In 2024, GM doubled its share of the EV market in the United States and became the second-largest EV seller in the U.S., trailing only Tesla. (Chevrolet)
Although General Motors Co. stock has taken a hit as a result of U.S. tariffs, the Big Three automaker insists it will not move its successful electric vehicle (EV) operations out of Mexico.
“At this time, GM has no plans to halt or relocate production of any of our EV models made in Mexico,” the director of GM de México’s EV operations Adrián Enciso told the newspaper Milenio.
According to Mexico’s national statistics agency, INEGI, GM exported 186,368 light vehicles in the first quarter of 2025, a 6.2% decrease from Q1 of 2024. (GM de México)
Enciso, also the director of Brightdrop México (a GM subsidiary focused on developing a system of connected products for first- and last-mile delivery customers), said the success of the EV division makes it unlikely that changes will be made to production.
Production of 100% EV models as well as the assembly of Equinox, Blazer and Cadillac Optic models will continue at the company’s factory in Ramos Arizpe, Coahuila, Enciso said.
Enciso conceded that the company is studying the impact of the U.S. tariffs and analyzing plans of action for all potential scenarios.
“But for now, instructions from HQ are to stay the course with regard to production,” he said, adding that demand for EVs in the U.S. is growing, making it likely that some production in Mexico will be exported to the U.S.
Exposure to Mexico a concern
Shares of GM are down more than 17% in trading this year, and UBS downgraded the U.S. automaker’s stock to neutral on April 10, while also slashing the price target on the stock to US $51. As trading opened on April 21, GM’s stock had dipped under US $44.
Citing Deutsche Bank analysts, CNBC reported in late March that GM’s difficulties stem from the number of vehicles the automaker imports to the U.S. and its exposure to Mexico in particular.
More than 16% of GM vehicles sold in the U.S. last year were assembled in Canada and Mexico, according to CNBC. That represents the largest share of any country in terms of import volume, about double the shares of South Korea and Japan, which ranked second and third, respectively, according to GlobalData.
(CNBC)
Barclays analyst Dan Levy told CNBC that GM relies heavily on Mexico and South Korea to produce some of its small crossovers, including its Equinox and Blazer vehicles.
GM is scheduled to report its first-quarter results on April 29.
Based on the tariffs already imposed, UBS foresees a troubling scenario for GM, projecting that the cost of GM cars made in Mexico or Canada and sold in the U.S. will go up by about US $4,300 each.
Editor’s note: The statement from Adrián Enciso originally published by Milenio offered inaccurate information about future production plans for the Spark. Upon clarification from GM, we have removed the quote from the text.
Magical Mexico is a land like no other. It's only natural to miss it when you're away. (Anete Lusina)
How often do you go to Mexico and discover something new about it?
Mexico is a vibe that is hard to define in a few words. Sometimes I miss a particular state or a small beach town where I met cool people. Sometimes, it’s the taqueria by my hotel. The surf trip where I fell off my board. The vendor who gave me a discount on a volcanic rock bracelet after I spoke to him in Spanish. But mostly, it’s the feeling I get when I’m immersed in Mexican culture.
Immersing yourself in Mexican culture can be an intoxicating experience. (Ministry of Culture)
I’ve been to Mexico so much that I consider myself a part-time local. A man between two worlds. And since my first article on this topic generated a lot of readers sending in their wonderful perspectives on Mexico, I thought why not keep the conversation going?
Neighborhood hubs that feel like a home away from home
Taco stands are more than just a feed stop: They’re a social hub for communities, too. (TasteAtlas)
In Canada, the dream for most entrepreneurs who open a café or a restaurant is to franchise. More volume obviously means more profits. But the problem with that is quality control. One franchisee might do your menu and concept justice, while another might fail a simple health inspection test.
From McDonald’s to Pizza Hut, Subway, Burger King, and Tim Horton’s, you can’t go to any neighborhood in Montreal without seeing at least a handful of franchises. There’s only one Italian cafe in my area that has proven to be a unique neighborhood hub. And that made me think of all the cafes and taquerías I’ve been to in Mexico.
When I was in Playa Del Carmen, I encountered so many great cafes and restaurants that I even wrote a piece on it last year. Mexico City, as I’ve learned on a food tour, is like a lot of places in Mexico – full of local food stalls, vibrant cafes and markets that sell just about everything you could possibly need.
I’ve been to six Mexican States (and counting!), and everywhere I’ve gone has had enough cafés and restaurants to choose from that differ from each other. But, these places are also valued for their ambiance. You meet friends at these local neighborhood hubs. You can work remotely. You even go on dates, play card games, and watch sports. They’re places that know you by name or face and there’s comfort in that. It’s more than just a transactional exchange.
Practicing my Spanish every day
“Oye, what we need is to hablar español every day.” (Brooke Cagle/Unsplash)
When I’m not talking to my Mexican mom, family members, or my Latin American friends on WhatsApp, I speak mostly English in Canada. Every time I return from Mexico, it takes me some time to readjust to my normal routine. A part of that is mistakenly saying “buenos dias” to my coworkers when I meant to say “good morning” or “hola, que pedo wey?” to friends when I meant to say “hey, what’s up, bro?”
But eventually, I start thinking in English or French again. Naturally, it gets harder to maintain that almost fluent Spanish level I achieved. For years, I’ve been taking one step forward and two steps back in my Spanish journey.
I feel closer to my Mexican family whenever I’m speaking in their native tongue. It’s also empowering to get by in Mexico without speaking English. Taxi drivers and vendors at markets are more likely to respect you and less likely to rip you off. I’ve gotten discounts, befriended locals, and even almost got offered a job once in Puerto Escondido (if only I had a legit background as a bartender).
Communicating in Spanish back home just isn’t the same. Even though Canada has welcomed plenty of people from Mexico and Latin America in the last decade, it’s a temporary fix for the fact I’m not in a Mexico City food stall eating tacos and talking about the Nations League.
Watching sports with Mexican Commentators
Mexican commentator GOAL Germany vs Mexico
The last time I was in Mexico, it happened to be the NFL playoffs. And as I’ve watched a few games at bars and with my uncles, I was reminded of how much more fun professional sports are with Mexican commentators.
On that trip, I also watched a few soccer matches, as I do whenever I’m in Mexico. I turn into a bigger soccer fan than I am at home. Over the years, I’ve cheered on Pumas, Pachuca and Club América when Guillermo Ochoa was there.
I don’t know if it’s just me, but Mexican commentators seem more invested in the outcome of sports than American and Canadian analysts. Even if you’re not a sports fan, you feel their energy jump through the screen and get sucked into the emotions of the game like they are.
National pride in holidays
There’s something about the way that Mexicans love Mexico that you can’t help but fall in love with. (Crisanta Espinoza Aguilar/Cuartoscuro)
I’ll never forget my first week in Oaxaca. Not because it was my first time experiencing its culture and food, but because I also happened to land there on Valentine’s Day weekend.
In Canada, Valentine’s Day is an excuse for people to bring flowers and chocolates to their significant other. But in Oaxaca, it was also a great excuse to celebrate love for everyone. From the Cupid signage everywhere in Oaxaca’s downtown center to the street parties in the Zocalo, love was in the air whether you were single or married.
If you also take into account Christmas, Day of the Dead, and Carnaval (particularly if you’re in Mazatlán or Veracruz), I’ve learned over the years that Mexicans are no strangers to dancing all night. But it’s also interesting to note that Mexico has 5000 other traditional holidays and events celebrated each year.
That makes Mexico a little bit more wholesome and fun. Since being in Mexico for Day of the Dead is still on my bucket list, there’s no telling how many other holidays I’ll add to that list in the coming years.
What do you miss about Mexico?
Knowing that it may be a while until I return to Mexico, I daydream about the little and big things I miss about being in my second home.
Is there something else about Mexico you think we should’ve included on this list? Let us know in the comments below!
Ian Ostroff is an indie author, journalist, and copywriter from Montreal, Canada. You can find his work in various outlets, including Map Happy and The Suburban. When he’s not writing, you can find Ian at the gym, a café, or anywhere within Mexico visiting family and friends.
Flame grilled goat is a staple of northern cuisine. How did a European recipe end up emblemizing Nuevo León? (Gob. de Mexico)
Many cultures have contributed to the iconic dishes that make up Mexican cuisine. Nuevo León’s beloved goat-based cabrito, for example, has Sephardic Jewish roots. Its history dates back to 15th-century Spain and is associated with one of that nation’s darkest episodes. In 1492, the year of Columbus’ first voyage of discovery, the Alhambra Decree was issued in Spain, expelling from the country all Jews and Muslims who refused to convert to Christianity.
Those who did change faiths became known as conversos. However, it wasn’t enough to simply become a Christian in name only. This was the era of the Spanish Inquisition, whose stated purpose was to combat heresy by means that included torture and putting heretics to death.
Northern Mexico was settled in part by crypto-Jewish refugees fleeing the Spanish inquisition. (Enlace Judio)
How Nuevo León was settled
The first Sephardic Jews from Portugal and Spain arrived in Mexico as converso conquistadors under Hernán Cortés in 1519. However, it was the New Kingdom of León, established in 1579 via a decree by King Felipe II, that would later become the preferred landing spot for conversos. Among these New Christians were crypto-Jews, who were ostensibly Catholic but still practiced Judaism privately.
The reasons for this were not only that the man named as governor by the king, Luis de Carvajal y de la Cueva, was the son of conversos, but the fact that he was permitted to populate the area with settlers exempted from the law of limpieza de sangre (blood purity), meant to prevent Jewish and Muslim converts to Catholicism from participating in some areas of civic life, such as holding public office, and intermarriage between traditional Catholic families and New Christians.
That’s not to say that Nuevo León was a paradise of tolerance in the 16th century. Carvajal himself later died in a Mexico City prison after he was accused of secretly practicing Judaism, and several members of his family were burned at the stake. However, conversos in Nuevo León did face less scrutiny from the Inquisition, which had spread to Mexico by 1571.
The origins and preparation of cabrito
Cabrito being cooked over hot coals. (El Gran Pastor)
This history was extraordinarily influential in the development of cuisine in Nuevo León. Goats, for instance, were introduced to the state by the Spanish in the 16th century and proved much more suited to the climate and terrain than lamb, although this livestock too was introduced.
Cabrito is made from kid. That name suggests goats under one year of age, although regionally, the goats chosen are typically only between 28 and 40 days old. This is so they’re only milk-fed since their flavor changes when they begin getting other nourishment.
The reason for this requirement is unusual: goats are born with stomachs featuring four compartments. Before they’re weaned, they use only one part. Afterward, they use all four, which causes them to lose fat around their kidneys. Only males are slaughtered, with the females reserved for milk production— another Nuevo León staple, with nearly 4,000 liters produced annually.
Several ways of preparing cabrito have evolved over the centuries, but the most traditional and visually distinctive is cabrito al pastor. The kid is splayed out on a spit, with the length of the rod running parallel to the spine, a butterfly-style set-up that resembles nothing so much as a crucifixion. No, there is no known religious significance for this.
The kid is then spit roasted at an angle over a bed of mesquite coals for two to three hours.
Cabrito evolutions and variations
El Gran Pastor is a Monterrey institution. (El Gran Pastor)
Cabrito al pastor, as it was made in the 16th century, relied on the tenderness of the kid for its natural flavors. Several parts are still prized for these natural flavors, even though spicy Mexican flavors have added complexity to the dish as it has evolved. The fatty area around the kidneys, called riñonada, is the most sought-after delicacy. But machito, meaning organ meats like heart and liver, entrails and fat, is likewise popular.
“It’s a style that was imported to Mexico, but the way we eat cabrito today is totally Mexican, with tortillas and spicy salsas,” explains author and restaurateur Juan Ramón Cárdenas, per Vice. “There’s also a side dish with more Mexican influence called fritada de cabrito, where the kid’s entrails are cooked in its blood. This is certainly not an entirely Jewish dish because, as far as I understand, Jews don’t eat blood.”
Although northern states such as Coahuila are known for great cabrito, Monterrey, the capital of Nuevo Leon, remains the mecca thanks to iconic purveyors such as El Gran Pastor and El Rey del Cabrito.
In addition to the fritada and al pastor styles, there’s also a variation known as cabrito en salsa, in which the portioned kid is braised in a tomato-based sauce with onions, garlic, serrano chili peppers and seasonings such as bay leaves, black pepper and oregano.
The latter is also a specialty in Nuevo Leon, especially in the small town of Higueras, where it’s known as oro verde (green gold) and serves as the centerpiece of the annual Feria del Orégano in April.
Mexico is the world’s second largest producer of dried oregano, behind Turkey. Although Nuevo Leon is not its top oregano-producing state, it is known for the quality and diversity of its oregano: six different species are grown in the state.
“It’s an oregano that competes with that of Turkey and Italy in every way. If we’re talking about flavor, consistency and aroma, it’s a quality oregano,” Higueras’s Mayor, Rafael González Martínez, has proudly noted.
Monterrey is a Mexican beverage giant
Monterrey is a significant manufacturing center, and several of the country’s biggest food and drink producers are headquartered or have facilities here. Most notable, perhaps, is Fomento Económico Mexicano (FEMSA), operator of the largest Coca-Cola bottling group in the world by sales volume and of Oxxo, the largest convenience store chain in Latin America, with over 20,000 locations in Mexico serving 13 million customers daily. The company started as Cerveceria Cuauhtémoc in 1890, selling Carta Blanca. However, after a merger to become Cuauhtémoc Moctezuma in 1985, the brewery operation was acquired by Heineken in 2010 in exchange for stock.
Chris Sands is the Cabo San Lucas local expert for the USA Today travel website 10 Best, writer of Fodor’s Los Cabos travel guidebook and a contributor to numerous websites and publications, including Tasting Table, Marriott Bonvoy Traveler, Forbes Travel Guide, Porthole Cruise, Cabo Living and Mexico News Daily. His specialty is travel-related content and lifestyle features focused on food, wine and golf.
Ordering churros in Mexico City is an art to be honed — and no, mainstream churrerías won’t give you the ultimate Chilango experience. (Lucas Andrade/Pexels)
One of the fondest memories I have from my childhood is of my parents taking my sister and me — both of us under 10 — toCoyoacán for churros. At the time, my father was very strict sugar-wise, so he didn’t have to insist we join. It was just glorious. The borough’s Zócalo is usually hazy in autumn, and mornings start below 5 ºC. It’s just Mexico City native common sense to go for churros when the weather’s like that. Yes, cozy!
So off we went, covered in heavy jackets like little marshmallows, to our favorite churro stand in the corner of Calle Higuera and Calle Caballocalco, right behind theParroquia de San Juan Bautista, a wonderful 16th-century monastery, made entirely of quarry stone. If someone had asked me what the heart of Coyoacán was made of back then, my answer would undoubtedly have been “churros.” Even though it’s been almost 20 years, I’d give a similar answer today.
Eating churros with chocolate caliente in Coyoacán is a CDMX childhood classic. (Ehécatl Cabrera/Wikimedia Commons)
Back then, I did not know that churros are not originally from Mexico. This “golden, crispy, chewy thing of deliciousness,” as BBC correspondent Mike Randolph describes them, has an intricate history that dates back to a breakfast fritter from ancient China. With the intense commerce between Asia the East and the Iberian Peninsula, it appears that the Portuguese introduced churros to Spain somewhere in the 16th century.
During the colonial period in Mexico, however, these sugary treats mingled wonderfully with local desserts and, of course,chocolate. What else could the vicereine of New Spain wish for, after a long day of strolling in Mexico City, than a crunchy churro with hot cocoa? After centuries of churro-making tradition, here’s my insider’s digest of how to order churros in Mexico City and enjoy them like a true native.
Where to eat the most delicious churro you’ll ever have in Mexico
If you’re staying anywhere around the Roma-Condesa area, the easiest and safest choice is to head straight up to Parque México and look forChurrería El Moro. My suggestion would be for you to buy your churros around noon, so that you can enjoy the sugar rush at Parque México. This particular store gets quite busy for dessert on weekdays. Be sure to find a long line of people around 4 p.m. On the weekends, avoid going to ‘El Moro’ at all costs: you won’t be able to get your churros unless you’re willing to stand a 40-minute wait in the April sun.
Most churrerías, like this ‘El Moro’ store in Eje Central, allow customers to dine in. However, Mexicans traditionally order takeaway and head to the nearest park to eat them outside. (ProtoplasmaKid/Wikimedia Commons)
If you’re not in the area, don’t worry: El Moro has nine tourist-friendly locations in Mexico City, the centerpieces being the Historic Center and Polanco branches. All of these are perfectly fine if it’s your first time trying churros. If you’re lucky, you can even order their seasonal specials, like the red velvet edition they launched for Valentine’s Day.
If you’re looking for a high-end experience, do not miss the chance to book a table atChurrería Porfirio, and try their unmissable creamy hot chocolate. However, if you’re ready to immerse yourself in the authentic churro experience, ignore my previous suggestions and head straight to downtown Coyoacán.
How to order the perfect churro in Mexico, step by step
Coyoacán has always been — and probably always will be — very close to my heart. That’s where I grew up, went to school and had my first dates in my teens. And yes, you guessed it: it’s where a high school sweetheart once asked me out for churros.
Where to eat the best churros in Mexico? Easy. Just go to Coyoacán. (Shutterstock)
It is a quintessential Mexico City experience to drive your way to the borough’s historic center, park in the Estacionamiento Tres Cruces and go get your churros at your favorite street stand. Try not to park in the street — it’s pretty busy all the time, and franeleros will try to force you to pay them a tip you can spend on churro toppings instead.
After many years of walking the cobblestone streets, trying local cafes and discovering picturesque corners of the colonial area, I figured there is no better way to enjoy a day in Coyoacán than by foot. If you want the full boheme experience, bring an analog camera with you and snap some pics of the graffiti on the walls— you can even have a full circle moment and bring your rolls to develop atLaboratorio Mexicano de Imágenes.
What does this have to do with churros, you may ask? Well, everything. In order to enjoy the full Coyoacán experience, one must fully immerse oneself in one’s quirkiest bohemian persona. That is exactly how I learned that ordering a churro in Mexico City is an art to be honed.
Arrive at Coyoacán’s Historic Center
Be warned: ‘un churro’ in Mexico can also be a blunt. Care to try one of those in Coyoacán? (Keith Mapeki/Unsplash)
Here starts your authentic churro experience. Walk through the colonial gates on Calle Tres Cruces and find the legendary Coyote Fountain at the heart of Jardín Centenario. This spot gets crowded easily on the weekends, so my personal suggestion would be to visit on a weekday morning, around 10 a.m. Once you dodge tarot readers, copal merchants and shamanas insisting you need a limpia (cleansing) right this minute, you’ll find the Parroquia de San Juan Bautista across the street.
As you might have guessed by now, I take pride in being a churro connoisseur. Not every stand is a guarantee of deliciousness, that’s for sure. And what’s more: not everyone knows what the perfect churro looks like for them, depending on their sugar preferences and how much of a sweet tooth they have.
How to choose your churro stand
This one’s hard. Especially because not every person enjoys the same textures or sugar concentration. I can tell you one thing, though: truly Mexican churros are not chewy. We like them crunchy! More mainstream churrerías, given the heavy demand they get on a daily basis, tend to industrialize the frying process. And yes, their churros tend to get chewy and soggy. Run! That’s not the churro you want. At all.
That’s why Coyoacán is kind of a flavor and texture guarantee. Families running churro stands have devoted decades to perfecting their recipes and skills. And honestly, it shows. If you’re in the mood for a café experience,Churrería General de la República is your choice. You can find the original store right on the corner of Calle Francisco Sosa — one of the colonial jewels of Coyoacán — and Tres Cruces. Sugary churros with tons of cinnamon await, with a great assortment of options to sopear. This means dipping your churro in coffee or hot chocolate. Just delicious.
However, if you’re ready to take in the full Coyoacán experience, go straight to the Mercado de Antojitos.
Toppings? Yes, please!
If you cross the street from Jardín Centenario, you’ll see the Mercado de Antojitos straight ahead. On Calle Higuera, churro stands traditionally serve their goodies all day long. These are my all-time favorites, especially the one I mentioned earlier: in the corner of Calle Caballocalco.
An order usually includes three to five churros, which you can stuff with chocolate, almond butter or the almighty lechera: sweetened condensed milk. This is my personal favorite. However, you won’t be able to get past two bites— even I get cloyed. Most stands will also suggest adding cajeta caramel sauce, too, which will make your churro an absolute sugar bomb. Some churreros have sprinkles available as well, which children love.
Mexican friends of mine, with whom I’ve shared Coyoacán churros for years, find all these toppings excessive. And honestly, I understand. It’s too much. Still, I think it’s worth it: nothing compares to sitting in the church atrium, no matter the time of year, watching people go by while eating an authentic Coyoacán churro.
Andrea Fischer contributes to the features desk at Mexico News Daily. She has edited and written for National Geographic en Español and Muy Interesante México, and continues to be an advocate for anything that screams science. Or yoga. Or both.
Mexico loves Japanese fusion, of course. But what happens when Mexico's most traditional food culture takes a stab at sushi? (Crudo/Instagram)
Salvador Dalí famously claimed that he didn’t care for Mexico because it was just too surreal — a sentiment that might make you think twice when you step into Oaxaca, the most vibrant and surreal state in the entire country! Here, the air is thick with the echoes of pre-Hispanic traditions, alive in the bustling streets, the faces of the locals, and the language that sings through the markets. But the crown jewel of Oaxaca’s capital? The magnificent Santo Domingo — a colossal church shimmering with gold that leaves visitors in awe.
Now, let’s talk about the spectacular Oaxacan cuisine! Picture this: smoky, spicy, herbal flavors wafting through the markets where the aroma of fresh meat mingles with fragrant herbs. Corn is the heartbeat of Oaxacan dishes, and you’ll find it artfully paired with ingredients like insects, honey, and chocolate — a culinary journey honed over thousands of years in the vibrant homes and streets of Oaxaca.
The Templo de Santo Domingo towers over the city of Oaxaca. (Vive Oaxaca)
But wait, there’s more! In a land rich with tradition, innovation is seen as a bold act of rebellion. Oaxacans channel their creativity across food, art, literature, and, notably, gastronomy. One culinary pioneer, Ricardo Arellano, takes center stage today with his revolutionary creations.
Japan meets Oaxaca
Imagine craving sushi in Oaxaca — sounds bizarre, doesn’t it? I would’ve never considered melding sushi with mole! But Ricardo, with unparalleled ingenuity, understands the essence of traditional Oaxacan flavors and seamlessly honors the beauty of Japanese culinary techniques.
Crudo
Nestled in downtown Oaxaca, waiting to be discovered, is Crudo — an unassuming gem hidden behind a typical colonial facade. Walk through the doors, and you’re greeted by a fusuma — a traditional Japanese sliding door — ushering you into an intimate dining experience like no other. This isn’t just a meal; it’s a thrilling fusion of Japanese and Oaxacan cultures, revealing surprising similarities in their deep respect for nature and artisan craftsmanship passed through generations.
Inside Crudo, the menu is a carefully curated selection of 15 exquisite items. You can indulge in the Omakase or opt for the CRU.CRÚ bar menu, featuring four customizable dishes and a dessert. Each plate is a masterful encounter, merging Japanese techniques with Oaxacan ingredients in a tantalizing dance of flavors.
Prepare yourself for the Omakase experience—a stunning series of nine courses! Among them, three creations stood out, each a spectacular symphony of taste and technique.
First, the tuna hamachi dazzled with layers of xoconostle and heirloom tomato between succulent slices of tuna, paired with a spicy, mole-like paste. The sweet tang of the xoconostle, the richness of the mole, and the bright pop of tomato unite perfectly, creating a harmonious flavor explosion.
Next up, the elote nigir is pure street food alchemy! A tender morsel of corn atop a rice ball, topped with a creamy insect-infused mayonnaise and dusted with insect powder. It’s rich, unique, and utterly unforgettable!
And then there’s the eel taco with maguey worm. Instead of tortillas, imagine a delicate seaweed wrap filled with luscious grilled eel, seasoned rice, and crunchy cooked agave that brings the flavor of a tiny worm. To wash it down, a smooth shot of mezcal awaits to elevate this delectable experience!
Unique Experiences
Each Omakase adventure is uniquely tailored to the season’s freshest ingredients, promising a different experience every time!
If you’re seeking suggestions, don’t miss out on the allure of Oaxaca! Kickstart your day with a vibrant breakfast in the lively market, savor mouthwatering mole at any local restaurant, and treat yourself to a night at Chef Ricardo’s Crudo. Here, you’ll discover the heartbeat of Oaxaca: friendly locals, extraordinary food, and a vibe that’s simply magical. You’ll feel the roots of a rich culture bursting with life — steeped in mysticism, historical weight, and an artistic spirit that fuels the creativity of artists like Rufino Tamayo and Francisco Toledo.
So, are you daring enough to dive into the Oaxacan Omakase experience? You won’t want to miss it!
María Meléndez is a Mexico City food blogger and influencer.
When it comes to the story of the Niños Héroes, how can we separate fact from fiction? (Lars Plougmann/ CC-BY-SA 2.0)
No Mexico City itinerary is complete without a visit to Chapultepec Park, the expansive urban woodland that holds some of the country’s most grandiose monuments, museums and art galleries. For a park that offers such tranquility amid the frenetic pace of the city, it’s hard to imagine the bloodshed that took place there during the Mexican-American War of 1846 to 1848.
Toward the end of the war, on Sept. 13, 1847, around 2,000 U.S. troops led by Gen. Winfield Scott stormed Chapultepec Castle, which at the time housed the military academy where army cadets trained. It was a decisive U.S. victory which proved pivotal to the American occupation of Mexico City and the subsequent annexation of Mexico’s northern territories, including Alta California, Arizona and New Mexico.
The Battle of Chapultepec from the perspective of the invaders. (Adolphe Jean-Baptiste Bayot)
In the U.S. collective imagination, the invasion of Mexico receives far less attention than the Civil War that followed a little over a decade later. But the war was pivotal in U.S. history: it helped solidify the northern country’s expansionism and gave political and geographical weight to the doctrine of Manifest Destiny. Events like the 1836 Battle of the Alamo — technically part of the Texas Revolution — are more widely remembered, perhaps because it was a loss. Defeat invites narrative, giving people a reason to grieve, rally and mythologize.
In the Mexican national consciousness, the Battle of Chapultepec is remembered for the heroic acts of the Niños Héroes (Boy Heroes), six cadets from the academy who allegedly disobeyed Gen. Nicolás Bravo’s order to stand down. Agustín Melgar, Fernando Montes de Oca, Francisco Márquez, Juan de la Barrera, Juan Escutia and Vicente Suárez fought to their last breath to defend the castle. Escutia, the last surviving cadet, is said to have wrapped himself in the Mexican flag before leaping from the castle to his death to prevent U.S. forces from capturing it.
The Niños Héroes’ names and exploits are learned by Mexican schoolchildren as part of the national curriculum set by the Ministry of Education. They are remembered as valiant martyrs who dodged bullets and bayonets, preferring to die for their country than surrender to invading forces. “The message was to love your country to death,” Adolfo Zambrano, a sociologist at the University of Bielefeld, told Mexico News Daily.
At Puerta de los Leones, the main entrance to Chapultepec, the gleaming white Altar a la Patria (Altar to the Homeland) comes into view behind wrought iron gates. Built between 1947 and 1952 from Italian marble, this monument commemorates the Mexican lives lost in the Mexican-American War. The six cadets are represented by towering pillars, each crowned with an eagle and a torch pointing skyward. At the monument’s center stands the Motherland, personified by a muscular Indigenous woman cradling a fallen cadet draped in the national flag. Look closely beyond the monument and you’ll see Chapultepec Castle perched on the hill directly above, with the same flag flying from its peak— a symbolic reclaiming of the narrative, quietly denying that the U.S. flag ever flew there.
The Altar a la Patria monument in Chapultepec Park. (Gobierno de México)
Fact, fiction and historical ambiguity
Across Mexico, in nearly every city and town, streets, plazas and even bus stations bear the name of the Niños Héroes. Though their story is widely shared, separating fact from fiction proves more difficult. Myths surrounding the cadets have long been accepted as historical truth. For instance, official government sources still assert that they were the final defenders of the castle, despite a lack of evidence. Their names, now carved into stone, didn’t appear in a history book until 1883, 36 years after the battle.
To begin with, the idea that the cadets were children is misleading. While two were under the age of 18, the remaining four were young adults, including Juan Escutia, who was 20. Juan de la Barrera, 19, actually held the rank of lieutenant in the military engineers. Referring to them as boys heightens the emotional resonance of their sacrifice and positions them as aspirational figures within the national imagination, reinforcing values of duty, loyalty and patriotism.
Their youthful image does more than elevate them as role models. The innocence projected onto the Niños Héroes mirrors the infancy of the Mexican republic itself. Barely two decades after gaining independence from Spain, Mexico in the 1840s was still a fragile and deeply divided nation, struggling to define itself against internal strife and foreign aggression. The story of six brave cadets, young and outmatched, standing firm against a powerful invading force, became a potent allegory for a nation clinging to sovereignty.
Some critics have questioned whether the six Niños Héroes existed in the form remembered today. However, historical accounts suggest that approximately 50 cadets, in an act of defiance, remained at Chapultepec Castle to fight alongside the Mexican Army. Though their decision may have been reckless, it has been reframed as an act of bravery and patriotic sacrifice.
The first monument to the Niños Héroes, erected in 1882. (Protoplasmakid/CC-BY-SA 4.0)
The Battle of Chapultepec was officially commemorated for the first time on Sept. 13, 1882, during the presidency of Manuel González Flores, the four-year period of indirect rule during the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz. The ceremony inaugurated the Obelisco a los Niños Héroes monument, which still stands at the foot of Chapultepec Castle and was designed by Ramón Rodríguez Arangoiti, himself one of the cadets captured during the battle. That tradition continues today: each year on September 13 the president reads the names of the Niños Héroes at the Altar a la Patria monument.
Did Juan Escutia really wrap himself in the flag?
Chapultepec Castle is now a museum, largely preserved as it was during Emperor Maximilian’s rule under French occupation. Visitors who climb the winding path to the top will find more lifelike statues of the Niños Héroes. In the castle’s central stairway, a 1967 ceiling mural by Gabriel Flores depicts Juan Escutia’s leap to his death, wrapped in the Mexican flag. But did it really happen that way?
Evidence suggests Escutia may not have been a cadet at all, but a soldier in the San Blas Battalion. That unit, founded in Nayarit in 1823, was led during the Battle of Chapultepec by a lesser-known figure named Felipe Santiago Xicoténcatl. According to eyewitness accounts, Xicoténcatl was gunned down by U.S. forces while trying to keep his battalion’s flag aloft. As he fell, his comrades wrapped his body in the flag and buried him with it.
The Niños Héroes as depicted on a 5000-peso bill from the 1980s, in which they appear with European features.
It’s possible the story of Xicoténcatl was later transferred to Escutia, who was reimagined as a boy to heighten the drama. In 1947, Xicoténcatl’s remains were exhumed and eventually entombed alongside the remains of six people found in Chapultepec and alleged to be the Niños Héroes beneath the Altar a la Patria monument at the park’s entrance– another claim that proves difficult to substantiate.
Notably, Xicoténcatl was Indigenous, a Nahua officer from Tlaxcala, while the Niños Héroes are almost always depicted as light-skinned, European-looking cadets. This contrast reveals how post-independence Mexican nationalism often privileged a Europeanized ideal of citizenship. By transferring the story of patriotic sacrifice to Juan Escutia, a figure reimagined as youthful and white, the myth erased the Indigenous person’s contribution.
What do the Niños Héroes tell us about Mexico?
Regardless of how much of their story is true, the enduring prominence of the Niños Héroes reflects the early nation-state’s need to transform narratives of loss and sacrifice into unifying myths. Their legend offers consolation for the loss of nearly half of Mexico’s national territory following the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo and continues to have emotional resonance for Mexicans today. Recalling his childhood in a 2005 essay, Mexico City-born literary critic Guillermo Sheridan remembers the influence of the Niños Héroes: “That there might be boys who, besides being boys, were heroes, added up to a pressing demand on my own potential heroism. Many a time did I dream of myself duly chopped up and distributed over several monuments for having defended the peaks of the Popocatépetl to the end from some foreign scoundrel.” The power of the story lies not only in what it commemorates, but in how it continues to shape national identity. As Adolfo Zambrano of Bielefeld University put it, “There’s a part of me that believes the myth actually happened despite the lack of evidence.”
One example of the ubiquitousness of the Niños Héroes: a middle school named for them in the state of México. (MiPueblo2018/CC-BY-SA 4.0)
When we hear talk of President Donald Trump’s renewed expansionist ambitions, it’s tempting to treat such rhetoric as an anomaly. However, a closer look at this period in Mexican history reveals that territorial aggression has long been a tenet of U.S. foreign policy. The wounds of the Mexican-American War run deep in Mexico’s collective memory, and they continue to shape how the country understands its relationship with its northern neighbor. The myth of the Niños Héroes is one way of processing that legacy— recasting defeat not as humiliation, but as a heroic model of sacrifice.
Shyal Bhandari is a British-Indian writer caught in a whirlwind romance with Mexico. He holds an MPhil in Latin American Studies from the University of Cambridge. His writing has appeared in publications including Vogue, Ojarasca, Little White Lies and Asymptote Journal. In 2019-2020 he ran a series of literary workshops with Indigenous poets in the south of Mexico with the support of the Royal and Ancient International Scholarship.
The Riviera Nayarit's beach clubs in Punta Mita have long been a mainstay for visitors who want sun-soaked shoreline elegance. (Club Punta Mita)
I’ve spent years hopping around beach clubs across Mexico — from the barefoot boho vibes of the Pacific Coast to swanky, sun-bleached beaches on the Riviera Maya. And while Nayarit’s Punta Mita, the gated community along the northern coast of the Bay of Banderas, may be a bit rich for my blood, I can’t deny that its beach clubs are absolutely top-tier.
For the sophisticated traveler who wants to let their hair down (or just sip something chilled under a palapa), Punta Mita delivers. These clubs aren’t just places to lounge — they’re experiences. But which one matches your personal vibe?
Here’s your insider’s guide to Punta Mita’s five beach clubs — and how to know which one is right for you.
Kupuri Beach Club
Want a beach club that makes everyone in the family feel welcome? Kupuri’s got your back. (Meagan Drillinger)
Best for:active families and oceanfront luxury
Kupuri Beach Club is all about elevating the family-friendly beach day. Overlooking the white sand of Litibu Bay, this is where Punta Mita families gather — whether for lazy palapa lunches or action-packed water adventures. Reserved for Club Premier Members and their guests or renters, Kupuri is both polished and playful.
It’s got everything: a shallow wading pool and Coritas Kids’ Club for little ones, an air-conditioned teen clubhouse with video games and activities and the Navi Spa for those who want to book in for a massage after beach time.
Ocean lovers will find their bliss with paddleboarding, sailing, and snorkeling. But I love Kupuri Beach Club for its dreamy white sand beach and gorgeous views. It’s also home to Hector’s Kitchen, one of the most celebrated restaurants along the Riviera Nayarit. If you’re up for a splurge, book a dinner reservation here. For something a little more casual, the Kupuri Restaurant hits the spot.
Pacifico Beach Club
Pacifico Beach Club, a favorite of local residents, is where to go for a chill, pampered experience. (Pacifico Beach Club/Facebook)
Best for: traditionalists and sunset devotees
If Kupuri is the energetic younger sibling, Pacifico is the elegant elder. This was the original beach club in Punta Mita, and it still holds a special place in the hearts of longtime residents. Overlooking the iconic Tail of the Whale ocean hole of the Pacifico golf course, and the blue Pacific, it has a nostalgic, classic feel — and unbeatable sunsets.
There are two pools (one adults-only, one for families), towel and beach-chair service, a full-service restaurant and bar, plus a kids’ playground tucked into a shady garden. The onsite spa offers massages, facials and mani-pedis. It’s polished without being fussy, and if you stay late enough, the ambiance transitions from beachside lunch to mood-lit dinner.
Dinner here is a must — especially the catch of the day served over coconut rice and the tuna tostadas. Pair that with a glass (or many) of Whispering Angel, which seems to be the resident rosé brand of all the beach clubs in Punta Mita.
Sufi Ocean Club
Best for: design-minded foodies
Style, leisure and elegance are the name of the game at Sufi Ocean Club. (Carl Emberson)
Sufi Ocean Club is the newest of Punta Mita’s beach enclaves, and arguably the most stylish. Perched along a calm stretch of the Bay of Banderas, and anchored by a saltwater pool that’s refreshed daily, it’s the kind of place where you come for a leisurely lunch and end up staying all day.
Located in Porta Fortuna — one of the peninsula’s most coveted communities — Sufi is all about oozing barefoot elegance: think Bali beds with gauzy, billowy white linens and, of course, copious amounts of rosé. Beach access is granted via the Punta Mita Pier, and the club has two distinct dining experiences: the casual snack shack and the upscale Sufi Restaurant, known for its clever “Mexiterranean” menu.
Sea Breeze Beach Club
Best for: daytime beach reads or sunset date nights
You can choose from a variety of beach club experiences at the St. Regis’s Sea Breeze Beach Club, also available to Club Punta Mita members. (Meagan Drillinger)
Sea Breeze Beach Club, located within the St. Regis Punta Mita Resort, is a blend of five-star service and relaxed beach vibes. While technically available to Club Punta Mita Members through an annual agreement, it remains one of the peninsula’s most favorite escapes — and a favorite among hotel guests.
The wide, sandy beach is backed by a glittering pool and ultra-comfortable loungers. Pool butlers are never far away, ready with towels, snacks or that second round of drinks. Dining here is a range of light bites to woodfired pizzas, steaks, ceviche, and empanadas. The nearby Mita Mary serves everything from steamed crab ravioli to Pacific tuna served with chipotle and beetroot sauce.
The club is a place where you can come with a beach read and a cover up, or dress it up for date night. Both feel right at home. Whatever you do, stay for sunset when the sky smolders in luscious pinks and purples.
El Surf Club
El Surf Club definitely has Punta Mita elegance but wrapped up in a casual, surf lover’s vibe. (Meagan Drillinger)
Best for: wave riders and the boho chic
If the rest of Punta Mita leans polished, El Surf Club keeps things deliciously undone. Set above the legendary La Lancha surf break, this club feels like Montauk by way of Riviera Nayarit. It’s all driftwood, palms, woven hammocks and that cool-kid glow.
I’ll be honest — El Surf Club is my personal favorite. I love everything about it: the barefoot elegant surf vibe, the perfectly framed sunset views, the fire pits and the variety of chill lounge spaces. It’s a Punta Mita beach club for sure but designed for a crowd that can feel just as comfortable at a backpacker bar in San Pancho.
The vibe is “surf shack sophisticate,” with a menu that matches: think oysters, ceviche, tacos and the catch of the day. Drinks? Icy beers by the bucket, mezcal cocktails and, of course, that ubiquitous rosé.
Meagan Drillinger is a New York native who has spent the past 15 years traveling around and writing about Mexico. While she’s on the road for assignments most of the time, Puerto Vallarta is her home base. Follow her travels on Instagram at @drillinjourneys or through her blog at drillinjourneys.com
Traditionally, soccer was a sport for men — until Mexico organized the inaugural 1971 Women's World Cup and nothing was the same again. (Macao News)
When and where — and by whose efforts — women’s soccer first appeared in Mexico is likely never to be identified. But the earliest documented event is the arrival of a women’s team from Costa Rica that made a long tour around the country in 1963.
Their arrival didn’t introduce women’s soccer to Mexico but it certainly contributed to its growth. Around Mexico, a few enthusiastic young women recruited friends and assembled teams to play the Costa Rican visitors — and carried on playing afterward, which would lead within just a few years to Mexico creating a women’s national selection team and even hosting the newly created Women’s World Cup — to great success.
Mexico’s 1971 Women’s World Cup team that competed in Italy. (Internet)
How did this happen?
By 1969, there was enough enthusiasm to stage the first Mexican women’s championship, a competition involving 17 teams from around Mexico City. At this point, the situation in Mexico was very similar to that of women’s soccer in Europe — where a handful of clubs operated under the radar, and usually without any recognition or assistance from the male-dominated associations.
A World Cup for women’s soccer
The pockets of enthusiasm in Europe had gained enough traction in the 1960s to form the Federation of Independent European Female Football (FIEFF). In 1969, it organized a World Cup competition for women’s soccer.
Italy, who had led the way in women’s soccer in 1968 with a nationwide and semiprofessional women’s league, was the natural host, but how Mexico came to be one of the eight invited teams remains a mystery. We do know that they were not on the original list of competing teams and were only included only after Argentina and Brazil dropped out.
The Mexican team played its first game in the city of Bari, beating Austria 9-0 and throwing Alicia Vargas into the spotlight with four goals.
Alicia Vargas was one of Mexico’s first female soccer stars after she played on the Mexican team in the first Women’s World Cup in Italy. Racking up an impressive number of goals, she was soon nicknamed “La Pelé,” after the legendary Brazilian male professional soccer star, Pelé. (Internet)
Vargas’ story is worth following, as it is typical of so many women players of this generation. She had played soccer with her brothers and neighborhood boys in the street and — without realizing it — became a skilful player. When she was just 13, she saw more organized games involving the Guadalajara club and asked if she could join in. Despite no formal training, the skills she’d picked up on the street made her an instant star.
In Italy, she became “La Pelé” Vargas and was offered a contract to stay on to play with the Real Torino team, but she chose to return to Mexico.
During a two-day conference after the Cup in Torino, Mexico’s representatives agreed to host the next tournament. The Federation of Mexican Football, however, opposed the idea and threatened fines on any club that granted women access to their stadiums.
The organizers got around this by hiring the Estadio Azteca in Mexico City and the Estadio Jalisco in Guadalajara. Both stadiums were privately owned and therefore beyond the control of the Federation.
This had an unforeseen impact on the event. Both stadiums were owned by media outlets wanting a successful tournament. Their backing meant there would be no lack of advertising or media coverage. In addition, the Italian Martini & Rossi company covered the cost of hotels, flights and equipment for the Mexico event.
Planners invited Argentina, Denmark, England, France and Italy to join Mexico in the tournament. Team members arriving in Mexico City found the city swamped with posters and banners for the event. Central to the advertising campaign was Xóchitl, the tournament’s mascot, a dark-haired little girl with pigtails who wore a red, white and green uniform jersey and short shorts.
Back then, even though several of the players on many of the teams, Mexico’s included, were minors as young as 13, organizers were not shy about using the team’s gender and sexuality to fill stadiums. The goal posts were painted pink. In between playing and attending a press interview, the players were encouraged to use the beauty salon situated inside the locker rooms.
While this grates with today’s attitudes, organizers argued that the makeup and glamour wasn’t just to encourage men into the stadiums but also to show young women that sports could be feminine and cool.
The advertising paid off. Helped by live TV coverage, matches averaged crowds of 15,000, and Mexico’s games in the Aztec Stadium probably — there were no official figures — attracted 100,000 fans. For the competitors, used to playing on local park pitches, it was an unbelievable experience.
Xochitl, the mascot for the second Women’s World Cup in , emphasized sex appeal and infantilization, a move hardly questioned at the time. (Claus Pedraza/Wikimedia Commons)
Off the pitch, they were superstars, with crowds gathering outside their hotel and mobbing the team coaches. The fans included a few lovesick young boys with bunches of flowers!
The Mexicans had been training for two months and were well prepared. They won both their group games and then beat Italy to make the final. The standard of play was “okay.” The Mexican team had good basic ball control, and there was a willingness to run with the ball. However, the games lacked pace, and defenders often needed an extra touch to control the ball, allowing them to get robbed close to their own penalty area.
Overall, as to be expected, there was also a lack of power compared to the men’s game, and goal kicks usually landed well short of the halfway line.
Mexico had done well in making the final, but not all was well behind the scenes. With the tournament drawing in considerable revenue, the Mexican team asked for the creation of a bonus fund that would be split between them. Disputes over this distracted the team in the days before the final game.
Even so, the Danes were the outstanding team of the tournament, and it is doubtful that the squabble in the Mexican camp had any real impact on the result. In the end, Denmark’s 15-year-old Susanne Augustesen scored a hat trick to guide her team to the title.
A stunning 110,000 spectators packed the Estadio Azteca for that game, and coach Harry Batt felt a corner had been turned.
Susanne Augustesen VM Mexico City 1971
Footage from the Mexico vs. Denmark final in 1971 in Mexico City, in which Denmark’s 15-year-old Susanne Augustesen took her team to victory against Mexico.
“I am certain,” he told the press on his return to England, “that in the future, there will be full-time professional ladies’ teams in this country.”
His team returned home with their suitcases so full of souvenirs that some worried about getting through customs. However, they left the fervor of 100,000-spectator crowds only to return to a wall of indifference back home. One player, invited to join her heroes Newcastle United at a club dinner, sat through a comedian whose main act was to ridicule women’s football. The young players who returned to school were not acknowledged in assembly.
And not just male authorities were indifferent: An official Women’s Football Association had just been formed, and although it had declined to send a team to Mexico, the association’s officials were furious at Harry Batt for what they saw as going behind their backs. Batt found himself blacklisted by the Women’s Football Association.
It was not only the English authorities cold-shouldered their team returning from Mexico. A couple of years later, the Danish Football Association (DBU) took over the running of women’s football in Denmark and launched an official national team. Games were few and far between, and they never called up Augustesen for an official international, even though she had become one of the great stars of the Italian professional league.
It was much the same story for the Mexican team. The press and cameras departed, and those who carried on playing did so on dusty second-rate pitches, relying on volunteers to keep the teams going. Internationally, there were a few more competitions, the mundialitos, but they were minor events, usually staged in Italy over the duration of a week for six invited teams. Mexico participated in the 1986 event but struggled in a tournament that nobody suggested had world championship status.
Memories of the 1971 World Cup faded, and the tournament had little impact on the later development of women’s football. That revolution was driven by events in the United States. In 1975, Pele joined the New York Cosmos, and soccer suddenly became the most popular sport for children in the U.S. It didn’t require the expensive equipment of baseball or American football, or carry the dangers of the latter.
After the excitement of Copa ’71 faded, many of the players who competed found themselves shunted aside and eventually forgotten, including in Mexico. (FIFA)
Americans knew nothing about soccer, including the fact that only boys were supposed to play, and so a generation of American girls grew up playing soccer in mixed games. By the time an official Women’s World Cup started in 1991, U.S. women’s soccer was the world superpower, doing better than its male counterparts, winning two of the first three tournaments and attracting a 94,000 crowd for the 1999 final in Pasadena.
The men who controlled the game slowly came to realize that soccer was a business — and in what business plan did it make sense to deliberately exclude half of the world’s population? With FIFA’s blessing, women’s soccer has gone from strength to strength.
Mexico has been somewhat left behind by the modern growth of the women’s sport, although that gap is closing. Today, the Mexican women’s professional league is in its ninth season, with wide television coverage and sponsorships allowing players to earn a reasonable monthly wage — about the same as a well-paid teacher in a private school.
Attendance hovers around 3,000, good compared to other women’s leagues around the world but dwarfed by the crowds watching men’s games. While Amelia Valverde Villalobos has done well at C.F. Monterrey, and Mónica Vergara has coached the national team, the coaching positions with the big female teams remain stubbornly filled by men.
The Mexican national team ‘El Tri Femenil’ has not become the regional power in the way that the men’s team has been for generations. They have not qualified for the World Cup since 2015, and after a disappointing performance in the 2022 CONCACAF championship, the team will miss the next round of big international tournaments.
As women’s soccer around the world moves slowly but steadily towards equality, the girls of 1971 are finally gaining some recognition. A movie about the Mexican World Cup, “Copa 71,”premiered at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival to positive reviews. Yet, the battle for equality is ongoing.
Copa 71 | Official Trailer
A documentary produced by Venus and Serena Williams, “Copa ’71” tells the story of the 1971 Mexico City Women’s World Cup via interviews with many of the participants.
As late as 2016, Barcelona FC was slammed online for sending its men’s and women’s teams to the same tournament, giving the male players business-class tickets while the women’s team flew economy.
However, the fact that this was recognized as an injustice perhaps shows how far we have progressed.
Bob Pateman is a Mexico-based historian, librarian and a life term hasher. He is editor of On On Magazine, the international history magazine of hashing.
"A conversation with a loved one, a walk through the Zócalo or an hour spent watching the sunset over the Pacific holds a value precisely because it defies quantification and comparison," Tamanna writes. (Martín Zetina/Cuartoscuro)
In my previous article, I explored Mexico’s approach to time, which I have found tends to value quality experiences over productivity — a stark contrast to the Americanized view that often treats time as a commodity.
Living in Mexico has prompted me to question: Why does time exist?
Is it for experiencing life or merely a token to be converted into things?
“Alphabet,” acrylic on canvas by Tamanna Bembenek.
I included a quote from Jerry Seinfeld that always stuck with me: “The secret of life is to waste time in ways that you like.”
I have been thinking about this a lot lately and have been diving deeper to understand what exactly I want to “waste” my time on and wanted to share my journey with you.
Staying true to my analytical nature, I’ve approached this quest in two complementary ways: first, by gathering wisdom from people’s life experiences (through personal conversations and research), books, podcasts and online research; and second, by examining cultural perspectives through metaphors in movies I have seen in my past. My research probably skews toward an American perspective, but I do believe it reveals universal truths that transcend cultural boundaries.
Collective wisdom from those who’ve lived it:
When asking people over age 50 about what advice they would give their younger selves, several themes emerged consistently. The following is a selective summary of what I found to be most relevant to my quest:
On valuing relationships: Jobs and money will come and go, but neither compensates for what we are lacking in life. Invest in developing relationships. Take trips together. Go on adventures together. Build a community you want to be a part of.
On worrying less about others’ opinions: When we are young, we tend to worry about what everyone else thinks, and when we are old, we finally realize that nobody else was thinking about us all along. Learn to know you, like you and you will be so much happier with “YOU.” I noticed this quote by Christopher Walken: “If you knew how quickly people forget the dead, you would stop living to impress people.”
On taking care of health: Having a healthy body along with a healthy mind is important, but they often don’t co-exist. It’s hard to change your life until you make small changes in your daily routine. A quote from an elderly woman: “Being thin is not the end-all, be-all. Eat the piece of pizza and order the dessert. I wasted so much of my late teens and early twenties obsessing over my weight and caloric intake.”
On valuing time: Take risks, learn to fail, travel and see the world when you are young — it informs your choices ahead. You have to slow down to speed up. Many people mention that they regret putting off meaningful experiences until retirement.
On emotions: Learn to let go. Don’t hold grudges. Don’t get angry when you’re stuck in traffic; focus on what you can control. Not everyone deserves power over your emotions; be selective. Don’t feel the need to correct dumb people. Healing doesn’t mean you will always feel joy, it just means you no longer need to make sense of what happened.
On contrasting perspectives on life and death:
Intriguingly, when I did my online research around what we fear the most, it revealed that public speaking ranks as the most common fear, with death being the second most common fear.
This was surprising to me since we can avoid public speaking, but death remains inevitable. So, why should we fear it all through life? This may also reflect a fundamental difference in cultural approaches to mortality.
American culture often portrays death as mysterious, horrifying and ultimately an individual experience. In contrast, Mexican culture seems to view death as part of life’s cyclical continuum, similar to their conception of time. This perspective manifests beautifully in Día de los Muertos celebrations, where death isn’t feared but celebrated as renewal and rebirth. For many Mexicans, death represents a collective experience where spirits reconnect with loved ones — a view I find more comforting and inherently less fearful.
The most consistent message across philosophical and religious traditions is that life’s meaning emerges not from pursuing happiness directly, but through purposeful engagement with challenges.
A Day of the Dead altar featuring the traditional cempasúchil flowers. (Depositphotos)
A few of my favorite books, Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning,” Paulo Coelho’s “The Alchemist” and “The Book of Joy” by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu all illuminate this truth from different angles.
Though Mexico isn’t officially designated a “Blue Zone,” author Dan Buettner’s research findings bring this point home for me in a tangible way.
Mexican cultural practices align remarkably with Blue Zone principles. Buettner’s research into Mexico’s unique position among the world’s happiest populations reveals a combination of cultural, environmental and social practices that align with the principles observed in Blue Zones. He emphasizes that Mexicans derive profound happiness from extended familial and social networks, which provide both emotional and financial resilience.
The concept of family extends beyond the nuclear unit to include aunts, uncles and distant cousins, creating a “broad safety net” that buffers against adversity. He observes how Mexicans prioritize social interaction over wealth accumulation, with the happiest individuals engaging in face-to-face socialization for up to six hours daily. His research also suggests Mexicans, culturally, associate happiness with the ability to make choices aligned with personal values, even while up against structural limitations.
Cultural perspectives from some movies I have watched:
In my youth, I remember two movies in particular that explored the purposefulness of life.
In my 20s, I watched Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life.” The movie explores life’s stages through absurdly humorous, Salvador Dali-like sketches and songs. Its message seems to be that life is ridiculous and chaotic, so it would be best to just laugh at it. It was quintessential British.
Even though I had watched it a couple of times in my twenties (with fellow intellectual geeks in graduate school), between the heavy British accent and the satire, I think the message was a bit lost on me. However, it is worth noting that many prominent comedians of today share the same view.
THE MEANING OF LIFE Clip - Fish (1983) Monty Python Movie
“The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” is another movie that I watched in my 30s. It basically mocks humanity’s delusion for grandeur, suggesting that life’s lack of inherent meaning is not a problem to solve but a reality to embrace. I found that perspective funny yet confusing; back then, I was too young to care about such deep and intricate life lessons anyway.
Recently, I decided to rewatch the Pixar movie “Coco” after witnessing/participating in Día de los Muertos celebrations in Mexico for the past few years. Coco masterfully interweaves age-old traditions, interpersonal connections and questions around our own existence, artfully showing the nature of time being cyclical. This time around, my biggest takeaway from “Coco” was that perhaps self-discovery is the biggest and only purpose of life — in this case, Miguel’s journey of life, reconciling his roots and values with his personal dreams.
These insights illuminate why Mexico’s cyclical approach to time resonates so deeply with me as I have gotten older, where moments are not spent but savored.
My learning is that the quantitative approach to time that we take often leads to comparative frameworks: Did I accomplish more today than yesterday? Am I “using” time better than others? Did I achieve more in a given time than others?
These questions prioritize comparisons over subjective fulfillment. Inadvertently, applying that thinking also often prevents me from living in the present. By contrast, qualitative experiences are deeply personal, based on how something makes me feel.
A conversation with a loved one, a walk through the Zócalo or an hour spent watching the sunset over the Pacific holds a value precisely because it defies quantification and comparison. It takes a little trust, courage and patience to prioritize my inner voice but my environment is the catalyst in that journey.
Tamanna Bembenek was born in India, studied and worked in the U.S. and now lives in Mexico with her husband, Travis. They are the co-owners of Mexico News Daily. Check out more of Tamanna’s writing below.
Listed as endangered under Mexican law, the harpy eagle is one of the world’s largest birds of prey. (Wikimedia Commons)
The harpy eagle — a striking, almost mythical-looking species thought extinct in Mexico — has been documented in the Lacandon Jungle of Chiapas, marking a landmark moment for conservationists.
“For many years, the scientific community considered it an extinct species in Mexico,” said Alan Monroy-Ojeda, a conservationist with a Ph.D. in tropical ecology. “Now, we can announce to the world that harpy eagles still exist here.”
He also said the sighting will be backed by a forthcoming article in a scientific publication, but didn’t say which.
Listed as endangered under Mexican law, the harpy eagle is one of the world’s largest birds of prey, with females typically being larger than males. Though both have a wingspan that can reach 2.2 meters (7 feet), females generally weigh 6 to 9 kilograms (13 to 20 pounds), with males generally 4 to 6 kilograms.
Both sexes are skilled hunters whose diets are dominated by arboreal mammals like monkeys and sloths.
The harpy breeds only once every two to three years, which is unusual among birds and contributes to its rarity, and females manage to conceive only one baby per nesting effort.
Its global population number is estimated to be 20,000 to 50,000, but that range is not very precise. Their biggest numbers are in South America, especially Brazil, while their populations in Central America are extremely small or nearly extirpated, with no reliable numbers available.
The harpy eagle’s reappearance in Chiapas — a southeastern Mexican state historically part of its range — comes after a 2011 photograph by an Indigenous guide near the Mexico-Guatemala border reignited search efforts.
Monroy-Ojeda credited the monitors from Siyaj Chan, a group of Indigenous community members who live near the Chiapas-Guatemala border. Its participants conduct regular field visits and wildlife monitoring, and have received training and equipment.
Alan Monroy-Ojeda signaling how tall harpy owls can grow to be: three feet tall! (@UVeracruzanaMx/X)
Monroy-Ojeda is the scientific director for Dimensión Natural, a Mexican organization dedicated to studying, documenting, and protecting priority species and their habitats — especially neotropical birds of prey in the Lacandon Jungle.
He warned that the harpy eagle (Harpia harpyja) population remains critically small, citing deforestation and habitat fragmentation as existential threats. He and others are scouting for the best areas to implement a reintroduction strategy to strengthen the conservation of the bird.
“The challenge of conserving this eagle is everyone’s,” he said, acknowledging collaborations with Mexico’s National Commission of Natural Protected Areas (CONANP), Natura y Ecosistemas Mexicanos (a 20-year-old nonprofit dedicated to protecting biodiversity in the Lacandon Rainforest in Chiapas) and local communities.
Efraín Orantes Abadía, a conservationist who witnessed the eagle, recalled his encounter: “It flew next to us, giving incredible shots. Today, there’s hope we can save this majestic bird.”
Both species face pressures from logging and agricultural expansion, though community-led ecotourism and habitat protection initiatives aim to counter these threats.
Also, both are linked to superstitions and popular beliefs in Indigenous cultures.
