culturas is the main square of the Tlatelcolco neighborhood of Mexico City. The name signifies three periods in Mexican history, pre-Columbian, Spanish colonial era and the independent nation. The square was completed in 1966 and is flanked by the Tlatelcolco ruins, a 1960's housing complex, the collage of Santa Cruz de Tlatelcolco and a church built from Tlatelcolco Temple stones.

On October 2, 1968, Mexican Armed Forces opened fire on a group of unarmed civilians on the plaza who were protesting the upcoming 1968 Summer Olympics. The Mexican government and media claimed that the Armed Forces had been provoked by protesters shooting at them, but government documents made public since 2000 suggest that snipers had been employed by the government. 

Twenty five people were officially reported dead. Later investigations identified 44 remains. Eyewitnesses claim that over 300 bodies were carted away from the square. The real death toll remains a mystery. 

 Colonial-era, Baroque Catholic Church, 

Plaza de Las Tres Culturas

Monument to the Tlatelolco 1968 massacre,

Plaza de Las Tres Culturas

Tlatelcolco ruins, a colonial era Catholic church and 

a modern housing complex, Plaza de Las Tres Culturas

Read more here: What really happened? Mexico 1968 Massacre

Our Lady of Guadalupe Mexico City

Our Lady of Guadalupe

To say that Mexicans love Our Lady of Guadalupe would be an understatement. For devout Catholics and the holiday Catholics, in Mexico, Guadalupe holds a special appeal. To the poor, Guadalupe is a symbol of standing against oppression and a common sight in most communities in Mexico. There are shrines to her almost everywhere. 

As the story goes, Juan Diego was indigenous, to Mexico. He is described as a Chichimec peasant and one of the first indigenous people to convert to Christianity. It is believed that he was visited by the Virgin Mary at Tepeyac Hill on four occasions in 1531, when Mexican territories were under Spanish rule. The Virgin Mary requested a chapel be built in her honor. At first he wasn't believed but was able to summon up some proof when the Virgin Mary miraculously imprinted her image on his cloak on one of the visitations. Who doesn't love a miracle!

Capilla de Indios (Indian Chapel) 

The original shrine for the Virgin of Guadalupe sits atop Tepeyac Hill with vast views over Mexico City.

Templo Expiatorio a Critsto Rey 

(Old Basilica of Guadalupe) 

Templo Expiatorio a Critsto Rey, the old Basilica sits at the foot of Tepeyac Hill below the original shrine. The old structure is sinking and was not able to handle the amount of visitors that come from around the world and allows a limited number of visitors to enter. 

Basilica de Guadalupe (modern Basilica) 

The modern Basilica de Guadalupe was built 1974-1976 and is circular so that the image of the Virgin can be seen from any point in the building. The structure can accommodate up to 10.000 people and the doors open wide to the plaza to accommodate larger crowds. The modern Basilica sits to the west of the old Basilica and to the south of the chapel up on Tepeyac hill. It was built to allow greater access to visitors as the old Temple was unstable. Over 20,000 million people visit each year.

Basilica de Guadalupe - door detail

Guadalupe, the Basilica de Guadalupe, Mexico City 

Visitors can view the painting for only a short time by passing by on a conveyor belt which is situated behind the alter. It allows people to view even when a service is going on. There are no vendors on the holy site but of course there is a store adjacent to the plaza where you can buy statues and trinkets to be blessed at an outdoor blessing station by a priest prior to the viewing of the painting of Guadalupe. 

Read more here: Our Lady of Guadalupe

 

Teotihuacan Piramides

The pre-Hispanic City of Teotihuacan was the largest urban center of Mesoamerica and predated the Aztecs by a 1000 years. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We were extremely lucky that the usually blistering sun was obscured by cloud cover, as there were few spots for a shady rest. Our guide provided us with historically significant information and then time to roam around on our own.

It is the site of very significant Mesoamerican pyramids. The complex is vast and was once a vibrant pre-Columbian city. In the middle is the Avenue of the Dead which links the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun. Since 2020 you are no longer allowed to climb to the summits.

Pyramid of the Sun, Teotihuacan

Pyramid of the Moon, Teotihuacan

Avenue of the Dead, Teotihuacan

read more here: Pre-Hispanic City of Teotihuacan

Siempre Cambiando

It's been a long few years and lots of crazy stuff has happened. We cannot begin to express the amount of gratitude we have to be able to travel again and return to some of the places we love. This bustling small city continues to grow and change before our very eyes. I say that each time we come here because it is true. This time it has been 4 long years since we have been here. Many of our favorite and familiar places are gone, replaced by new places that will probably be gone the next time we return. The juice man is gone, the corner market where we used to buy eggs, avocado and fruit is no longer there. Our favorite antojitos restaurant is no longer run by the same family. The tourist zone is creeping closer. It goes on and on and is filled with restaurants, bars, countless shops and hordes of tourists. It is almost possible to ignore it simply by walking different streets.

Countless apartment buildings are being built where homes for locals once sat. The new buildings are pushing the locals farther and farther from the central area. We no longer hear the colectivo man shouting as they have moved to a new location. We still find a few local cart or cargo king vendors with their bell or horn announcing they are on your street. Once in a while a car goes by with a megaphone announcing something. There is more traffic and more noise but here on the top floor patio or in the garden we can almost forget.

During the day the sun blazes hot overhead. If I sleep too late I miss my chance to have my morning coffee in the shade. In the small houses nestled behind our building dogs bark. We visit with other guests and talk about Mexico City or other places to feed our travel dreams. I go to Yin class at a yoga school twice a week. I zoom my regular yoga class once a week. Afternoons are spent at la playa. It is more crowded than we remember but we find a little spot, open our beach chairs and contemplate the waves.

In the evening, the sun lowers in the horizon and the night breeze is simply perfect. It is one of my favorite times of the day and I am always thankful. It’s the time of day the birds fly over head to roost in the trees nearby just before sunset. The evening breeze kicks in and the clouds move past. We have our evening comida on la terazza or at one of our nearby favorite restaurants. We steal time to chat with our friends that own the hotel where we stay and visit in the garden. We walk to the park when there is music and a market. We watch children playing and family time enjoyed by locals and visitors.

We will miss the beautiful water, the fresh sea air breezes, our friends and the ever changing neighborhood but we know we will return. We feel at home here and it has stolen a part of our hearts for too long. Hasta la proxima vex.

Somewhere Between Living and Dreaming

La Playa Caribbean, acrylic on canvas 18" x 24" - B.Steichen

Somewhere between living and dreaming, there is Mexico and it has been way too long since I have been here. I are not traveling around this time, just staying at our home away from home. I am dredged in a familiarity of simple routines, a walk, a shared meal on the patio, many memories from the past and the beautiful beautiful playa. I do as little or as much as I want here. It is a contemplative reset.  

La Playa is forever shimmering in countless shades of turquoise. The sun is warm upon our shoulders and the air is humid and sweet. Unending waves merging one into the next. Turquoise is my favorite color, the color of the Caribbean Sea. It is the color I see when I close my eyes. It is my conjured memory for meditation. It is pure magic.

On the patio outside our room, everyone is happy to have escaped from wherever they came from. They are happy, full of stories and laughter. The days perfectly blend one into the other. I revel in all that is my life, the work I have done to be able to be in this moment. I have so much gratitude for every second of it. I try not to count the time that turns weeks into days before I return home to get ready for the next adventure.

Every day is a journey and the journey itself is home. - Matsuo Basho

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Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument - 2020

The Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is a true desert experience. It is located along the Arizona Mexico border in south western Arizona and it part of the Sonoran Desert. The Sonoran Desert is a North American desert which covers large parts of the Southwestern United States in Arizona and California and Northwestern Mexico in Sonora, and Baja California Sur. It is the hottest desert in Mexico. It is the greenest desert in the world. This portion of the desert is designated as a National Monument and was established to protect this unique species of cactus. The blooms open in summer and are pollinated by the nectar-feeding Long-nosed Bat. Beautiful and unique this is the farthest north region in which these cactus can survive. 

 

Organ Pipe Cactus

The Sonoran Desert has five seasons, dry summer, summer monsoon, fall, winter (rainy) and spring. Abundant wildlife thrives here and includes many species of reptiles, birds, kit fox, deer, bobcat, cougar and coyote. There are big blue skies, blazing orange sunsets and beautiful silence. This is a dark sky community and there are so many stars. There are other surprises too in this incredible land and we were happy to stumble on this organ pipe cactus cristate. The cristate is a somewhat rare mutation which also appears in other species of cactus.

Cristate Organ Pipe Cactus

The Ocotillo has spines on woody stems and basically looks rather dead most of the year. It's not technically a cactus but it looks like one and is an incredibly drought tolerant plant that you do not want to touch. It is a beautiful contrast to the other desert plants with its skinny tall stems. In the spring when it blooms, it has flame-shaped orange-red flower clusters atop each long thin stem. 

Ocotillo

To say that Arizona sunsets are the best is an understatement. They win hands down for consistently providing endless variety and evening entertainment. The dry desert conditions combined with upper-level clouds creates amazing shows of iridescent pink, orange and purple hues. We were rarely disappointed. 

We drove the Ajo Mountain Scenic Loop, stopping along the way and reading the road guide. This scenic drive crosses the Diablo Mountains, passes along the base of the Ajo Mountains and crosses the Sonoyta Valley. 

Ajo Mountain Scenic Drive

We attended several ranger programs. One about the history of places within the park. Another one about coyotes (song dogs) and another one about stargazing. 

Super Moon

We hiked the loop around the camp several times and also hiked the Victoria Mine Trail twice, but, not on the same day. Rangers here have one of their scheduled days as a hiking day so often we would pass a Ranger on the trail. 

When we first arrived, I was concerned, we would stumble on distressed people making illegal crossings. There were signs posted to alert us. We did not see anyone, but, it's not entirely uncommon. Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) are diligent here and busy. You could see where the land was in need of restoration due to the destruction of illegal crossings. There were lots of CPB patrols, roadside checkpoints and helicopter patrols.

We also drove a portion of the Puerto Blanco Road which runs along the international border where the wall is being built. It was quite an emotional experience. When you see the harshness of this environment, how vast it all is, you see an unforgiving land. I think about the people who traffic others with a somewhat false hope of helping them cross the border. Everything out there can hurt you and there are many things that can kill you. I think about distressed people, trying to flee their homeland for what they hope is a better life. I look at this terrain and see how difficult it would be to traverse this unforgiving land. I believe they must be so desperate they are willing to die just for the chance. I think about how humanitarian aid has become a crime and how human rights advocates have carried gallons of water into remote areas of the Sonoran desert and been arrested. 

Mural, Ajo, Arizona

On a happier note, this was definitely one of my favorite places while we were on the road. In fact we loved it so much we returned to for a second time while in Arizona. Pristine beauty and incredible silence. It was here at the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument that we both earned our Desert Ranger Patch. I've always been an advocate and a conservationist and it was a fun and interesting exercise. We made our way through the workbook, completed the requirements and pledged to preserve and protect the National Parks and Monuments.

How incredibly blessed we are to have the life we have and to get to see so many unique and beautiful places. Our new van has made things so much easier. Travel makes me happy and I intend to do more of it for as long as I can.

"If you don't die of thirst, there are blessings in the desert. You can be pulled into limitlessness, which we all yearn for, or you can do the beauty of minutiae, the scrimshaw of tiny and precise. The sky is your ocean, and the crystal silence will uplift you like great gospel music, or Neil Young." - Anne Lamott

La Terraza

It's so difficult to describe being in such a place, a bustling small city which continues to grow and change before our very eyes. Finding old remnants of this once sleepy fishing village are becoming more and more difficult to find. I am incredibly grateful to experience this place, taking time to explore and venture out into the neighborhood. It is here, away from the tourist zone that you see the real pulse and heart.

The people grilling arranchera from a street cart, a man on the corner with a small trailer full of simple wood furniture for sale, the colectivo driver taking a rest in the driver seat, a man chopping huge bags of onions at his corner antojitos stand, they are all part of the landscape. Countless taxis, colectivos, local buses and cars trying to drive far too fast on the crowded streets. This place has an odd sense of home perhaps because I have spent more time here than anywhere I else I have ever traveled to. The days pass by just as fast as my fleeting thoughts, the dreams of what this place used to be and of other new and far away places yet to see and experience.

The sun blazes hot overhead. It arrives early and if I sleep in, I miss my chance to hear the early morning bird calls. As the early morning moves into day, church bells play Cielito Lindo, a man yells out at the nearby colectivo stand, directing riders to head north or south. In the small houses nestled behind our building the dogs bark. We gather vegetables, bananas, and eggs from the corner tienda and purchase fresh juice from the humble juice man down the street. I grab fresh made to order salad from the restaurant across from the yoga school I attend. Later in the day we cook a meal in our room or we get tacos, para llevar from our favorite antojitos stand, visit our favorite Venezuelan restaurant, asian fusion or grab a Sinaloan spatchcock roasted chicken for our evening meal.

We steal time to chat with our friends that own the building where we stay, we talk about all the beautiful flowers they have added to the garden,. We talk about our projects they are working on and love of music, to listen, play and sing.

One year we witnessed a chachalaca's that hatched a pajaro bebé (baby bird) in a nest in the garden. We provided reports to each other, each day of sightings, of where it slept and were honored to watch it grow strong and independent. We are sad when we find it fluttered over the fence, into the property behind the building and fails to thrive after meeting the neighbor dog.

On the terraza or in the jardin, stories are exchanged with other travelers. There is talk about past travels, long hot bus rides in Belize, visiting Tikal in Guatemala, travels through the Yucatan Peninsula to Vallodolid, Merida and Chixulub. We tell stories of time spent in Campeche, Palenque and on to San Cristobal del las Casas.

We once we talked with a traveler who had met our friend at her cafe, way down at the bottom of Belize in Punta Gorda. We are joyous that they had eaten there and know exactly where the turn is for the gravel road to the drum school that we walked down every day to get to town.

We listen to stories of travels in Nicaragua, Guatemala, Honduras, Dominican Republic, Cuba and Costa Rica. We talk to people about their favorite places in South East Asia and Europe. We hear plans of travels to come and take notes to feed our dreams. We say goodbye to people departing for home or travels and wish them safe journeys. In the evening, the sun lowers in the horizon and the night breeze is simply perfect. It is one of my favorite times of the day and I am always thankful. It’s the time of day the birds fly over head to roost in the trees nearby.

On the terraza, I revel in all that is my life, the work I have done to be able to travel and am grateful for every second of it. I wonder if my friends back home have forgotten my laugh. I try not to count the months, that turn into weeks, that turn into days, before I return home for a time and then on to the next adventure.

Every day is a journey and the journey itself is home. - Matsuo Basho

* Some of this content was originally published in 2015

Bougainvillea Everywhere - Playa del Carmen, Mexico 2015

I dreamed about you last night. You were as beautiful as ever, exactly how I remember you with your amazing hair, your smile and your stare. Most always talking hopeful and positive while your life seemed from my view to crumble around you. Forever young indeed and always strikingly gorgeous. You only looked different to me because your usual sun soaked skin was white as milk. You were sitting in a tower of a building that had a thatched roof, and you were looking down at me from a window. 

Someone came to me to tell me that you wanted to see me. I'm not sure who it was. I climbed some stairs up to where you were sitting. I felt as though you had something important to say. I grabbed your milk white hand and your skin felt cold as ice. We walked quietly along the beach together. I asked you if you were really dead and you simply said yes. I saw all your children waving to us. We walked a little more turning on to a beautiful cobble stone path that led us through the shade, away from the blazing sun of the beach. We passed old, lovely trees and there was bougainvillea blooming everywhere.

I forgot to tell you, I miss you and that I loved you. Then you were gone. 

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

Marcel Proust

Crossing Tabasco - Chiapas Mexico - 2016

Crossing Tabasco to Chiapas by bus after visiting the Mayan Ruins at the Palenque National Park Archeological Site and the waterfalls of Agua Azul and Misol Ha is not a fast ride.

We slowly, slowly make our way to the town of San Cristóbal de las Casas which is located in the Central Highlands region of the Mexican state of Chiapas. As much as I had read, before we left I hadn't realized how the roads were laid out. Our trip into Chiapas took us through Tabasco heading west towards the city of Tuxtla Guetierez and then back inland to San Critstóbal.

The day is long, the drive is long and the narrow road winds back and forth through mountainous terrain. When you look out the window you see a long way down. I remind myself that the driver does not want to die as he passes double trailer-ed semi trucks at speeds I am not comfortable with on these roads. I just know this is not where I am going to die.

We stop in, I don't know where and everyone is told to get off the bus. My husband decides it is a most excellent time to use the bus bathroom. The driver thinks he has gotten everyone off the bus and unaware he proceeds to back the bus out of its boarding stall and over to fill it with gasoline. I along with about 10 other non-Mexican travelers are wondering what the hell is going on. All we know is that the bus driver said "diez minutos". My confidence wanes when I no longer recognize anyone. I'm a little worried my translation skills have failed me. I felt fairly certain the bus would return because everyone's packs and luggage were still on board. Then bay 10 filled with colectivos but I hovered anyway. The young French guy with the man bun comes to tell me that my husband is on the bus, which I already knew. I stand around anxiously for about 10 minutes and the bus returns to bay 9, which is close enough for me.

We keep making our way ever so slowly along winding, narrow roads. The bus that was already an hour and a half late when we got on it, is taking a lot longer than we had been told for it to reach our destination. It is not the drivers fault, these roads are crazy. Everyone is tired. After 8 hours or so, we arrive in San Cristóbal, at the bus station. It is colder than expected and dark. The town is much larger than imagined. Fortunately there were helpful people at the bus station who pointed us in the right direction for our lodging. We think we are grateful we have already booked a room for our entire stay, but that is another story. A story that involved a few emails to the booking site.

San Cristóbal sits in a small valley surrounded by mountains. The architecture is colonial with red tiled roofs and cobblestone streets. It is very picturesque. A walk outside the tourists streets will provide an opportunity to see a community rich in history, culture with a strong indigenous population. A short walk from the center shows you the poverty of the locals. We are walking ATM's to the people who live here although we will be spending very little money as we travel. Women are everywhere carrying heavy loads of woven shawls and trinkets to purchase. Along the edge of town you can gaze out onto nearby farmland, see people working the dry land and witness the impact of deforestation.  

It wasn't just the Zapatista that rallied and fought for a better life. We had two rather grim hostel experiences here in our first couple of days. The first place had some pretty glowing reviews and I had booked it for 6 nights. Lesson learned. We discover it is filled with artists who are living there and that is the good part. There were several mural projects going on and I enjoyed seeing people happily making art. The place is was kind of a mess. It was hard to look past the overflowing garbage, really dirty kitchen and saggy old furniture. I tried to ignore my first impressions but reality won out. Our room was stinky with sewer gas which we hadn't noticed at first. They had no other room to move us to.

That evening, we head out to visit another hostel run by a guy who helped us with directions earlier in the day. He shows us the three private rooms with shared bath and we pay him ahead for the next night to hold one of the rooms. We eat dinner and return to stinkyville. We close the bathroom door to let the sewer gas vent out the bathroom window and sleep with our room window cracked open even though the air is cool. Sleeping sucks for a variety of reasons and I am up at 6 am ready to check out. Fernando who was really very very nice, asks how we slept and I said not too well. We cancel our remaining days and head to the next place.

We are filled with new hope and go to our new room at the other hostel down the street. We think it is cleaner and the room much better. It has a view of the surrounding hills and we can see some impressive red tiled roofs. The kitchen area while a bit shabby is not nearly as bad as the other place. The bed is another story but we don't find out until later when we try to sleep. 

Up early again to problem solve and we head down the street to check out a couple of hotels. We settle on one that is new, super clean friendly and has new beds. There is no one there which is strange. We are happy with our courtyard view sitting area and clean surroundings. It's cold but we have a wool blanket and layers of clothes to keep us warm. It is raining on and off and the night air is cool.

Back in Palenque town, one of our credit cards got compromised after I used it at a restaurant. A gentle reminder in Mexico where we usually use only cash. Fortunately I was able to report it right away but that resulted in the card getting canceled. I had recently purchased airline tickets with that card to fly us out of Tuxtla Guetierez instead of riding a bus for 18 hours back to Playa del Carmen. With the airport two hours away and the compromised credit card we thought we best just keep with the plan and not try to change of flights.

We waited out our time in San Cristóbal de las Casas cold as we were and made the most of a bad situation. I am so happy we made this journey, even with some minor disappointments. Yes we were cold and missed the Caribbean Sea but we got to see a place where I treasure the handwork done by the local women.

Many lessons learned. 

• Do not take photos of local market stalls as there is nothing worse than getting yelled at by a very old woman.
• Never eat chile rellenos in combination with a fruit smoothie. I know I said, "No leche por favor". It tasted really good but my belly blew up and my stomach turns still, just thinking about it.
• Never go where it is very cold with only one pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. 
• You can never take too many pictures of Volkswagons.

Faded Frescos - Playa del Carmen, Mexico

It has been a year since we were last here In Playa del Carmen (PDC). Just as the faded frescos display hints of old signs, new construction makes way for new dreams. On side streets rooftops transform to new lodgings. On the Quinta, (main tourists street), a sparkling white nightmare of a shopping mall is bathed in white lights which illuminate and dwarf the remnants of old, long standing shops and the beautiful little Calle Corazon is only a memory. We have not seen the street cart man that sells the churros near the square. We have not seen the old twin ladies that stand in the doorway at a podium offering massage. We witness Sunday night mass on loud speakers coming from the little chapel with worshipers spilling into the street. We walk by the fruit ladies (and men) who have been in the same spot for as long as I can remember. We stumble upon transplanted punk rock fire dancers, native drums, annoying pan flutes, dancers and showmen in native dress, falling and spinning from a high tower in the square. They pass a beautiful hat around for those watching to fill with spare coins. We are more intrigued by the early morning peddle carts transporting loved ones and products for delivery. We search for beautifully embellished delivery trucks with hand painted signs or corrugated shiny metal toppers. From our window we watch the man chopping cabbages every morning for use at a nearby antojitos stand. We watch men sift through the endless collection of metal to take the best pieces to scrap for pesos. We watch a painter precariously perched from some home made wood scaffolding hanging from a 4th floor roof. We visit with our new friends from Canada, Norway and Germany. We wait for the very hungover niñas, who had way too much party for their days here, gather their belongings and make their way to the bus station which will bring them back home to their families in Merida. We read books, meet friends for dinner, go to the beach, ride bikes, practice yoga, make small paintings, draw pictures, stitch embroidery, sing songs and play guitar. Each and every day is simply perfect. Everyone is happy, full of stories and laughter. Vive feliz. As always, the playa is forever shimmering in countless shades of turquoise. Unending waves. It is my favorite color, the color of the Caribbean Sea. It is the color I see when I close my eyes. Today, the sun is warm upon our shoulders and the air is humid and sweet. “There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky; there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul.”  ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables Caribbean Sea, Acrylic on Canvas Board, 6" x 6", 2014