A Tour of the Malecón Sculptures in Puerto Vallarta

You might recognize Caballero del Mar (The Boy on the Seahorse), but here’s a cheat sheet for the other statues along the PV boardwalk.

Wally has a seat and imitates his favorite sculpture on the Malecón, the creepy, cool La Rotunda del Mar (The Roundabout of the Sea).

If you spend any time in Puerto Vallarta, you’ll inevitably find yourself strolling along the Malecón, the boardwalk that lines the Bahía de Banderas. It’s not an old-fashioned wooden boardwalk as you might see in the States; it’s a wide concrete promenade lined with tourist shops, massive restaurants and clubs blaring music. It’s where everyone in PV goes to congregate, acting as a town square for tourists and locals alike.

You’ll have to get used to being constantly called out to (“hassled” is perhaps too harsh a word, but one you might be using after a few days). 

““Malecón” is simply the Spanish word for a waterfront promenade.”

The Malecón stretches for about a mile, from the edge of the Zona Romántica, over the Cuale River, and on into Centro, the center of town, up to the Hotel Rosita on Calle Treinta y Uno de Octubre. Its first incarnation was as a breakwater built in 1936 and named the Paseo de la Revolución. It later became the Paseo Díaz Ordaz before getting enlarged and becoming the Malecón as we now can experience it. (In fact, “malecón” is simply the Spanish word for this type of waterfront promenade.)

The iconic Los Archos (The Arches) that are now there are a replica, as the originals were damaged in 2002 by Hurricane Kenna. The first were built during the colonial period and brought from a hacienda in Guadalajara.

Los Archos frame Bahía de Banderas and the spit of land called Nuevo Vallarta, where many of the big resorts and hotels are located.

When you want to get some exercise, perhaps in the late afternoon, when the sun isn’t blazing down so fiercely, take a tour of the public sculptures that line the Malecón. 

Bailarines de Vallarta (Dancers of Vallarta) by Jim Demetro, 2006

Fun fact: The couple is performing the jarabe tapatio, the Mexican hat dance, which originated as a courtship ritual. 

San Pascual Bailón by Ramiz Barquet, 2008

Fun fact: The 16th century Spanish Franciscan friar, aka Paschal Baylón, became the patron saint of cooks.

La Fuente de la Amistad (The Friendship Fountain) by James “Bud” Bottoms and Octavio González Gutiérrez, 1987

Fun fact: The sculpture was a gift from Puerto Vallarta’s sister city, Santa Barbara, California. The dolphins symbolize peace, protection and brotherhood between the two cities.

The artists were inspired by a myth of the Chumash, a native people from what’s now Southern California. The Earth goddess, Hutash, created a rainbow bridge to connect the Chumash from their island to the mainland. And even though she warned those crossing not to look down, some did, losing their balance and falling. But as they plummeted into the ocean, the goddess transformed them into dolphins so they would not die.

Caballero del Mar (The Boy on the Seahorse) by Rafael Zamarripa, 1976

Fun fact: The first statue to be erected on the Malecón, it has become a symbol of the city. 

Triton and the Nereid by Carlos Espino, 1990

Fun fact: In Greek mythology, Triton was the son of Poseidon, the god of the sea, and nereids were sea nymphs who would help sailors during storms.

Lluvia (Rain) by Jovian, 2020

Fun fact: The artist says, “I tried to present a man with open arms as a symbol of openness, positively receiving what the world offers him with a gesture of happiness and fulfillment, eyes looking up into the rain without that affecting his peace but rather enjoying the water that falls on his body and making him feel free and alive.

That is what Vallarta is for me: a city with great openness, which welcomes locals and strangers with open arms. I have never known another city where people who come from other places feel so at home.” 

En Búsqueda de la Razón (In Search of Reason) by Sergio Bustamante, 2000

Fun fact: Another of our faves, this statue divides its audience — some think the mother is pleading with her children to come down, while others think she’s encouraging them to explore new heights.

La Rotunda del Mar (The Roundabout of the Sea) by Alejandro Colunga, 1996

Fun fact: These strange steampunk creatures, a fantastical mélange of humans, animals and tech tools, are inspired by the folk tales the artist heard as a child. Incidentally (and perhaps not surprisingly?), this is Duke and my favorite sculpture along the Malecón.

Naturaleza Como Madre (Nature as Mother) by Tapatio Adrián Reynoso, 1997

Fun fact: If the shape confuses you a bit, it’s a wave that’s becoming a woman…while balancing on a snail shell. 

Unicornio de la Buena Fortuna (Unicorn of Good Fortune) by Aníbal Riebeling, 2011

Fun fact: No surprise, given its name, but it’s said to be good luck to touch it. In fact, the city had to raise the base to help deter people from climbing on top of it for pictures.

El Sutil Comepiedras (The Subtle Rock-Eater) by Jonás Gutiérrez, 2006

Fun fact: No one knows why exactly this man wants to eat rocks (as if there’s anything subtle about that), aside from the fact that he’s supposed to be a magician.

The statue is a great spot to watch the Voladores de Papantla spin around a pole on ropes attached to their feet. These “Flying Men” are part of an ancient ritual.

La Nostalgia by José Ramiz Barquet, 1976

Fun fact: One of the oldest on the Malecón, placed there in 1984, the sculpture is inspired by the love story between the sculptor and his wife, Nelly Galván-Duque Tamborrel. The couple met but then lost touch for 27 years before meeting again and getting married.

The Millennia by Mathís Lídice, 2001

Fun fact: There’s a double-helix DNA strand at the bottom to show that humans evolved from the sea alongside octopi, fish, frogs and lizards. This is followed by the French Charlemagne, the king of the Francs, bearing a sword, then the pre-Columbian poet-king Nezahualcoyotl. And the future is represented by a woman releasing a dove of peace.

So take a break from sunbathing, get a little culture and take some fun photos — it’ll give you an excuse to avoid the incessant hawkers trying to lure you into a sale. –Wally

A Perfect Morning in La Condesa, Mexico City

One of CDMX’s hippest hoods has its own distinct vibe with the racetrack-turned-oval-park Avenida Amsterdam and an array of eye-catching Art Deco architecture, green spaces and cafés. 

If you’re in Mexico City, you’ve got to take a walk around the colorful colonia of La Condesa — especially the pedestrian-friendly, lush Avenida Amsterdam.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Mexico City began to experience the influence of a new international artistic movement, which had great importance in graphic and industrial design, the decorative arts and architecture. What was this revolutionary style? Art Deco, of course. 

Art and design are still a driving force in the hip, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood of La Condesa. Here’s how to spend a pleasant morning in the colonia (neighborhood).

“Art and design are a driving force in the hip, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood of La Condesa.”

This periwinkle house and sign became a familiar guidepost for us.

1. Go round Avenida Amsterdam and the surrounding streets.

Start your day by heading to Avenida Amsterdam in Hipódromo, the heart of La Condesa. The avenue gets its shape from a former horse racing track. 

Following the old horse racing track, Avenida Amsterdam is now a median green space in the heart of La Condesa.

Stroll along the central pedestrian median of Avenida Amsterdam and stop to gaze at La Fuente de la Glorieta Popocatépetl. The 1927 Art Deco fountain by José Gómez Echeverría is popularly known as the Bomba. The fountain consists of a dome supported by four white columns decorated with tiles. An aperture at the top allows sunlight to illuminate it, if only for a fleeting moment. 

There are lots of Art Deco delights to discover while wandering around La Condesa, including Edificio San Martín.

As you wander this neighborhood, admire the Art Deco and Streamline Moderne doorways and façades of mansions and apartments that line the streets. The San Martin building, designed by Ernesto Ignacio Buenrosto, with its symmetrical entrance and canopy on Avenida México, perfectly characterizes the Art Deco style.

Wally’s all set for brunch at the cozy back patio at Frëims in La Condesa. He and Duke of course loved the mural.

2. Grab breakfast on Frëims’ charming back patio.

Fuel up for the day at one of our favorite spots in La Condesa, Frëims (Avenida Amsterdam 62B). The space occupies the renovated first floor of a former 1920s home reimagined as a bookstore, record shop and restaurant serving food and a variety of coffee drinks. 

We were seated at a table on the sun-dappled patio. While we were there, the gallery and garden wall mural featured a collaborative installation by Colombian artist Sofía Echeverri and Oaxacan illustrator Vero Anaya called The Origins of Knowledge. The artists describe their imaginative pieces as embodying the concept of “soróbora”: the juxtaposition of sorority, a society of women, and ouroboros, the snake that nurtures itself and symbolizes infinity by eating its own tail. 

Lemon ricotta pancakes

Eggs Benedict

I tried the lemon ricotta pancakes and Wally got his usual huevos benedictinos, paired with a coffee for me and a latte for Wally. We also ordered two Vecinos, a fresh-squeezed juice blend of pear, lime, cucumber and cardamom. 

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ANOTHER BREAKFAST OPTION: Ojo de Agua in La Condesa

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A large section of Parque México is devoted to a dog park.

3. Take a walk in the park…Parque México, that is. 

Officially Parque San Martín, La Condesa’s large urban park was built on the former site of the elite Jockey Club de México — and everyone refers to it as Parque México now.  Built in 1927 the park is a favorite among families, dog walkers and skateboarders. 

This plaza, named for Charles Lindbergh, offers a space for dog walkers, children and rollerbladers to congregate.

Bougainvillea covers the pergola that surrounds the open-air theater.

At the front of the park, there’s a communal space consisting of five pillars topped with a canopy and bordered by a pergola. The exterior walls are covered with graffiti and when we walked by, we watched a group of kids learning to rollerblade.

Nice jugs! El Fuente de los Cántaros (Fountain of the Pitchers) was modeled after Luz Jiménez, once the go-to model for indigenous Mexicans.

Standing serenely in front of the open-air Teatro al Aire Libre Coronel Lindbergh, named in honor of the American aviator, is a concrete figure of a nude woman holding a pair of jugs (literally). Known as Fuente de los Cántaros (Fountain of the Pitchers), it depicts Luz Jiménez, who modeled for its creator, José María Fernández Urbina, as well as Diego Rivera and Tina Modotti. She was considered the it girl archetype of the Mexican indigenous woman.

This clock tower with Art Deco ironwork, designed by Leonardo Noriega, has bells that chime to mark the hour.

Every visitor to Mexico City should spend some time in this colonia — if not use it as a base, as we did, staying in the delightful and chic Octavia Casa. –Duke

Catch the Bazar Sábado While You Can

The ephemeral San Ángel market in Mexico City is worth saving a Saturday for.

Handicrafts, artworks, pottery and other goodies are on sale at the Saturday Bazaar — one day a week only.

Unlike the village of Brigadoon, which rises out of the Scottish mist once every 100 years, the no-less-enchanting Bazar Sábado in the colonia (neighborhood) of San Ángel in Mexico City bursts into life every Saturday. An artisanal market rises and fills the hilly cobblestone streets, Plaza del Carmen and surrounding shops.

Originally, the colonia, located southwest of Centro, the city center, was a weekend retreat for Spanish nobles, who built their 19th century colonial-style homes here. 

“The enchanting Bazar Sábado in San Ángel bursts into life every Saturday. The artisanal market fills the hilly cobblestone streets, plaza and surrounding shops.”

The handicraft portion of the bazaar lines the street.

Shopping in San Ángel, CDMX

A few of the shops, including Caracol Púrpura, have beautiful contemporary and traditional objects for sale but were too expensive for us. We wanted to take some pictures to write about their shop but they told us no photos when they saw us getting ready to take a few snaps. We managed to capture a few anyway — we are the Not So Innocents Abroad after all! 

A high-end shop in San Ángel

No photos allowed!

Long and lean Catrinas

Pressed tin depictions of the Virgin Mary

Colorful garlands woven from palm leaves

A fun selection of masks for sale

These adorable tiny fruits are made of marzipan.

The next shop we entered was called Paskwarho. While Wally and I looked at a display of hand-painted dishware, we met Arturo, an expat and cofounder, who relocated from Chicago. I’m assuming that my Midwestern accent and Spanglish tipped him off. He kindly said to me that even after living in the country for many years he still doesn’t understand everything that’s said to him. 

We bought a papier-mâché skull rattle with an articulated jaw that was handmade by one of the women who works in the shop as well as a burnt orange and white casserole baking dish hand-painted in the capulineado style, a pointillist flower pattern named after the town where they’re made. 

A large howling wolf alebrije — fantastical Mexican folk art creatures

A store devoted to Día de Muertos

Skeletons, skulls and marigolds

Artisans Galore

Outside are a multitude of tented stalls selling everything from handicrafts to jewelry to pottery and more. We purchased a couple of T-shirts and a change purse to keep our growing collection of coins.

The market can get crowded, but uttering a simple, apologetic, “Con permiso” goes a long way and will help you pass others politely. It’s like saying, “Excuse me” in English. 

A delightful mural in the building that houses part of the Bazar Sábado

The Bazar Sábado was founded in 1960 as the first of its kind before relocating to its current home in 1965 and contains hundreds of artists and an open-air interior courtyard with a restaurant. After taking our temperature and offering us hand sanitizer, we were permitted to enter. 

There’s a restaurant in the central courtyard, where women cook up meals on large griddles.

Follow the sign.

And grab a drink at the small bar.

A devilishly cool sculpture hanging in one of the rooms adjoining the courtyard

We found a stand for Cervecería Monstruo de Agua, a Mexico City-based microbrewery offering a distinctive range of beers. They were one of my favorite discoveries on this visit. I had purchased a couple of bottles of Sugoi, a blonde ale brewed with agave, ginger and lemongrass at a small beer shop in La Condesa. I mean, who can resist a brand whose mascot is an axolotl, an amphibian with a long tail, six hornlike appendages and bulging eyes and whose name translates as “water monster” in Náhuatl? Not us! We ended up buying a small round glass with the creature embossed on it. 

Whimsical animal sculptures

Molcajetes made of volcanic stone are a must for home-made guacamole.

We were delighted to discover Cerámica San Germán, a shop filled with traditional hand-painted ceramics and stoneware from the town of Tonalá. We purchased several bowls and a plate depicting the nahual, a jaguar-like cat with a smiling face. 

Also of note were the wares of Silva Dufour. I loved the colors and satin-finish glazes of their ceramic objects, which included scarab beetles and contemporary interpretations of traditional helmet masks. 

One of the artists at work

When we exited the bazaar, we brought the unfinished open bottles of Monstruo de Agua with us. An elderly local artist in the park, which is filled with painters selling their artworks, told us that it’s prohibited to drink alcohol outside. I’m not sure the police would have noticed, but we returned to the building to finish our beers. Better to err on the side of caution than to risk violating the law in another country. 

The plaza with this fountain is surrounded by artists selling paintings.

Which luchador mask would you choose?

Wally purchased a few desiccated Roses of Jericho (aka resurrection plants) from a street vendor as gifts for his coworkers, and we wandered down the hill into Happening, a store and gallery that carried cool clothes and objects from local artists and designers. While there I saw La Escalera, a bold graphic print by Boston-born, Mexico City-based artist Sophie Greenspan. Wally remarked that it reminded him of the modern architecture of Luis Barragán, which we had experienced earlier in the day on a tour with The Traveling Beetle. 

The impressive tiled cupolas of Nuestra Señora del Carmen are visible from the end of the thoroughfare — just a stone’s throw from the bustling market area. 

We’ll definitely return to San Ángel on our next trip to CDMX (we’re utterly smitten), especially for the basement crypt at the Templo y Museo del Carmen to see the mummified bodies of wealthy donors to the Carmelite order. And for a chance to view the embalmed severed hand of former Mexican President Álvaro Obregón in the basement of the WWI monument to him. Who knew such a charming neighborhood held such gruesome secrets? –Duke

 

El Bazar Sábado

Plaza San Jacinto 11
San Ángel
Álvaro Obregón
01000 Ciudad de México
CDMX
Mexico

Puerto Vallarta Botanic Garden: Mexico’s Eden

Our budding romance with this lush nature preserve, which gets our vote for the best thing to do in PV. 

The orange-hued Hacienda de Oro houses a restaurant and gift shop, with the Cactus House to the right.

At first, we didn’t embrace the laidback, beach-oriented vibe of Puerto Vallarta. Duke and I are used to filling our itineraries with things to do — and the most culture PV has to offer are drag shows like Mama Tits’ Confessions of a Ho! (you couldn’t make this shit up).

Needless to say, we were excited to learn about the Puerto Vallarta Botanic Garden. And, not surprisingly, our trip there was our favorite part of our vacation.

“ The most culture PV has to offer are drag shows like Mama Tits’ Confessions of a Ho!

So we were excited to learn about the Puerto Vallarta Botanic Garden. And, not surprisingly, our trip there was our favorite part of our vacation.”

We didn’t come fully prepared — no bug spray, Duke wearing sandals and me in suede Vans — but kudos to you for reading this to prepare for your visit. 

Look how happy exploring the botanic garden made Wally.

Take a Hike

If you’re into hiking, there are numerous trails through the surrounding jungle. We started along one behind the Cactus House and found ourselves down by the river. I squatted down to wet my hair and neck. I’m not sure if we would have gone swimming in the brown water even if we had swimsuits, but it might be a good idea to wear yours just in case you really need to cool off. 

The Cactus House is filled with succulents and, yes, cacti.

The fountain in front of the Hacienda de Oro features an eagle, a symbol of Mexico.

Wally cools off in the river.

A group of teens go swimming.

We continued over some slippery rocks and passed a group of local teens wading in the river before continuing along the Jaguar Trial. A sign informed us that its rating level was “difficult.”

“Would’ve been nice to have that marked on the map,” I muttered. 

But Jaguar turned out not to be too difficult; it’s just uphill for much of the time. I was kind of hoping we’d run across the eponymous feline, but no such luck. 

The adorable pink chapel on the grounds, Our Lady of the Gardens

Goin’ to the Chapel

After the hike, we wandered a few of the areas near the restaurant and gift shop, including the octagonal conservatory of native plants, before crossing the Bridge of Dreams and stumbling upon the adorable pink church, Our Lady of the Gardens.

You can’t tell from this angle, but this conservatory is octagonal-shaped.

A priest in a jaguar pelt

Masks cover the back wall.

A statue of a man holding maize, one of the most important crops to the Mesoamericans who lived here

This pyramid is a replica of the one at La Casa Azul, Frida Kahlo’s home museum in Mexico City.

“If they had planters like this at the gift shop, I would have bought some,” Duke says.

Duke on the Bridge of Dreams

El Puente de los Sueños leads to the chapel.

We couldn’t go inside the small chapel because they were putting up new wallpaper — a  bright yellow background filled with plants, birds and butterflies. It’s going to give the space a modern feel and make it oh-so-Instagrammable. 

Wally on the pink stairs in front of the chapel

The man in charge of the project came over to chat with us, giving us advice (buy some insect repellent and carry it everywhere in defense of the no-see-ums; take a day trip to San Sebastián). 

The Infant of Prague in the graveyard

The Virgin Mary watches over some tombs.

Graves, some with elaborate statuary like this small church with the Virgin Mary within, line the hills on either side of the chapel.

There are graves scattered on either side of the hill leading up to the church — with those of pets to one side. If I happen to die while I’m in the area, I couldn’t hope for a better eternal resting place. 

When the staff put out this tray of fruit, one colorful species of bird after another stopped by to dine.

Birdwatching at the Hacienda

By this time, we were hungry and in need of refreshment, so we went back to the Hacienda de Oro and had a great lunch — guacamole, grilled fish tacos, chicken quesadillas Xochimilco and two Cadillac margaritas, por su puesto. (Incidentally, the margs were quite strong and left us un poco barrato). 

You can’t take a break on the Hacienda de Oro balcony without getting a margarita. Just be careful: They’re strong!

The food was tasty — whipped up in this open-air kitchen.

A violist stood by the tables playing songs, including “Dust in the Wind.” At first I was a bit annoyed we’d be pressured into tipping him, but it ended up being nice having the strains of music waft around us, and when I looked up at him, his eyes crinkled with a grin — and I didn’t mind slipping him some pesos in appreciation.

He was a nice guy and during one of his breaks, he told us to look over the balcony, pointing down to a spot where the staff had left out tropical fruits to attract a variety of birds in a rainbow array of bright colors. 

A hummingbird at the feeder on the balcony

Next to stop by was a woodpecker.

He saw how excited we were — I could take up birdwatching if they were all this colorful and amazing — and kept pointing out new birds to us. 

After lunch we did some shopping. I can tell you that the handicrafts here are among the best you’ll find in the PV area. (The ubiquitous markets along the waterfront, which peddle tourist-oriented fare, get dismissively dubbed “mercados de basura,” or “trash markets,” by Duke.)

And the prices aren’t bad. I bought a blue wool dinosaur stuffed animal, a cloth Frida ornament and a ceramic skull rattle. 

Plants and pots for sale

A skeleton and marigold for Día de los Muertos

St. Francis holding a skull to contemplate death

We found the items on sale at the gift shop to be of high quality at a fair price.

To wrap up our visit, we went back to the main road and found the offshoot that leads to the Gazebo Bridge and then crossed the Swinging Bridge to the Vanilla Plantation. 

Duke wasn’t afraid to cross the Swinging Bridge.

Wally in the ironwork gazebo

A plant-filled fountain we passed en route to the Vanilla Plantation

Ready to call it a day, we headed back up the road to the entrance, where there’s an open-air hut. The staff there can call you a taxi with a fixed price. The Zona Románitca is just under 40 minutes north.

Lily pads and lotuses in one of the ponds in the gardens

All in all, we spent the better part of the day at the botanic garden, getting in a hike, eating a great meal, seeing exotic birds, doing some shopping and exploring the lush grounds. Tickets are well worth the 200 peso (about $9.50 when we visited) admission charge. By the way, kids under 4 get in free.

The beach has its perks. And drag shows are fun once in a while. But we wouldn’t visit PV without a trip here. It’s anything but your garden variety attraction. –Wally

 

Jardín Botánico Vallarta (Puerto Vallarta Botanical Gardens)

Carretera Puerto Vallarta
Carretera Costera a Barra de Navidad Kilómetro 24
48425 Jalisco
México

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Secret Gardens: Read More

Animal Symbolism in Pre-Columbian Pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

The meanings behind monkeys, jaguars, ducks, bats, dogs and other animals in Mesoamerican myths as depicted in pre-Columbian artifacts at the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City.

A lot of the exhibits at the National Museum of Anthropology in CDMX depict animals — each of which held symbolic meaning for the ancient peoples of Mexico.

Something that’s always fascinated me about ancient cultures are the similarities in beliefs with other civilizations around the world. Despite being oceans apart, many shared highly developed civilizations and a deep reverence for the natural world. 

We saw this in action during our last visit to Mexico City, when we finally made it to the Museo Nacional de Antropología. The scale and scope of the galleries at the museum is dizzying. Wally and I don’t like to overdo it, so we spent half a day just wandering through the first floor. One of the highlights for me was the large number and variety of Mesoamerican animal-shaped effigy vessels on display. Like other ancient societies, the pre-Columbian peoples believed that certain animals embodied a spiritual energy in which sacred beings manifested themselves. 

“Conquistadors developed such an appetite for Xoloitzcuintli Mexican hairless dogs that they nearly ate them into extinction. ”

These ritual objects were not used in everyday life; they were often placed in tombs as burial goods. Animals played a key role at all levels of society and symbolically linked the three cosmic realms of the universe: the heavens, earth and underworld.

Aztec cosmology posited that time is cyclical — and that we’re in the Fifth Sun, the final cycle of the world.

Here Comes the (Fifth) Sun

According to the Aztec legend of the Fifth Sun, time is cyclical. Four suns, or eras, have passed, created by a different deity and successively destroyed. Each cycle included inhabitants who died or transformed into various creatures, including monkeys, turkeys, dogs and fish. Our present world happens to be the Fifth Sun. 

Brightly colored feathers were used in religious ceremonies.

The pre-Columbian people used animals for a variety of purposes. Parrots and macaws, for example, provided a source of food as well as prized blue-green plumage used to adorn headdresses. However, animals also held great symbolic significance. They served as cultural and cosmic metaphors based on their habitat and natural features. 

Ducks were particularly holy to Mesoamericans, as they moved between three realms: water, the sky and land.

Just Ducky

Birds symbolized the celestial realm, the sun and moon in particular, and were considered messengers between the natural and spiritual worlds. 

Ducks were particularly holy, perhaps because they ticked all the boxes: They can fly, walk on land and dive underwater, possessing the ability to travel freely between these different spheres. 

Ducks and related birds were also associated with the wind god Ehécatl (pronounced “Eh-heh-ka-tul”), one of the avatars of Quetzacoatl, the great plumed serpent. The deity was frequently portrayed with a duckbill-like appendage on his face, which he used to summon the winds. 

The Maya considered bodies of water to be pathways to the Underworld. Ducks and other waterfowl were ritualistically sacrificed, eaten and used to ward off demons.

This little guy represents a coatimundi, which figures in a Mayan myth that involved a decapitated head in the Underworld.

Coati Encounters of the First Kind

The coatimundi, or coati, are members of the raccoon family. They have distinct mask-like markings on their faces, resembling a combination of kinkajou, anteater, raccoon and bear cub. 

In the Popol Vuh, the sacred text of the Maya, a bat rips off the head of Hunahpu, one of the Hero Twins, and takes it to the ball court of Xibalbá (the Underworld) to be used in place of a rubber ball. A coati fashions a fake head from a calabash squash and places it on the shoulders of the headless hero. Hanapu’s brother Xbalanque places Hanapu’s head back on his shoulders, and the brothers succeed in defeating the Lords of Xibalbá.

Monkeys represented the good (luck and joy) and the bad (immorality).

Monkeys: Sacred Simians 

Spider and howler monkeys are the two most common species native to the tropical lowlands of Mexico. Playful and social in nature, these nimble primates live in the high forest canopy and are mankind’s closest living relative. They were symbols of good fortune and joy, as well as pleasure and immorality — the latter of which was punishable by death. Monkeys were domesticated and kept as pets by both Zapotec and Aztec nobility and weren’t used for food or sacrifice. 

The “leftovers” of the Second Sun cycle of the universe were turned into jabbering monkeys.

Ehecatl, the Aztec god of the wind, was associated with monkeys.

Monkeys were also associated with the Aztec wind god Ehécatl. According to the legend of the Fifth Sun, the disobedient survivors of the Second Sun, whose cataclysmic end included hurricanes and floods, were transformed into monkeys by Ehécatl. Deprived of the ability to speak, they were condemned to emit meaningless noises for the rest of their existence. 

A person’s spirit would hold onto a Xoloitzcuintli dog’s tail to be guided through the Underworld.

Dogs Truly Are Man’s Best Friend

Before the Chihuahua became the most popular dog breed from Mexico, there was the hairless Xoloitzcuintli (pronounced “Show-low-eats-queent-lee”). This breed got its name from Xolotl, the god of lightning and death, and itzcuintli, dog. To the ancient Aztec and Maya, the canine was created by Xolotl to guard the living and guide the souls of the dead through the perils of Mictlán, the Underworld. Deceased souls held onto the dogs’ tails as they led their owners through the afterlife. They were also bred as a source of food — in fact, the conquistadors developed such an appetite for them that they nearly ate them into extinction. 

The most common depictions of Xoloitzcuintles take the form of small ceramic vessels known as Colima dogs for the modern state of Mexico where they are commonly found. More than a few of these red clay objects are depicted with chubby bodies — this may be an indication that they were fattened up to be eaten.

Frida Khalo and Diego Rivera owned a brood of Xolos, and Wally and I saw a few sunning themselves at el Museo Dolores Olmedo, which houses a large collection of works by this famous duo.

Grasshoppers were associated with agriculture and fertility — but could also mean destruction.

The Grasshopper: the Insect That Sings for Its Supper

The name of Chapultepec Park, where the Museo Nacional de Antropología is located, comes from Náhuatl for “Hill of the Grasshopper.” This hill rises from the center of the park, was a sacred place for the Aztec and is where Chapultepec Castle stands. 

Grasshoppers were associated with agriculture and fertility and were associated with the period following the annual rainfall, which brought an abundance of the insects. 

In addition to their symbolic importance, the Aztec snacked on chapulines, cooking them on clay surfaces with spices. 

To the Mexica, they represented the duality of abundance vs. destruction: Drought triggers the solitary grasshopper to become social, changing color from green to yellow and black. Under such conditions, they move in swarms, devouring crops and vegetation.

Bats were paired with the Underworld, which was accessible via the caves they live in.

Bats Out of Hell

Bats are nocturnal creatures that travel the sky by night and hide in caves by day, which Mesoamericans believed were portals to the Underworld. 

The stuck-out tongue on this bat statue hinted at the creature’s blood-sucking nature and connected it to the practice of human sacrifice.

The Zapotec venerated the god Camazotz, who had the head of a bat and was associated with night, death and sacrifice. Most likely due to the sanguinary diet of the vampire bat, native to most regions of Mexico, where it feeds on the blood of mammals, the creature became associated with rites of bloodletting and human sacrifice practiced to honor the gods and secure bountiful harvests. 

A common symbol in ancient Mesoamerica, the jaguar was linked to power and protection from evil.

Jaguars Hit the Spot(s)

The jaguar was one of the most important sacred symbols of power, ferocity and protection from evil. According to Mexica lore, a jaguar and an eagle both sacrificed themselves to bring light to the world, and in doing so became gods. 

Jaguars were believed to have the ability to travel between the worlds.

The Maya connected the jaguar’s spots with heavenly lights.

The jaguar is closely associated with the “night sun” (the sun during its nightly trip through the Underworld) and darkness as well. As such, the big cat was thought to have the ability to move between the worlds of the living and the dead. The Maya venerated the feline, seeing heavenly lights in its spots. –Duke

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RELATED: Death Cults of Ancient Mexico

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Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

A tour of this Colonial Baroque Catholic church built for the Discalced Carmelites in one of CDMX’s most charming neighborhoods.

Wally’s a bit obsessed with the domes of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel in Mexico City.

Those domes! Those wondrous brightly tiled domes! I didn’t want to stop looking at them. There was something captivating about their faded glory. 

We spotted them in our Uber en route to el Bazaar Sábado, the Saturday Market in the charming CDMX colonia (neighborhood) of San Ángel. 

“Nuestra Señora del Carmen was built for the strangely named order of Discalced Carmelites (known colloquially as Barefoot Carmelites for their tendency to forgo footwear). ”

The church was founded for the order of Discalced Carmelites (aka the Barefoot Carmelites).

So, after we finished shopping at the market (and being told we couldn’t drink our beers while walking through the square outside), Duke and I knew we had to explore the church at the base of the hill. And thankfully, unlike in the States, we’ve found churches in Mexico to be unlocked any time we’ve wanted to go in. 

The church is designed in the Baroque Colonial style — with a plain façade and an ornate gilded altarpiece.

The Discalced Carmelites: Barefoot but Not Pregnant 

Design and construction of Nuestra Señora del Carmen was overseen by Fray Andrés de San Miguel between 1615 and 1626 for the strangely named order of Discalced Carmelites (known colloquially as Barefoot Carmelites for their tendency to forgo footwear). The order was established in 1562 by Saint Teresa of Avila, an epileptic Roman Catholic nun. 

The Barefoot Carmelite nuns stayed in their cloisters, “above all to lead a life of unceasing prayer in silence and solitude,” according to their official website. 

There’s more to the Carmen Complex than the church — including mummies!

El Carmen Complex

We weren’t able to wander the entire grounds, which includes a former convent and monastery that’s now a museum (complete with mummies!). 

The property extended quite far, and the scenic orchards are part of what attracted the aristocracy to make the neighborhood its home — giving birth to the colonia of San Ángel. 

The complex was taken over by the government after the War of Reform, which was fought between the Liberals and Conservatives from 1857 and 1860. The lefties won and subsequently greatly diminished the power of the Catholic Church, stripping it of most of its property. The local school was shut down and was used by the town council. Parts of the Carmelite grounds became a prison and barracks. 

The church, also known as the Templo del Carmen de San Ángel, is in the Colonial Baroque style — somehow austere in parts, such as the façade, and yet over-the-top ornate in others (that altarpiece!). 

The Baroque movement was all about drama — rounded edges and shimmering gold create a dizzying effect.

We spent some time exploring the church and all of its offshoot chapels, trying to be respectful of those praying within. Heavens knows we’ll be back to admire those beautiful domes — and to see the creepy mummies, of course. –Wally

Nuestra Señora del Carmen (Templo del Carmen de San Ángel)

Avenida Revolución s/n
San Ángel
Álvaro Obregón
01000 Ciudad de México
CDMX
México

 

Death Cults of Ancient Mexico

The post-death rituals of the pre-Hispanic peoples of Mexico involved human sacrifices, dog sacrifices — lots of sacrifices.

The pre-Hispanic people of Mexico often left a token in a corpse’s mouth to help the spirit on its journey through the underworld.

Our current death rituals are typically one of two extremes: We either pump a corpse full of chemicals in an effort to preserve it — or we burn it to a crisp. 

The pre-Hispanic peoples of Mexico went to their own extremes when it came to the cult of death, often involving sacrifice of some sort. 

Known as the Lady of the Dead, Mictecacihuatl was the Aztec goddess of death, who ruled the underworld.

Here are some interesting facts about their death rites, which we learned while exploring the amazing Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City — currently my favorite museum in the world. 

A xoloitzcuintli Mexican hairless dog was sacrificed when someone died in the belief that it would serve as a spirit guide.

The death rites of pre-Hispanic peoples involved an elaborate spiritual journey that began with the killing of a dog.

When someone died in pre-Hispanic Mexico, a 40-day death ritual kicked off with the sacrifice of a xoloitzcuintli dog. The corpse was dressed in fine clothes, if their family could afford it. Otherwise, simple mats would do. A jade bead (or blue-painted pebble) was placed in the body’s mouth.

The person’s soul began a journey through the darkness of the nine planes beneath the earth. The skin was shed and dangers faced, including savage beasts that could only be appeased by being given the bead or pebble, which represented the person’s heart. 

As the spirit traversed this sinister landscape, family members would help them on their way by abstaining from sex and certain foods.

Eventually, the soul reached the Chignahuapan, the river at the border of the ninth plane. Waiting patiently, and probably wagging its tail, was the little doggie, who would lead the way across the water, into Mictlan, the dark and cold place of no return. 

A reconstruction of the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent at the Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City. The original was the site of mass human sacrifices.

Excavations at a major temple in Teotihuacán revealed human sacrifices.

In Teotihuacán, within the confines of its religious and political centerpiece, the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent (Pirámide de la Serpiente Enplumada), evidence of mass human sacrifice has been unearthed. Built from 150 to 200 BCE, the temple houses the remains of numerous sacrificial victims dressed as warriors. The symmetrical pattern of the bodies reveals that they were connected to the culture’s cosmology and calendar.

This disc from the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacán represents the death of the sun.

It was an honor to be sacrificed to the god of war and darkness.

Tezcatlipoca (“the Obsidian Mirror”) helped create the universe and, as the Mexica god of war and darkness, held dominion over those activities that often took place at night, including theft and adultery. Not surprisingly, the color black was associated with him. Tezcatlipoca was also the god of masculinity and procreation. 

Every year, an unmarried man under the age of 20 was chosen to represent him as a living god. He was dressed up like the deity and lived large — until, that is, the fifth month of the year, when he was sacrificed.

Coatilcue, the goddess of the earth, had a head made of two serpents and liked to wear a necklace of severed human hands and hearts.

People were shot to death with arrows in a fertility rite.

Ancient peoples did many unusual things to ensure the fertility of their crops, and the residents of Mexico were no different. Tlazolteotl, the Aztec goddess of purification, lust and vice, liked people to be shot full of arrows in the fields. The sacrificial person’s blood fell to the earth to ensure fertilization and to thank the goddess for her bounty. –Wally

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Masala y Maíz: One of the Best Restaurants in Mexico City

A delectable mix of South Asian, East African and Mexican cuisines are served up with natural wines at a chic spot in CDMX’s hottest hood.

One section of the kitchen is visible right when you enter the restaurant.

There are places that can be epitomized by the creative energy behind them or the emotions they stir. Masala y Maíz is one of those places. Even before Wally and I ate there, I highly suspected it was going to be a place we’d love. I first read about the restaurant in the Monocle Travel Guide to Mexico City and found myself swiping through their feed on Instagram not long after. 

Masala y Maíz ended up serving the best meal we had during our trip to Mexico City.

Masala y Maíz: Where South Asian and East African Cuisine Meet Mexico

Norma Listman and Saqib Keval are the husband-and-wife team behind Masala y Maíz. While the restaurant has now established itself, opening was no small feat. 

In September 2017, the couple set up shop in San Miguel Chapultepec, but an earthquake epicentered in nearby Puebla had other plans. A 7.5-magnitude quake shook Mexico City and postponed the opening. Six months later, the restaurant was shut down after Listman and Keval refused to pay a mórbida, a bribe to support corrupt government officials. Undeterred, the resourceful duo spent months drifting from one venue to another as a pop-up, while obtaining the necessary licenses and paperwork before being allowed to reopen. 

“A bit of a revolution is happening at Masala y Maíz.

The owners, Listman and Keval, want to dismantle the culture of abuse and sexism that exists in the food industry. ”

The “masala” part of the name refers to the variety of South Asian spice blends and relates to Keval, the American-born son of East African immigrants who trace their ancestry to Kutch, India. 

The simple interior at Masala y Maíz lets the culinary creations be the stars of the show.

Listman was born in Texcoco, Mexico, and her interest in cooking started when she was young, growing up surrounded by food and home cooks. This is where “maíz” comes in. Spanish for corn, maíz is one of the building blocks of Mexican cuisine and a source of constant culinary inspiration for Listman — it’s a key component in many of her dishes. 

Send in the clowns! A view from our table at Masala y Maíz in Colonia Juárez

The pair met in San Francisco while honing their skills in the Bay Area and share a passion for their respective ancestors’ culinary legacy — specifically the histories, traditions and interconnections between South Asia, East Africa and Mexico. Just don’t call it “fusion” — for some reason, they hate that word.

Listman and Keval take cues from the mestizaje, the diaspora and gradual mixing of cultural groups in Mexican history due to colonization. This mélange is part of what makes Masala y Maíz so special. 

The restaurant is located in the Colonia Juárez neighborhood of Mexico City, which a local at a coffeeshop described to us as “the new Roma.”

Duke pausing in from of fun street art while wandering the Juárez neighborhood before our meal

After we had arrived for our lunch reservation (note that they’re only open from noon to 6 p.m.), we struck up a conversation with our server, Ariel, who asked whose birthday it was and where we were visiting from. (I had pre-booked a reservation and was able to let them know there was indeed a special occasion: my birthday.) When we told Ariel we live in Chicago, he told us that he was familiar with the city, having gone to college there and survived the brutal winter. Wally and I laughed in understanding — we often need to escape the months-long bitingly cold weather. 

Wally and Duke cheers to a fab meal at Masala y Maíz.

On to the Main Course(s)

First up were the encruditos, which perfectly highlight Listman and Keval’s culinary philosophy: These thick rounds of pickled corn and cassava chips are served with a wedge of chili-dusted lime whose brightness complemented the dish. 

The pickled corn and cassava chips

This was followed by the samosas de suadero. Two were filled with mouthwatering slow-cooked brisket, the other potato, and dressed generously with cilantro. Wally and I can never say no to savory little golden pockets, and these were served with a chutney verde, which added a welcome kick. 

Be sure to share the samosas de suadero — two are filled with potato, two with brisket.

Next, was the infladita chaat, served on a banana leaf. The flaky puffed chaat was almost too pretty to smash. But that’s exactly what we did, following Ariel’s direction. Made with masa, it was garnished with fennel fronds and mint. The pocket was packed with bold pops of flavor and texture: carrots, jicama, pepitas, beets and minced pickled green mango. 

BEFORE: The infladita chaat looking pretty

AFTER: Our server told us to smash it — so we did!

Then came the camarones pa’pelar: seared chile-rubbed peel-and-eat jumbo shrimp sitting atop a contrasting bed of cool, thinly sliced beets. These were accompanied by a maroon-colored dipping sauce that yielded a complex and unusual flavor, which I can only describe as something Alice might have eaten in Wonderland. Vanilla and ghee are your first taste, which gives way to a spicy finish of smoky dried morita chiles. 

Chile-rubbed jumbo shrimp and beets

Next up: matoke mixiote, banana-stuffed clams steamed in parchment-like maguey leaf membrane and simmered in a flavorful broth of turmeric, coconut milk and tomato masala served with freshly baked paratha, a type of Indian flatbread. 

Matoke mixiote, banana-stuffed steamed clams

Wally ordered a Parasol, a subtly flavored sparkling water — but didn’t like it and ended up stealing my housemade tepache, a spiced beverage made from the fermented peel and rind of pineapples, sweetened with piloncillo, unrefined pure cane sugar. 

The restaurant also offers a selection of natural wines by some of Mexico’s finest vintners. We ended our meal with a celebratory glass of Radical, a funky organic red. Ariel shared the interesting story of its vintner, Silvana Pijoan. Her vineyard is located in Valle de Guadalupe, Baja, California. Pijoan was a trained professional dancer, but in 2017 decided to pursue her winemaking passion. 

Be sure to try some natural wines during your meal — they’re all the rage.

Masala y Maíz’s interior is intimate and refined and features barrel-vaulted ceilings. I was obsessed with the display of cookbooks lined up neatly on a shelf and the candy-colored glazed terracotta plates and cazuelas our food was served in.

The owners of Masala y Maíz want to break free of the sexism and poor treatment of workers that infuses the restaurant industry.

Shaking Up the System

A bit of a revolution is happening at Masala y Maíz. Listman and Keval are fostering a vibrant community, dismantling the brutal culture of abuse and sexism that exists in the food industry. I have nothing but admiration for their mantra, “A construir la comunidad en la que queremos vivir” — to build the community we want to live in. This core belief ensures that all parts of their restaurant meet fair and equitable work conditions. From the local farmers they source from to the team employed at the restaurant, everyone involved is treated fairly, with the dignity and respect they deserve. 

The remains of our delicious meal at Masala y Maíz. We’ll be back for more next time we visit CDMX!

Wally and I are always drawn to chefs who offer surprises for the palette. Masala y Maíz checked every box: delicious food full of unexpected, utterly unique flavors, great service, a pleasing atmosphere and a business philosophy we can get behind. –Duke

Masala y Maíz is open from noon to 6 p.m. — in large part so its staff doesn’t have to work late hours.

Masala y Maíz

Calle Marsella 72
Juárez
Cuauhtémoc
06600 Juárez
CDMX
Mexico

 

Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela: One-Stop Shopping in CDMX

The best market in Mexico City is filled with folk art and handicrafts from all around Mexico.  

A selection of fantastical alebrijes on sale at La Ciudadela

Mexico City has no shortage of markets. There’s the Saturday art market along the adorable cobblestone streets on the hills of San Ángel. There’s La Lagunilla, the Sunday antiques market. There’s also the Mercado Sonora, with a witch market tucked into a back corner, and the vibrant, two-story Mercado Coyoacán. And market stalls pop up all over the city, including in the Plaza de la Republica at the entrance to the Monumento de la Revolución. 

Papier-mâché devils hanging around the mercado

¡Mucha lucha! A luchadore-themed shop at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Religious artifacts on sale at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

But if you’re into folk art, handicrafts and arte popular, as Duke and I are, the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela is a dream come true. It’s so massive you couldn’t even hope to cover it all on one visit. We’ve been there on both visits to CDMX — and will make it a stop every time we go back. 

If I’m being perfectly honest, Duke and I have a problem. We just love traditional handicrafts so much we can’t help but bring home half a suitcase full of goodies. As you can imagine, our home is practically overflowing with these souvenirs of our world travels. 

A nun is amazed at the selection of folk art on sale at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

We bought a few things at this stall with clay artworks in the pre-Columbian style.

Puppets and other arte popular fill every stall at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

Mexican Trees of Life at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

A typical shop at La Ciudadela

Break up your shopping — and grab a margarita — at the cantina in the market.

Tips for Shopping at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

When you enter, the main part of the market is to your right — but don’t miss the smaller section off to the left as well. 

The stalls offer handicrafts from various regions all over Mexico: alebrijes, brightly painted wooden fantastical creatures from Oaxaca; colorful Otomi textiles, including hand-embroidered pillow covers and tablecloths depicting animals, flowers and plants; clay sculptures that surpass those sold at the Museo Nacional de Antropología gift shop with many in the pre-Columbian style. 

There are handicrafts for sale from all over Mexico at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

At La Ciudadela, prices are set — but it doesn’t hurt to ask for a bit of a discount if you’re buying multiple items from one vendor. 

We always eat lunch at Fonda Carmelita, the cantina in the middle of the market.

There’s a cantina in the middle of the market called Fonda Carmelita, where we always stop to get a bite of traditional Mexican fare — and a couple of margaritas, por supuesto. The first time we were here, Duke went to the back to use the baño and returned to the table, reporting that our frozen margs were being whipped up in a blender by an 8-year-old boy. 

The cantina will always be a welcome resting spot for us to recharge and discuss the stalls we want to revisit after lunch. Apparently, the loud-talking German-speaking tourist at a neighboring table didn’t get the memo that smoking indoors has been banned in CDMX since 2008. He lit up a cigar after his meal, which was our cue that it was time to ask for la cuenta and get back to shopping. 

Right out front of the market, a couple of women whip up tacos with homemade blue corn tortillas.

Exploring the Neighborhood

On the sidewalk outside the market, small vendors set up. The first time we came, we stopped to buy veggie tacos — and were obsessed with watching one of the women make homemade blue corn tortillas on a large metal drum right before our eyes. 

And on our most recent visit, a quirky used record stand had popped up. 

One of the best traditions of Mexico City: open-air dancing in the parks

After a half-day of shopping, the tote bags we had brought with us stuffed full of amazing finds (some for gifts, most for us), we explored the park across the street, Parque de la Ciudadela. We’re familiar enough with CDMX traditions now not to be surprised to see couples dancing in the open air. These people are doing life right. –Wally

Our fave spot to shop in CDMX

A mural on the wall in front of the mercado

When you see this, you know you’re in for a shopping extravaganza!

Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Balderas S/N
Colonia Centro
Cuauhtémoc
06040 Cuauhtémoc
CDMX
Mexico

 

Paseo de los Gigantes and the Plaza del Bebedero

Parque Los Bebederos once hosted fashionable events, which the modern architect Luis Barragán would use as a sales pitch to entice homebuyers to the Mexico City suburb of Las Arboledas. 

Our guide, Martín, with Duke, got us to appreciate even this park, showcasing works by Barragán that have fallen into disrepair.

Paseo de los Gigantes. Promenade of the Giants. An evocative name — but when you visit, you might wonder where these mythical monstrosities can be found. 

Stop and look around this green space outside of Mexico City. The answer is right in front of your eyes. See the tunnel of majestic, gnarled bark eucalyptus trees? Those are the giants for which the park is named.  

A massive, gnarled eucalyptus tree — one of the namesake “giants” of this linear park

It was our last stop on our half-day tour of Luis Barragán’s suburban designs: Torres de Satélite, Fuente de los Amantes and the amazing Cuadra San Cristóbal. 

Barragán was fond of designing paseos. These long, thin green spaces now act as medians dividing grand boulevards, but they were once country paths used for horseback riding.  

For this is horse country, a suburban enclave for equestrian aficionados northwest of CDMX. In fact, the main purpose of this particular linear park was to generate interest in the local community of Las Arboledas. Los Gigantes was a social hotspot, offering stands to view races at the horse track that once stood here. (Nothing remains, sadly — all you can see now are homes. It would have been cool if they had incorporated the track to shape the neighborhood like they did in La Condesa with Avenida Amsterdam.)

These narrow parks, set along medians, followed old country roads once used for horse riding.

The faded red viewing stands were used for social events to watch horses gallop around a no-longer-existent racetrack.

Barragán held events in Los Gigantes, though little evidence of its fashionable past remains. The park is but a shadow of its former glory. 

As with Frank Lloyd Wright, some of Barragán’s designs might have looked impressive but just don’t stand the test of time. A fountain here with a bright tangerine-colored backdrop lacked a proper foundation (not to mention was a colossal waste of city water), and the basin has been drained. 

While we gazed upon it, a guy on a BMX bike kept riding through the empty fountain, treating it as a ramp to practice his tricks and jumps. 

Barragán’s orange fountain at Los Gigantes is now drained. Its foundation was sinking — and it used quite a bit of city water.

The red concrete viewing stands look outward, away from the park, once facing the horse track. Tucked behind a wall, there used to be a bar where people would get refreshments to enjoy the show, our guide, Martín, told us.

“I wish it was still a bar,” I muttered. 

The red structure in the background once housed a bar for fancy cocktail parties Barragán would host to lure rich horse enthusiasts to buy land in the local development.

All this spectacle was designed to attract the CDMX élite. “Barragán was clever,” Martín continued. “In essence, he was saying, ‘This prestigious life could be yours. You can raise your kids here. Why don’t you buy a piece of land?’”

Barragán grew up with horses and was passionate about the equestrian lifestyle — but he was also, one imagines, well paid to promote the area. 

The blue wall marks the end of the park.

Plaza del Bebedero

Continuing along in the park, we came to the Plaza y Fuente del Bebedero (Plaza and Fountain of the Trough. The long, thin rectangular horse trough, like the other fountain, is now empty. 

The trough is considered the centerpiece of the green space — in fact, the area is sometimes called Parque Los Bebederos (although there’s only one).

The Fuente del Bebedero (Fountain of the Trough) used to be a watering hole for horses but is now empty.

A white wall nearby acts as one of the canvases for the play of shadows that’s a Barragán trademark.

A white wall in Parque Los Bebederos was one of Barragán’s famous screens for the play of shadows.

And closing off the space is an indigo wall. “It’s the perfect device to separate the park from the city,” Martín said. He’s a huge fan of Barragán — and now we are, too. 

The blue wall in Plaza del Bebedero seen from another angle

The orange building is administrative and was where Barragán stored the supplies for the parties held in Parque Los Bebederos.

Wandering through Los Bebederos, which has changed so drastically since its heyday, I couldn’t help but wish we had been able to experience the Promenade of the Giants when it was a big deal — sipping a cocktail while cheering on the horses racing around the track. –Wally

 

Parque Los Bebederos (Los Bebederos Park)

Avenida Paseo de los Gigantes
Las Arboledas
52950 Cuidad López Mateos
México