Toluca, State of Mexico

So, I'm on a Day of the Dead tour. I've already experienced and enjoyed some of the lead up to the Day of the Dead festivities, in the Southern States and Mexico City. Now we ( married couple, Sheena and Malcolm and Sheila a G.P., guide Yosa and driver Ivan) have arrived in Toluca and the days of the actual festival are fast approaching.

Toluca is roughly an hour’s drive west from the capital. The capital city of the State of Mexico, Toluca sits below the stunning Nevado de Toluca volcano and is higher than Mexico City, at 2600 metres. It is also windy, so  is considerably cooler. As is almost de rigeur, in a Spanish colonial city, there's an impressive cathedral.

Toluca is where the Alfeñique paste is produced, to make the sugar skulls and Catrinas. So, here they have an Alfeñique Festival. Just off the Zócalo (main square) are thronging rows of stalls, piled high with Day of the Dead confectionery. There are stacks of calaveras (skull sweets) in jelly, marshmallow and the snowy Alfeñique paste. We're supposed to have a sweet making workshop, but apparently it's been cancelled, at very short notice. I'm not unhappy. I'd rather look, and taste.

The Day of the Dead

Metepec and The Tree of Life

There's more confusion at nearby Metepec. This is another Pueblo Mágico, a town renowned for its pottery and we're supposed to be visiting the home of Heriberto Ortega, to see this local craftsman producing narrative clay sculpture (mostly Bible stories), especially the Tree of Life. The Arbol de la Vida is one of many proud Mexican symbols, telling the story of creation. And it seems appropriate to look at Life and Death together.

For some reason, we visit instead, a Tree of Life, in the centre of a pond, in a park in Metepec. After protests, we return again from Toluca (the traffic is no better here) to seek our potter out. Our trail leads us, via a log cabin market of pottery figures (Yosa's navigation ), but I eventually track Heriberto Ortega down, on the trusty internet. It's worth the hassle.

Seventy years old and now reduced to 400 metres in length from 2,000 metres this is a veritable wonderland of a workshop, every nook and cranny stuffed with clay figurines. There's a fabulous mural made of pottery fragments and leftovers. Nothing is wasted here. The sculptures are elaborate and time consuming to make, so, as you would expect, expensive. A small tree of life sculpture is £60 (Malcom buys one - I'm not sure how he's' going to get it home in one piece -it's very intricate). A large one costs thousands.

The Day of the Dead in Metepec

Metepec also offers a first look at family Day of the Dead altars, being set up in the street, at the bottom of Cerro del Calvario (Calvary Hill). In addition, gangs of workers are industriously producing enormous, gorgeous sloping carpets, made of marigolds and small coloured stones. below the church, which sits at the top.

As if that's not enough Metepec also boasts a historic centre  market hall, which has been beautifully transformed into a stained glass botanical garden, The Cosmovitral. The glass reflects creation myths, biblical and otherwise and there's a great Vitruvian Man (which probably accounts for the name).

Malinalco

Malinalco Archaeological Zone

Malinalco is the home of the Malinalco Archaeological Zone, an important Aztec ceremonial and military complex carved into the side of a hill called the Cerro de los Idolo. This is a dramatic, well-preserved fortress, literally hewn out of rock, with no fewer than five temple pyramids. The Cuauhcalli (House of the Eagles), is one of very few monolithic structures in the world. The entrance to the Cuauhcalli is sculpted to resemble the open jaws of an Earth Monster, complete with fangs and a forked tongue acting as a step. It housed those two most feared warrior classes of the Aztec army: the elite order of the Jaguar and Eagle. Their lofty perch has excellent views across the valley

It became an Augustinian monastery, before it was abandoned. Today, it's accessed by steep steps up a hillside (426), which, in its turn attracts multitudes of gorgeous butterflies (and biting insects).

Day of the Dead in Malinalco

Malinalco town is another 'Pueblo Mágico', known, during Day of the Dead, for the altars (ofrendas) to the recently deceased. Rooms (or marquees) are set, ceilings covered with flags and stepped memorials, offering photographs, foods, which the deceased liked, reminders of their life, flowers and assorted memorabilia. There are even skeleton models with their clothes/attributes superimposed. We take slender white votive candles as presents and these are lined up alongside those already burning. They light the way back home from the underworld. I'm surprised that tourists would be welcomed in to such a personal display, but the families seem genuinely pleased to see us, answering questions about their deceased loved ones and offering us presents for coming: boxes of candies, and the sweetDay of the Dead bread.

Cuernavaca, Morelos

It's a very winding road, through the mountains, on to Cuernavaca, now to the south west of Mexico City. Travel sick pills are called for. This is another city surrounded by volcanoes. Cuernavaca is the capital and largest city of the State of Morelos, in Mexico. This is one of the areas where Mesoamerican civilization originated; Olmec works of art were found near here.

The must see is the Palacio de Cortés. Dating back to 1535, this oddly Renaissance style building is one of the oldest European-style, civil constructions in the Americas. Some say it's modelled on the mansion built in Santo Domingo by Diego Christopher Columbus's son, Diego. This was the residence of Cortés and his descendants for several centuries, but after that, more ignominiously, a warehouse and a jail. Then, a military barracks, and more glory as the State Government Palace. Now, extensively restored, it's the state museum. The most interesting exhibit is the Diego Rivera murals, on the upstairs balcony, telling the story of Morelos history.

There is, of course, a cathedral, but Cuernavaca Cathedral was built by Cortés to double as a fortress, with cannons mounted above the buttresses. Opossums scavenge in the streets here. The tails of these large rodents are eaten, as a folk remedy, to improve fertility.

Also, on the tourist trail, The Borda Garden, just up the road from the cathedral. The house was owned by José de la Borda, a Taxco mining magnate, in the mid-eighteenth century. His family developed the gardens adding fountains and an artificial lake. Today, it's a tourist complex with a restaurant, and, more importantly, the grounds are bedecked with Day of the Dead altars and displays.

Ocotepec Cemetery

Just outside Cuernavaca, Ocotepec Cemetery is a great place to watch the preparations for the Day of the Dead. Graves and mausoleums are swept and repainted. Marigolds are arranged, with petals strewn on the ground, to signal the way for the souls. Music plays gently, and. at dusk, candles twinkle, whilst the work continues. Again, the people are happy to pose for pictures and to chat about their relatives, who have passed away, proudly pointing to all the family graves.

Taxco, Guerrero

Taxco is a further 90-minutes by road, from Cuernavaca. This charming silver mining town is a well known tourist destination, another Pueblo Mágico. It's famous for its cobbled streets and colonial architecture, but we're not really supposed to be here. It's on the FCDO Do Not Visit list, as is the whole of the State of Guerrero. Out tour company don't seem to have checked this out. Guide, Yosa says that Taxco was under the control of the cartels but is now back under government jurisdiction. Taxco can't survive economically without the the tourists who are the main source of revenue, now that mining has more or less ceased.

Taxco is pretty, but hilly (so steep streets), straddling the very top of a valley. It's a picturesque walk, to the Spanish baroque Santa Prisca church, which is already visible from a long distance. The church was financed by the same José de la Borda, who built the gardens in Cuernavaca. (His son, Manuel, was the priest.) So ostentatious was the church it nearly bankrupted him. Twin towers, a chapel decorated with the Spanish Talavera azulejos (tiles) and nine floor to ceiling intricate altarpieces, all covered in gold leaf.

Nearly every other shop in Taxco, sells silver. We're taken into one emporium 'to learn more about this metal', but the salesman doesn't even pretend to try and tell us anything. He just gestures at the various display cases (expensive stuff in here).

Xochicalco

Next, a short drive from Cuernavaca, lies Xochicalco. More pre-Columbian ruins, possibly built on top of the temple adopted by priests from Tenochtitlan. The apogee of Xochicalco came after the fall of Teotihuacan and it has been speculated that the two events are connected. The site was first occupied by 200 BC, but did not develop into an urban centre until AD 700 – 900. At its peak, the city may have had a population of up to 20,000 people.

As with most Mesoamerican sites, the main ceremonial centre sits atop an artificially levelled hill. There's plenty as yet unexcavated, with remains of residential structures, on long terraces, covering the slopes.

The highlight, as far as the archaeologists are concerned, is a an ancient observatory, where the Aztec priests decided upon the exact timing of the summer and winter solstice. But it's closed. The other building of interest is (as always) The Temple of the Feathered Serpent. This one has some well preserved bas reliefs, with fine stylized depictions of that deity. Otherwise, there are the usual assortment of step-pyramid temples, palaces, ballcourts, and altars (unusual circular ones).

Huaquechula and a Surprise Day of the Dead Parade

Our itinerary says that we are going to Huaquechula village to 'spy monumental altars on multi-storey pyramids'. These altars are typically three levels high, representing Earth, Heaven, and the Heavenly Cusp (marked by a crucifix). They are primarily white, adorned with satin, candles, and specific regional items, like the unique pretzel-shaped 'huesos' bread. A mirror is often placed at the centre, to reflect the face of the deceased.

Yosa seems to have trouble tracking the altars down, even though it's a nationally advertised event. (When it's too late I find an online map marking them all.) But a marigold petal trail leads us to one, at the main church. The little town, is crowded, the car parks full. The streets are lined with stalls, selling foodstuffs: quesadillas, sweets. There's also some bartering as folk swap items for their altars.

And, it turns out, there's also a procession. It's a surprise to our guide and a very welcome surprise to us. And to be fair, it doesn't seem to be mentioned anywhere on the Internet. The focus is all on those altars. Short and sweet would describe the parade very well. Nearly everyone is masked, the costumes gorgeous. Skulls are conspicuously absent on the march, but still feature prominently around the town, on Catrinas. Watch a little of it here. Malcolm manages to edge into the picture, you can see him realise.

Puebla, State and City

 The city of Puebla was founded, in 1531, to serve the trade route between Veracruz and Mexico City. It has outgrown its purpose today, bypassed by highways and surrounded by industry. Many manufacturing companies have moved out of the capital and settled here, instead. There's a huge Volkswagen factory churning out Beetles and Audi have followed. This is the site of the Battle of Puebla of May 5th fame. Puebla developed, to form its own province under the Spanish and became a state after the Mexican War of Independence.

Puebla is considered to be the 'cradle of Mexican Baroque' and they've been very liberal here, with the Talavera tiles. As you would expect from one of Mexico’s great colonial towns, a huge Zócalo. Around its edge, arcaded shops and City Hall, the Casa de los Muñecos (the locals call this tiled building The Dollshouse) and the beautiful cathedral (inside). It's 70 metre twin towers made it the tallest church in the Spanish Empire for some time. It's also known for its cipres, the canopy over the high altar, which is detached from the rest of the building.

Exploring Puebla

Walking the side streets, around the centre, involves navigating countless market stalls and there are official market areas too. And, naturally, many more churches.  The Santo Domingo Church seems to follow the pattern of all the temples associated with this order: a plain exterior and a remarkably ornate interior.

Tiles also adorn the Palace of Culture, which was once the Colegio de San Juan, part of an old seminary building. Upstairs, is The Biblioteca Palafoxiana. Founded in 1646, this is the oldest public library in the Americas. It was begun with 5,000 books donated but its founder, Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, the Bishop of Puebla. It moved to these premises a hundred years later, augmented by donations from other bishops. Today, its cedar shelves hold 45,000 books and manuscripts, ranging from the fifteenth to the twentieth century and the library is still open to anyone who wishes to study.

There's a long queue of people, out onto the street, on the ground floor; they're not eager scholars, but folk wanting to see the ofrendas displayed in the atrium and up the stairs.

Further out, is the Museo Regional de la Revolución Mexicana. This whitewashed building was the home of the Serdán family and the site of the first armed conflict of the Mexican Revolution on November 18, 1910.  It happened when government forces (under President Porfirio Díaz) came to check for arms and the two Serdan bothers died, defending the house, regarded as martyrs. The façade of the building is peppered with bullet holes.

Forts Loreto and Guadalupe

On the outskirts of the city, are the twin forts Loreto and Guadalupe, the site of the infamous Battle of Puebla, against the French. They are not especially photogenic, on their own, long and thin, but the area around has been transformed into a park, with panoramas across the city. It's a favourite spot for fifteen year old Mexican girls to pose in their hooped ball gowns, as they celebrate their 'quinceañera', or transition to young womanhood.

Day of the Dead (Maybe), in Puebla

Now for more confusion. The city is decorated to the nines and our itinerary promises that we will 'join in with the festivities' tonight. This is Day One of the main festival - the night dedicated to children. 'What festivities?' I ask Yosa. He looks perplexed. After some pondering, he announces that there is a light show at the cathedral, at six pm. It's now ten to, so we rush along to the Zócalo, which is packed. There are barriers and crowds five deep, behind them. There is clearly going to be a parade. And there is, though I can see very little, stuck behind all these people. No light show visible. but then I can't see much of anything anyway. When it's finished crowds, surge and I try and fight my way back to the hotel. They've erected more barriers and I narrowly escape being crushed.

I order dinner and am waiting for my food to arrive, when there's a text message from Yosa. There's another parade on; he's watching it from the Zócalo; it's very good. No way I can get back thought those crowds. And my dinner is coming. I check the internet for information about lightshows. At the cathedral, the other side of the Zócalo, every half hour, from 7pm to 8.30 pm, apparently. It doesn't improve my mood.

The Great Pyramid of Cholula

Four miles west of Puebla, the Great Pyramid of Cholula is the largest pyramid in the world by volume (and the largest single ancient monument ever constructed in the world), at over 4.45 million cubic metres, (take that Great Pyramid of Giza). It's not wildly impressive, squat, with a vast base, looking, for all the world, like a natural hill, topped by a sixteenth-century Spanish church. But, inside this hill, is layer upon layer of constructions, made by different pre-Columbian civilisations. They've uncovered some of them, around the base, and part of a huge warren of tunnels. The first construction began around the third century BC. This was a major religious centre, traditionally viewed as dedicated to the god Quetzalcoatl.(Who else?) Nothing is certain, but construction is thought to have occurred in six major phases, with possible contributions from the Olmecs, Toltecs, and Cholutecs.

There's a service in the church shortly and it is being signalled by firecrackers, making us start, and zooming across the sky, a cloud of white birds. Stalls are being set up and there are costumed dancers. The finale to Day of the Dead, is underway.

Atlixco and the Day of the Dead Parade

As today, is the culmination of the Day of the Dead Festival, we're promised a Calaveras (skulls) Parade, in nearby Atlixco, (yet another Pueblo Mágico). We're told we will be able to see better there, than in Puebla. Yosa alarms me again by suggesting he book a table in a restaurant. He's obviously not into forward planning.But, we do manage to secure front row seats, on the kerb. Then I notice folk renting chairs, so I dispatch Yosa to fetch some of those for us, and now all is well. Costumed revellers, marching Mariachis, multiplicities of majorettes and bedazzling marionettes (in the form of creepy Catrinas) sway past, for well over an hour. It's a fitting climax.

It's a great way to finish a wonderful month. Mexico is now one of my favourite countries .................. those northern states are waiting.

Mexico City

Now, having arrived from Oaxaca and my travels in the Southern States I’m on a Day of the Dead tour, beginning in Mexico City. There are just three other people. A married couple, Sheena and Malcolm and Sheila a G.P., of Indian heritage. We have guide Yosa (his mother was from a Lebanese family) and driver Ivan.

Mexico City is home to some of the oldest and most influential pre-Columbian civilisations, as well as being the capital of the Spanish empire in America. So, I'm going to work chronologically.

Pre-Columbian Mexico City

Teotihuacán

Teotihuacán, 25 miles outside the main city, in the State of Mexico, takes an age to get to. (But so does anywhere in Mexico City.) This is Mexico's most visited archaeological site, with close to 4.5 million visitors per year at its peak (pre Covid). It is vast. The Avenue of the Dead (Avenida de los Muertos), believed to have been paved with tombs, lined with ramps and miniature pyramids, links the Temple of Quetzalcoatl (winged serpent god) and the huge stepped Pyramids of the Moon (deceptively on higher ground than its twin) and the Sun (third largest in the world).

The first time I went you could climb up both, for the panoramic views of the site and surrounding Valley of Mexico from their summits. Today, only the Moon is open and that only half way. At least, I don't have to exhaust myself with too many frankly perilous climbs, up steep stairs. I'm not the only one who is struggling. Some folk are literally throwing themselves over the top step, so relieved are they to have arrived. One guy lands heavily on my foot.

This area has been populated since 600 BC, though its origins are said to be 'mysterious'. At its height, it was the largest city in America and one of the biggest cities in the world, described as the first true urban experiment. Though estimates of the population vary wildly from an official estimate of 25,000 to a quarter of a million at its peak, in 450 AD. The influence of the powerful Teotihuacán culture, extended through much of the Mesoamerican region. and encompassed Tikal, in Guatemala. Teotihuacán fell in the eighth century. it is often advertised as an Aztec site and the Aztecs claimed descendance from the Teotihuacán peoples, but it's not even certain that they ever lived here, though they adopted much of the culture.

Today. as with most Mexican sites, archaeology is ongoing and erratic, depending on access to funding. The relics and restored colourful animal murals reinforce the idea of a high-level civilization. They depict what awaited those who were killed by Tláloc, the water god. And there are more gory stories. There is a giant pedestal atop the pyramids. This is where the human sacrifice, was performed. During this sacrifice, five priests, sometimes with their faces painted with different colours, performed certain rituals. The heart was cut from the live victim, (referred as precious eagle cactus fruit) and burned, on a fire, in the temple.

The Templo Major

Mexico City is the capital of Mexico and its largest city, by some way. Home to some 26 million souls, in the Greater Metropolitan Area, it ranks amongst the most largest, most crowded cities in the world. It came to importance when the colony of New Spain established its capital, at what was then the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan (not to be confused with Teotihuacán), now called Mexico City. (Mexico means in the belly button of the moon, as it's in the centre.)

When humans arrived in the Mexico Valley, as long ago as 30,000 BC, the valley floor was a chain of lakes. The water has been receding ever since and agriculture became an important way of life. According to Aztec mythology, a tribe called the Mexica (hence the name Mexico) left their mythological home, called Aztlán (hence the name Aztec), and journeyed in search of new lands. They eventually came to a lake called Lake Texcoco, where they saw an eagle landing on a cactus, with a snake in its claws. They took this as a sign from the gods telling them to stop here and build a new city, So they did. And they called it Tenochtitlán, which means ‘Place of the Cactus Rock’.

Mexico City is built on the lake, (and it's suggested that the Spaniards dried it out, looking for the gold.) There isn't much left of the Aztec ruins either. But, the Templo Major, from the city, has recently been reconstructed in the centre, on the edge of the Zocalo, on what could be reached of the remains. The Spanish built their own capital on top of the old Aztec city, to make a point. So, that's where we start, in the city proper.

The Museo del Templo Mayor opened in 1987. As do most Mesoamerican culture museums, it focuses very much on
the cult of human sacrifices in Tenochtitlán (there's a whole floor on ritual sacrifice), the Aztec warriors (the elite were the jaguar and eagle divisions, so there's an area called the House of the Eagle, where they were stationed), the cultivation of cereals and corn in the floating gardens, and the Aztec temples. There's a wall of skulls. Its star exhibit is the eight-tonne stone disk, carrying an image of the moon goddess Coyolxauhqui. There are (very) restored and not very exciting ruins (the Spanish did their best to eradicate the original), but more interesting artefacts in the museum building.

The ruins contain some of the reconstructed temple walls. The Templo Mayor, as the name suggests, was the main temple, built in the late Postclassic period. The temple was called Huēyi Teōcalli and (this gets complicated) was dedicated simultaneously to Huitzilopochtli, god of war, and Tlaloc, god of rain and agriculture. Each of these gods had a shrine, at the top of the pyramid, but with separate staircases. The central spire, however, was devoted to the creator god, Quetzalcoatl, apparently in his avatar as the wind god, Ehecatl, though he's usually a serpent and there are plenty of those. There's also a section  for the  elite of the Aztec army, the jaguar and eagle divisions.  It’s known as the House of the Eagle because of the eagle sculptures which adorn it.

The National Museum of Anthropology

The National Museum of Anthropology is one of the most visited museums in the world (3,700,000 visitors in 2024). Naturally, it concentrates on the Meso-American pre-Columbian cultures. It's taken some stick for placing the Mexica (Aztecs) in the central hall central. But, there excuses. The museum is in Chapultepec Park, originally a retreat for Aztec rulers and now the second largest park in Latin America (smoggy Mexico City needs all the oxygen it can get). There is a castle and a zoo and lakes, ponds and sculptures, to amuse the joggers.

The Colonial Centro Historico of Mexico City

Hernán Cortés, led the Spanish conquest of Mexico in the early sixteenth century, laying the foundations for New Spain, centred on its new capital, Mexico City is the oldest city in mainland North America. Last time I was here it was crowded and the traffic moved at snail pace. Nothing has changed.

The must-see is the massive main square, the Plaza de la Constitución, colloquially, known as the Zócalo, fronted by the enormous Palacio Nacional. It is built on the site of Montezuma’s Palace. This is a revisit. Previously, I was able to see the Palacio entrance and the historic murals by Diego Rivera, telling the story of the revolution. Now the palace is closed to visitors, as controversial president Claudia Scheinbaum lives and works there.

 Last time I came, the palace was decorated with swathes of material, in glittery Mexican national colours, all ready for Christmas. This time, it’s hard to get a complete view  of any of the buildings, as the Zócalo is crammed with visitors. Numerous stalls and pitches with indigenous people dressed in their finery and touting their wears, ready for the Day of the Dead festivities. There are huge skull and Catrina statues (La Catrina, a skeleton dressed in a fancy European-style hat, is a famous icon of the Day of the Dead, inspired by an early 1900s satirical etching.) and enormous patches of the orange potted marigolds. It’s an exciting place to be. Sheila undergoes a purification ceremony, and is brushed with burning coriander, to give her protection.

Neither can you miss the imposing Catedral Metropolitana de México of the Spanish Conquistadores, the largest cathedral in the Americas, deliberately built right on top of the Templo Major (or most of it). The cathedral, despite its enormity, (there are two parts and countless altars) is known as the Little Brother of Seville Cathedral. It has the same footprint. (Seville Cathedral is the largest Gothic cathedral in the world, by area.) Depending on which part you choose, this cathedral dates from 1573 to the 1800s. It's been continually rebuilt,  a unique mix, or a clash of styles, depending on your viewpoint. It includes Renaissance, Baroque, and Neoclassical features.

There's a striking black crucifix, known as El Señor del Veneno" (The Poisoned Lord) said to have given miraculous protection. Legend says that a wealthy man was placing gold coins in a box, near the crucifix, every day. But, he was poisoned by an enemy. However, the sugarcane paste of which the statue is made absorbed the poison instead, turned black, in the process.

Plaza of Santa Domingo

The Plaza de Santo Domingo is one of the most important plazas in the City Centre, after the Zócalo itself. This was the site of the legendary home of Cuauhtémoc, who became the last Aztec Emperor, in 1520, but it was quickly assimilated by the Dominicans, who ruled the area for most of the colonial period.

Santo Domingo (St. Dominic) is a prominent figure in Latin America, not least in the capital of the Dominican Republic. He founded the Order of Dominican Preachers. His story goes, that before his birth, his barren mother made a pilgrimage to the Abbey (of another earlier St Dominic), at Silos, in Spain and dreamt that a dog leapt from her womb, carrying a flaming torch in its mouth, and seemed to set the earth on fire. This fits nicely with a play on words: Dominicanus in Latin could be interpreted as 'Dog of the Lord.'

The square is dominated by the Santo Domingo Temple to the north, (the open space in front of the church was used for evangelization and other conversion efforts). Like so many of the colonial churches here it's tilting and has to be propped up. Next door is the old Palace of Inquistions.

The Pantheon of San Fernando

Traffic is increasingly terrible with festival traffic, protests against the government and roadworks. They're constructing a cycle lane, to the Azteca Stadium, in anticipation of the Football World Cup, next year. According to Yosa, however, the Mexicans don't cycle. It's too far and too hot. There's also a St Jude the Martyr pilgrimage. October 28th is his feast day and it's customary to march to the San Hipólito Church dedicated to him, and make offerings, asking for intercession. He is the patron saint of lost causes, after all.

We're heading for the Pantheon of San Fernando, which is home to 'the city’s foremost necropolis'. It seems appropriate for the Day of the Dead. But it transpires that San Fernando is closed for the march. Folk are queuing round the church, which is directly opposite the necropolis and, in the past, have been known to desecrate the tombs. It's the one day of the year when it is shut. I'm not amused. We peer at the nineteenth century tombs through the railings. Some of them are very elaborate, mini temples. The most high profile grave is that of ex president Benito Juarez, but he isn't in it. He was moved to Puebla.

Whilst Mexico was a colony, it was generally believed that the closer you were buried to the church altar the more chance you had of getting to heaven. So the San Fernando church is crammed with the graves of important figures - those with money. But this resulted in extremely unpleasant smells and unfortunate spectacles for temple visitors. Eventually, at the end of the eighteenth century, the Archbishop of Mexico, ruled that the deceased should be buried in cemeteries, built in elevated places, far away from the houses.  Initially, the San Fernando Pantheon was the most expensive in the city, but it was later forced to go public.

The Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe

There's also the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, in the north of the city. This is a national shrine of Mexico. The Virgin Mary is believed to have appeared to an indigenous Aztec man, named Juan Diego, here, in December 1531. She told Juan Diego to ask the bishop to build a a church in her honour, on that spot, so she could show her love and compassion to her people. Unsurprisingly, the bishop was sceptical and demanded a sign of proof. Mary then instructed Juan Diego to gather Castilian roses from the barren hilltop, in winter. When he presented them to the bishop, wrapped in his cloak, the image of the Virgin was found imprinted on the fabric. This event was responsible for the conversion of millions and the building of a major basilica on the site.

The cloak (tilma) is still preserved today, in the new basilica (1970s), which has been built alongside the old one, to accommodate the 20 million or so pilgrims who arrive annually. This is the of the most important religious sites in the world. You view from an escalator, to keep the crowds moving, and there are plenty of gaudy souvenirs on sale.

Modern Day Mexico City

Then, there's the modern day sprawling city. At over 2,200 metres Mexico City has one of the highest elevations for capital cities in the world (remember Bob Beamon’s long jump?). It's built along the Valley of Mexico, sometimes called the Basin of Mexico, in its turn, in the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt, of the high plateaus of south-central Mexico.

Mexico City primarily rests on what was Lake Texcoco. Although none of the lake waters remain, the lake bed's heavily saturated clay is prone to collapse, due to the over-extraction of groundwater. That's why so many church towers are leaning. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, the city has sunk as much as nine metres, in some areas. And there's no no natural drainage outlet for the streams, which flow from the mountainsides, so the city is also vulnerable to flooding.

Mexico City is sometimes referred to as Chilangolandia, especially in a derogatory fashion, in other states, where, ahem, Mexico City residents aren't always beloved. The Nahuatl (language of the Aztecs) word 'chilan-co,' once referred to people from Central Mexico.

It's not a pretty city, but endlessly fascinating and constantly developing, rebuilding, renovating. The main cultural centre, The Palacio de Bellas Artes, is a good example, now in its art nouveau incarnation. There's also an iron bridge (further out), designed by Eiffel. The streets are buzzing and there are plenty of tiles (azulejos) in the centre.

All cities in Mexico feature three important street names based on dates: September 16th (Independence day, dating from 1810 when Hidalgo called for independence from Spain, May 5th, (the battle of Puebla, 1862, when the Mexicans beat the French, though I don't understand this one, as they eventually lost the country to the French, who had the largest army in the world at the time) and November 20th ( I highly approve of this one, as it's my birthday, but here it refers to the day when the Mexican revolution began, in 1910).

Coyoacán

Coyoacán (place of coyotes) is a colourful southern suburb, which predated Mexico City. There's a Franciscan arch, leading through the Jardín Centenario, to the old convent and the church of St John the Baptist. Plenty of market stalls, quaint cafes and a relaxed lyrical vibe. Chapulines, grilled grasshoppers, are on offer. Past the Fonoteca Nacional, the national sound archive.

But the main attraction is Frida Kahlo's house, La Casa Azul. It is indeed very blue, vibrant in and out, with some original art. (Most of that is elsewhere.) But it’s fascinating to see the place where the artist struggled, first with polio, and then with the after effects of her car accident. Her turbulent marriage to Diego Rivera. Her extra marital affairs, with both men and women and, most notably, Trotsky, who travelled here, after his exile from Russia. Trotsky and his wife shared the Blue House with Frida and Diego for some time. But unsurprisingly Rivera and Trotsky quarrelled and Trotsky  moved a few streets away. This is where he was famously attacked and killed, with an ice pick, after several botched assassination attempts.

Frida's ashes are in an urn, on the dressing table.

Xochimilco

Even further south than Coyoacán, Xochimilco Floating Gardens is one of the many UNESCO World Heritage Sites in Mexico, because it is a vestige of the extensive lake and canal system, which once connected most of the settlements in the Mexico Valley. There are 2700 colourful gondola-esque boats (but squarer) called trajineras. These are navigated through the 20 kilometres of canal between artificial islands, in turn called chinampas. These are floating horticultural beds (a revival of an ancient practice). We are punted along with six metre poles. But that's where the resemblance to Venice ends. The waterways are vibrant and jammed with vessels. Heaven knows what it's like when all the boats are rented out. Mariachi bands tout for business, sailing alongside. There are floating cafes and tortilla stands and men clamber on board to try and flog jewellery from suitcases.

Tequila

And, of course, we visit a tequila museum, which explains how tequila and mescal are extracted from the blue agave plant. I'm not going to explain the whole process, but tequila involves harvesting (by jimadors), cooking the piña (the soft core), to soften the fibres, extraction (of the the sweet juice, called mosto) by rolling, fermentation (with yeast) and distillation. Then, there's ageing, depending on what type of tequila is required. In contrast, mezcal is more traditionally made, from over 30 types of agave and less industrial, typically roasted in underground fire pits, which gives it a smoky flavour, to be honest I'm not hugely keen on either when served neat. I'll stick to my margaritas.

But this is not really a museum, of course. It's a shop selling tequila. We get two shots included in our entrance. and sit at a table looking out onto a hidden plaza. By coincidence, or not, its a haunt for mariachi bands, who offer their services, for a fee. We club together and buy one song.

Mariachi is a well known genre of regional Mexican music, which has evolved since at at least the eighteenth century and been promoted, as part of Mexico's cultural identity. Wikipedia tells me that the usual mariachi group today consists of as many as eight violins, two trumpets and at least one guitar, including a high-pitched Mexican Vihuela and an acoustic bass guitar called a guitarrón. All players take turns singing lead and doing backup vocals. It's mainly more economically viable quartets on offer here, with a female singer. No hats and the trumpeter isn't really earning his money - watch the video here.

Mexican Hats

• The mariachi players are almost the only people who wear the large, colourful, wide-brimmed hat we refer to as sombreros. Those are actually called a sombrero de charro.
• The word sombrero simply means 'hat' in Spanish, derived from the word sombra meaning 'shade'.
• A variety of hat styles are worn by men and women across Mexico, mostly of the wide brimmed type.

Savoury Notes

Sampling restaurants in Mexico City is rewarding. Dinner at Azulísimo, Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s upscale restaurant is very nice indeed and proof that tortillas and enchiladas can be tasty. Though the highlight is pumpkin flower, stuffed with cheese and drizzled with honey.

The Prime Steak Club Dinner at The Angel of Independence burns a considerable hole in my wallet, but the steak is delectable and the service faultless. The glitzy restaurant looks out over Independence Square.

The whole of the area around Avenida Paseo de Reforma is buzzing. This is the edge of the Centro Historico abutting the Zona Rosa. The streets are lined with bars and small restaurants. There's a chain called Casa de Tono which serves up authentic Mexican food. All kinds of tortillas in there, once you've translated the menu. It's cheap and very popular with Mexicans, who queue for tables - which is presumably a good sign.

Mexico City and the Day of the Dead

The centre of the city is still rammed now, both with people and traffic. There’s to be a parade tonight, La Mega Procesión de las Catrinas, to open the Day of the Dead celebrations. They’re putting up barriers  and folk are taking up positions. We’ve been clamouring to see it. Yosa doesn’t seem so keen. He says it’s over by now and there will be a better one in Puebla. However, there are still crowds lining the streets, when we emerge from our meal. Yosa insists we've missed all the procession, but we have take to e bike rickshaws as the car can't get through the remaining crowds – our hotel is a long way from the centre. This is a big city.

After an extremely hairy journey, speeding along, veering left and right, without warning, rocketing over bumps and swerving round cars coming in the other direction, we are forced to halt. To my delight, it’s because the road is blocked for the parade, which only just seems to have started. So, we watch it pass by, very skeleton orientated as one would expect, this is a Catrina parade. But it's not at all devilish, or evil, and very good natured.

Now, it's time to take to the road and really get 'into the spirit' of the Day of the Dead, starting with the city of Toluca.

Aftermath - Mexico City

Two days to rest and recuperate, after the Day of the Dead Tour. Mexico City is still buzzy, but most of the Day of the Dead decorations and altars have been dismantled. Christmas decorations have replaced them in some of the department stores, The zocalo is barricaded off. Protests are expected and there are police everywhere. There's news that Carlos Manzo, mayor of the Mexican city of Uruapan, in the cartel controlled state of Michoacan was assassinated at the Day of the Dead celebrations. He was known for standing up to the gangs.

I've chosen a very lovely, very hip hotel right in the centre - it's called The Downtown and it's in a 'seventeenth century meets urban chic' building. They've upgraded me to an enormous suite. There's a bar and swimming pool on the roof and the breakfasts are served in front of a painting, 'The Holocaust' by Mexican artist Manuel Rodríguez Lozano, on the main stairwell of the hotel. You can order everything from European yogurt and fruit to traditional beans and tortillas swimming in red sauce. They even offer those grasshoppers.

Downstairs, The Azul Historico, a famous old restaurant, very chic. It's a great way to end my month in Mexico.

Caipirinhas to Margaritas

Now, I'm off to explore Mexico beyond the Yucatan and Quintana Roo, where I went on my first trip in this country, long ago, when I was, to be frank, disenchanted. So I've designed a tour of the other southern states (this is, after all, the United States of Mexico), looping down the east coast, across the centre at Palenque, and back up through Chiapas, and Oaxaca to Mexico City.

After that, I'm excited to join  a Day of the Dead tour (in a nutshell the Día de los Muertos is probably the most important Mexican festival, a vibrant multi-day Mexican holiday, running from October 31 to November 2, which honours deceased loved ones). That's on a smaller loop south of Mexico City, running this time west to east. To that end, I’m flying from Cuiabá and my Pantanal Safari, via Sao Paulo, in Brazil, to Mexico City. Otherwise known as caipirinhas to margaritas.

Arriving in Mexico City

It's not the most auspicious start. I’ve stayed overnight in an airport hotel room which was tiny, Arctic temperature and very noisy, with all the passenger comings and goings. It's non stop conversations outside my door. I head off for check in with my hair standing on end. It's only after I’ve locked my bag that I realise I’ve put compression socks on under three quarter length trousers. I’m obviously going for the weirdo look today. But Mexico Airport immigration is surprisingly speedy and efficient. Perhaps they deem it safer just to let me through.

Google Translate is already taking a bashing. Very few folk here speak English. I’m navigating the menu with the phone camera. And, of course, testing the margaritas. Unfortunately, the nachos piled up, free on the table, are much nicer than the ones in England, so they're disappearing rapidly. And also, unfortunately, Google Translate hasn’t given me the full picture. Chicken smothered in chocolate sauce with chillies arrives. And I mean smothered. I don’t even like cocoa! Chicken mole, it seems is a national dish. It's a good job I filled up on the nachos.

There are dragons on duty at breakfast. I’m harassed by a frowning harridan until I’ve signed a form, even though breakfast is included. They want to know how much I will tip. Propina is a Spanish word I'm already very familiar with.

South, through Tlaxcala and Puebla, to Veracruz

Time to meet Luis my driver guide. He’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t the most auspicious start either. He turns out to be a very grave and knowledgeable man, who is a also a medic, specialising in neurology and pharmacology. Today, I’m driving to Veracruz and the towns of Xalapa and Coatapec. Luis tells me Xalapa is mostly boring. That adds to the great start.

But he thaws as we proceed. We're following the historic 190 Pan American highway, now superimposed with the 150D toll road for most of the way. Over a pass at 3,000 metres, at Rio Frio and I’m soon getting great views of the two massive volcanoes, which preside over the city. Popocatepetl (Smoking Mountain) with its perfect cone and cloud of steam (it’s under constant observation in anticipation of the next eruption) and slightly smaller Iztaccíhuatl. They are linked by the high saddle known as the 'Paso de Cortés'. They are the second and third highest volcanoes in Mexico. And it’s perfect weather too. Fields of corn. Of course. It’s Mexico.

And two traffic jams caused by accidents. That’s like being at home. Though the driving is faster and bumpier. Luis fills the time by complaining about the Claudia Sheinbaum government, elected on an anti corruption ticket. He declares they are the most corrupt government the country has ever had. I’m not sure I followed the story correctly but I think he said they had made 350 billion pesos through illegally importing gasoline via cartels. Wow.

I've noticed that many houses have huge shrines built outside. I'm thinking they must be super religious, but Luis says it's done to to prevent fly tipping. The tippers won't desecrate a holy site.

Joshua trees (aloes like those in the Mojave Desert) abound. Now we’re getting glimpses of snow capped Pico de Orizaba. At 5636 metres, this is the tallest volcano in the country. It hasn’t erupted since the nineteenth century. But they haven’t written it off yet.

Veracruz and the FCDO

The FCDO security warnings report that Veracruz can be dangerous, with gang violence and road blocks, so I’m a little apprehensive. But, as is so often the case, it’s the journey in the car that poses the most danger. It’s a white knuckle ride on the curving raised motorways, through more mountains, past more spiky yucca covered hills to Coatapec. Luis overtakes with gay abandon, even when the centre of the road is marked with double yellow lines.

Coatapec

Coatepec (Hill of Snakes) is a Pueblo Mágico. (There are currently 177 of these small historic towns designated by the Tourist Board). Coatepec has a cobbled Historico Centro, packed with colonial buildings. Hotels and small shops geared up for the upcoming Day of the Dead Festival, windows full of grimacing pottery skulls and grinning pumpkins. It’s also packed with Mexicans (this is not an area frequented by foreign tourists) and it’s hard to park. And it’s only mid October. Luis says that there are ten main festival days with each celebrating the deaths of different categories of friends and relations.

Nevertheless, Luis says there’s not much to see in this university and coffee town. Coffee is the watchword, as the old quaintly wood panelled sweet stores and pharmacies have been transformed into coffee tasting bars. The streets are interesting, but not the prettiest colonial areas I’ve ever seen. I can't allow charming. I persuade Luis into the indoor market. Oblong grapes and more festival decorations.

Lunch in in the Pousada Coatepec, which can only be described as charmingly authentic, with white jacket and bow tie service. Fountains, mosaics and baskets of the pom pom marigolds which are ubiquitous at this time of year.

Xalapa-Enriquez

Luis is an enigma. He goes to the toilet every hour (fine by me, it saves me asking) and shuffles along bow-legged. He doesn’t seem to know where anything is, and doesn't seem keen to explore, which is a bit of a drawback in a guide. But he’s a great photographer. He’s especially at a loss in Xalapa, which he has already described to me as a boring city, with a tiny historic centre. And he’s not even sure where that is.

Xalapa (officially Xalapa-Enriquez after a nineteenth century governor) is the administrative capital of Veracruz, the honour having been removed from Veracruz city shortly after independence, with Xalapa considered to be more central. The residents of Xalapa are called Xalapeños or Jalapeños, (this is where those large peppers come from). On 18 May 1784, José María Alfaro got the first air balloon in the Americas, airborne, in Xalapa. And, due to the abundance of flowers growing in the region, Alexander von Humboldt, who visited the town on 10 February 1804, christened it the 'City of the Flowers'. Ulysses Grant, during the 'American Intervention', also declared this a beautiful city. I'm going to have to use my imagination. Or find another guide.

We find a parking lot and I use the good old internet to track down the most scenic (restored) streets. (The Airalo e sim was easy to install but the data is non existent outside city centres.) A cathedral (1772) and the governors' palace. Again, nice but not wonderful. But there's definitely more of a city vibe. I’m more interested to see the vibrant Mexican street culture, in the modern areas. The pavements are full of holes and trip hazards, but everywhere is lively, packed with street vendors. Bubble blowing, candies, pastries. A bustling park, Parque Juárez, crammed with vans and vendors. A street full of shops selling religious icons. Many of the shops have their own security guards, toting guns. There are also AK 47s around the toll booths on the motorways. Apparently, anywhere that takes in cash is subject to robbery.

Veracruz City

I’m off, next day, to the original capital, which is the largest port in Mexico and the first mainland point of entry for the Spanish, after they had explored the Caribbean islands, still unsure whether they had reached India or not. When the Spanish explorer Hernán Cortés arrived here, on 22 April 1519, he founded a city, which he named Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, referring to the area's gold and dedicated to the 'True Cross', because he landed on Good Friday. This was the first Spanish settlement on the mainland of the Americas to receive a coat-of-arms. A profitable slave port,

Veracruz expanded its influence, all up the coast, and was at times wealthier than the capital, Mexico City. All this money wealth attracted the raids of seventeenth-century pirates, as well as attention from France, Spain and England, in the Caribbean. precipitating the need for fortifications.

Luis has told me that Veracruz lost their right to be capital as the Americans landed here, defeated the local army and made their way north, in the Intervention. But the capital was moved before the Americans arrived Veracruz was dubbed Heroica Veracruz, for vanquishing the last of the Spanish, during the war of Independence. The city received the title again for attempts to repel the French, during the French invasion. (There were a lot of invasions - see Mexico in a Nutshell).

We descend through more mountains, the eastern Sierra Madre, to the ocean. There are two forts, in fact. One in the centre, (The Bastion of Santiago is the last remaining bastion nine built along the city walls) and the huge Fort San Juan de Ulúa, guarding the entrance to the port. On the square, facing this, there’s an ancient lighthouse, The Faro Venustiano Carranza, after its architect. There's also the start of the malecón (seafront promenade) and the Pemex building (Petróleos Mexicanos), which used to house the Bank of Mexico. It's pouring with rain, so it's a speedy visit.

According to the ever optimistic Luis, Veracruz is suffering from diminishing tourist interest, but they have currently taken up most of the roads and are creating pedestrianised areas, in a large refurbishment project. Luis tells me not to let anyone see that we have luggage in the boot, as we park. Apparently, car robbery is common on the streets of the towns. There’s a small historic area around the cathedral (relatively new, it was consecrated in 1962), and a plaza lined with arcades. Luis assures me they’re very lively at night. They’re only just getting out the tables, mid-morning.

We find another of those genteel cafes with old clocks. It's another hospitality legend, the Gran Cafe del Portal, with displays in glass cabinets. Their signature drink is café lechero and the waiters pour the hot milk theatrically from kettles held at a great height. They’re playing marimba, on the xylophones, under the arcade, outside. Luis, in his checked shirt, enjoys the biscuits.

Bus to Villahermosa

Now it’s time to leave Luis and embark on my next adventure. I’m catching a (luxury) ADO bus for my eight hour journey to Villahermosa. The terminal is, thankfully, smart and clean on the ADO side. (It's not so great where the cheaper bus lines, rusty and dented, are parked up). Little food booths, where I see the vendors actually washing their hands And toilets which cost 10 pesos, but still don’t have paper. I’ve only just got used to throwing it in the bin instead of the pan. I’ve just enough Spanish to order a sandwich made fresh. And to beg one of the attendants to tell me when my bus is ready. I’m not able to make much of the tannoy announcements.

I’ve had to check in my luggage and am relieved to see it being loaded, as I queue for my bus. That suggests I’m in the right place. The sign on the front says Cancun. It's a long journey for some then and this is not the bus’s first stop. I’m the only remotely European looking person on the bus. In fact, I haven’t seen a European face since I left the capital. Good

I’ve got an excellent seat at the front, which means I can watch the driver chewing gum and using WhatsApp, at traffic lights, as we bounce and sway along. He’s trying to avoid the potholes, of which there are many. Some are huge. This will cure me of turbulence phobia. Maybe. I’ve put my seat belt on.

I can’t see right out the front, however, because of the assorted blinds, covering the windscreen. And the rain has bucketed down all day. So, the potholes are full of water and the road is slippery. The driver is also listening to music, whilst a Spanish film simultaneously blares out, on screens, in the bus. The air con blasts away despite the relative chill outside. Some canny passengers have brought blankets.

I can’t say it's a boring journey, though these coastal areas are flat, with creepers covering all the roadside vegetation and hanging from the overhead cables alongside palm trees, sugar cane and pineapple plantations. And corn, of course. The area is home to several rivers and lakes and these all seem to have flooded extensively. Lonely tree islands and disappearing fence posts. There has indeed been a lot of rain.

Almost two hours. Now the driver has a lollipop in his mouth. And the blue sky is back.

Exactly two hours. The bus pulls up by a toilet. But the driver leaps out on his own. We have to stay where we are. There is a toilet on board. I’m screwing up my courage to try it. South of Veracruz this is tropical rainforest proper, low-lying, with far less arable land. The odd clump of bananas.

Half way. We halt at Coatzacoalcos, on the coast. Great name. Vendors scramble on board, with trays of snacks and drinks. Most of the passengers decant and return with armfuls of crisps, chocolate, popcorn and fizzy drinks. It's like being at the cinema. I’ve been angsting about how to get from the bus station to my hotel, after each of my four booked bus trips without getting raped robbed and murdered after catching an unregulated taxi. (I’ve been reading the FCO advice again.) And, Villahermosa, my first bus destination is especially fraught, as I arrive after dark. But Luis has comes to the rescue, as he says he has a friend, who will meet me and take me sightseeing too.

Villahermosa, Tabasco

The hotels almost invariably smell musty and look to be in need of refurbishment. the towels are rough. I think they're air dried. At least, that's environmentally friendly. So are the staff - friendly that is. Some even have a smattering of English. Breakfasts are very Mexican. Spicy meat and beans. Yogurt. Some fruit. One kind of bread or rolls. Maybe sausage. No eggs.

I’ve been safely collected by Oswaldo. It’s only the next day that I notice his white Chevy is a complete wreck. He says his brother crashed it two days ago. But the dents look rusty to me. Anyway, he’s polite and speaks English and takes me to the Parque Museo La Venta to see the zoo (poor animals in badly maintained cages that I saw wild in Brazil: toucans, an ocelot pacing, a jaguar, turtles and so on.) At least the foraging (and cute) coatis aren't caged.

And then an exhibition of Olmec statues and altars. These are pre-Mayan, dating back to 1200 BC for the oldest. Most of the artefacts were relocated from the archaeological site of La Venta, in Tabasco, to protect them from industrial development. There are colossal heads made of basalt, altars, stelae with intricate carvings of faces, and ceremonial pieces, like the Triumphal Altar.
I would have been more interested if we were not pursued by clouds of voracious mosquitoes. Moreover it's 30 degrees and very humid here. My hair is standing on end.

Bus to Palenque, Chiapas

My next bus journey is on ADO AeroPuerto. This is confusing at first, but it turns out to be a minibus service. It's an improvement. We only have the driver’s music - acceptably Mexican - and I can see out of the front. Unsurprisingly, we stop at the airport, but no one gets on. The driver doesn’t look too happy. More jungle and a lot of road works. They seem to be widening the whole road. Punctuated by beeping, as the driver exceeds the speed limit. It’s an exceedingly sedate drive compared with what I’ve seen so far.

The Mayan Ruins at Palenque

I’ve woken up itching badly, after yesterday’s mosquito feast. I doused myself in repellent, after the first onslaught, but the little Bs have sneaked up trousers and sleeves. Today, I’m visiting the archaeological site at Palenque. Scanning, using modern technology, shows that only 10 % of the territory and 2 % of the buildings, of these ancient Mayan ruins, have been uncovered. And this is only a medium sized Mayan site. This ancient city state was abandoned in 950, and quickly covered by jungle. In fact, the rainforest is so intrusive that the site has to be weeded continually to keep it clear. There are rows of gardeners, at work, on the steps, when I arrive.

The site was re-discovered in 1700, when Chiapas state was part of Guatemala. The name Palenque refers to cockfighting – this is a walled area and it reminded them of the arena. Laqamha was the original name. (Place with a lot of water.) It was cleared from 1800-1850, mostly by explorers and adventurers, using fire. It’s thought that the buildings were bright orange originally – now they’re all drab grey.

Since I last came, there’s been great progress in reading hieroglyphic inscriptions and much more (thankfully) is known about the Mayans and their rulers. K’inich Janaab Pakal was the first powerful king of power, in the area, responsible for many of the buildings and inscriptions at Palenque. He ruled for 68 years, from the age of 12, in 603. One of the longest reigns of a sovereign ever and extraordinary at that time. (Reminiscent of Rameses II).

K’inich Janaab Pakal is perhaps most famous for the inscriptions on his sarcophagus, which have given rise to what Wikipedia refers to as pseudoarchaeological speculation. I’ve talked before about my own fascination with Swiss author Erich von Daniken’s theories in Chariots of the Gods. Carlos, my guide, met him when he was a student and says Von Daniken was fascinated by the idea that this represented a man piloting a rocket. Today’s archaeologists say he was looking landscape, when he should have been looking portrait, at the three levels which are depicted. Up top, heaven(where the gods lived), in the middle, life today, on earth represented by the sacred ceiba tree (kapok), and the underworld, where the dead went, to maintain connections with the life they had left.

His son, K’inich Kan Bahlam took over aged 49 and built a second tier of buildings very quickly. He wasn’t sure how much time he had left. (He made 66.)

The main buildings on the first level are the Temple of the Skull, with the Royal Necropolis. The Mayans believed that the underworld is a good place. (There is no reincarnation but connections can be made through drug usages. So there were no cemeteries until the Spanish came, just graves around the houses. So, the Mayans were very unhappy, when their colonial rulers enforced cemetery burial until the Day of the Dead Festival was introduced, as a means of maintaining connection. Carlos tells me old rituals are still carried out, in Campeche, where they remove the bones from the graves and clean them, with brushes, to place on the table, for their festive meal.

There is plenty of jade and malachite inside, brought from Guatemala, (they decorated teeth with jade). the bodies were preserved with mercury. It was found in the body of a consequently red and poisonous queen. She was accompanied by two sacrificed people. (They analysed her teeth to find out what she had been eating and hence her origins.) There was often inter family marriage, like the Egyptians, so deformities were common. As if that wasn't enough, the Mayans deformed the skulls of babies, with paddles and promoted cross eyes to make them look different.

Next, The Temple of the Inscriptions where Pakal himself was buried and, opposite, the main palace, complete with steps to the underworld. Behind that is the ball court. There are a network of aqueducts, surrounding the buildings. This was 'The Place of Water'.

The second tier holds the 'Cross Group,' a complex of three temples, built atop pyramids, dedicated to the different levels of the Mayan universe, although various sources of information are confusing. All three are unusual in telling the story of K’inich Kan Bahlam, but are also dedicated to three different gods. The Sun Palace, is ironically the lowest and therefore represents pathways to the underworld. Here, the light creates a cross effect on the equinox. The crumbling Temple of the Foliated Cross represents earth with corn motifs (the first humans came from the corn plant according to Mexican legend) and the heavenly link, the pyramid Temple of the Cross, which has too many steps and gives incredible views of the whole site. Watch the video of the view here. Sacrifices, human and otherwise, were made to coincide with astronomical events.

The Road to San Cristobal de las Casas

Driver, Jose and Carlos now convey me 220 kilometres across Chiapa,s to San Cristobal de las Casas. I’m thrown all over, as we hug the bends of the switchback road very tightly. Down below, they are building a new road, which will cut three hours off the journey. It needs to. It is long and tedious, with over 400 sleeping policemen (called stops-topes in Mexico) backing up the traffic and very few places to overtake on the narrow road, which winds through the mountains. In addition, this is Federal Highway 199 on which the FCDO advises against all but essential travel:

'Illegal roadblocks and checkpoints are reported frequently ..... Protests by indigenous groups often block the road. There is a risk of kidnapping.'

When I booked, I was told we were going to take the long way round, retracing my bus route west, for a while, to avoid this route, and I don't realise we are on the 199, until we've been driving for a while. I judge it not prudent to suggest we turn round. There is so much slow traffic that roadblocks seem unlikely - I hope.

Time to concentrate on the scenery. This is cattle and corn country, down below. If I could see through the clouds. It’s raining again. In the villages, sundry semi open shops selling everything from plastic containers of gasoline to ceramic pots (no filling stations up here). Men in straw cowboy hats (known in Spanish as a tejana). Women in white peasant blouses, with flat triangular collars. The whole patrolled by a series of mutts, with long pointy ears.

San Cristobal de las Casas

From a steamy 30 degrees Celsius, with my hair standing on end, to a rainy 17, at a lofty 2200 metres. Shell shock. At least there’s a heater.

St Cristobal is written up as a gem of a colonial town. Surrounded by misty mountains and lush green landscapes. The most magical of the magical towns of Mexico. A vibrantly unique cultural experience, because of its ethnic diversity. (Chiapas has the second highest proportion of indigenous peoples, after Oaxaca, So, expectations are high. It was founded in 1528, first as St Cristobal, then as Ciudad Real (with its own small state) and, in 1848 as San Cristobal de las Casas, in honour of Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, the city's first bishop and a defender of indigenous rights. Fray Bartolomé was so vociferous in criticising the behaviour of the conquistadores that he was sent back to Spain.

St Cristobal was the capital of Chiapas, but lost the title to Tuxtla Gutierrez four times, finally giving up the cause, at the end of the nineteenth century, as the current governor came from Tuxla. Today, it contents itself with the title of Cultural Capital.

Exploring San Cristobal de las Casas

There's a thrumming and well-preserved Historico Centro. There are pedestrianised streets, with cobblestones and red-clay roofs and a complicated one-way system. Narrow and steep, and high pavements to accommodate the heavy rains. A host of colonial Baroque buildings, dating from the sixteenth century (and later). Highly ornate Spanish churches with Moorish influences: domed Santo Domingo Convent (pink facade, one of the most elaborate in Mexico, pulpit carved from a single piece of oak, huge gilded altarpieces).More simplistic post revolutionary buildings, like the  distinctive yellow and orange cathedral. The main plaza and the Municipal Palace are mainly, incongruously, neoclassical.

This is only the second tourist area I’ve come to on my travels here. And the first touristy city centre. Locals lurk in the doorways of the hotels and wait outside the breakfast restaurant accosting all who venture in and out. Stripy purses textiles bracelets. They are quietly persistent.

As we sit in a roof top café, overlooking the square, I tell guide Memo (short for William) that it reminds me of Antigua, Guatemala. He replies that Fray Bartolomé, who came to came to develop the city, was previously based in Antigua.

A small jade museum tells the story of the southern Mexican civilisations, through the jade masks and ornaments which have been found here. The finale is a reconstruction of Pakbal’s tomb. And then a shop, of course, with cabinets full of jewellery that I can’t afford.

Gastronomy in St Cristobal

In St Cristobal, the indigenous peoples wear multi-coloured blouses. The market is a riot of colour, stuffed with fruit and vegetables. There’s a separate meat market and then a handicraft market. The selling raucous, with vendors even calling their wares from the centre of the narrow alleyways.

Gastronomy is key in St Cristobal, some ingredients inherited from the Spaniards, the streets lined with tempting restaurants and food stalls: hams and sausages, roast beef, mole (ha!), stuffed chiles, tamales, stews, soups, sweetbreads (a specialty of the town, but these are literally sweet breads, not the other sort), all manner of sweets and cakes and soups, including the indispensable bread soup. On April 21, 2006, the civil society of San Cristóbal de Las Casas achieved the Guinness World Record, for the largest bread soup in the world.

There are a host of traditional drinks too, including sweet beer. Though the regional spirits Posh or Pox, distilled from corn and cane sugar, are more common.

Staying in St Cristobal - the Casavieja

My hotel is a delightful eighteenth century inn, Casavieja, just off the pedestrianised area. It has old beams galore, courtyards, a fountain and colonial furniture scattered everywhere. And I have a large bathroom with a claw footed tub. So far, so good, though the room is very dark. There is a coffee machine with no water, coffee or tea. I manage to track down the water. And it’s far from delightful when the walls start to vibrate on a Saturday afternoon. There’s some sort of rock music performance going on in the street. Thankfully it finishes at eight. But then the people in the room, opposite come back and hold a three hour conversation. Now, the sink tap is leaking and there’s a puddle under the bath…

Breakfast is in the hotel owned restaurant just up the road. There are seven choices, not to be messed with. And no juice …
Black coated serious waiters. ‘Only one person?’ they inquire aghast and make great play of clearing the other place settings away, with much clucking.

The Rituals of St Juan de Chamula

St Juan de Chamula next, for the Mayan peoples of today. This town is famous for its unique religion, a fusion of Catholicism and the beliefs of the indigenous Tzotzil people, who make up nearly the whole of the population. Many of these people are also Zapatistas, mainly based in Chiapas, and frozen in a war with the government over land rights and resources for their peoples. (Chiapas is the poorest state in Mexico.) No outside police are allowed here - it’s an autonomous area. The people have their own police.

All their clothes are handmade locally, mainly from sheep’s wool - big fluffy tunics and skirts. Sheep are sacred and are not eaten. Different communities wear different colour clothes to distinguish them one from another. The women are subservient to the men and they never wear hats. Those who do not participate in the local rituals are expelled from the area.

The ruined early church of San Sebastian, stands in the middle of the village cemetery;  this abandoned chapel is thought to occupy the site of the first mission at Chamula, destroyed by fire. Today, the local people are enthusiastically preparing for the Day of the Dead, by cleaning the graves. Flowers are being prepared for display.

In the main plaza, the market continues as usual, and the area around the main church (elements of the highly ornate Plateresque or silversmith style, which I confess, I've never heard of before) is fairly quiet. But this is no ordinary church. The religion here is a fusion of Catholicism and the indigenous beliefs, with the emphasis on the latter. I'm getting a very garbled explanation from Memo, which I'm trying to unpick. He tells me that the church is dedicated to St John the Baptist (St Juan), as he came here to visit and founded it. He is also regarded as important as he is the patron saint of animals and everyone has an animal soul.

I cant find any record of St John ever having visited Mexico, though he is highly venerated here, and as I thought, St Francis is the patron saint of animals. However, I read that nagualism involves the belief that each person possesses a dual aspect, or soul: the tonal or animal, representing their everyday awareness and ego, and the nagual (or superego), representing their deeper, limitless self. Shamen or nagual guides can often shapeshift into their animal forms, to help with their work. So, let's go have a look.

A visit to the church is a ticketed experience. I’ve heard that the rituals often involve chickens being sacrificed. So I’m expecting something along the lines of Voodoo. But, this is magical, with hundreds of flickering candles The pews have been removed, (the priest too) and the floor is strewn with fresh pine needles. Rituals are carried out in cleared areas, with burning incense, more candles (lots of wax), and offerings such as coca cola or Posh. Shamen preside, muttering instructions and incantations. Bones and eggs are used to remove evil. Apparently, chickens are only employed in dire cases when the bad energy has to be transferred. One live bird is draped all over a young man and then quietly extinguished with a swift neck wringing.

The walls are lined with saints pictures, men on one side, women on the other. But these are all carrying dual names - they also have local names and, so I'm told, have personal significance to every member of the town. You are chosen by your own saint, who visits you in dreams and will represent a conduit between you and whatever comes next. All the saints hold mirrors. You have to confess to yourself. On the altar, St John the Baptist dominates. Jesus Christ is his cupbearer.

Memo has told me that no photos are allowed in the church and there are small signs to this effect. but he encourages me to take the locals in the plaza and to point my zoom at a group of bigwigs, all clad in matching white wool outfits on the edge of the square. It's only later that I discover cameras have been smashed and folk thrown out of town for taking any pictures at all of people, anywhere.

San Lorenzo Zinacantán and the Rain

Just up the road, the town of San Lorenzo Zinacantán is almost as bizarre (to my European eyes). These are the same indigenous peoples (the Tzotzil Maya), as at Chamula, but here their beliefs have taken a different turn. It’s in doubt for some time whether I’ll ever get to see them, as there’s a huge storm and torrential rain. The mountain roads swiftly turn into criss-crossing rivers and waterfalls.

We eventually splash into a textile shop, a women's cooperative, where a lady smilingly demonstrates the tediously slow process of weaving, with just rope for a frame - a backstrap loom. I know without asking that the cloth is going to be expensive, at that pace. And much of it is also hand embroidered, with flowers, to celebrate all the cultivated blooms, in the hundreds of polytunnels and glasshouses dotting the valley. The town is famous for its flowers, featuring prominently in all the ceremonies. There’s a wood fire oven, in a corner of the building, and another kind lady is rolling and heating tortillas. Cheese, beans, pumpkin seed. Very tasty free treats.

The patron saint here is San Lorenzo and his, and other saints days, are extremely important, celebrated with specific rituals, including bomb type fireworks (to keep the participants alert), all organised by male officials. These are the major domos, the wealthiest males in town. Wearing shorts, headscarves with tassels, boater hats and clumpy gladiator type leather sandals, like cut out boots, they are finishing preparations inside the church. It is small and white, but it's the decorations and rituals which hold the interest. Here too, are many votive candles, which are burned above ceramic animal shapes.

The Sumidero Canyon

Now it's geographical wonders and I'm taking a boat trip up The Sumidero Canyon, 45 minutes south of St Cristobal and 1500 metres closer to sea level. The canyon was originally the result of a tectonic plate shift, but continues to be carved out by the mighty Rio Grijalva, which runs northwards, through it. Towering granite walls, crocodiles, vultures, egrets, cormorants, herons and plenty of pelicans, lumbering overhead and perched on branches. A couple of waterfalls. It is the rainy season after all. One of the falls plunges over moss coloured, frond-like, limestone formations. Christmas Tree Falls is an apt description. At its tallest, the canyon is over 1000 metres, with up to 250 metres of water beneath us.

The stunning gorge has a long proud history. The local peoples were said to jump to their deaths here, rather than submit to the Spanish. It is pictured on the Chiapas coat of arms and prominently displayed on the boat.

Beyond the canyon is a lake and then a 250 metre high dam wall. There’s a drowned village beneath us here. Before the dam was built (1981), the canyon walls were higher and the river far less serene. No boat trips were possible then. We turn at the dam wall and an enterprising family intercept us with a ‘convenience store boat’, making sales of chips (crisps) fruit and soda. It seems that ordinary bags of chips won’t suffice here. The salesmen lop off the tops of the (generously sized) bags expertly, with a knife, and douse them with various sauces and vinegars, mainly chilli.

Chiapa de Corzo

A last stop, at another Pueblo Mágico, further down the river; this time it’s Chiapa de Corzo. This was the first Spanish city to be founded in the area, which later became known as Chiapas state. Prior to that this place was settled by the Zoque culture. Their conqueror was Diego de Mazariegos, who went on to found St Cristobal. There was great ongoing resistance and the leader, Sanguieme, is said to live on in the ancient ceiba tree, in the plaza. That’s where he was hanged. Adjacent, there’s an unusual Moorish style Spanish fountain (1562). There’s a simple church and handicraft stalls running all down to the river from the square, as well as restaurants on the river bank. This is another Chiapas tourist hot spot.

Saturday night is more peaceful, but there are a sequence of firecrackers. The festival is starting early for some.

Driving to Oaxaca

Through Southern Chiapas

Now I am heading to the Pacific coast of Oaxaca state. The journey is going to take two days. Past the sprawling and historically contentious capital of Chiapas, Tuxtla Gutierrez. South, through mini tepuis. Chiapas it seems, is an enormous folded limestone slab. And on to Septura National Park, green and velvety; then through the southern Sierra Madre.

I have driver Felix and this is my third day with guide Memo. I’m being micromanaged constantly. Whether I need sun block, where to walk, what’s wrong with my photos. He stands about six inches away from me when explaining. And he does a lot of that. And he’s much too touchy feely. At the same time, he calls me Susan every other sentence. No one has done that since I was at school. Presumably all this is to make sure I’m paying attention. On the plus side, his belief that I’m incapable of managing my belongings means that he carries everything for me all the time.

I always worry that I’m being too judgemental about people, but I notice that Memo is navigating from the back seat, during our road journeys. Felix has the temerity to turn on his dashboard GPS and is swiftly admonished. Felix rolls his eyes at me and I have a fit of the giggles.

Oaxaca State

The welcome to Oaxaca sign is huge, but that’s all they’ve spent their budget on. The scenery changes immediately. The road surface over the border, as we turn, parallel with the ocean, is dire, riddled with potholes. Whilst we are wriggling to evade those, we also have to stop repeatedly at National Guard checkpoints. This is the Pan American Highway, used by would be illegal immigrants to the USA, from all areas of Latin America. And to be fair, this is a highly volcanic zone, so as fast as they repair the potholes, there's a mini earthquake and some more appear.

The landscape flat and the buildings simple timber and unkempt. This is hacienda and finca country: coffee, sugar and cattle. Thankfully, the road further into the state has been repaired and we can cease zig zagging about.

Toilet stops are important of course. They're not short of public baños in Mexico. But most of them are privately owned, either manned or accessible by turnstiles. The standard charge is five pesos. This one is particularly memorable. It even dispenses a strip of toilet paper from the slot machine.

Increasing numbers of turbines alongside the highway indicate La Ventosa. The name means Windy One and it’s been called this for a reason. It’s now surrounded by wind farms. When tasked, Chat GPT has calculated there are roughly 1600 on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. Tehuantepec is where we're heading for an overnight stop. (There’s no other reason to go there, other than a giant statue by the town sign.)

Juchitan de Zaragoza

But, en route, we halt at Juchitan de Zaragoza. This is another indigenous town, with a tradition of growing flowers The spreading indoor and outdoor market is full of bright and fussy festival dresses and handbags. This place is also interesting in that the people embrace a third gender, the muxe. These are men who dress and act as female, but often have a strong management role within the family and, as such ,are highly respected.

More Oaxaca State

Heading further west into Oaxaca (it's confusing how orientation by coast changes in central America), beyond Tehuantepec; I can see why this state is so lauded. The coastal plains narrow, the mountains approach the sea the Sierra Madre again and the vegetation is stunning. Tall cacti fingers and plenty of wild flowers orange scarlet pink blue and gold. Rivers and sandbanks transverse the route every so often, glimpses into the secrets of distant valleys.

Nothing is perfect. There’s a sprinkling of potholes on this single carriageway road. Huzzah, they’re building a new two-lane highway further on. Except this means they’re replacing a bridge today. They don’t tell us till we’ve arrived at the spot. We can either wait till 1 pm. Well, that’s the appointed time. Or take a detour, all round Santa María Huatulco. The diversion inevitably involves a string of villages, the whole guarded by the inexorably speed restricting topes. That adds an hour to the journey, but I get a good look at the many bilingual schools (Spanish and the local indigenous dialect) and the crops. Maize is fitted into every corner, of every slope. From a distance, it could be rows of small spruces.

More snatched views of rivers, lagoons and the coast (Memo says we can’t stop, as we don't have time) and we’re at the surfer’s paradise of Puerto Escondido.

Puerto Escondido

I’m staying in a quiet semi residential quarter in Puerto Escondido, in the Hacienda Suites. Its not quite as grand as it sounds but it is exceptionally pleasant. Gorgeous gardens with fountain and swimming pool. The room is bright (almost lurid) green, boutique style, with separate shower and toilet. Perhaps that’s what makes it a suite. The only meals provided here are breakfasts (at additional cost), but those are excellent, beautifully presented. And there's a ginger cat, who has decided to share my sunbed with me.

Two blocks away, is a boulevard, lined with restaurants. The most well- known and established of these is El Cafecito. Comfortable and medium prices, with fast service, but unremarkable. Frozen cocktails in plastic cups. Sacrilege. El Nene (seafood) is more expensive, but decidedly nicer. Though some of the dishes are, let me say, unusual. Shrimp with cheese, bacon and barbecue sauce.

Playa Carrizalillo

Just beyond this is Playa Carrizalillo, ( I read) the prettiest beach in town. Golden sand edged with rocks. Sadly, it's accessed via 170 steps. The journey down isn’t too bad…but it’s definitely a beach for the young and fit. This is where the beginner surfers hang out. There are a string of them dripping and glowing, filtering back up the staircase, as I make my descent at nine o’clock.
They graduate to the main surfer beach, Zicatela, south of the Bahia Principal.

Playa Carrizalillo is only a small beach and a good half of the width is taken up by restaurants and sunbeds. The beds are 250 pesos for one (some bars will only rent in pairs). There’s just one block of toilets, which charges a whacking 15 pesos ( about 60 pence) a visit. So I’m going to laze on my sunbed all day to get my money’s worth. Except that I spend a large proportion of the day chatting to travellers Sam and Ryan, from Melbourne via Texas, where they work, and Anthony from New York, who has been in the air force in Korea and is now planning on going to university in Rome.

The time goes very quickly. what with this conversation and watching the surfers. There are some impressive breakers. I venture into the swell myself, to find the water the perfect temperature, to bob in. I manage to emerge with a modicum of dignity. The getting in was another story.

At five, I depart to find a meal, having realised I haven’t eaten all day. Most of the beach bars only merit one star on Trip Advisor. Sam and Ryan are off to the airport and back to the USA. Anthony speaks Spanish and has palled up with some Mexican ladies who have enticed him into town with them. It's a small world.

Bahia Principal

Today, a taxi to the Bahia Principal. It's not as commercialised or packed as I had feared. In fact, it’s mostly a bay for fishing boats, with a small river emptying into the bay. The fishermen are busy, readying their vessels. On the far side, is the long stretch of sand which is the main surfing beach. But neither offer enticing swimming, so I decide to head off to Puerto Angelito between here and yesterday’s beach. I’m told it’s safer for swimming and has easier access, but is not as well kept or pretty.

Puerto Angelito

I’ve failed to take into account the hills I have to climb, on the half-hour walk, or the fact that it's already 30 degrees. True, there are fewer steps down to the water, but they are far more crumbly and the route still leads downhill and will have to be addressed, in reverse, on the way back.

But, IMHO, Puerto Angelito and the Playa Manzanillo directly opposite are even more picturesque than Carrizalillo. Sure, they lack the dramatic cliff backdrop and are even more more petite, but the bay is lined with attractive rock formations and the sand is wider, so the row of beach bars is less intrusive. It seems the locals agree, as they stream past, as the day draws on.

I decide to risk the food. Beach beds here are free ,if you eat and drink. Calamari and chips sounds a good bet, by the ocean. But we are definitely back to one star. I’m served very finely chopped overcooked octopus - perhaps they were trying to disguise it.

Bus to Oaxaca

The bus to Oaxaca holds more tourists than Mexicans, in complete contrast to my other journeys. There’s also a really obnoxious baggage handler who flatly refuses to let me take my carry on bag on-board even though I explain it contains my camera and other essentials I need on board and that I have previously been allowed to ride with it tucked between my legs. I unpack all my bits and carry them on board separately. I’ve just checked the company policy and it should have been allowed as it fits under the seat. At a pinch. Jobsworth.

Today, they’re showing Harry Potter in Spanish to compete with the drivers more sedate, traditional Mexican music. Up into the mountains again to find we have lost five degrees and most of the cloying humidity. It's positively chilly again, in the evening. and I'm busy practising pronouncing Oaxaca correctly. (Wahaka).

It's hard to know what to make of Oaxaca city, when I arrive, as it's buried in traffic. There has been a protest today, with people blocking the streets. Far from being a rapist and murderer my vey friendly taxi driver Antonio explains this all via Google Translate. We’ve swapped life histories, by the time I've arrived at the Angel Inn, on the northern outskirts of the city, in San Felipe.

Oaxaca City

Oaxaca city was founded by a detachment of Mexica warriors, sent by the eighth tlatoani, the Emperor Ahuizotl, around the year 1486. In 1532, by royal decree, it received the title of "Very noble and loyal city" from King Charles I of Spain , but was first named Antequera de Oaxaca. It became just Oaxaca in 1821, but in 1872, following the death of Benito Juárez, a Mexican president of Zapotec origins (the Zapotec peoples lived in this area from 500BC onwards), the city took his surname, finally becoming, officially, Oaxaca de Juárez.

Oaxaca is the most hyped city in Mexico, but it’s deserved. The Santa Domingo church, adjacent cultural museum, zocalo and cathedral and surrounding narrow streets of the Centro Historico are gloriously atmospheric. It helps, of course, that this is said to be the best place to witness the Day of the Dead Festival (the state with the highest proportion of indigenous peoples). Streamers and flags wave over most of the streets, there are special statues in the pedestrianised centre, the zocalo is teeming with tubs of marigolds and just about every building is adorned with a tasteful skeleton or two. There are plenty of roof top cafes from which to enjoy the views of the churches.

The Museum of Cultures of Oaxaca takes up most of what was the Santo Domingo Monastery, annexed to the church. It's a wonderful hotch potch of treasures from pre-Hispanic Zapotec and Mixtec civilizations to its colonial and modern eras. there's no gallery plan so exploring involves wandering along dark corridors, on two floors and peeking into assorted chambers to see what's the theme of that room is and then trying to read the Spanish explanations. But the building alone is worth the entry fee and there are fabulous views, through sundry arches, across the valley and into the centre's botanic gardens.

Oaxaca is built across three valleys, in the most seismically active area pf the country, and has been destroyed several times by earthquakes. I’m relieved to read that San Felipe, in the north, is the safest region, of the three.

Monte Albán

In the south, on a mountain top, with views across the three valleys, is the almost equally famous ruined city of Monte Albán, founded by the Zapotecs in 500 BC. Monte Albán was one of the most important cities in Mesoamerica. It served as the capital of the Zapotecs and, at its peak, Monte Albán had around 35,000 inhabitants, most of whom lived on the terraced slopes of the mountain, dedicated to agriculture. Around 800 AD it was abandoned. No-one knows why. However, the ceremonial precinct (and only this) was reused by the Mixtec peoples from further north. They built on top of the existing structures, as was common practice. No-one is sure of the Zapotec name, but the Spanish named the mountain Monte Albán, because of the white blossom which covered the slopes.

Getting to Monte Albán is my worst nightmare. I’m on a bilingual tour, with two minibuses of people. It takes an hour to pick everyone up from their hotels and decant them onto different transport. The museum has terrible acoustics, to add to my woes. At times I can't tell if the guide is talking Spanish or English. At least I thought the museum was the problem but he is still mumbling away as we ascend to the site.

So, I've looked up most of the relevant information afterwards, using the few key words that I retained. most of it is pretty bloody. Although its existence was probably known of during the colonial era, Monte Albán is not mentioned in the chronicles of the Spanish conquest or indeed, in anything, until the early nineteenth century. During the first half of the twentieth century, the Mexican Alfonso Caso, discovered the so called Tomb 7, which contained the largest deposit of Mesoamerican gold work ever found. The metal came from South America and the jade found on the skulls from Guatemala. Most of these artefacts I saw, in the Oaxaca Museum of Cultures. But of course, many others had already been stolen over the years.

The museum at Monte Albán displays an assortment of artefacts. Olmec type figures with helmet-like heads and thick lips. It seems, from the remains, that intermarriage here also resulted in babies with birth defects. Magic mushrooms. The site is known for its 'danzantes' (dancers), carved stone figures believed to depict dead or tortured prisoner. Some of whom, it's thought might have been castrated, and their blood extracted. Also, women giving birth. A case of skulls, which have been trepanned. And a whole series of stones with carvings and hieroglyphs on them. The most famous stele has a aby with jaguar skin on being anointed.

But the site itself is amazing. Reminiscent of Delphi, with its mountain vistas all round. And a great view of the buildings (80% of what I see has been restored), on its levelled mountain top. there are associated terraces all around the slopes. As with most of these sites, only the priests and rulers were allowed to enter the large ceremonial areas, dedicated to worship of the gods. Palaces, tombs, altars, courtyards, shrines, pyramids, an observatory and ball courts. Tombstones designed to display the strength and power of the armies to the local peoples. It would have been extraordinary over one thousand years ago.

And fortunately some of my fellow tourists turn out to be very nice. I'm dragged and propelled up the many steps by a very lovely female couple, from London. I hadn't realised they were on a different bus and I lost sight of them in the market and couldn't say good-bye. I hope they read this.

The Angel Inn

The hotel is a paradox. The rooms are of the faded reproduction wood variety, with dark wood panelling and brown tiles. But they are gorgeously arranged in two tiers, on opposing rows painted in vibrant blues and oranges, with domes and wrought iron balconies. Plenty of terracotta pots. There’s a pool too, but it is small and shaded. Interesting acoustics. The children’s shrieks echo up and down the rows of rooms, as does the clatter of the groundsman’s trolley. I thought there was a parade going past. The restaurant is like an old-fashioned parlour, with brown tinted floral table cloths. But the whole of the reception area is also dotted with fifties artefacts. Coca cola tills and gasoline pumps. It's all a little odd. Nice margaritas though.

Mexican Food and Drink

• Many travellers rave about Mexican food. I wasn't impressed on my last visit and to be honest I'm not much more impressed this time, though I'm enjoying the country much more. Nearly all of it revolves around tortillas, round and flat and usually made from the ubiquitous corn. They have tortilla presses in every kitchen.
• Enchiladas: tortillas rolled up, with sauce on them. Tacos: folded tortillas with stuffing. Quesadillas: tortilla filled with melted cheese (and other foods too sometimes), Tostados: toasted tacos, Burritos: large filled flour tortillas rolled into a tube. Other foods, such as tamales are still corn based dough. Traditional feast food, pozole, is a stew made from hominy (large corn kernels) and meat. You get the picture. There's also Tex-mex- like fajitas, which are grilled meat (traditionally skirt steak) and sautéed bell peppers and onions, served with tortillas (what else?) and various toppings.

• Otherwise, Mexican cooking makes use of its native plants: beans, tomatoes, avocadoes (guacamole), squashes and cocoa (beloved by the Aztecs). Cheese commonly features -usually soft and white. There's chilli in nearly everything. Sometimes it's hidden, sometimes it's in the form of actual chillies. The small green innocuous looking ones are the hottest. And, just in case that isn't enough there's usually a pot of pale green sauce on the table too. Don't be deceived by its appearance. That's really, really hot. There was chilli in my breakfast beans today and nougat gateau with chilli is advertised as a dessert.
• The chilli is a perfect disguise for the fact that the meat or other filling is often overcooked and/or not very nice; cheese is the safest, by a long way.
• More hopefully, tropical fruits, are also unsurprisingly common, as many are indigenous to the Americas: guava, prickly pear, sapote, mangoes, bananas, pineapple and cherimoya (custard apple) are popular. I love guava juice and there's plenty of fresh orange juice.
• The Mexicans are clearly on a health kick. There’s hardly any chocolate available, though that might relate to the heat. And anything sugary, like Coca Cola is plastered with large labels, saying Excess Calories and Excess Sugar. That doesn’t stop the Mexicans drinking it. It's the favourite beverage by far, in Chiapas. Even though Pepsi, and some Coke bottles, have sneakily had their sugar reduced and nasty artificial sweetener added, without this being flagged as coke zero or whatever. It only tells you on the list of ingredients. I still maintain sweeteners are worse for you than sugar. And they taste disgusting.
• And, of course, I have to mention the margarita. it vies with the caipirinha for best cocktail ever, IMHO.

Bus to Mexico City

The bus journey to Mexico City is a little more exciting than the others. The moustachioed driver seems a little disorganised as he arrives. But he's a character. When we've finally boarded and departed he suddenly stops the bus at a pharmacy, rushes in, and buys two packets of ibuprofen. He swallows one immediately. Every time we stop at lights, which is frequently, he swigs water, looks at his phone, or prods a wrapped package on the dashboard. Then we make another stop outside an ADO office for him to get out and greet a friend. Back off again, he finally unwraps the package, to reveal a large stuffed tortilla, which be proceeds to devour with gusto. The bus swerves several times. At least he eats it quickly.

Protests against the government and corruption have been going on all over the country. There are a line of protesting women blocking the pay booths at the toll plaza. Bandanas over their faces, outlaw style. They stand silently holding up the traffic for maybe 15 minutes before melting away. Then they return.

Later, the driver notices me trying to take photos. We're now passing through typical Mexican countryside, as depicted in the films. Steep, rocky hillsides covered in assorted cacti. Anyway, he raises the sunscreens, so I can get a view out of the front.
I’m checking the journey on Google maps, when I can get a signal. And now a nasty surprise. My itinerary says the journey will take four and a half hours, but Google is telling me six and a half. And I haven’t brought anything to eat. It's a long two hours.

Now to explore Mexico City and join my Day of the Dead Tour.

Mexico - Facts and Factoids

• Estados Unidos Mexicanos (United Mexican States), is the official name of Mexico.
• Mexico is often known as El Tricolore, because of its three coloured (red, green and white) flag.
• Mexico is one of the world's 17 megadiverse countries, ranking fifth in natural biodiversity.
• Mexico has 32 UNESCO world heritage sites (first in the Americas and seventh in the world).
• This is the northernmost country in Latin America.
• There are more Spanish speakers here, than in any other country.
• Mexico is a federal republic, with a presidential system of government' The federal legislature consists of the Congress of the Union, comprising the democratically elected Chamber of Deputies, which represents the population, and the Senate, which provides equal representation for each state. Mexico's federal structure grants autonomy to its 32 states, and its political system is influenced by both indigenous traditions and European ideals.

• Mexico has coasts on both the Atlantic/Caribbean and Pacific oceans. The longest river is the Rio Grande, forming a natural eastern border with the United States.
• Mexico is volcanic and most of the Mexican central and northern territories are high altitude. Two mountain ranges, the Sierra Madre Oriental and Sierra Madre Occidental, are extensions of the Rocky Mountains, from North America.
• Every year, millions of monarch butterflies migrate from the U.S.A. and Canada to Mexico. (I would love to see this - it's described in Barbara Kingsolver's novel Flight Behaviour).

Mexico - A Very Brief History

• Mesoamerica was one of six cradles of civilization worldwide, with the first inhabitants settling over 13,000 years ago
• The Mesoamerican area gave rise to a series of cultural developments which included complex societies, agriculture, cities, monumental architecture, writing, and calendrical systems. Agriculture was developing here by 6,000 B.C.
• The development of civilisations in Mexico was complicated:
  • Pre Classic Period: The earliest complex civilization in Mexico was the Olmec culture, which flourished on the Gulf Coast, from around 1500 BC. The Maya and Zapotec civilizations developed further complex centres at Calakmul and Monte Albán, respectively. The Mixtec culture began to develop farming settlements in the mountainous region between the current Mexican states of Puebla, Oaxaca, and Guerrero.

• Classic period (roughly 200–900 AD): saw the further development of the Mayans and the ascendancy of Teotihuacán, a military and commercial empire, in Central Mexico. Teotihuacán, with a population of more than 150,000 people, built some of the largest pyramidal structures in the pre-Columbian Americas. The Teotihuacán Empire collapsed, around 600 AD
• Early Post-classic Era (1000–1519 AD) saw the Toltecs migrate into the central valley of Mexico and establish their capital at Tula around the 10th century. A revitalized Maya developed in the northern Yucatan, with major cities like Chichén Itzá and Uxmal. This was the height of the Mixtec civilization. And the Aztecs (Mexica) arrived in the Valley of Mexico and founded the city of Tenochtitlán in 1325. They become the dominant force in central Mexico by the 1420s, establishing a political and economic empire based in the city of Tenochtitlan (modern Mexico City), which extended from central Mexico to the border with Guatemala. Mēxihco is the Nahuatl term for the heartland of the Aztec Empire, namely the Valley of Mexico and surrounding territories, with its people being known as the Mexica. was dominated, by the Mixtec in Oaxaca, and the Mayans area at Chichén Itzá and Mayapán. Toward the end of the post-Classic period, the Aztecs (or Mexica) established dominance,
• The Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire began in February 1519, when Hernán Cortés founded the Spanish city of Veracruz. In 1521 the Spanish captured Tenochtitlan and founded their capital, Mexico City, on its ruins. This was the beginning of a 300-year-long colonial era, during which Mexico was known as Nueva España (New Spain).
• New Spain became a major centre of the transoceanic economy, during the Age of Discovery, fuelled by silver mining (there were vast deposits) and its position, as a hub between Europe and Asia. This gave rise to one of the largest multiracial populations in the world.

• Chocolate, chillies and corn were introduced to the world from Mexico.
• Napoleon's'' invasion of Spain, in The Peninsular War, led to the 1810–1821 Mexican War of Independence, as the Mexicans took advantage of European unrest
• The First Mexican Empire quickly collapsed into the short-lived First Mexican Republic. In 1848, Mexico lost nearly half its territory to an American invasion.
• Civil war, followed by French intervention, culminated in the establishment of the Second Mexican Empire under Emperor Maximilian I of Austria, but he was overthrown by Republican forces, led by Benito Juárez.
• The late nineteenth century saw the long dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz, whose modernization policies came at the cost of severe social unrest. the 1910–1920 Mexican Revolution led to him being overthrown Díaz.
• Rapid industrialization and economic growth have sat alongside ongoing political unrest. Despite high levels of poverty (30%) Mexico's economy continues to grow rapidly and is projected to become one of the largest in the world.

Is Mexico Safe to Visit?

Most visitors to Mexico have no problem. Travellers report that most of the violence (and there undoubtedly is some) is between cartels. But poverty levels remain high and the FCO list a daunting list of possible issues. It's essential to exercise caution, take advice from the locals and stay alert.

Issues include:

• Terrorism and kidnapping - avoid crowded places and public gatherings in large Mexican cities.
• Gang violence.
• Protests and civil unrest - ditto. It's illegal to participate in political activities as as a foreigner.
• Road blocks set up by cartels and areas controlled by cartels. Take local advice and stay away. Acapulco is sadly, no longer a good idea.
• Street crime is common in cities and tourist areas. Hide your phone and camera. Don't wear valuables. Watch your luggage and belongings, even in hotels and on public transport.

• Take care withdrawing money from ATMs or using exchange offices (bureau de change). Criminals have targeted people using these services. It’s generally safer to use ATMs during daylight hours inside shops or malls. Avoid withdrawing large amounts and watch who is around you while you are at an ATM.
• Be wary of criminals posing as police officers and trying to fine or arrest you for no reason. They have targeted travellers driving rental cars. Also, be wary of genuine police officers extorting money from tourists for alleged minor offences or traffic violations. Uber and Didi services are deemed safe. But Uber is banned in many cities and I couldn't get Didi to download on my British registered phone, even with a Mexican e-sim.
• Unlicensed taxi drivers have robbed and assaulted passengers, including in Mexico City. Use the better regulated ‘sitio’ taxis from authorised taxi ranks or ask your hotel to order you a taxi. At airports, only use authorised pre-paid airport taxi services.

Remember, most travellers encounter no problems and have a great time!

What Can I See and Do in Mexico?

Mexico is a diverse and absorbing country. Read about what I did here:

• The Yucatan
• The Southern States
• Mexico City
• The Day of the Dead Festival

A (Very) Brief History of Chile

• The territory of Chile has been populated by migrating Native Americans, for the last 10,000 years, or since at least 3,000 BC, depending on which part of Wikipedia you believe.
• By the 16th century, Spanish conquistadors began to colonise the region of present-day Chile, and the territory was a colony between 1540 and 1818, when it gained independence from Spain.
• The country's economic development was successively marked by the export of first agricultural produce, then saltpetre (from guano) and later copper.

Facts and Factoids

• Chile is one of the longest countries in the world, with a coastline around 6500 kilometres long. However, it is also one of the narrowest in the world with a width of just over 200 km.
• At a count just over 1300, Chile is one of the countries with the most volcanoes and several of them are still active.
• The Atacama Desert is the driest place on earth. Average rainfall measures about 0.6 inches a year. 
• Chile is one of the few countries on Earth that has an officially funded and recognised UFO research bureau.
• Chileans are the second biggest consumers of bread in the world - just behind the Germans. 
• The wine is good…(The Spanish brought at least one useful thing with them...)
• The Chileans like to refer to their country as 'The Land of Poets'. This is because two of the country’s most well-known and beloved literary figures were the Nobel prize winners, Gabriela Mistral and Pablo Neruda.

Why is Chile Called Chile?

No-one really knows why Chile is called Chile. . ... One theory says  Chile may derive its name from the indigenous Mapuche word chilli, which may mean “where the land ends,” “the deepest point of the Earth." Another says it is based on the Mapuche imitation of a bird call, which sounds like “cheele cheele."

Is Chile a Safe Place to Visit?

Chile currently ranks as the 27th safest country on the planet. It is usually considered the safest country in South America, together with Uruguay.

Is Chile a Poor Country?

Chile has poverty rate of 8.6%, which is relatively low and it ranks overall as a developing, but middle income country.

Where to Visit in Chile?

Chile has some incredible scenery - as well as the wine:

• The Atacama Desert is awesome, with some amazing rock formations.
• Easter Island and the Moai statues are well worth the long flight.
• Santiago and Valparaiso have some great hotels.
• The volcanoes of the Lake District are stunning - if you can see them - they have Lake District weather.
• But my favourite by a mile is Patagonia - breathtaking

South American Fillers

This trip, I'm visiting the countries in Latin America that I haven't been to - so it's a slightly odd journey - Uruguay, Paraguay and El Salvador. Starting with Uruguay. In essence, Uruguay is three giant river deltas. Mostly agricultural, either flat or very gently undulating, sprinkled with silos and cattle. Think Essex livened up with the odd palm tree and eucalyptus. So, the view from the Pan American Highway, Route 1, wending its way slightly inland isn't very exciting. But the sky is blue and the buildings in the small towns are Wild West saloon style clay in vivid colours. Tangerine is a favourite.

Uruguay - in a Nutshell

• Uruguay is officially the Oriental Republic of Uruguay, which is a little surprising, but I suppose it's because its on the eastern side of South America.
• It's geographically the second-smallest nation in South America (after Suriname).
• Also, possibly surprisingly, according to Wikipedia, Uruguay is ranked first in Latin America for democracy, peace and low perception of corruption and is first in South America when it comes to press freedom, size of the middle class and prosperity.
• Europeans came late to this part of South America. Colonia del Sacramento was the first settlement, originally a smuggling paradise, set up by the colonial Portuguese, to needle the Spanish. Until the Spanish annexed the whole country and put a stop to it.
• Uruguay won its independence between 1811 and 1828, following a four-way struggle between Portugal and Spain, and later Argentina and Brazil

Narbona Wine Lodge

And my wine lodge perched on the edge of the River Plate on the western side of Uruguay is fabulous. Only a hundred years old but totally preserved in character, complete with stone walls, iron doors and original vehicles. Though the odd John Deere intrudes, as does the electric buggy I'm invited to use. I'm considering that. There could be carnage! Especially as they have left bottles of the honey sweetened estate grappa out for guests to help themselves.

Food Has Become a Preoccupation

More importantly, at the moment, lounging by the pool, I'm considering what to order from the menu - it's supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Uruguay - all local queso, jamon and pasta and I'm trying to dredge up enough Spanish to do it justice. Nobody speaks English. I'm not sure what I would do without Google Translate.

There is nobody else at dinner - maybe it's because everyone eats so late. Though I think I'm the only person staying here.

Food has become a preoccupation. Sleep is followed by a wonderful breakfast which doesn't augur well for the waistline - jam, yogurt, more ham and cheese, all produced onsite, together with the most sublime croissants baked in the little stone panaderia next to the restaurant.

Adventures at the Finca

It's extraordinarily windy, which is just as well, as it's sizzling hot. I feel (and probably look) like a sausage grilling. And I intend to do nothing today, except sit by the pool and possibly wander the finca. There is a relentless cacophony of parrots squawking in the trees and an iguana is limbering up below me. Over the pool a cloud of dragonflies is zig zagging as they struggle to maintain position in the wind - a dash of iridescent humming bird is zipping through them. The next victim of the gusts is my umbrella, which does a Mary Poppins and has to be rescued from the next field by a gardener. He then removes them all in case I'm stupid enough to raise one again.

By the River Plate

I'm told that there are views of the River Plate up the hill so I decide to abjure the buggy invitation and hike through the rows of vines. Ten minutes later, lost, covered in dust and pursued by barking dogs I regret that decision. Eventually I stagger up to a small pavilion on the hill top. Even at this narrowing of the estuary the river is huge, stretching to the horizon.

Back at the ranch (good to say that literally!) more adventures await. There's a huge spider clambering up my curtains. The owner assures me it's not poisonous and wafts ant killer (!!) around the suite. But I'm not convinced. It looks just like my internet picture of the South American wandering spiders - described as aggressive and deadly.

Colonia Del Sacramento

Next day, I'm driving back along the edge of the giant Plate estuary. Blue signs suggest it is filled with submerged battleships, from the Second World War, some of them English. Colonia Del Sacramento, a world heritage site, is a favourite day trip for Argentines hopping over the river, on the boat, from Buenos Aires. This is also the route for the Pan American highway - via the ferry.

The Old City is a UNESCO site. It's all cobbled streets, museums and bijoux restaurants. The highlights are: the City Gate and wooden drawbridge, a lighthouse, church and convent ruins, the Viceroy's House – the Casa del Virrey, reconstructed from the original ruins and an abandoned bullring.

Montevideo, the Capital of Uruguay

Another two hours along the bay is Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, proper name San Felipe y Santiago de Montevideo. Surprisingly, Montevideo is the southernmost capital in the Americas. Even Buenos Aires is further north. Wikipedia also adds that it has the best quality of life of any city in Latin America. Less encouragingly, the FCO section on Montevideo warns of street crime like bag snatching and pick-pocketing, car break ins, muggings and armed robberies. So much for all the plaudits about Uruguay.

Montevideo is compact and very easy to walk round. It's a café society, supplemented with a few old palaces, a sprinkling of art deco and some hefty colonial buildings. It revolves around the Plaza de la Independencia and the Ciudad Vieja (the old town). The most impressive palace is the Palacio Salvo, with a huge unwieldy tower. It was briefly. the tallest building in Latin America. Another must see landmark is the neo-classical Solis Theatre.

The Mercado del Puerto is an old port market, now transformed into another foodie haven, a maze of steakhouses. Perhaps the pleasantest part of my exploration is a wander along the Rambla, an esplanade that hugs the many beaches of Montevideo Bay. It turns out to be the longest continuous sidewalk in the world. The sand is good for a nap before I turn back. It's a shame that there is a faint whiff of hydrogen sulphide over the whole bay area - and an even stronger smell in my bathroom.

My hotel, the Alma Historica, is well placed in the old city and has character - themed character. My room is named after an actress - Dona Trinidad. There are chandeliers and display cases packed with fans and travelling alarm clocks, like the one I had when I was a teenager.

Jose Ignacio, The Riviera of Uruguay

Another day and I'm heading east now. This side of Uruguay is reminiscent of the south of France - pine trees, dunes and mile after mile of sandy yellow beaches. It's a huge international playground overlooked by the little hills that gave Montevideo its name. I haven't seen anything remotely approaching a mountain. My destination is a beach resort called Jose Ignacio, an upmarket fishing village, the St Tropez of this Riviera.I 'm told.

A Posada with a Problem

My posada is described as stylish, set back from the beach in beautiful gardens with little swimming pools. No one has passed on the information that it was almost destroyed in a bush fire last week. It's not exactly picturesque. The surrounding vegetation is charred, the little pools are half empty with specks of charcoal floating in them, the umbrellas and sunbed cushions are pocked with ember burns and workmen are clearing away the ruins of surrounding buildings. Everything reeks of smoke. I suppose it's better than bad eggs.

The guys running the place have me organised in a jiffy, though. Three taxis booked for the next three nights to take me to three different restaurants. I'm not allowed to go before 8.30 or it will be too quiet. OMG that's 11.30 at home. I will need matchsticks.

My room has a glass multi coloured wash basin, a wood burning stove and a jacuzzi that looks over the sea (and the blackened landscape). It's a surreal scene.

There are towels, chairs and more umbrellas, and I'm told that the beach is 200 metres walk. Double that. The chair is heavy and keeps trying to unfold and the umbrella even more cumbersome. It's slow going on the sand trail through the dunes, so I take off my flip flops. The sand burns my feet and evil little prickles attack my toes. When I finally arrive the beach is beautiful but deserted. The perpetual wind is blasting sand so fast that dunes are appearing in front of me. The umbrella takes off. I should have known better.

Jose Ignacio Beach

The next day I wander up the beach to the lighthouse and the little town. The waves crashing on the empty sand are energising, but the Atlantic in Uruguay is murky and uninviting. It's also icy. One toe dip is enough to convince me that there won't be any swimming. It's a great view from the top of the lighthouse.

More Food and a Theft in Uruguay

The three restaurants are all amazing. Michelin starred chefs, Spanish staff wintering here, log fires and bags of atmosphere. It’s definitely very Mediterranean, with prices to match. Who would have thought the Uruguayan USP would be the cuisine?

Later, I take out my cash stash from the separate little wallet I've been keeping it in only to find that I've been robbed - 300 dollars or so! Whoever did it was very crafty and lifted six fifty dollar bills from the back so I didn’t notice till I took it all out just now. Also, I think some sterling and euros.

I’m distressed and shaken but there is nothing I can do about it as I don’t know where it went. Perhaps I should have taken more notice of those FCO warnings. My bag has been left out in the room a couple of times. There was no safe in Narbona and the one in Montevideo wouldn't work for a while. So I don’t suppose I can claim on insurance either. I just hope I have enough cash to last me till the end and I'm really cross with myself for being naïve and trusting. I hope I do better in Buenos Aires. The omens aren't good, my flight has been cancelled.

Colombia?

Colombia, I’m told, is now more peaceable than it was and safe to visit. Well, most of it. And it’s a big country. I'm supposed to be on a group tour of Colombia for two weeks, but there is only one other person in my group. Richard is clearly somewhere on the autistic spectrum and it's like travelling with a very self centred demanding child. I think he's also gay. This is not going to be a romantic liaison.

I got here (to encouragingly named El Dorado Airport) via Madrid and I’ve been trying to spot the drug cartel mobsters on the plane. The glitzy ones up front I assume. I was assured that Colombia is much safer nowadays and is gearing up for tourism. That might be true and there is certainly a lot of restoration, but I’ve already seen a knife fight in the road (from the safety of a car) and been warned not to walk round Bogota on my own (great when I’m travelling alone - as I don't think I can count Richard). Apparently, muggings are almost a given in certain areas.

Colombia, the Gateway to South America - in a Nutshell

• Colombia has territories in North and South America, as it stretches into the Isthmus of Panama, the land bridge joining the two continents. This was the only route south, so, as a result Colombia has a very diverse population. Colombia has been inhabited by various indigenous peoples, since at least 12,000 BC. Today’s heritage reflects various Amerindian civilisations, European settlement, forced African labour, as well as immigration from Europe and the Middle East
• Colombia is named after Christopher Columbus, who ’discovered South America’. Colombia was initially intended to refer to the whole of the New World. The area now called the Republic of Colombia was known as New Granada, when it first became independent.
• Colombia achieved independence under the renowned Simon Bolivar, who was the country's first president and is much venerated. But the years since then have been plagued by various forms of civil war. American influence led to the secession of the department of Panama, which became a country in its own right. (The Americans wanted to build the Panama Canal). Internal conflict then became more centred around the drug cartels, who were more firmly established in the last decades of the twentieth century.
• Colombia has the second-highest level of biodiversity in the world, with areas of Amazon rainforest, mountains grasslands and deserts. It is the only country in South America with coastlines and islands along both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Wow.

Bogota, Capital of Colombia

New Year in Bogota

Bogota, the capital of Colombia, is a pleasant surprise though; a strange juxtaposition of old and new. My hotel is in colonial La Candelaria, all cobbles and red tiles, interspersed with plate glass for optimum views. Bogotá was originally founded as the capital of the New Kingdom of Granada in 1538, by Spanish conquistador de Quesada.

The main square, Plaza de Bolivar, celebrates the Great Emancipator. Around it, are the Palacio de Justicia, the Mayor of Bogotá’s offices, the oldest school in the country and the Casa de los Comuneros, named after the leaders who began the movement towards independence from Spain.

Fernando Botero Angulo who was born in Medellín has a dedicated gallery. His signature satirical style, mainly consists of people with generous proportions, and is known as "Boterismo". Zona G is for eating ( Zona Gourmet) and the Zona Rosa (or T) is for shopping centres, pubs, cafes, fashion boutiques, jewellery stores and night time entertainment. There is also a feast of museums: emerald, gold (astonishing with a permanent exhibition of some 32,000 pieces of gold, 20,000 stones, ceramics and textiles), churches (of course) and a rainbow of street art.

Montserrate

And a funicular up sacred Montserrate - I've been told not go to to the bottom of the lift area on my own - and especially not at night. The sunmit rises 10, 000 feet over Bogotá, Up top, are beautiful mountain views across the Andes, as well as those back across down town. And the winding paths lead to a church (built in the seventeenth century), with a shrine, devoted to El Señor Caído ("The Fallen Lord"). The track is edged with illuminated sculptures - this is how the Colombians celebrate Christmas and New Year,

Salt Mine Cathedral - Zipaquera

Now, I'm off exploring Colombia. Our first stop is a visit to a very new, huge, cathedral, carved out of the tunnels of a salt mine 200 metres underground in a halite mountain. This is the Colombian attempt to rival Poland. The name Zipaquirá refers to Zipa, the leader of the Muisca tribe and the chief of these rich salt mines. The bottom part has three sections, representing the birth, life, and death of Jesus. The icons, ornaments and architectural details are hand carved in the halite rock.

There are some interesting illuminations, but for me, this place is totally devoid of any spirituality. Apparently, the cathedral is a functioning church but it has no bishop and therefore no official status as a cathedral. Perhaps that explains it. There is more atmosphere on the roads, where the holiday traffic is terrible and the driving manic.

Villa de Leyvva, Colonial Colombia

Through pea green cattle country, to the dry glowing aridity of mountains and restored whitewashed towns, like Villa de Leyva. Located away from major trade routes, in a high altitude valley of semi-desert terrain, and with no mineral deposits nearby to exploit, Villa de Leyva has undergone little development in the last 400 years. As a consequence, it is one of the few towns in Colombia to have preserved much of its original colonial style and architecture. The streets and large central plaza are still paved with cobblestones, and many buildings date from the sixteenth century. There are museums dedicated to battles for independence from Spain and statues of Simon Bolivar.

Everyone thinks I'm married to Richard so I'm hastening to put them right. His laptop screen has been damaged and it is all he has talked about for the last three days.

Valle de Cocora

The next destination, driving from Bogota, is the Valle de Cocora. It's located in the central mountains of the  Parque Nacional de los Nevados and the home of the “Quindian wax palm”. This is the national tree of Colombia.  A wander is scheduled, so that we can marvel at the palms, but Richard has heard that there is rare bird life. So, we have to wait while he lugs his huge tripod with him, along the narrow muddy tracks. beside the river. Some of the trees reach a staggering 60 metres. But there's not a bird in sight.

Colombia Coffee Country

New Year is to be spent high in the mountains in the coffee region of Colombia. We're visiting the traditional towns of Salento ( Plaza de Bolívar with vividly painted balconies, handicrafts shops and a Cocora viewpoint) and Filandia (Plaza de Bolivar, coffee shops. viewpoint, colonial homes and viewpoint). I detest coffee, so I'm not participating in plantation tours. But the views (from the many viewpoints) are gorgeous and the villages here are more colourful and Caribbean in style. I think. I can’t see very well as the streets are piled high with bodies; the locals clearly enjoy a New Year drink.

The Colombian people are incredibly friendly (those that don’t want to rob you or run a cartel anyway). The hotels so far have been very atmospheric, although the plumbing is creaky. I'm in a beautiful old bougainvillea covered hacienda today, tiny vermilion birds zipping across the swimming pool. And a maintenance man has just walked along my veranda, carrying a sink pedestal.

An interesting last night in coffee country, as I find myself eyeballing a cockroach on my bedside table. I try to spend the rest of the night with all of me, including my head, well tucked under the sheet.

Getting to Pasto

A flight – business class this time – I assume cattle class is full – to Pasto for the Blancos y Negros carnival. Made even more interesting, as the baggage truck servicing our plane catches fire. First of all, they try to put it out by swatting at it and then they find some small extinguishers. These still don’t dampen it down fully and flames keep licking up again; a fire engine arrives ten minutes later and sorts it out. No-one thinks to move it away from the plane. Thank goodness, the bags are already loaded.

Pasto, Carnival in Colombia

In Pasto (in the south of Colombia) for four nights, my ‘small group tour’ gets really interesting. The itinerary bears little relation to the original programme I was given. We have now been included in a group with over 40 Colombian tourists. We have our own very helpful guide, who promptly goes sick, to be replaced by another, who is also lovely, but very young and inexperienced.

Initially, we are transported on a large bus, with the other tourists too (and told that our next transfer will be on a public bus) but I protest and we get our own car. Nevertheless, we still have to wait and do everything with the whole group and eat mass produced tourist food with them, which rather defeats the idea of small group travelling. My hotel room has no window - just a skylight. It's above the kitchen, which runs every machine known to man, from six in the morning till 10 at night. Then, my new 21 year old guide tells me I must have been very beautiful when I was younger. I'm confused. Is this an insult or a compliment?

On the plus side, the carnival is amazing - fabulous colour and music. It is obligatory to wear ponchos, paint your face and indulge in foam fights using giant aerosols. Unfortunately, Richard takes to this rather too enthusiastically and provokes large numbers of locals by squirting at them. Consequently, I spend rather too much time trying to escape the inevitable retaliation. We visit twice. The first procession celebrates Familia Castañeda, who journeyed to the Sanctuary of Nuestra Señora of Las Lajas (see below). The procession of the master artefact makers, on the last day, takes four hours to go past.

Laguna de la Cocha

In addition, we get to do several things that aren't even mentioned on the programme - like a visit to a lake high in the mountains. This is Laguna de la Cocha or Lake Guamuez. There's a boardwalk alongside a little port, with picturesque bridges and traditional wooden houses with flowers trailing from the balconies. And gardens with guinea pig farms.

Then, a boat trip from Isla Larga with with its floating trout hatcheries, to the tiny Sanctuary of Flora and Fauna, on the island of La Corota, where we tramp in single file along the circular trail.

Sanctuary of Nuestra Señora of Las Lajas

Next surprise event, an excursion to a church built into the rock in a canyon of the Guáitara River - the Sanctuary of Nuestra Señora of Las Lajas. (It's lit up at night, when it's a little gaudy). According to my Columbian guides, it is classified as the second wonder of Colombia and was designated the most beautiful temple in the world in 2015 by The Telegraph. Really?

This is a very popular pilgrimage site, for Christians from both Colombia and neighbouring Ecuador (as I'm about to discover), due to a purported apparition of the Virgin Mary here in 1754. Amerindian Maria Meneses de Quiñones and her deaf-mute daughter Rosa were caught in a very strong storm and sought refuge between the gigantic Lajas (slabs of stone). Rosa then saw a lightning-illuminated silhouette of Mary over the laja. As if this wasn't enough, a brightly coloured image of the Virgin, appeared inset in the wall of stone. There was no explanation and it is believed to have been created by divine intervention.

I can't decide whether this story or the Telegraph claim is the most credible. But the site is crowded with happy pilgrims.

Tulcán Municipal Cemetery - in Ecuador

The sanctuary visit is part of a side trip to a cemetery in Ecuador, which is fun, but a surprise to say the least.

Ecuador? We just sail over the border from Colombia, no passports required.

A cemetery? Well, it’s a very grand and elaborate one.

The caretaker, Josè Maria Azael Franco, in charge of Tulcán Municipal cemetery, took his work very seriously and created ‘a jaw-dropping topiary wonderland'. Huge marble tombs surrounded by amazingly intricate clipped hedge figures, cascades and statues. Franco died in 1985 and is buried, fittingly, in the cemetery. As he said, 'it's a place, so beautiful, it invites one to die.'

The scenery on the journey is extraordinarily beautiful, This area is known as "Tapiz de Retazos” (the Patchwork of Tapestry). There's a song about it. Most of Colombia is stretched across the Andes. This also means that I'm gasping for breath every time I go up a flight of steps.

Food in Colombia

The food in Colombia is an education. Nearly everything comes with queso - cheese - including the fruit, (especially bananas) and the delicious flat doughnuts. The specialty around Pasto is cuy - roast Guinea pig. We have been made to pay for lunch, which was supposed to be included and we have been given several lunches we didn't expect. Twice, we have been told that dinner was paid for - to my surprise - only to be told it wasn't, after we ordered it. Glorious confusion!

Getting to Popayan

The transfer to Popayan is fraught. We are told we will leave at seven, as it is a long drive. That gets changed to eight as the driver is wanted elsewhere first. He eventually turns up late, in a tiny car. It’s a real battle to get all four of us in, with our luggage (the driver and the guide don’t have any). I reflect that the public bus might have been more comfortable after all.

Imagine my astonishment, when we finally arrive in Popayan, after a six hour drive, to be asked where we want to stay. The guide insists that no accommodation has been booked and that we have to choose. I indicate our programme and the hotel listed therein. So we drive to that establishment. The guide goes in and returns shortly to say they are full. I ask has he checked for our names and he insists adamantly that he has.

The Tour of Popayan

We chase round town for half an hour, trying to find a hotel that isn't full and end up in a very nice five star place. We check in there and get settled in, only to then be told by the guide, that we should pay for this ourselves. I explain again that we have already paid for a hotel and will not be paying again, if someone has made a mistake. Many phone calls follow and a great deal of wasted time. It transpires of course that we had been booked in at the first hotel all the time. Our guide had just asked for vacant rooms when he called in. There aren’t any, as we have already booked them.

So, we have to do the walk of shame, out of the very nice hotel, receiving pitying glances from the porters, to this one, where the receptionist is rude and the walls stink of paint and only the worst rooms are left. It is now late and it is also bucketing with rain. The driver takes us up the hill to see the view, which of course we can’t see at all. And that is the whole of our tour of Popayan - which is reputed to be gorgeous.

A Night in Popayan

I spend the night without water in the basin and no hot water in the shower and no one prepared, or able to do anything about it. Our packed breakfast is one chopped up mango. I want to use Google Translate to complain to the staff on duty, but I can’t, as Richard is using it, to obsess over the lack of an f on the Spanish keyboard. The guy at the desk laughs when I eventually get to ask for a refund. 'We have your money - you're not getting it back'.

I have only a little Spanish - though enough to understand the driver moaning that he won’t get a tip because I am a typical woman, upset about a little hassle. So he doesn’t get one!

I’m now stuck at the airport in Popayan, ironically because of the bad weather. It seems that virtually all the planes on the country are grounded. Bogota airport is on the news, so we may be here sometime and will almost certainly miss the connection to Cartagena. In the end, we arrive just in time to make the original connection, but they insist we wait for the next flight. Another two hours at the airport. I hate Colombia today!!!!

Cartagena, The Jewel of Colombia

We eventually arrive in Cartagena and this mellow colonial city is beautiful. Cartagena is often referred to as the jewel of Colombia. Colourful houses with bougainvillea spattered balconies, countless battered churches in the old walled town, oodles of atmosphere. (Though it’s swarming with tourists and beastly hot.) San Felipe fortress, on San Lázaro Hill, was built in honour of Don Luis Carlos López, the poet from Cartagena, who wrote about the city. But its main purpose was to defend the city from pirate attacks. There are plenty of tunnels, passageways and guns.

The Ciudad Vieja (Old City) is the famous and picturesque part of Cartagena, with its Convent and Church of the San Pedro Claver compound. The Bovedas is the handicraft zone, a collection of archways built into the city wall, originally used to house armaments and then later as a prison. Nowadays, it’s beloved by the cruise ships.

My hotel has a terrace with views out over the old walls and huge plaza. Me encanta Cartagena! It’s a good way to finish an adventure. Before I take the plane to the Bahamas.

Caribbean Windmills in Suriname

We depart Georgetown, this time by minibus, which wends eastwards along the coastal road towards the frontier between Suriname and Guyana, the Corentyne River. It’s fascinating to see how each former colony reflects its different European imperial masters. Suriname was under Dutch control from the end of the seventeenth century and for a time part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. Suriname became independent in 1975, but Dutch is still the official language.

This is a region of sugarcane and rice plantations. And it's low lying, so is threaded by drainage canals – and yes the odd windmill. Crossing the estuary by ferry, we can already see signs of the clapboard colonial architecture, with its distinctive shutters and curves.

Suriname -in a Nutshell

• Perched just above the Equator, Suriname is the smallest country in South America. Suriname is mainly covered in rainforest, (over 90% of its territory, the highest proportion of forest cover in the world), but much of its wealth depends on the extraction of minerals: bauxite, gold, and oil.
• Suriname was inhabited as early as the fourth millennium BC by various indigenous peoples, including the Arawaks, Caribs, and Wayana. Europeans arrived in the sixteenth century and the Dutch had established control over much of the country's current territory by the late seventeenth century. The colonial economy was underpinned by sugar plantations worked first by slaves imported by Africa and then indentured servants from Asia.
• In 1954, Suriname became a constituent country of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, but it then negotaed independence, which followed in 1975.
• Suriname continues to maintain close relationships with the Netherlands and culture and society reflect the Dutch legacy. This is the only sovereign nation outside Europe, where Dutch is the official language.

Paramaribo, the Capital of Suriname - A Melting Pot

We hug the coast to Paramaribo - a great name for a capital. Fifty percent of the population live here as, like Guyana, most of the country is covered in rainforest. The Suriname River valley is a much more attractive proposition.

All the guide books refer to Paramaribo as a melting pot of cultures. The largest ethnic group is Hindustani, but thousands of indentured labourers were also shipped in from the Dutch East Indies to work the plantations. So there is Indonesian cuisine and mosques are a common sight, even next to a synagogue. It’s certainly a mélange of colour and smells.

We take a water taxi across a river confluence to  a sombre fort in a small park.  There's not a lot to see, the signs are faded and the highlight is the gun magazine. The seagulls come to admire us. There are (also faded) fishing boats drawn up on the shores and there are views of a broad bridge spanning the river in the distance. It's all very sedate.

UNESCO Paramaribo

Inner Paramaribo is  a UNESCO heritage site. The colonnaded brick and wooden architecture here is very rewarding. The  imposing Presidential Palace faces a whole row of black and white structures on  Independence Square. It's backed by another, pretty park, full of palms.

Braving the Paramaribo Market

Sauntering around the docks and into the market is much less sedate. The stall holders clearly don’t feel they have any vested interest in encouraging tourists to visit Suriname. They are extremely surly. A raised camera, just to take a general panorama and carefully aimed away from any individual, generates a hurl of abuse. It looks as if worse might follow, so I make as rapid an exit as I can, with a crutch. At least I have a weapon.

Wandering in Suriname is proving a little too exciting, so I return to our hotel.  Early bed seems like a good idea.

French Guiana next.

The Road from Brazil to Guyana

Another local bus to visit Guyana - they’re not too uncomfortable - from Venezuela, via Boa Vista in Brazil (which is on a super long road that continues south, all the way to Rio). Over a nifty little river crossover bridge to change us over to driving on the left and then our own chartered bus. We’re supposed to be using local transport, but a bus out here is a bridge too far - to confusingly mix my metaphors.

Iwokrama Rainforest

Then, it’s unpaved roads and even these disappear after a while, as we arrive at the village of Annai, which lies on the edge of the transition zone between the savannah and the Iwokrama Forest Reserve. We just drive through any gaps in the grassland. The village is a mixture of brick and wattle-and-daub cottages, shops, school and church, all thatched with palm fronds and scattered haphazardly around.

Our lodge is a handful of little rondavels up a hillside and a scramble through chickens and flowerbeds to a larger dining room rondavel. The dining room also acts as the stage for local native dancing in the evening – performed in our honour. The children accompanying the dancers are more entertaining, as they loll and romp on the floor, laughing at their costumed parents.

More muddy walks in the rainforest and a trip on the river. Most of the wildlife is in hiding and it’s hard going. My ankle isn’t getting any better.

When it's time to leave we loiter on the edge of the forest (80% of Guyana is covered in rainforest) and our charter bus eventually emerges. The roads are red soil, still unpaved and after much bumping a ferry is involved. It’s another long wait while the bus is perilously edged onto the ‘boat’ – it’s a contraption of wood planks with an engine attached. No roads, no scheduled planes. More ignominious weighing as we embark on light aeroplanes to reach the capital,  Georgetown.

Guyana - in a Nutshell

• The Dutch were the first Europeans to settle this part of the north coast of South America, but the British seized control in 1796.
• Guyana became independent in 1966 and this is the only English speaking country and only Commonwealth country in South America.
• Guyana means 'Land of Many Waters'.

Georgetown, Capital of Guyana

Three nights to visit Georgetown, capital of Guyana.

Georgetown is famous for its colonial architecture, especially the great white wooden cathedral. It’s friendly, relaxing and very Caribbean with a botanical garden to wander round. The latter has ponds, canals, kissing bridges and a bandstand. There’s huge variety of palms to enjoy, as well as a fine collection of tropical flowers: a pond full of lotus in bloom and the immense Victoria Regia Lily, Guyana’s national flower. Surprisingly, there are also manatees lurking below the waterweed, in some overgrown lakes. I can just make out their bulging eyes disturbing the plants as they come up to breathe. It’s a bit creepy - the real life Guyanese  version of the Loch Ness monster.

I’ve decided I should do probably something about my ankle which is now about twice the size of my other, so I take myself off to hospital. It’s the first medical facility we've been near, since I fell on the waterfall in Venezuela over a week ago. I come back in plaster – the doctor says it’s broken, though the X-ray is inconclusive. He insists that the swelling is so bad that it must be ‘something of that nature’. It’s not a very reassuring diagnosis. I’ve got a crutch now, as well. That's not ideal on a pioneering, fairly basic journey.

Our last Georgetown visit is a trip to the vibrant market, complete with huge wooden red-brown clock.

Kaieteur Falls

More weighing, another small aircraft. I’m getting blasé about these now. This time we’re off to Kaieteur Falls. It takes about an hour, the first 10 minutes over cultivated land, and thereafter over the inevitable tropical forest (it covers four fifths of the country)  to a small airstrip at the top of the falls. The pilot does a fly-past first, wobbling the plane over the canyon and right over the edge where the water plummets 226 metres to the boiling pot below. Kaieteur Falls is the world's largest single-drop waterfall by volume. It’s five time higher than Niagara and couldn’t be more different. There's a tiny settlement of three huts, one of which serves as an airport lounge.

This is advertised as an ‘easy walk’, back to the waterfall and I hobble along to the three viewpoints. The first, from the cataracts, gives a face-on view of the falls, stained chestnut brown with tannins. The third viewpoint is right on the very edge of the falls, on a rock platform less than a metre away from the torrent. We are encouraged to inch forward on our bellies if we want to look. I’m opting out - again. There are copses of photogenic giant bromeliads all along the canyon top - minute frogs have set up home in the tiny rain ponds created in the centre of these.

Next stop Suriname