Mexico's chip makers are optimistic whereas its auto industry is wary as details remain scarce on Trump's newest plan to tax semiconductor imports. (Brian Kostiuk/Unsplash)
The United States could impose a 100% tariff on microchip and semiconductor imports to encourage investment in U.S. manufacturing, President Donald Trump announced on Wednesday. “But the good news, for companies like Apple, is if you’re building in the United States or have committed to build in the United States, there will be no charge,” he said from the Oval Office.
If introduced, a 100% sectoral tariff could impact various sectors in Mexico that export microchips or chip-dependent products to the United States. It could also slow growth in Mexico’s chip-producing states, as foreign companies with nearshoring plans look instead to launch operations in the U.S.
A tech sector divided: Mexico’s chip makers optimistic, auto industry wary
The United States was the main destination of Mexican semiconductor exports in 2024, contributing US $466 million or 75% of Mexico’s chip exports, according to information from Data México.
The Mexican states with the highest sales were:
Baja California: $348 million
Jalisco: $111 million
Coahuila: $56.8 million
Chihuahua: $32.5 million
Nuevo León: $18 million
Chip producers such as Intel, Infineon, Skyworks and QSM Semiconductors already operate in the Mexican market, while Qualcomm and other firms have announced investment plans aimed at benefiting from Mexico’s skilled workforce and proximity to the United States.
That same month, the United States Embassy in Mexico and Canieti presented a joint Master Plan for the Development of the Semiconductor Industry in Mexico for 2024 to 2030, outlining aims to double exports and jobs in the industry.
Shortly after, in November, electronics manufacturing services company Flex announced plans to invest $86 million in a microchips research center in Guadalajara.
According to Miguel Ángel Landeros, president of the Mexican Business Council for Foreign Trade (Comce Occidente), companies producing chips in Jalisco and elsewhere in the country for U.S. firms will not be subject to the new tariffs. “[The tariff] is good news because it gives us an advantage over other countries,” he told the newspaper El Informador.
In Landeros’s view, the new tariff announcement — though light on details — does not impact the Mexican semiconductor industry because its primary clients are companies with a significant production footprint within the United States. “Mexico is analyzing the issue… and it is most likely that we will not be affected; we could even obtain benefits under the umbrella of the USMCA treaty itself.”
Mexico’s automotive industry faces a different challenge. While these companies also export primarily to the United States, many of their electrical components may originate outside Mexico, leading industry representatives to expect that the 100% semiconductor tariff will apply to their exports as well.
The tariff will “contribute to an increase in production costs,” said Padilla de León, the general secretary of the National Union of Auto Parts Industry Workers (SNTIA), in an interview with the newspaper El Sol de México.
“The dozens of components that a vehicle carries, from electronic cards to chips… as they become more expensive, will make our vehicles less attractive to the American market, because they will be more expensive.”
So you want to communicate in Mexico, but you don't want to sound like a walking textbook? Try throwing in some of these everyday slang and idiomatic expressions into the mix. (Gustavo Frazao/Shutterstock)
When my husband Barry and I first visited Guanajuato in 1999, we read an entertaining book called “How to Break Through Beginners’ Spanish”by Joseph Keenan. At the time, I spoke Spanish at an advanced beginner level, and the book was invaluable in helping me learn how to sound more conversational than I really was. That, in turn, gave me the confidence to persevere. Today, I’m fluent.
That book is just as relevant today — and, best of all, it’s a fun read. Borrowing from Keenan’s theme, here are some words and phrases that not only will help you sound convincing in Spanish but that are easy to learn and will build your confidence.
The book the writer used to pick up everyday phrases in Spanish that doesn’t always get taught in language books. (Texas University Press)
Starter phrases that give you time to think
When beginning to speak in Spanish, it’s helpful to take a moment to collect your thoughts. These “starter” words and idioms offer that opportunity.
Pues: This is the English word“well” when it is used to express hesitation or uncertainty. Mexicans often use “pues” as an opening response to stall for time when they’re not sure what to say.
So, for example, “Pues, no estoy seguro” means “Well, I’m not sure.”
Entonces: Similar to “pues,” this connecting word is used the way in English we use “so” or “then.”
For example, “Entonces, ¿qué vamos a hacer?” is “So, what are we going to do?”
Caught off guard and don’t know what to say in response? “Pues” can help get things started.
A ver: “Let’s see.”
So, for example, “A ver, voy a ver si puedo cambiar mi horario” means “Let’s see, I’m going to see if I can change my schedule.”
Es que or Lo que pasa es que: “The thing is…”
So, for example, if someone asks you “¿Por qué no quieres ir a la playa?” (“Why don’t you want to go to the beach?”) you can answer, “Es que tengo que trabajar” or ”Lo que pasa es que tengo que trabajar.” These both mean “The thing is, I have to work.”
Fíjate or fíjate que: “Look” or “Pay attention” A word for emphasis that means “to look” or “to pay attention to.”
My neighbor starts just about every sentence with this! “Fíjate que no puedo comer cacahuates porque soy alérgico,” which means, “Look, I can’t eat peanuts because I’m allergic to them.” Or, “Fíjate, no puedo ir a la fiesta porque voy a estar ocupada” means “Look, I can’t go to the party because I’m busy.”
¿Qué onda? and ¿Qué tal?: “What’s up?” or “How’s it going?”
As in English, note that these two phrases are fine for everyday interactions, but they’re pretty casual, so you might not want to use them in formal situations.
Mira and Oye: “Hey, look,” and “Hey, listen.”
These two are meant to get someone’s attention. So, for example: “Oye, la pelicula empieza a las 7:20, no a las 7:45” means “Hey, listen, the movie starts at 7:20, not 7:45.”
“¿Que tal?” is a fun alternative to the more conventional “como estás/como está?” but use it with friends, family and coworkers more or less on an equal level; don’t use it with your boss. (Drazen Zigic/Shutterstock)
Filler words: Not just for native speakers!
Este: This is Mexico’s “um.” Not that I recommend using a crutch word, but if you’re going to use one, better the Spanish version!
So, for example, “Este…no sé qué pasó con tu cartera” means “Um…I’m not sure what happened to your wallet.”
Es decir: “That is” or “that is to say.”
For example, “Voy a ir a la fiesta, es decir, al menos que mi hermana tenga otra crisis” means “I’m going to the party — that is, unless my sister has another crisis.”
O sea: “In other words.” Just like in English, it rephrases or clarifies a point.
So, for example, “No puedo ir al concierto, o sea, tengo que vender mi boleto” means “I can’t go to the concert; in other words, I have to sell my ticket.”
Como: “Like.” Used similarly to English.
So, for example, “Es como una fusión de japonés y mexicana” means “It’s like a fusion of Japanese and Mexican.”
Bueno: “Good” or “O.K.” This word is sometimes used to softly direct a change in the conversation or to start a new thought.
For example, “Bueno, hablando de eso” means “O.K., speaking of that…”
“Bueno” is also used when answering the phone, which surprises English speakers, who assume the response would be “hola.”
Phrases to respond to what someone is saying
Learning the sorts of phrases Mexicans use to show interest and that they are listening can help a lot when you find yourself in a discussion. (Mario Jasso/Cuartoscuro)
Órale:“O.K.,” “right, “sure,” or “Let’s go!” It’s a word that can express agreement or excitement. I’ll never forget our Mexican architect talking on the phone. Every response he offered was “orale.” For example, “¡Órale, vamos a la playa!” means “Sure, let’s go to the beach!”
Así es: “Yes, that’s right.” A phrase used to acknowledge that something is true. “La biblioteca está en el centro?” “Así es.”
The meaning of “así es” can depend on the context. In some cases, it might mean instead, “That’s the way it is,” or, philosophically, “Así es la vida” — “that’s life.”
¿En serio?: “Really?” or “Seriously?” A simple phrase expressing surprise or asking for confirmation about something someone just said.
No te preocupes: “Don’t worry about it.”
Phrases to express surprise, delight and more
One of these guys might just be saying “Andale!” in this moment.
¡Hijole!: “Wow!” Or “Oh no!”
The aforementioned “orale” can also be used this way to express impressed surprise.
¡No me digas!: A direct translation of “You don’t say!” that expresses surprise and disbelief at unexpected news.
¡Quépadre! or Qué chido!: “Awesome!” or “Cool!” Be aware, though, “chido” is more of a younger generational term. Think millennials and Gen Z.
Ni modo: “Oh well” or “Whatever.” A way of expressing acceptance or resignation. For example, if you miss the bus, you might say, “Ni modo, ya se fue” (“Oh well, it already left.”)
Ándale:“Come on!” or “Hurry up!” depending on context. It can also be used to encourage someone to keep going, like if you’re watching competitive cyclists and want to say something supportive to cheer them on.
Saying goodbye
There are many ways to say goodbye in Mexico, with varying levels of formality and warmth. But people hardly ever say “adios.” (Yan Krukau/Pexels)
Nos vemos: “See you around.” As in English, you can use this if there’s an expectation that you’ll see the person again.
Qué te vaya bien: Literally, “I hope things go well for you,” but frequently used as a positive way of leave-taking. “Qué le vaya bien” is the usted version.
Cuidate or Cuidese: A command to take care of yourself, but it is a warm way to say goodbye. The first form is used for people with whom you would use “tu.” The second form is the “usted” conjugation.
¡Suerte!: This is the word “luck,” but it means “good luck.”
A few other miscellaneous terms
¿Mande?: “Excuse me?” Or “Perdón?” This is a polite way of asking someone to repeat themselves. Saying “¿Qué?” (What?) for this purpose can be considered abrupt and slightly rude by some Mexicans.
No hay de qué and con gusto: These both mean “you’re welcome” and are alternatives to the more familiar “de nada.” Mexicans will also sometimes shorten “no hay de que” to just “de que.” The first has the feel of “Oh, it was nothing,” and the second is more like “My pleasure.”
Aguas!: “Careful!” or “Watch out!”
So, as you can see, many of these examples are simple one or two-word phrases, easily interjected here and there in any conversation. Getting into the habit of using some when you’re chatting will not only build your confidence but also help you relax and have fun, which is the whole point of living in Mexico for most of us,¿órale?
Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are available on her website, authory.com/LouisaRogers
A trip to the market turned into a lesson in Mexican friendliness for for Bel Woodhouse. (Bel Woodhouse)
This little story perfectly sums up the beauty of my life in Mexico, its kind people and the warm culture that surrounds me.
There was a hive of activity as I walked into the fruit and veg section of my supermarket this morning. Women laughed and chatted, showing each other something I couldn’t quite see. Nods of approval and secondary squeezes were going on, and I was dying to know what was causing such a fuss.
Like so many Mexican stories, it all began with food. (Elham Abdi/Unsplash)
Stepping closer, the beautiful, deep purplish-red hues of plums were a feast for my eyes. Okay, now I get it. We haven’t had plums on the island in a while, and they looked amazing. The ladies parted slightly so I could squeeze in and welcomed me with open arms. I’m almost 6 feet and twice their size, so it was a squeeze. But that didn’t matter. I was just another woman happy to get my hands on some sweet fruits.
It reminded me of an Italian market, where the nonnas roam daily, sniffing and squeezing fruits and vegetables for the freshest finds. That’s one unifying characteristic of women worldwide, I think. Cooking. Family. Food and home.
I picked up a large plum, one we call a blood plum back home. This got me curious. What was it called here? So I asked. The digging through the pile didn’t skip a beat as they smiled and said “ciruela.” Just plum. The little red ones are the same as the big, dark purple ones: just a plum.
That opened the doors to a delightful chat. They were fascinated that I had a plum tree back home in Australia. Eyes fixated on me like kids at storytime as I told the tale of the different types of plums we had — ones with red, white, yellow or dark purple inside. The nods of approval made my heart smile.
A quest for the plum perfection
Like a weird validation of total acceptance. I was just another woman who liked plums. It didn’t matter what I looked like, where I came from or how bad my Spanish was. They understood.
A shopping trip for some plums quickly became a cultural exchange. (Canva)
By then, we were chatting like old friends. In the whole three minutes since I’d met them, it was like we’d been friends for life. The two ladies nearest me went digging through the pile to find perfect plums for me.
They taught me how to choose the best ones. Not too soft, that’s not good. Those are for cooking. Jams and pies for those plums. Not the big ones. Those are too dry. Not as tasty or sweet, they’re a little bland. They go in the jam pot too.
No, they dug and squeezed and sniffed and held plums up to each other for second opinions. I want the ones that are firm, but not too firm. That’s the sweet spot, they said. Those are the perfect plums.
Their hands continued to dig through the pile, busily squeezing, holding them up to each other for inspection before handing them to me. Those were my plums. The sweetest, most perfect plums. That’s all that was good enough for their new friend.
When people say they can’t meet people or make friends in Mexico, I am gobsmacked.
Just by setting foot outside the door, you make friends. Most of the time, you don’t even need to do that. When I sit on my balcony with a pot of tea, sketching in the mornings, people walking past on the street say good morning and wave.
It’s a sweet life here. As sweet as my perfect plums, which have all been gobbled up now. So sweet, I think they formed a lifelong memory full of the warmth of the Mexican ladies. Those who genuinely want to help, share and communicate.
So, yeah, I love my life in Mexico; it’s just like perfect plums.
Bel Woodhouse, Mexico Correspondent for International Living, is an experienced writer, author, photographer and videographer with more than 500 articles published both in print and across digital platforms. Having lived in the Mexican Caribbean for over seven years now, she’s in love with Mexico and has no plans to go anywhere anytime soon.
Large biomasses of holopelagic sargassum — the species of seaweed that washes ashore in the Mexican Caribbean — can be used to produce various products, such as food supplements for animal husbandry, fertilizers, biofuels, bioplastics and materials for bioremediation and water treatment. (Elizabeth Ruiz/Cuartoscuro)
Mexico has officially declared sargassum a national fishing resource, according to an update published in the National Fisheries Charter (CNP) by the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development (SADER).
The CNP is a technical and official document that monitors the current state of Mexico’s fishery resources and issues recommendations for their management, conservation and sustainable use. According to the CNP’s new terms, sargassum may be harvested on the high seas starting Aug. 7, 2025.
Federal and local authorities, along with citizen volunteers, are battling against increasingly severe sargassum invasions on Riviera Maya beaches such as Playa del Carmen. (Elizabeth Ruiz/Cuartoscuro)
“This event is a significant milestone in the management of our country’s marine resources, opening the door to a technical, sustainable management, and economic use of sargassum,” SADER said.
Sargassum, a yellowish seaweed that floats in the central Atlantic Ocean for much of the year, provides food, shelter and breeding grounds for various marine species. But once it reaches the shore, it releases a foul smell as it rots, potentially posing health risks to beachgoers.
SADER’s move to reclassify sargassum expands its management beyond beach cleanup and allows equipped vessels to capture the seaweed before it reaches shores and decomposes. With the new guidelines, the government seeks to collect up to 945,000 tonnes of dried sargassum annually and utilize it as an industrial resource.
Large biomasses of holopelagic sargassum — the species of seaweed that washes ashore in the Mexican Caribbean — can be used to produce various products, such as food supplements for animal husbandry, fertilizers, biofuels, bioplastics and materials for bioremediation and water treatment. Sargassum can also be used to create fibers and dyes for the textile and footwear industries, as well as biomaterials for brick making. In Quintana Roo, efforts are currently underway to create biofuel from the seaweed.
Environment Minister Alicia Bárcena celebrated the news on her official X account, writing, “Thanks to [Agriculture Minister] Julio Berdegué and IMIPASmex for this key step that enables [sargassum’s] sustainable use.”
Sargassum: a threat to the Riviera Maya’s tourism sector
Tourism in the Riviera Maya has taken a hit due to the presence of sargassum, particularly this year. Representatives of Tulum’s tourism industry told local media that tourism has dropped by 50%, mainly due to the presence of the unsightly seaweed.
“Visitors arrive, see the dirty beaches and leave,” Francisco Cámara, tour captain at Playa Pescadores, Tulum, said in an interview with the news outlet Reportur. “There’s no real solution, only palliative measures that aren’t enough. The accumulation of seaweed has been a recurring problem in recent years, damaging both the destination’s image and the tourist experience.”
According to the Navy, between 2019 and 2025, more than 266,000 tonnes of sargassum have been collected across seven ports in Quintana Roo. However, by the end of this year, that number is likely to increase.
Nayarit has some exclusive and comfortable beachside resort towns, but for a real break from life, check out San Blas. (fity.club)
Tucked along the northern coast of Nayarit, about 90 miles north of Nuevo Nayarit and just an hour from the newly expanded Riviera Nayarit International Airport in Tepic, San Blas is still somewhat of a secret to travelers along Mexico’s Pacific coast. This sleepy port town hasn’t bowed to resort sprawl or mass tourism. Instead, it thrives in its wilderness.
Nature runs the show here. Picture four miles of raw, undeveloped beach that stretches along the coastline. Crocodiles cruise through mangrove-lined estuaries. More than 300 migratory bird species paint the skies. Surfers paddle out to the legendary breaks at Playa Las Islitas. For travelers seeking something off the radar, San Blas delivers.
The town offers all the basic amenities you need, with a charming colonial center to welcome holidaymakers and day trippers alike. (Recorriendo mí país)
Things to do in San Blas
Start with the beach. El Borrego is the main draw, a two-mile sweep of golden sand and gentle waves that backs right up to the town. Head down the coast to Playa Las Islitas, one of Mexico’s most beloved surf spots. The vibe here is chill, the water warm, and the beachfront palapas serving up fresh-caught fish are perfect.
If you’re up for an adventure, take a boat through the La Tovara National Park, just a little more than a mile from town. You’ll float through winding canals beneath thick mangrove tunnels, spotting herons, turtles, iguanas, and perhaps a crocodile or two. The ride ends at a crystal-clear spring where you can swim safely behind netted enclosures. Further down the San Cristobal River, visit the local crocodile sanctuary, where conservation efforts are in full swing. Cocodrilario Kiekari is a riverfront crocodile nursery that helps to raise baby crocodiles and return them to the wild as part of a repopulation program. You can tour the sanctuary, where you may also spot jaguars, lynxes, and migratory birds.
San Blas is also a historical heavyweight. Founded as a strategic port in the 18th century by the Spanish Crown, San Blas became the launch point for expeditions to what is now California. From here, Gaspar de Portolá and Junípero Serra departed to establish the missions that would become San Diego and Monterey.
Walk up the hill to the Fort of La Contaduria, built in 1770 to guard against pirates. Its panoramic views stretch over the coastline and the mangroves. Down by the pier, the Casa de la Cultura now stands in what was once the customs house that managed trade from across the Pacific.
The fort of La Contaduria, a former lookout that defended the town from marauding pirates. (El Souvenir)
And of course, for fans of Mexican pop culture, don’t forget to visit the San Blas Pier, immortalized in the Maná song “En el Muelle de San Blas,” inspired by a local woman who waited there for her lost love for decades.
Where to eat
For a quiet town, San Blas has a surprisingly robust culinary scene, especially for seafood lovers.
Restaurante Playa Bonita (right on El Borrego) is perfect for post-beach ceviche, aguachile, or pescado zarandeado. The views of the Pacific while you sip a cold beer are hard to beat.
Caballito de Mar, also on Playa Borrego, is another solid pick for seafood. They specialize in fresh fish caught by local expeditions and served in mouthwatering, no-fuss preparations.
For something with a touch of local expat flair, head to The San Blas Social Club, run by the ever-hospitable Sandra, who also operates a dog rescue and taxi service. The vibe is easygoing, the food consistently good, and the company often colorful.
Wala Wala Restaurante is a crowd favorite for its friendly service and standout coconut shrimp with mango sauce. Owned by Pedro and his sisters, this welcoming spot is a favorite among foreign residents and locals alike.
Ofros Restaurant & Bar rounds out the list with excellent service, delicious seafood staples like monkfish and laing, and a calm, unpretentious vibe.
Where to stay
Don’t expect big resorts or all-inclusive behemoths in San Blas. What you will find are charming hacienda-style hotels with character, personal touches, and an emphasis on locally owned.
Hotel Garza Canela is a longtime favorite, known for its gracious service, cozy rooms, and beautiful gardens. Their on-site restaurant, El Delfín, is a local favorite.
Hacienda Flamingos is another top spot, with gorgeous colonial architecture, bright colors, and a rooftop terrace ideal for sunset watching.
San Blas may not be on everyone’s travel radar, but that’s the point. It’s the kind of place where you watch birds instead of your phone, eat what was swimming that morning, and walk streets layered with history. It’s a port town, a pilgrimage site, a surf haven, and a sanctuary for species (and maybe for you, too).
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.
Few countries in the world spoil history lovers quite like Mexico. From Olmec heads to Colonial wonders, the story of the nation is only a step away. (Unsplash / Alexis Mora)
Having spent the past four years living in and traveling all over Mexico, I’m continually struck by how well the country has preserved its historical heritage. Few countries display their history as openly as Mexico, where the layers of time are etched into the very landscape. You can see it in the colonial cathedrals built with the stones of dismantled temples and feel it as ancient pyramids that tower over the jungle canopy.
According to the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH), there are over 50,000 archaeological sites in Mexico. While the vast majority remain unexcavated, nearly 200 are open for exploration — many of which are entire cities that have withstood centuries of conquest and jungle reclamation. This historical wealth is staggering in its scale and comparable to that of countries like Peru and Egypt.
With that, I present another edition of Where to Travel in Mexico in 2025, designed to help you navigate Mexico, matching your specific interests to the destinations that best suit you. Here’s a look at six of the best historical spots in Mexico for travelers interested in the stories of yesteryear.
Mexico City and Teotihuacan: For the tallest pyramids
(Unsplash/Edgar Cavazos)
To travel back in time, the best place to start your journey is in the capital city. Beneath the skyscrapers and colonial buildings of Mexico City lie the remains of the ancient Mexica (Aztec) capital, Tenochtitlan. After a brutal siege in 1521, Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés and his allies razed Tenochtitlan, building their new world directly upon its ruins.
For centuries, the great temple of the city’s ceremonial center, the Templo Mayor, lay forgotten. Today, you can descend into the excavation site next to the Metropolitan Cathedral. This was once the axis mundi of an empire, a dual pyramid once dedicated to the gods of war and rain, now forever shadowed by the symbols of its conquerors. To see the artifacts that have been recovered here, spend a day at the spectacular National Museum of Anthropology, home to some of the biggest collections of pre-Columbian artifacts in the Americas.
An hour’s drive from Mexico City takes you to Teotihuacan, dubbed the “Birthplace of the Gods.” This colossal city, which peaked centuries before the Mexica, was already an awe-inspiring ruin when they found it. They revered it as a sacred place, admiring its imposing pyramids.
From the top of the Pyramid of the Moon — it’s now possible to climb it again — you can look down at the Avenue of the Dead towards the Pyramid of the Sun, and admire the sheer scale and the mystery of who built it. On my recent trip here, I booked a hot air balloon trip over Teotihuacan for my friends who were visiting; needless to say, they were all absolutely blown away. Go early to beat the crowds and the sun — there is no shade — and wear proper footwear, a hat and sunscreen.
Chichén Itzá: For the best-preserved ancient city
(Unsplash/Christina Abken)
There are archaeological sites, and then there is Chichén Itzá. As one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, its monumental scale and iconic structures are known across the globe. Of the numerous ancient ruins I’ve explored in Mexico, this is easily the best preserved.
Before my trip, I’d seen the pyramid of El Castillo in a thousand photographs, but nothing prepares you for standing before it, feeling its geometric perfection and contemplating its purpose as a massive stone calendar. This Maya city is a testament to an advanced understanding of astronomy, from the serpent of light that descends the pyramid during the equinoxes to the celestial alignments of the El Caracol observatory.
The best time to visit Chichén Itzá is during the spring or fall equinox. On these two days, the setting sun creates the illusion of the feathered serpent god, Kukulcan, descending the stairs of the main pyramid. Regardless of the time of the year, Chichén Itzá gets incredibly crowded. My advice is to get there the moment it opens. Better yet, stay overnight in a hotel in nearby Valladolid so you can beat the crowd. Hiring a licensed guide is also well worth the expense, as they can unravel the myths and understand the complex Mayan civilization.
Palenque: For wild jungle adventures
Palenque is another amazing pyramid site in Mexico. (Unsplash/Elias Almaguer)
Rising from the thick jungle canopy of Chiapas, Palenque is a city of staggering architectural and artistic achievement. It was a powerful Maya city-state that peaked in the 7th century under K’inich Janaab’ Pakal, or Pakal the Great. Its centerpiece is the towering Temple of the Inscriptions, which houses the famous tomb of Pakal, discovered only in 1952. The hieroglyphic inscriptions found here were crucial in cracking the Maya code.
I’ll never forget my first visit. As one of the first people to enter the park that morning, I felt like I’d stumbled upon a lost city. Long before I saw the first stone temple, I heard the guttural roar of howler monkeys echoing from the canopy and the chatter of parrots. As I walked the grounds, brightly-colored toucans flew through the dawn mist that clung to the pyramid tops.
The magic of Palenque lies in its seamless integration with the surrounding Palenque National Park. As a protected area, the park allows wildlife to flourish — it’s common to spot coatis and spider monkeys in the trees bordering ancient ball courts.
To experience Palenque the way I did, get there when it opens at 8 am. Consider hiring one of the certified local guides at the entrance — their invaluable knowledge brings the city to life. After exploring the ruins, head inside the on-site museum, the Museo de Sitio de Palenque, which houses many of the original treasures and features a stunning replica of Pakal’s intricate sarcophagus.
Calakmul: For a completely offbeat experience
(INAH)
If Chichén Itzá is the blockbuster movie, Calakmul is the art-house epic for hardcore history enthusiasts. The ancient city was one of the two Maya superpowers during the Classic period, the seat of the Snake Kingdom (Kaanul dynasty) and the sworn enemy of Tikal in Guatemala. The sheer scale is mind-boggling, with over 6,500 structures identified.
Esconced deep within the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve, this ancient site is remote and not easy to get to. It’s about a two-hour drive from the main highway, but the reward for this journey is profound solitude. Since a large portion of the ancient city is still not excavated, you get a sense that you are only scratching the surface of a forgotten superpower.
Visitors are still allowed to climb Structure II, the tallest pyramid in Calakmul, but the steps are steep and there are no railings, so be extra careful. From the top, you can look out to an unbroken sea of green jungle stretching to the horizon, with the tops of other temples poking through like islands, and imagine what this ancient city looked like in its heyday.
Visiting Calakmul is a pilgrimage, more than a simple day trip. I recommend renting a 4×4 or at least a vehicle with good suspension, as the road into the reserve is long and bumpy. This is a place for serious walking shoes and an adventurous spirit. Staying overnight in the nearby town of Xpujil is your best bet for an early start.
Ruta Puuc: For Puuc architecture
(Unsplash/Neven Myst)
For those who appreciate not just scale but unique style, the Ruta Puuc south of Mérida is a journey into architectural mastery. This collection of sites showcases the Puuc style of the Late Classic period, characterized by stunningly intricate mosaic stonework and a ubiquitous devotion to the long-nosed rain god Chaac.
The star of the route is Uxmal, a site so beautiful it rivals Palenque and Chichén Itzá. I remember being mesmerized by the Pyramid of the Magician, with its unique rounded sides, and the Governor’s Palace, a low-slung masterpiece of decorative friezes that Frank Lloyd Wright considered one of humanity’s greatest architectural achievements.
Renting a car from Mérida allows for more freedom to explore the Ruta Puuc at your own pace. After the grandeur of Uxmal, continue to the smaller sites of Kabah — with its dizzying Palace of the Masks — and Labná, where you can walk through a beautifully ornate arch that once connected two parts of a thriving city. It’s a day of appreciating artistry, craftsmanship and the subtle evolution of a civilization’s expression in stone. You can easily combine a weekend in Mérida with a road trip along the Ruta Puuc for an all-encompassing adventure.
Villahermosa and Xalapa: For Olmec history
(Wikimedia Commons)
Before the Maya, before the Aztecs, there were the Olmecs, the mother civilization of Mesoamerica. For those who want to go back to the very beginning of Mexican civilization, the trail of the Olmecs is a fascinating journey.
Seeing the colossal Olmec heads at the Parque-Museo La Venta in Villahermosa was quite the experience. Walking through a jungle park, I suddenly came face-to-face with a 20-ton stone head carved 3,000 years ago, staring at me with an inscrutable expression. It was humbling to stand in the presence of artifacts from a culture credited with so many firsts: major ceremonial centers, monumental stone carving and possibly the first writing system in the hemisphere. Their influence spread across ancient Mesoamerica, down to many parts of today’s Central America.
To properly trace their legacy, start in Villahermosa to see the colossal heads from the La Venta site, now displayed in a fantastic outdoor museum. From there, travel to Xalapa to visit the impressive Xalapa Anthropology Museum (MAX), which boasts the most important Olmec collection in the world. Villahermosa has a Gulf Coast climate, so pack light clothing and bug spray for the heat and humidity. On the other hand, Xalapa enjoys a cool climate year-round, as it’s located in the Veracruz highlands, surrounded by coffee plantations.
What’s right for each type of traveler?
We’ve put together a table summarizing which destination would suit culture travelers based on their experience in Mexico.
Beginner travelers are those with limited international experience; maybe this is their first trip to Mexico. Ideal for first-timers who prefer margaritas with training wheels. These travelers stick to well-trodden paths, mastering “¿Dónde está el baño?” while clutching a phrasebook. They thrive in destinations where guacamole arrives with optional spice and the hotel staff speak Google Translate.
Intermediate travelers are those with some international experience who can handle moderate language barriers and cultural differences. Ready to trade resorts for real-deal experiences, these travelers navigate cobblestone streets without face-planting. They’ve graduated to ordering “tres tacos al pastor” without pointing and can haggle for a sombrero in Oaxaca’s markets… but still overpay by 20%.
Advanced travelers are those with extensive experience navigating complex destinations independently. These wanderers treat Mexico like a choose-your-own-adventure novel written in Spanglish. They’ve adopted a street dog named Churro, debate the merits of different artisanal mezcals and know which mercado stall has the best tamales oaxaqueños.
Nellie Huang is a professional travel writer and author based in San Miguel de Allende with her family. She has contributed to BBC Travel, CNN, International Business Times, and National Geographic, and co-authored Lonely Planet’s 2025 Mexico guide. Read about her adventures worldwide on wildjunket.com and follow her updates on Instagram @wildjunket.
Tipping can feel like an act of support, especially when it's meant for those on low wages. Does overtipping make things worse? (Sam dan Truong)
For the umpeenth time this week, I’m at La Cabra Illuminada in San Miguel de Allende, enjoying a creamy piccolo and a hefty plate of enchiladas verdes stuffed with vegan pea cheese and zucchini and crowned with tiny sprigs of verdolaga, when a retired American couple eagerly saddles up next to me, waiting for the right moment to spark up a conversation. As usual, there is no such thing — I’ve got two hours before the kids are out of camp, I’m the breadwinner for my family of five and I’m working.
But there, sitting in silent awe of the weeping fig tree that’s been allowed to keep sprouting skyward in the very center of the café, thanks to Mexico’s signature green architecture, I do something I don’t usually do; I lean into the conversation. And when I surrender, I learn they’re in their late 60s, having just sold the majority of their belongings in order to complete an itinerary-less cross-country U.S. trip in a van. They’re currently splitting their time between Puerto Vallarta, California and, they hope soon, San Miguel de Allende.
When the check arrives, the dilemma begins: How much should you tip in Mexico? The national standard of 10% may not feel like enough, but are you creating a problem by tipping more just because you can afford it? (Shutterstock)
I applaud their strong commitment to speaking Spanish and instantly recognize their post-COVID-19 journey as the mirror image of so many like it: sick of the cold and itching for adventure in their golden empty-nester chapter.
“I’ve got to ask,” says the wife once she senses we’ve built enough of a friendly rapport, “what should we be tipping?”
I shut my laptop. I have a lot of thoughts about this. In September 2020 — during the late-stage COVID pandemic days — my business partners and I led a movement to eliminate tipping in restaurants (including in our own, where we implemented what we called Flat30).
We were early adopters with a radical-socialist-y philosophy, determined to push our customers and industry beyond a “minimum wage” mentality into the more complex reality of a livable wage, healthcare access and a sustainable labor model that offered a win-win for all. Wouldn’t it be nice if the price listed on the menu simply included everything you needed to pay — plus the peace of mind that the people serving you could truly afford their rent and groceries?
Nearly five years later and just a few days before meeting this lovely couple, I found myself grappling with another conundrum entirely: Have I been overtipping in Mexico? While COVID-19 upended how many hospitality professionals — and guests — thought about the total compensation of U.S. restaurant workers, the idea of a livable wage in any sector in Mexico is still a castle in the sky for most servers, bartenders, dishwashers and bussers south of the border.
And as the antigentrification movement gains momentum in Mexico City, those of us living on the other side of the Rio Grande could stand to more honestly examine how our behavior could be harming our neighbors, beyond willingly overpaying for housing and complaining in online forums about the daily fluctuations of the dollar-to-peso exchange rates.
Foreigners in Mexico with a favorable currency exchange often knowingly overpay for homes, food, services, etc., figuring they’re helping the local economy. (Roberto Carlos Roman/Unsplash)
According to data provided by Mexico’s 2019 Economic Census, food services here drive an 855 billion peso industry. Even more sobering is the distribution of these restaurants, with nearly 700,000 eateries employing 0–10 staff, while the categories of 11–50 and 51–100 employees demonstrate starkly lower numbers: 24,000 and 1,500 establishments, respectively.
As a former restaurateur, this tells me that the overwhelming majority of Mexico’s dining operations consist of mom-and-pops. Labor statistics claim to monitor “average earnings,” but it’s reasonable to assume most people are making significantly less.
For reference, the average monthly salary for restaurant workers in 2024 was reported to be around 9,000 pesos (US $470). Figures provided by the crowdsourced database Livingcost set monthly median spending for a family of four at 61,000 pesos(US $3,261), which, if these estimates are accurate, would leave most restaurant workers beyond priced out of a family dwelling in their hometown.
Now, let’s assume you live in Mexico, or visit often, but that you’re not considering any of the nitty-gritty economic statistics or the glaring social inequities when thinking about tipping. You’re likely of one of two minds: the first being that your income streams are in U.S. dollars and so it is your responsibility to leave generous gratuities wherever you go. The second assumes that you should neither overtip nor undertip and that you certainly don’t ever want to feel you’re being taken advantage of by being forced to pay a “gringo tax” for eating out.
Here’s my take: Given that I spent nearly three decades in hospitality — working grueling hours on my feet, scrubbing dirty towels and dishes, plunging toilets, somehow enduring the dreaded “triple-double” shifts and doing it all with a forced smile — I spent my first four years in Mexico in the former camp. Now add to that empathy the gratitude I feel when anyone has to pick up after my twin toddlers and their age-appropriate penchant for hurling bits of whatever’s in front of them to the ground.
I was, admittedly, a chronic overtipper.
But, recently, a local mompreneur gave me something to chew on.
“Stop tipping so much,” she wrote in all caps in our mixed-race San Miguel Social Moms group chat; yes, in all caps. She went on to explain that the well-meaning percentages that foreigners have been repeatedly tipping — above the socially accepted national standard of 10% and the above-and-beyond the norm for exceptional service of 15% — were not only catalyzing a domino effect of poor treatment of Mexican clientele by staff but also creating a self-fulfilling prophecy of servers conjecturing that Mexican customers wouldn’t tip “well.” The Mexicans, in turn, were expecting poor service even before it was delivered.
So where does this leave us? Is it acceptable to tip above 15% if you’ve had the best experience in your recent memory? Absolutely. But do you need to try to prove something noble to an invisible morality police every time someone cooks you a meal and delivers you a check for it? I think that’s up for debate.
In expat hubs like Mexico City, where foreigners may regularly tip above the 10%-15% norm, it is surprising that local businesses and staff eventually begin giving them preferential treatment over Mexican customers? (Edgar Negrete Lira/Cuartoscuro)
If you want to be less of a colonizing presence and more of a mutual aid to your Mexican neighbors, do as I say, not as I do. The famous adage “vote with your dollar,” comes to mind, as does the TED Talk by the effervescently brilliant writer Taiye Selasi: “Don’t ask me where I’m from, ask where I’m a local.”
I think this is what my new couple friends were yearning to become.
To my fellow “locals,” next time someone provides you a service, whether it be at a restaurant or elsewhere, pause before you pull out your wallet. Rather than asking, “What should I be tipping?” it may be more compassionate to weigh a few alternative queries: “Why am I tipping this amount? Who benefits and who could potentially be damaged or displaced by my spending election?”
Whatever you decide, it’s ultimately a self-inquiry worthy of our discomfort, especially at a time when gentrification in Mexico is inching towards a tipping point of its own.
Simone Jacobson is a Burmese American former Top 10 in America restaurant owner, cultural connector, toddler twin mama and writer based in San Miguel de Allende. By day, she is the Content Director for Well Spirit Collective. In all other moments, she strives to raise compassionate children who never lose their curiosity, tenderness and radiant light. Read more by Simone here.
For once, we take a look at a fruit that doesn't hail from Mexico — but one that has found a home here regardless. (Jonas Renner/Unsplash)
For once, I’m going to write about a fruit whose history is refreshingly unconnected to ancient Mexico. The pomegranate hails from a stretch running through modern Iran to the northern reaches of the Indian Himalayas. Archaeological finds tell us that people in these regions cultivated and savored the fruit as far back as 5,000 years ago.
The pomegranate’s journey reads like a footnote to the great travelogues of civilization. Phoenicians — master navigators and merchants whose legacy includes the alphabet — spread pomegranate seeds from the Levant to the Mediterranean’s edge, long before Rome would see its first triumph. Their ships mapped new routes for culture and cuisine throughout Asia, Europe, and North Africa. Later, when the Moors conquered the Iberian Peninsula, they brought their gardens with them, including the pomegranate, to the Andalusian sun. Granada, one of Spain’s most exquisite cities, still bears the fruit as its emblem.
(Feliphe Schiarolli/Unsplash)
The final lap of its journey took place with the Spanish conquest of the Americas. Galleons laden with goods — gold, spices, dreams, and seeds — sailed west, carrying pomegranates into the New World, where the fruit found new soil and eventually, a starring role in Mexico’s culinary heritage.
As for the word itself, “granada” comes from the Latin malum granatum (“seeded apple”), revealing how ancient cultures viewed the pomegranate as both familiar and mysterious —so much so that it couldn’t help but attract legend.
For Egyptians, pomegranates were important enough to be placed in tombs for the afterlife, prized for their healing powers and as a source for textile dyes. The Babylonians believed eating the fruit before battle guaranteed good luck and courage. Greeks regarded the pomegranate as an aphrodisiac, weaving the fruit into their mythology — the story of Persephone’s descent into the underworld is marked by the fateful moment she ate its seeds.
Judaism holds that the fruit’s many seeds represent the 613 commandments of the Torah, adorning priestly robes and Temple pillars. Early Christians viewed it as a symbol of harmony, and in Islam, it is counted among the fruits of paradise, with pomegranate trees still grown in gardens as reminders of abundance and divine favor. Across generations and faiths, its symbolism endures.
Personal symbolism
At my grandparents’ ranch, a pomegranate tree dominates the center of the patio. Each year, as the fruit ripened, my grandfather would organize our harvest. Hands stained, clothes splattered with the indelible red juice, we’d gather beneath its branches to peel away the rind, gossiping and sharing stories until the sunset colored the sky. There, plans were made: quesadillas in the village, borrowing a neighbor’s stew, or simply playing rummy with fresh bread and milk at home. For me, the pomegranate tree is a symbol for enjoying a perfect moment of “dolce far niente” — sweet nothingness — after a day of hard labor.
Curiously, Mexican kitchens have rarely adopted pomegranate outside of one iconic dish. Unlike the sugar-crystallized candies, jams, or preserves made from other fruits, pomegranate’s role has been almost entirely reserved for chiles en nogada. This celebratory plate — white walnut sauce, green poblano pepper, and the brilliant red of pomegranate seeds—was invented to commemorate Mexico’s independence. It’s claimed the dish uses exclusively endemic ingredients from Puebla. Whenever I hear this strong affirmation, it makes me smile. Here is a fruit from Persia, chosen to represent the red of our flag, echoing the blood of independence fighters, yet a world away from Mexican origin.
Outside this symbolic role, pomegranates appear from August to October, filling market stands with granadas, some cut open to display their ruby grains. Street vendors roam, selling them whole, in simple sacks, or freshly seeded.
If you ask me, the simplest way is the finest: devour them as they are, sun-warmed and pure, or with a hint of salt and lime to accent their natural sweetness.
A powerhouse hidden in plain sight
Pomegranate isn’t just beautiful; it’s remarkably nutritious. Each seed is loaded with polyphenols, tannins, vitamins C and K, folate, potassium, and a good dose of fiber. If you’re chasing antioxidants, pomegranate outperforms even green tea.
Its benefits are wide-ranging and backed by growing scientific interest: potentially helping prevent certain cancers, improving cardiovascular health, lowering blood pressure, boosting cognitive function and aiding in the prevention of Alzheimer’s, strengthening the immune system, and serving as an impressive anti-inflammatory agent — especially for those with arthritis. Some even call it a fountain of youth, thanks to its antioxidant compounds.
Reinventing tradition
These days, Mexican cooks are experimenting with pomegranate. It’s no longer confined to chiles en nogada or the market vendor’s buckets. Toss the seeds into salads. Try them with chickpeas, tomatoes, olives, red onion, a splash of olive oil, and a little vinegar. The freshness is unmistakable, the pop of flavor unforgettable.
The next time you eat chiles en nogada, reflect on what each bite delivers: the taste of Persian orchards, Phoenician spice ships, Moorish palaces, Spanish colonial ambition, and Mexican creativity. The pomegranate, in every seed, carries a vertical slice of world history — its crimson hue a reminder of the way our plates are shaped by journeys both ancient and ongoing.
María Meléndez is a Mexico City food blogger and influencer.
Sheinbaum and her administration have remained calm and professional despite a barrage of insults and threats from the U.S., Bembenek writes. (Mario Jasso/Cuartoscuro)
Just a few months ago, it seemed nearly impossible to imagine that the Trump administration would hit Mexico with tariffs. Now, every day that Mexico largely avoids them brings a sigh of relief. At this point, Moody’s Analytics estimates that the effective U.S. tariff rate on Mexican goods is 13.5%, significantly higher than just a few months ago, but still relatively low compared to other countries. So how is it that Mexico has thus far been able to largely avoid the heavy blows of tariffs hitting so many other countries? How can it be that on the same day that Trump increased tariffs on Canada and reconfirmed them on nearly every other country in the world, Mexico yet again largely succeeded in dodging the bullet? These are important questions to analyze in order to predict what might happen going forward.
I first highlighted the “Claudia Sheinbaum case study” shortly after she was elected. I argued that she would be one of the most interesting and fascinating leadership case studies anywhere in the world to follow over the next few years. Making history by becoming the first female and first Jewish president of Mexico, she has a huge weight on her shoulders. She inherited a nearly zero-growth economy, increasing debt loads, high inflation and a strong currency. She has had to make important funding decisions on her predecessors’ expensive pet projects like the Maya Train, the Dos Bocas oil refinery, and the rapidly growing federal Bienestar welfare program. Cartel violence under her predecessor continued unabated. On top of all of that, she has faced new leaders in both the U.S. and Canada — each with a mandate for change in their own countries.
I believe that Sheinbaum and her team have been putting on a masterclass on how to work with the Trump team. They have been incredibly calm, patient, measured, mature and professional in the way they have managed the U.S. relationship in the face of such a barrage of insults, accusations and actions. Some highlights of how they have responded:
Sheinbaum has been having phone calls nearly once a month directly with Trump.
Economy Minister Marcelo Ebrard has been in Washington every few weeks since Trump was elected to meet with U.S. trade and commerce officials.
Sheinbaum’s administration has clearly attempted to avoid direct confrontation when Trump administration officials have (frequently) harshly criticized Mexico. They have responded to threats and criticisms with facts and data in the daily press briefings.
Business organizations like the American Chamber of Commerce of Mexico and American Society of Mexico have supported her administration by diligently and tirelessly emphasizing the strategic benefits of the U.S.-Mexico relationship: the two countries’ co-production system, the significant value add created by goods made by the U.S. and Mexico, the interconnected supply chains, etc.
Her administration has looked to strengthen direct ties with other countries like Canada and Brazil without expressly suggesting that it is in response to threats from the U.S.
Her team has taken steps to curb the flow of Chinese investments and goods into the country — raising tax rates on small-value packages from Shein and Temu, not encouraging investment of Chinese auto suppliers given the sensitivity of the U.S. administration, and cracking down on Chinese counterfeit goods.
Trump in return has not taken action against Mexico to the extent that he has against Canada, Brazil or countless other countries. He recently called out Canada’s lack of progress in stemming the fentanyl trade as justification for increased tariffs, yet significantly more fentanyl comes from Mexico. He doesn’t seem concerned that inflation will increase as a result of placing tariffs on top trade partners. So why is he ultimately treating Mexico less harshly on tariffs than other countries?
My sense is that Sheinbaum has actually won Trump’s respect. She has figured out how to appease him and give his administration what they want, while steering clear and not responding directly to their frequent insults and attacks. She has succeeded in explaining the challenges of quickly resolving cartel violence and drug trafficking while at the same time demonstrating some progress. Remarkably, she has been able to do this while still earning the trust of the Mexican people — evidenced by her most recent approval rating this past week of 80%.
Of course Trump could change his mind at any moment on literally any issue, but I think thus far Sheinbaum has done an exceptional job at steering her country in some very turbulent waters during some very tough times. That being said, she will have to continue to demonstrate her administration’s commitment and show progress on stopping the flow of drugs in order to continue to avoid tariffs in the future. I don’t agree with every domestic policy decision she has made, but I think she deserves a ton of credit and has my utmost respect thus far as Mexico’s leader.
Travis Bembenek is the CEO of Mexico News Daily and has been living, working or playing in Mexico for nearly 30 years.
