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