Residents and visitors of states affected by Simon have been warned to take precautions. Those states are Colima (shown here on Sunday), Michoacán, Jalisco, Nayarit and Sinaloa. (Gustavo Vilchis/Cuartoscuro)
Hurricane Simon continues to churn slowly off Mexico’s Pacific coast on Monday, pounding western states with dangerous winds, heavy rain and flooding that put coastal communities on alert for possible evacuations.
With its center still whirling parallel to the coast, Simon’s most damaging winds and rain were forecast to persist near the Puerto Vallarta area.
Puerto Vallarta homes and businesses are taking protective measures, and also urging Simon to be “brief and peaceful.” (Héctor Colin/Cuartoscuro)
Maximum sustained winds had decreased to near 110 mph (175 km/h) late Sunday and the storm had weakened to a Category 2 hurricane, though it was featuring gusts of up to 135 mph (220 km/h).
As of 6 a.m., the hurricane was located approximately 80 kilometers west-southwest of Cabo Corrientes (just south of Puerto Vallarta), and 120 km southwest of Punta Mita, Nayarit.
Simon is skirting the coast at approximately 3 km/h and is expected to continue northwest through Tuesday before turning northeast and approaching the coast late Wednesday.
The U.S. National Hurricane Center said hurricane-force winds extend outward up to 15 miles (30 km) from the center and tropical-storm-force winds extend outward up to 60 miles (95 km).
Although some weakening is forecast through Monday, Simon could re-intensify on Tuesday and Wednesday and is expected to remain a hurricane until landfall.
Heavy rains of up to 6 to 8 inches are forecast for parts of Jalisco and Nayarit Monday and Tuesday, while Sinaloa is expected to see similar rainfall on Wednesday and Thursday.
10/11 – Hurricane #Simon continues to parallel the Jalisco coast with max winds of 105 kt. Simon-generated swells will bring life-threatening surf and rip currents to portions of SW and west-central Mexico over the next few days.
More: https://t.co/Wk7xxBlxYC #GOESWest #marinewx https://t.co/sMQI2gz8wI
Sustained winds of 60 to 80 km/h with gusts of 90 to 100 km/h are expected in Jalisco, but should decrease throughout Monday, while Nayarit and Sinaloa can expect to see winds of 30 to 40 km/h with gusts of 50 to 60 km/h.
Additionally, waves of 4 to 5 meters high (up to 16 feet) are evident along the Jalisco coast, with waves from 2.5 to 3.5 meters high (up to 11 feet) on the coasts of Nayarit and Sinaloa.
At the same time, isolated heavy rainfall is forecast for portions of the states of Michoacán and Colima.
President Claudia Sheinbaum on Monday urged residents of affected states to stay informed and follow Civil Protection recommendations as life-threatening flooding and mudslides are a real possibility.
The National Meteorological Service issued a Hurricane Warning area extending from Playa Pérula, Jalisco, to El Roblito, Nayarit — including the Islas Marías — and a Hurricane Watch area extending from El Roblito, Nayarit, to Bahía Tempehuaya, Sinaloa.
"The governor of Jalisco has to explain — it's their responsibility to explain why they used water [cannons] and tear gas, if they used them, to confront a protest," Sheinbaum said on Monday, after a reporter read out a list of people physically harmed or apprehended during a protest for clean water in Guadalajara on Sunday. (Camila Ayala Benabib/Cuartoscuro)
Sheinbaum’s mañanera in 60 seconds
🚔 Sheinbaum says Jalisco must explain use of force against Guadalajara water protesters: Asked about Sunday’s clashes outside Casa Jalisco, the governor’s residence, Sheinbaum said Governor Pablo Lemus and state authorities must explain why they used tear gas and water cannons, and provide information on those detained. “We don’t agree with repression,” she said, adding that the government also rejects violence at protests. The Jalisco government said 39 people were arrested after a group of around 400 people “unconnected to the protest” attacked police and attendees, leaving 28 officers and 31 other people injured. Media reports said protesters drew up a list of at least 23 people detained or missing.
💧 Federal government pledges to help Jalisco resolve Guadalajara water contamination, opposes privatization of water service: Sheinbaum said Lemus has proposed “a series of solutions” and that members of his team would meet with National Water Commission (Conagua) officials on Monday to agree on immediate actions and infrastructure projects. She said the government doesn’t support the privatization of the water service in Guadalajara.
Why today’s mañanera matters
At her Monday morning press conference, President Sheinbaum was asked about Jalisco authorities’ use of force at a large protest in Guadalajara on Sunday during which thousands of people demanded a solution to the long-running water contamination problem in the city. She was also asked about the arrest of dozens of people during the protest.
According to media reports, police used water cannons and tear gas against protesters who gathered outside Casa Jalisco, the official residence of Jalisco Governor Pablo Lemus.
La Mega Marcha por Agua Limpia frente a Casa Jalisco, en Guadalajara reunió unas 9 mil personas. La protesta fue recibida, exeso de policía, con vallas y se reprimió a las personas con chorros de agua a presión y gas lacrimógeno. 52 personas fueron detenidas.
📸 @Somoselmedio https://t.co/ZNZjb99OFN
“In response to the clashes that began to break out in the vicinity of the building, a riot control team pushed back the protesters using tear gas and high-pressure water cannons,” the newspaper La Jornada reported.
“This situation heightened tensions between the [protest] attendees and law enforcement, as children and elderly people were among those affected,” La Jornada wrote, adding that reports circulated on social media alleging the “kidnapping” of at least 20 people inside the Casa Jalisco precinct.
Sheinbaum said that it is up to authorities in Jalisco to explain what happened in Guadalajara on Sunday.
Also of note at today’s mañanera was the president’s pledge to work with Jalisco authorities to resolve the water contamination problem in the greater Guadalajara area.
“The high cost reflects the need to replace and expand significant parts of the city’s hydraulic system operated by the Inter-municipal System of Drinking Water and Sewerage Services, as much of it is obsolete following decades of use and chronic underinvestment,” MND reported on July 9.
Sheinbaum says Jalisco authorities must explain why they used force against protesters in Guadalajara
A reporter read out the names of around 50 people that he said were “suppressed, arrested, held and even kidnapped” by police while protesting against water contamination in Guadalajara on Sunday.
“… After more than three hours of clashes between protesters and anti-riot police, people who were protesting drew up a list of at least 23 people believed to have been detained or who were missing,” the newspaper reported.
For its part, the Jalisco government said in a statement that a group of around 400 people “unconnected to the protest” resorted to violence, attacking police officers and “attendees.” It said that 28 police officers were injured, two seriously, while 31 other people required medical attention. The Jalisco government said that 39 people were arrested, adding that their “legal situation” would be determined by the state Attorney General’s Office.
The aforesaid reporter asked the president how the Mexican government could “guarantee” that people who went missing (or were detained) during Sunday’s protest would return to their homes “safe and sound.”
“The governor of Jalisco has to provide information about this issue because it was a decision they made,” Sheinbaum responded, referring to Pablo Lemus and authorities’ use of force.
“The authorities of Jalisco have to say why they made this decision, and provide information on the people detained,” she said.
“… We don’t agree with repression,” Sheinbaum added.
“… We also disagree with the use of violence in protests. We believe and we have always believed in peaceful protests,” she said.
“… In this particular case, the governor of Jalisco has to explain — it’s their responsibility to explain why they used water [cannons] and tear gas, if they used them, to confront a protest,” Sheinbaum said.
Sheinbaum: Conagua officials will meet with Jalisco authorities to discuss water contamination in Guadalajara
Sheinbaum said that members of the governor’s “team” would meet on Monday with officials from the National Water Commission (Conagua) to discuss a plan to address the problem.
“We just don’t agree with supporting the privatization of water service,” she said.
However, the federal government is committed to working with Jalisco authorities to resolve the contamination problem “with common resources,” Sheinbaum said.
“It is a problem and we have to address it,” she said.
Sheinbaum said that Conagua and the Jalisco government will come to an agreement on the “immediate actions” and infrastructure projects that are required to address the problem.
Asked whether she has expressed to Lemus the federal government’s opposition to water service privatization in Jalisco, Sheinbaum responded:
“There are financing schemes that could lead to the private operation of water. So this is what we have to discuss with [Lemus], these financing schemes. And we’re going to seek a solution because we have to find a solution for the residents of the metropolitan area of Guadalajara.”
Australian brothers Callum and Jake Robinson and American Jack Carter Rhoad were killed while on a surfing and camping trip in Baja California in 2024. (Instagram)
A judge in Baja California found three men guilty in the 2024 murder of two Australian brothers and a U.S. friend who were in Mexico on a surfing trip.
Judge Raúl Hernández ruled on Friday in the coastal city of Ensenada that Jesús Gerardo García, alias “El Kekas,” Irineo Francisco “N” and Ángel Jesús “N” were responsible for killing brothers Callum, 33, and Jake Robinson, 30, and American Jack Carter Rhoad, 30.
Hernández found that the three men acted with premeditation.
Prosecutors requested sentences of up to 150 years for the three suspects during the trial. The sentences will be announced on Oct. 16.
The three victims were camping and surfing near Punta San José when they were reported missing in late April 2024. Their bodies were found a few days later.
The murders sparked an outpouring of grief and condemnation in Australia and the United States. It also shocked locals and tourists in the region as the beach town has a reputation as a welcoming spot for surfers.
The Robinsons’ parents, Martin and Debra, travelled from Australia for the trial, which began on Sept. 7. During the trial, the court heard that the three surfers were killed during an apparent robbery attempt in a secluded beach area barely 36 hours after they had crossed into Mexico from the United States. After the men were killed, their bodies were dumped down a well.
Martin called the verdict “a significant moment in our long and painful journey to seek justice for our beautiful sons … and their friend.”
Rhoad’s family joined the trial by video link.
“They took our sons from our lives forever,” said Debra, who testified on the final day of the trial. “What hurts us most is that, in their final hours, they were treated with such cruelty.”
With the help of the Blake hitch, arborist Juan Carlos Velázques Hueso can reach branches affected by el muérdago and saw them off. (John Pint)
Ten years ago, I visited a city park in the Guadalajara Metro Area that a group of enthusiastic volunteers was transforming into a bosque-escuela, an “arboreal school,” where they would someday be able to teach the public all about three different kinds of forest.
Hundreds of sticky seeds
Throughout the park, they had planted many trees, and as we walked among these saplings, the environmentalists pointed out a problem they had not anticipated. The smooth branches of all these young trees were covered with hundreds — perhaps thousands — of small, sticky seeds.
A female black-chinned hummingbird visiting nectar-rich mistletoe flowers at La Vega Dam in Jalisco. (Pancho Lodi)
“These,” I was told by engineer Ricardo López, a leader of the group, “are the seeds of Psittacanthus calyculatus, which most people call el muérdago (the plant that bites). In English, we call it Mexican mistletoe.”
The seeds were less than an inch long, covered with a very sticky glue called viscin, which has properties beyond those of a commercial adhesive.
To my astonishment, I learned that the seeds I was looking at had been deposited during the past week, forcing the volunteers to wipe the branches clean every Saturday, typically removing around two kilograms of seeds.
“This is happening all over western Mexico,” they told me, “and it is going to be hard to survive.”
Muérdago attack strategy
What Mexicans call muérdago is one of around 150 species of mistletoes and dwarf mistletoes that have developed efficient procedures for tapping the water supply of trees, weakening and in many cases killing their hosts.
Here’s how it works:
Muérdago seeds are coated with extremely sticky viscin, which contains strong fibers that bind the seed to the tree branch, which it then impales. (John Pint)
When a bird eats the mistletoe berry, the viscin coating prevents the seed from being digested. In fact, it comes out the other end of the bird stickier than ever and activated for growing.
The viscin, according to the Max Planck Institute and McGill University, is much more than slime. It contains incredibly strong fibers that allow a tiny droplet to stretch out into thin, sticky threads up to 2 meters long. As the seed falls from bird to branch, or slides under gravity, these long threads mechanically wrap and wind around the textures, cracks and contours of the tree bark.
According to Scientific American, as the viscin dries in the open air, its internal fibers align parallel to one another along the direction of stress, greatly increasing the tensile strength of the threads. Finally, the viscin hardens into a rigid, cement-like solid.
All is ready for stage two of the muérdago’s attack.
Impaling the host tree
Instead of producing a root that seeks soil, like a normal plant, the mistletoe seed now grows a penetration peg, a kind of anatomical drill, which pushes downward into the tree branch. To help things along, the peg secretes a cocktail of aggressive plant enzymes, which turn the tough bark into soft mush.
Once the peg reaches the tree’s water highway, it transforms into a kind of pipe, connecting the tree’s plumbing with the invader’s. Soon after, the first green mistletoe leaves sprout on the outside of the branch.
A wood-rose lamp. The wood rose is a deformed outgrowth or gall created by an oak tree while fighting off el muérdago. (Chepe Medina)
During the dry season, the muérdago produces vibrant, brightly colored tubular flowers filled with copious amounts of nectar, which hummingbirds find irresistible.
Slow road to death
If the tree is deep in a forest, surrounded by arboreal “friends,” its defense mechanisms will probably defeat the mistletoe attack. If, however, it is growing in a city, town or rancho, it will no longer be able to close wounds or produce defensive chemicals, leaving it completely defenseless against wood-boring insects, fungi and diseases. The tree will typically undergo a slow, progressive decline that ultimately results in its death.
In August 2026, Sergio Graf, director general of CONAFOR, the National Forestry Commission, identified mistletoe and other parasitic plants as the country’s principal forest-pest problem in terms of the area affected.
Anti-mistletoe brigades
In Jalisco, one of the hardest-hit states, citizens of many communities are forming anti-mistletoe groups. Says Susana Ibarra, an active member of Vecinos contra el Muérdago in one small community in Zapopan: “This is a problem that can’t be solved by spraying. Fortunately, we have the help of two arboristas (arborists or tree surgeons), Chepe Medina and Juan Carlos Hueso. They have the equipment and the will to climb up into the trees and saw off infected branches. But everywhere we look, we find more muérdago. I don’t see how we are ever going to win this battle!”
I had a chance to chat with one of those soldiers waging war against el muérdago in Jalisco. Arborist Juan Carlos Velázques Hueso told me he learned how to do it while working for the Primavera Forest.
“How do you go about removing mistletoe from an infected tree?” I asked him.
Roping a tree
Removing mistletoe seeds from saplings at Bosque Pedagógico Park in Guadalajara. Around two kilos of seeds were collected in one day. (John Pint)
Hueso, as his friends call him, showed me his equipment: a tree saw on a pole, a climbing harness and a coiled kernmantle rope. “First of all,” he said, “we never use climbing spurs or spikes, which could damage a tree. Instead, we loop a nylon rope over a tree branch and go up the rope.”
Looping is accomplished by first throwing a small weight attached to a cord over the desired branch. The rope is then tied to this cord and pulled up over the branch. Next, Hueso and about 80% of the world’s arborists ascend the rope using one of the oldest and simplest systems known: a special knot called Blake’s hitch (but actually invented by Austrian Heinz Prohaska). When pulled from the top, this hitch slides upward easily. When pulled from the bottom, it tightens securely.
Amputation
Up the rope goes the arborist, hoping he won’t run into wasps or a swarm of bees before reaching the infected branch, which he then amputates.
“I don’t think we will ever eradicate el muérdago,” Hueso told me, “nor would we want to. In the dry season those clumps of mistletoe provide birds with lipid-rich berries and a green place of refuge. What I do hope is that we will manage to get el muérdago under control. I think we can do that, but it’s going to be a tough fight.”
John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.
From finding that dream "departamento" to getting the "llaves," here's a list of vocabulary you will need to move into your new place. (Jakub Zerdzicki/Unsplash)
Planning on moving to Mexico? Thinking of changing your environment and starting the next chapter in your life? Perhaps you want to experience the warm Mexican weather, or maybe you just want a multi-month break on this side of the world.
No matter why you’re coming, you’ll need somewhere to stay. If you’re planning on renting a place, it’s important to be prepared with some Spanish words and phrases that you’ll encounter along the way.
Having lived in different countries and cities myself, I understand that the renting process can be confusing and sometimes overwhelming, so keep reading to tackle this subject with confidence.
¿Está amueblado este departamento, por favor? (Graciela López/Cuartoscuro)
Let’s start with the easiest and most basic term you’ll need:
Departamento (apartment)
With this word, you can start your search
Estoy buscando un departamento en esta área. (I am looking for an apartment in this area.)
Knowing this, you can then ask:
¿Cuál es el costo de la renta? (What is the rent cost?)
¿Podría ir a verlo? (Could I go see it?)
Knowing whether a place is furnished is important. So you would ask:
¿Está amueblado? (Is it furnished?)
The term that covers things like water, electricity and internet would be “servicios.” You might ask:
¿Los servicios están incluidos? (Are utilities included?)
If you like the apartment and agree to its amenities and features, your landlord (casero or rentero) might ask you for a deposit (depósito) and an endorsement (aval), which is the property that is being proposed as a guarantee for the loan. They might tell you:
Voy a necesitar un depósito y un aval. (I am going to need a deposit and an endorsement.)
By familiarizing yourself with these words and phrases, you can navigate the process with ease. Practice writing them in a text or challenge yourself by sending your possible landlord a voice message.
Don’t be afraid of mispronouncing something or making mistakes — it’s all part of the experience.
Paulina Gerez is a translator-interpreter, content creator, and founder of Crack The Code, a series of online courses focused on languages. Through her social media, she helps people see learning a language from another perspective through her fun experiences.
Despite its ambitious concept, the "Pay What You Can" experiment initiated by several prominent Mexico City chefs offered dispiriting returns. (This image was generated using AI tools)
MEXICO CITY — Prominent culinary innovators in the capital were left re-evaluating basic principles of macroeconomic theory Monday after a revolutionary “Pay What You Can” initiative resulted in gross revenue that failed to cover the cost of a single order of heirloom blue corn tortillas.
The initiative, launched by celebrated local chefs aiming to dismantle socioeconomic barriers through fine dining, invited patrons to enjoy multi-course tasting menus while choosing their own total price at the end of the meal. Organizers confirmed that while foot traffic surged by 400%, total financial receipts for the day amounted to 84 Mexican pesos, three transit tokens, a handwritten note thanking the kitchen for its energy, and a vintage wooden jacket button.
Graduate student Fernando Ruiz forked over 40 pesos for the “best meal of my life,” and judged the experiment in dismantling social and financial barriers to fine dining to be an unqualified success. (This image was generated using AI tools)
“Our goal was to challenge the capitalistic framework of haute cuisine and replace monetary transactions with a trust-based exchange of mutual respect,” said head chef and co-creator Mateo Sandoval while staring quietly at a spreadsheet indicating a net operational loss of 142,000 pesos in under six hours. “We believed that when presented with world-class gastronomy, the community would organically assign fair value. It turns out the community organically assigns fair value to be approximately 3.50 pesos per person, including dessert.”
According to restaurant records, the dinner service began smoothly at 5 p.m., with tables filled to capacity by neighborhood residents, international food critics and local college students. However, accounting discrepancies emerged early in the evening when a table of six consumed four courses of spiced duck carnitas and three bottles of biodynamic wine before leaving a polite tap on the table and a piece of used peppermint gum on the receipt tray.
Industry experts note that while honor-system pricing model trials frequently experience light friction in retail environments, applying the concept to a Michelin-caliber establishment in a neighborhood populated heavily by budget-conscious patrons was ambitious. A post-service audit revealed that 68% of diners paid with pocket change, 22% offered heartfelt verbal compliments, and one party of eight left a five-star review on Google while leaving zero pesos on the table, citing the restaurant’s “inspiring social vision” as their primary takeaway.
“It was easily the best meal of my life,” said local graduate student Fernando Ruiz, who enjoyed a smoked-plantain barbacoa course before contributing 40 centavos and an expired Metro card. “I really felt the spirit of solidarity in the room. You can’t put a price tag on community engagement, which is fortunate, because if they had put a price tag on it, I wouldn’t have been able to eat there.”
At press time, the restaurant management team confirmed that while they remain deeply committed to food accessibility and social justice, their upcoming guest chef series will return to a rigid “pay before you leave” model, with an optional “pay what you can” tier restricted strictly to side orders of salsa.
Mexico's Day of the Dead traditions have inspired a unique artistic journey for the author, who has progressed from Catrina makeup and live events to writing and directing a new AI-enabled film. (Ale Su Art)
When we started working around Día de Muertos in 2019, none of us imagined where it would lead.
At the beginning, we were simply a group of friends traveling through different parts of Mexico, creating Catrina makeup, putting together wardrobe and photographing the results against landscapes we loved. There was no elaborate business model behind it. We enjoyed creating characters, traveling and showing a little of Mexico through photography.
Eventually, people began asking if they could take part in what they were seeing.
A photo session slowly became an experience. Visitors wanted makeup, but they also wanted to understand where the tradition came from. They wanted to visit the places we photographed, try the food, meet local people and experience Día de Muertos beyond the image they had seen online.
That changed our work considerably. Over the following years, we began incorporating photography, transportation, lodging, traditional food and tours with certified guides. The makeup was still important, but it became one part of something larger.
By 2024, the Catrina market had also changed. There were many more artists offering Día de Muertos makeup and photography, and for a while I wondered whether it was time for me to stop doing it altogether.
Instead, I decided that we needed to evolve. I became less interested in making another Catrina portrait and more interested in building complete worlds around the people we photographed.
The project had been in my head for years. It actually came from a dream, and I kept the idea almost entirely to myself while I tried to save enough money to produce it properly.
For around four years, I thought about how to turn that image into something physical. When we finally made it, almost everything had to be real. The Catrinas were real models. The cempasúchil was natural. We needed costumes, makeup, transportation, lodging and a large amount of coordination.
The production took place in Xochimilco. We rented three trajineras for more than 11 hours and moved large quantities of cempasúchil into the location. More than 12 people were involved.
Seeing something that had existed in my imagination for years finally become real was incredibly satisfying. It was also expensive and logistically difficult.
That experience made me much more aware of the relationship between an idea and the resources needed to execute it. Sometimes the image you want to create only exists for a few hours, yet reaching that moment can require years of savings, weeks of preparation and a large team.
I began thinking about what else we could create if those physical limitations were different.
I became seriously interested in artificial intelligence at the beginning of 2026. Like many people, I started by experimenting, and, honestly, my first results were not very good.
The images could be interesting, but they did not have the consistency, quality or level of control I expected. Characters changed between shots. Locations changed. Cameras behaved unpredictably. A scene that looked good on its own often did not work when placed next to another scene.
That was when I realized how different generating an image is from telling a story.
I decided to slow down some of our regular Catrina productions and travel projects and dedicate more time to studying these tools. There was a lot to learn. If a character walks into a room, where is the door? If the camera cuts to the opposite side, is the geography still correct? If the same person appears five minutes later, do they still look like the same person? If a dog follows someone through several scenes, does its behavior make sense?
These may sound like very basic filmmaking questions, but generative models do not necessarily solve them for you.
One idea I began exploring during this period was something I call “Sacred Nature.” The concept came from looking at things we see every day — flowers, landscapes, plants — and asking what would happen if we treated them as something monumental.
An example of “Sacred Nature” as it applies to Día de Muertos celebrations. (Ale Su Art)
Instead of using nature as background decoration, I wanted it to dominate the frame: giant flowers, exaggerated natural environments and landscapes that made familiar elements feel extraordinary.
AI gave me a way to experiment with that scale without physically building everything.
Adding AI to the work we already had
We now use AI in several parts of our workflow, although we are still learning constantly. Sometimes it is very practical. We can recover an image that was slightly blurred, refine details, assist with video editing or reconstruct a shot that did not work as expected.
During high season, it can also help us deliver photography more quickly while maintaining the visual identity we have developed with our photographers over the years.
Other times, AI allows us to take an existing production somewhere completely new. A real portrait can inspire an environment that would have been impossible for us to build physically. An idea that would once have required a huge set can now be tested before we invest in making it real.
I do not see that as replacing our previous work. We still work with real makeup, real flowers, photography, travel, models and cultural experiences. Those things remain central to what we do. AI simply gave us another tool.
The author’s new Día de Muertos-themed film is titled “Cada Noviembre.” (Ale Su Art)
The most important result of that evolution so far has been “Cada Noviembre.”
The real stories behind ‘Cada Noviembre’
“Cada Noviembre” was inspired by three different experiences. The first happened in Oaxaca.
One of the things I love about traveling during Día de Muertos is how easily people begin talking to you. There is often a warmth and openness that leads to conversations you would never expect. During one of those trips, we met a man who told us he was the last living member of his family. Every year he visited the cemetery and went from grave to grave, remembering the relatives who were no longer there.
He had even purchased his own grave. He wanted to prepare it himself and know what it would look like before the day came when he would occupy it. I never forgot that conversation.
Years later, it became the foundation for Juan, the main character in “Cada Noviembre.”
The second part of the story came from my own life. Juan suffers from a progressive pulmonary illness. I chose that because of my own experiences with pulmonary hospitals and because of the people I have met there.
What happens when a dog loses someone it considers part of its family? That question and the relationship that ensues is central to “Cada Noviembre.” (Ale Su Art)
When you spend time in hospitals, you hear stories. You see other families. You begin to understand how differently illness changes everyday life. Film frequently uses cancer to represent serious illness. I wanted to talk about something I knew more personally.
The third element was the dog. I kept thinking about a simple question: What happens when a dog loses the person it considers its family?
In the film, Juan initially does not want the stray xoloitzcuintle following him. Over time, however, the animal becomes part of his routine. They walk together. The dog waits for him. Their relationship develops quietly until companionship becomes family.
I wanted that relationship to feel ordinary rather than magical. The xolo does not understand death like a person. It simply remembers routines.
For me, that made the ending much stronger.
Making the film
We made “Cada Noviembre” in approximately three weeks with a team of five people. Three people worked on sound, one person supported editing and post-production, and I handled the generative visual production. I wrote the screenplay, directed the project, developed the characters and created the AI-generated video sequences.
The biggest challenge was continuity. Juan could not suddenly become another person between scenes. The cemetery needed to remain geographically consistent. The xolo had to look and behave like the same animal. Juan’s house, his cane, the photographs, flowers and lighting all had to remain recognizable.
Even Juan’s walking pace mattered because his illness progresses throughout the film.
Sometimes we generated a shot where the performance worked perfectly but the camera angle was wrong. Other times the picture worked and the audio did not. We learned to reconstruct certain shots instead of throwing everything away and starting again.
The process became much closer to filmmaking than I initially expected. There were scripts, revisions, continuity problems, sound problems, editing decisions and many failed takes — except our “takes” were generations.
A Mexican story traveling internationally
Today, “Cada Noviembre” is participating in an international AI film festival. What makes me proud is not simply that it was made with artificial intelligence. What matters to me is that Día de Muertos is at the center of it.
This is the same culture we began working with when we were painting Catrinas with friends in 2019.
The author’s focus remains rooted in Día de Muertos and its unique place in Mexican culture. (Ale Su Art)
Then we traveled through Mexico. Then we created cultural experiences. Then came El Viaje de las Ánimas, which we built almost entirely in the physical world.
Now we are telling a complete cinematic story using another set of tools.
The film has received responses from people in Mexico, the United States and other countries. Some identify with Juan’s illness. Others have lost parents or grandparents. Others simply recognize the loyalty of a dog waiting for someone it loves.
That response has convinced me that technology is not the part people ultimately remember. They remember the story.
What AI changes, and what it does not
Artificial intelligence has made things possible for us that would have been financially unrealistic only a few years ago. A small independent team can now attempt visual ideas that once might have required a much larger production budget. That is exciting.
But I also think people underestimate how much human work remains.
AI does not know why Juan matters. It does not know what Día de Muertos means to my family or to the people we have met throughout Mexico. It does not automatically understand when a cultural detail feels authentic and when it feels like a stereotype.
Those decisions still belong to us.
For our team, AI is not a replacement for the work we have done since 2019. It is part of its evolution. We still want to travel. We still want to work with flowers, makeup, photography and real people. We still want to create physical experiences.
Now we can also take the stories we discover along the way and imagine them at a scale that previously felt impossible.
We started with Catrina makeup. Today, we are making films.
The tools have changed considerably, but the reason we create has stayed surprisingly simple. We want to tell stories about Mexico and find new ways to share them with the world.
Alejandro Su is a contributor to Mexico News Daily.
The Baja XL Rally convoys on a beach in Baja. (Ryan G. Christen)
On Day 8 of the Baja XL Rally down the Baja California Peninsula, we passed through San Ignacio in Baja California Sur. Again.
It was beautiful and vibrant, as visitors and locals wandered around the old stone streets. Small family-owned restaurants with open patios filled the square, the smell of fresh food sizzling on a skillet. Misión San Ignacio, founded nearly 300 years ago, was still proudly presiding over the square, and this was our first time seeing it all in daylight.
Then a siren in the distance, and a voice booming over a PA system: “Wooo, the Fire Department San Ignacio is here! Welcome, Baja XL!” The vice mayor and his brother, the comandante, were arriving to greet us, and had decided to make an entrance the best way they could, with their prized fire truck and ambulance.
It was a welcome sight after the grueling week that had preceded, but a week we wouldn’t soon forget.
Baja XL co-organizer Wilson Craig, right, arranges a fuel donation with Comandante Marco Antonio Berrelleza Castro of the San Ignacio fire department. (Ryan G. Christen)
The BajaXL Rally
My teammate Derek and I were not only taking part in the Baja XL but also filming a documentary about it.
Like the famous Baja 1000, the XL takes on the same rugged wilderness, only it isn’t a race. It is a backcountry expedition, much longer than the 1000, lasting 10 full days.
When the original organizer stepped down, Dave Moore and Wilson Craig, the rally’s “co-jefes,” took up the torch to keep the Baja XL alive as a community event.
This was the first community-led Baja XL: no sponsors, no official organization, no emergency support. No winners. No losers. No competition.
Derek and I dove into the experience a touch overconfident. We are seasoned emergency-management professionals, and his daily driver, a mostly stock F-150, seemed like a solid rig.
However, we quickly realized we were in over our heads before we even started, but that is another story.
Giving back to Baja
The Baja XL selects a charity for each rally. For ours, Dave and Wilson had chosen the schools in the village of San Ignacio, so every team brought backpacks and hard-to-source school supplies for the kids — colored pencils, crayons, coloring books and workbooks.
Before the rally, Dave and Wilson had also organized a charity bingo in Benicia, California. Our first trip into San Ignacio had come a few days earlier, to deliver the donations and to find shelter after some rough days off-roading.
By Day 3 we had dug out one truck twice, watched two teams break and one turn back, and blown the bushings on a rear shock. We were getting our asses kicked, Baja checking the ego we had brought across the border. We did not clear the dirt until after dark, then drove the highway at night.
Just as we cleared town, a black cow stepped into our lane from the centerline, washed out by oncoming headlights. He was so big his head was above the driver’s side mirror. A sliver of luck and Derek’s last-second save threaded the needle.
Forget the plan. We got off the road and found food and sleep in the first town we came to. Anything to get out of the truck.
That is how we rolled into San Ignacio for the first time, catching a glimpse of the square illuminated only by the light spilling from the few stores and the one family-run taquería still open.
All I could do was laugh
We started Day 4 hoping to turn the trip around, but Day 4 had other plans in store for us.
We woke to a leaking water line and a lake developing in our room. To be fair to Ignacio Springs, they had done us a solid: with no rooms left, they gave us a roof and a bed in a partially built expansion across the road. They could have turned us away.
The author’s tailgate coffee setup at Ignacio Springs on the morning of day four, a few minutes before the thermos caught fire. (Ryan G. Christen)
Derek went to let the staff know, and I went out to make a tailgate brew. I overindulge in caffeine, so I had brought grounds, a Jetboil and a camping French press. Nearly 20 years as a firefighter means I am used to coffee that could float a horseshoe.
Unfortunately, as I set up one of the few joys I had lugged into Baja, I set my thermos on fire because I had forgotten to remove the plastic guard on the bottom. Everything was derailing so fast, all I could do was laugh.
The owners made things right and refunded our payment. They were extremely kind, and for that alone I would go back and try one of their yurts. That kindness, in hindsight, was the front edge of our turning point, and a first introduction of what San Ignacio is like.
‘Good vibes from here on’
Eventually we cleared out and, well behind schedule, followed Dave and Wilson to the school to drop our donation. The school was not what you are picturing. No classrooms, no playground, no school buses. It was a grove of palm trees with a large clearing in the middle, beside the water. A woman directed us to a table to add our donations to the others.
By the time the last truck came through, the Baja XL teams had donated enough backpacks and school supplies for all 120 kids in the village’s three schools, plus toys, stickers and soccer balls.
The woman who received the donations had a relaxed, positive energy. “Good vibes from here on. No more breakdowns,” she said as we loaded up to head out. It was not a wish for our trip. It was more of a statement. I like to think it was someone in touch with the place, letting Baja know it was safe to allow us passage and show us why people fall in love with the land and people.
If that was the case, Baja heard the message. We rounded the southern end of the peninsula and started back north. We had cleared halfway. Day 8 brought us back to San Ignacio.
A heartfelt thanks
That morning, at a fuel shack in a speck of a town, Wilson received a video message from the mayor and other San Ignacio officials thanking the rally for the school supplies.
Wilson messaged back and learned the volunteer fire department could barely afford fuel for its trucks. A collection went around on a payment app, our version of passing the hat, enough to fill the fire truck, the ambulance and the service vehicles, and the route bent back to San Ignacio.
The author, left, and associate producer Derek Bays unload backpacks during the BajaXL school supply donation for the children of San Ignacio. (Ryan G. Christen)
The approach to San Ignacio announces itself. The trail turns green, then the palms, then the square. In daylight we could finally see the Misión San Igancio that had stood sentry over the square in the dark.
Welcomed inside to film, we stood at the far end of the nave, in front of the ornate altar, and stared up at the domed ceiling and open beams.
‘You saved a life with this’
In the distance, a siren sounded, and from around the bend at the end of the road, a fire truck came into view with lights flashing. Juan, the vice mayor, was driving and on the PA, welcoming our rally into town. His brother Marco Antonio, the comandante, followed in the ambulance.
After all those years in the fire service, I can spot an old rig in a heartbeat; this one was about 40 years old and still said Riverside County on the side. These guys were stoked for what they had, and they deserved to be. Juan and Marco showed us “the most complete ambulance in all of Baja.” We arranged the donation, shared Baja XL challenge coins and a few gifts, and headed out to the trails.
We set up camp around a tiki just off the beach near Guerrero Negro, beside the largest saltworks in the world, and the sun set as we got the fire going. Around that fire, Wilson’s phone lit up with a thank-you video from Juan: the fire truck at a fuel pump, the ambulance pulling up on the other side.
“Thank you, Wilson, Baja XL and everyone in the U.S. We love you. You saved a life with this.”
Baja withholds no challenges. That’s part of its appeal. But it also rewards deeply those willing to face the challenges. When we needed it most, San Ignacio showed us what an oasis is: a bed when there was nowhere else to sleep, kindness when the room flooded, a woman at a school promising no more breakdowns, and a reason to come back.
Between Day 4 and Day 8, between a leaking water line and a siren welcoming a convoy of strangers, San Ignacio was the same. We were not.
What’s next for Baja XL?
The 2027 Baja XL has chosen the San Ignacio Fire Department as its charity, with Bingo for Bomberos on Saturday, Oct. 17, 2026, at The Chill in Benicia. Details on supporting the charity and on joining the rally are on the Baja XL website and social media channels.
“Into Uncertainty,” the documentary shot from inside the rally, was completed in August 2026 and has been submitted to Sundance, SXSW, Big Sky and Slamdance.
Go see Baja, and go see San Ignacio. If you see Juan and the fire truck, tell him we said hello.
Ryan G. Christen is a contributor to Mexico News Daily.
Mexican singer known for his influence on traditional Mexican music and culture.
I’ve been living in Mexico for a very long time. When I first came, I was barely an adult, and I’ve “grown up” here in the sense that I grew into an adult here. In lots of ways, I feel like Mexico has raised me from the age of 21 on, which I think most of us can agree is the age of just a baby.
I also love karaoke. A lot. I have a pretty average voice but can mostly hit the notes, and that’s enough for me. Really, there are few things more fun than pretending to be a rockstar, and Mexico is where I first honed my rockstar-pretending skills.
Not pictured: Sarah DeVries knowing the words to classic Mexican songs. (Singa Karaoke/Unsplash)
It’s at these parties, though, that I remember: actually, I’m not Mexican.
What makes this obvious? Song choices, mostly. And also this sad fact: Everyone seems to know every single word to lots of songs I’ve never heard in my life. They belt them out with the passion and pain of recently jilted lovers while I stand awkwardly by.
How and when did they learn them? Is there a secret Mexican kids club where they learn all the mariachi classics in elementary school?
Basically, the answer is yes, there is. Really, though, it’s mostly just from them listening to the music their parents listened to growing up. Remember too that children are included at parties here just as much as adults. They might be running around and playing, but Juan Gabriel’s music is subliminally making its way to their memory centers while they do.
I did not grow up with Mexican parents, so I’m still playing catch-up. It’s hard not to feel second-rate at these moments. I mean, what are the songs that Americans universally know? “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain?” Give me a break.
I know plenty of songs in Spanish, but I really just want to sing “I Want to Break Free” and other favorites at karaoke that fall within my limited voice range. If only I could comfortably hit Shakira’s high notes!
At least I can do fellow Tejana Selena’sComo la Flor, right? Alas, I am still far behind. Luckily, I am surrounded by Mexicans who can help me learn them, or at the very least what they are.
Some are ballads, and some are pop hits. But they all seem to have a magical effect on all Mexicans’ party time. They’re keys that unlock something inside the Mexican psyche, making them close their eyes, tilt their heads back, and position their hands in a way that can only be described as a gesture of anguish born from a deep well of heartbreak and passion.
So I have gone on a deep well expedition for you all, my friends, and have returned! Here are some of the songs that Mexicans know — completely, by heart — and love.
‘El Rey’ by Vicente Fernández
Vicente Fernández - El Rey (En Vivo)
You might actually recognize this song, or at least some parts.
“Con dinero y sin dinero, hago siempre lo que quiero…” and “Llorar, y llorar…” are two of its most recognizable lines. Vicente Fernández, like many of the great Mexican acts of the 20th century, had a real rags to riches story. Born in Jalisco, he spent his teenage years doing odd jobs, including working as a cashier at an uncle’s restaurant. Eventually, he started singing at restaurants and weddings, and the rest is history.
‘Rata de Dos Patas’byPaquita la del Barrio
Paquita la del Barrio - Rata De Dos Patas (En Vivo)
Now, this song has some seriously sick burns. Here’s the chorus: “Rata de dos patas / Te estoy hablando a ti / Porque un bicho rastrero / Aún siendo el más maldito / Comparado contigo / Se queda muy chiquito.”
“Two-legged rat / I’m talking to you / Because a creeping bug / Even the worst kind, Compared to you / Is nothing.”
As you might guess, Paquita is known for her fearless teasing of, and anger at, Mexican misogyny. “¿Me estás oyendo, inútil?” — “Do you hear me, you good-for-nothing? — often makes its way into her live performances, and honestly, who can get enough of it? Someone’s got to stand up to all those cheating machistas!
‘Bésame Mucho’ by Consuelo Velázquez
Consuelo Velazquez — Besame Mucho
You’ve probably heard this song before — it seems every artist has a version of it.
This is a recording of the original composer, who, if Wikipedia is to be believed, had never been kissed when she wrote this song at the age of 16. Check outthis video to see her chops on the piano. Wow!
‘Amor Eterno’ by Juan Gabriel
Juan Gabriel - Amor Eterno (En el Palacio de Bellas Artes)
Juan Gabriel, like many of the artists mentioned, is a Mexican institution. He sang passionately and often, accompanied by a full orchestra and mariachi singers.
I’m almost certain that most Mexicans know every single word to every one of his songs, but have not proved this scientifically.
‘El Triste’ by José José
José José - El Triste en vivo
This is another one of those singers whose every song has essentially been memorized by a sizable portion of the population. Rumor has it that his singing voice completely left him after years of drinking.
Thankfully, he recorded quite a bit before that point.
‘Mis Ojos Lloran por Ti’ by Big Boy
Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti
This is a more contemporary song than the ones above, and it is a fun one! Whoever can sing this one at karaoke, in fact, pretty much wins the night.
Why? There’s a lot of really fast rapping woven throughout the song, and it is a major challenge.
‘Que Bello’ by Sonora Dinamita
La Sonora Dinamita - Que Bello (letra)
This song cracks me up, and it’s one that I actually know! Sometimes I try to sing it at karaoke, but usually start laughing when I hear a line like “Pero me arrepiento, en el piso o donde sea y tómame” — “But I change my mind, on the floor or wherever, take me.”
Um, I’m sorry, a cold, hard floor? When there’s a nice, comfy bed available? Who are these people? In any case, it’s a fun little cumbia and a major classic.
‘Si No Te Hubieras Ido’ by Marco Antonio Solís
Marco Antonio Solís - Si No Te Hubieras Ido | Lyric Video
This is the newest song on the list, having come out in 1999, the year I graduated high school. It’s a beautiful and heartbreaking ballad, with one of my favorite lines of any song: “El frío de mi cuerpo pregunta por ti.” “The cold of my body asks for you.”
See? Super romantic.
Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website.
