Hola Amigos! Dia de Los Muertos is upon us, and many may wonder what it actually means. If you saw the movie Coco you have a good idea what the holiday entails. If not, as some of you know, I’ve written about it before, and will explain why creating altars for the deceased is so important. No matter your faith or beliefs, this is the time to remember departed loved ones. Since it’s the time of year to reminisce, I wanted to let you know I really appreciate all of you sticking with me. I hope you know that. Here it is—another Dia de Los Muertos—a beautiful time of year, and a reminder to be grateful for those in our life who have been there for us, and are still with us. Mil gracias to you, mis amigos.

I love the symbolism and decorum so apparent in all Mexican celebrations and holidays, and Dia de Los Muertos, also known as Day of the Dead, is no exception. In the Yucatán, the Maya name for the celebration is Janal Pixán, which translates to “food of the souls.” It’s similar, but with some differences. Janal Pixán is anchored in Maya cosmology, language, and culinary practices rather than Aztec and Central Mexican traditions.

Both holidays honor loved ones who’ve died, that much is clear. But a couple years ago I needed some fine tuning on the why’s and wherefore’s of Dia de Los Muertos. So I headed to La Calenda, an all-purpose artisan shop, to talk to owner Esperanza Vargas, formerly from Oaxaca.

“When I was little, I think Dia de Los Muertos was more a cultural thing,” she told me. “Every year my mother would make the preparations. She would create a big, big altar called an ofrenda about two weeks before, and she would make the bread, which is very important, pan de muerto. In our pueblo, if people didn’t bake themselves, they would look for someone to make the bread or go to the bakery.

“But with the baker there was always a long wait because having the bread was essential. All the homes would make their own mole and chocolate. My mother would start three days before with cooking preparations for the mole. It took that long. I asked her why do we do it?

She said, “Mi hija, for angel babies that die, angelitos, God lets them see their families once a year and that’s why we make everything they used to like. They come to visit us during these days, November 1 at midnight for babies, November 2 for adults, because we send them the smell of the foods they used to like, so they follow the smells. Also, it’s for the family, but if someone’s family did not make an altar, we put one for them along with ours.

“You see,” she said, “God gave them permission to come visit and that’s why they do it. But now, sadly, they are making it too ugly. The drug dealers are saying Dia de Los Muertos is to honor their Santa Muerte, but that’s not the reason at all. The real reason they come is because they were given permission by God.

“November 2 is for adults and we make food and bring flowers we have at home, cempasúchil, and take them to the cemetery where they are buried and we spend time with our loved ones there.”

History.com states the holiday traces its earliest roots to the Aztecs in what is now central Mexico. Aztecs used skulls to honor the dead for three thousand years before Dia de Los Muertos celebrations emerged. Although it is sometimes confused with Halloween because of the symbolic skulls, it’s not related at all.

After the Conquest in the 16th century, the Catholic church moved Indigenous rituals honoring the dead, which were originally in the summer with an entire month dedicated to the dead, to times that coordinated with Catholic dates for All Saints Day and All Souls Day, November first and second. That’s how they came to be merged.

Dia de Los Muertos came into being thanks to an Aztec festival dedicated to the goddess Mictecacihuatl, known as the ‘Lady of the Dead.’ It’s said she watches over the bones of the dead and swallows the stars during the day. I rather love that image. The star part, that she can make them go away, by eating them.

Offerings for the dead consist of water, the loved one’s favorite food and drink, flowers (cempasúchil/marigolds because of their intense color and strong smell to guide spirits back to the family altar), bread, alcohol, foods and other things that were important in the deceased’s life. Sometimes paths are strewn with cempasúchil petals so the souls can find their way home, guided by the strong smell.

Skulls like those placed on Aztec temples for rituals remain key to the tradition: Honor life rather than mourn death. Though skeletons (calacas) and other trappings of death are key, the ancient holiday is viewed as part of the cycle of life in a joyous celebration that embraces death.

In Mexico the inevitability of death is accepted rather than feared. At Dia de Los Muertos, families come together to honor their ancestors. A celebration of life for the cycle of life would well describe how death is viewed. It’s an honoring of what that soul brought to the world. Though saddened, loved ones are also grateful for the shared time they had with the person. To me, it’s happy-sad, not simply sad, as in some cultures.

The skeletons that are so central to the celebrations came about in the 19th century in Mexico City when a social activist and cartoonist, José Guadalupe Posada, created La Calavera Catrina (elegant skull), a well-dressed skeleton, as satire to protest the Mexican people’s desire to look European.

Catrinas dance and sing; flowers, fruit and candy decorate altars. For two days death’s morbid side is buried beneath music and memories. Today people dress up as La Catrina or paint their faces like skeletons as part of their Dia de Los Muertos or Janal Pixán celebrations.

The Nahua people of central Mexico believed the deceased traveled on a year-long journey to the land of the dead, or Chicunamictlán. The living would provide supplies, food and water, to aid them in the trek, as shown in the movie Coco.

This practice inspired the modern tradition of creating altars at one’s home, ofrendas, as well as leaving offerings at their grave sites. Altars are the centerpiece of the celebration and offerings are inspired by the four elements: Fire—candles; water—pitchers left for the thirsty; earth—traditional foods; and wind—the papel picado which allows souls to pass through due to its perforations.

In case you wondered about those lovely multi-colored paper banners, it’s papel picado. Thin and colorful paper is strung high to catch the wind—it represents the delicate nature of life.

The sugar skulls, calaveras, are also essential. They’re decorative and are placed on the ofrenda and given as treats.

Families gather to clean graves before the holiday, then on the day they eat and tell stories around the tomb. Ancestors are honored with a variety of foods and drinks: candy skulls or calaveras, pan de muerto, tamales and mole, pozole, tortilla soup, hot chocolate, atole and pulque to drink, and other beverages.

Cemeteries take on a festive feel as relatives gather round the graves of loved ones with lit candles, music, storytelling and memories. It’s a beautiful time of year to visit Mexico. The ceremonies for departed souls are soulful and joyful.

Photographs of the departed are front and center, surrounded by all the trappings of what the lost family member held dear in life. First and foremost, Dia de Los Muertos as well as Janal Pixán are celebrations of life.

The Parade of Souls begins at the cemetery as the souls begin their journey. Hundreds of figures dressed in white, illuminated by candlelight, walk in silence, while prayers and the aroma of food accompanies their path.

Dia de Los Muertos focuses on the connections that endure beyond death. It’s family time—for joy, laughter, remembrance, and appreciation of the preciousness of life.

May your Dia de Los Muertos or Janal Pixán be meaningful and full of love. And also, to everyone, Happy Halloween, too!

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SOURCES

Lisa Intrabartola. “What Is the Meaning Behind Day of the Dead Symbolism?” Rutgers. October 31, 2024.

Matthew Sandoval. “What is Día de los Muertos? An expert explains the holiday celebrating loved ones who have died.” PBS News Hour. November 1, 2023.

Editor. “Día de Los Muertos.” The Mexican Museum/In association with the Smithsonian Institution. Archives. Date unknown.

Editorial Staff. “Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos).” History.com. October 23, 2026.

Barbra Bishop. Merida photos, special thanks!

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Hola Amigos! Women trailblazers come in all stripes. Those I write about are sometimes archeologists and anthropologists, sometimes artists, authors and scholars or warrior queens, explorers or political activists. And finally, some are chroniclers and recorders of the art and culture of another society, to show the world who they are. Without the recorders, the world may never have known the beauties of a country. Today I’m introducing you to Ruth Lechuga—a recorder and collector extraordinaire. Please read on.

Though not as well known as anthropologists Trudi Blom or Barbara Tedlock, Ruth Deutsch Lechuga left her mark. From 1946 until her death in 2004, she traveled Mexico as an explorer, anthropologist, and photographer, collecting its folk artifacts and documenting the lives behind them. Born in Austria in 1920, she emigrated with her family to Mexico in 1939 to escape Nazi Germany.

She began a career in nursing through the Red Cross and went on to study at UNAM (National Autonomous University of Mexico), graduating in 1946 with a degree in medicine, surgery, obstetrics and midwifery. Her later training was in serology, a study that helped eradicate smallpox.

Though the disease was on the decline in Mexico in the 1940s, it was still present in remote areas. Labs took blood samples from vaccinated patients and ran tests to see if their blood serum had generated antibodies against the virus. In 1946, after graduation, Lechuga established her own private laboratory in her home in Mexico City’s Condesa neighborhood, and got to work.

In the late 1940s she began traveling to rural areas on weekends with her father, Adolf Deutsch, who was fascinated by Mexican archeology. Because Ruth was a doctor, the remote communities welcomed her as she made it a practice to provide medical advice while passing through.

Her aha moment came in 1947 on a trip to the pyramid site Bonampak in Chiapas, where she studied the Indigenous Lacandon Maya. She’d recently bought a camera to document the communities she served, which eventually sparked a decades-long documentary process that led to her leaving the medical field and becoming a full-time anthropologist and photographer. Her passion left a profound impact on how Mexican folk art is understood.

Though initially driven by her father’s interest in archaeology, her own growing passion for Mexican crafts transformed into a lifelong devotion to ethnography and the preservation of Indigenous artwork and handicrafts.

In 1951, she married Carlos Lechuga, a radiologist who she’d worked with early in her medical career. They shared an enthusiasm for exploring Mexican culture and traveled to remote regions with cameras to document the Indigenous customs and folk art.

Eventually, however, her husband’s enthusiasm waned while Ruth’s dedication to rural folklore grew. They divorced in 1956.

In a YouTube documentary, the documentarian details how, “The vast universe of her photography implied a significant challenge. It portrays the second half of the 20th century in Mexico in a profound and extensive way.

“Lechuga visited more than 400 localities in Mexico, recorded around 170 traditional festivals and dedicated herself to the collection of Mexico folk art. She used photography as a vehicle to document and preserve these arts of the Indigenous peoples of Mexico.

“Her work is valuable because it is a sensitive and profound look at these communities which knew her, embraced her, and allowed her to enter their world.”

Linda Litchfield, artist, wrote, “In her trips around the country she focused her attention on the individuals who showed and offered her the pieces they had made—pieces that were meaningful to the communities where they created, to many other Mexicans and beguiling to foreigners. She listened to the artisan’s stories and tried to learn from them.”

In time she published research on Indigenous Mexican culture and craftwork. She wrote six books in all. Her ethnographic photos earned her notice as one of the major professionals in the field. Her private collection of photographs along with nearly 13,000 artifacts was donated after her death and included her impressive mask collection.

Lechuga used photography as a vital anthropological tool. Between 1946 and 1991, her travel to Indigenous communities across Mexico captured more than 77,000 images. In her photographs, she didn’t just look at objects clinically. Her photos documented intimate daily life, religious rituals, and traditional festivals of 36 distinct Indigenous cultures.

Her massive visual archive is considered so culturally significant that it has been recognized by UNESCO’s Memory of the World register.

Unlike many early collectors who viewed Indigenous crafts as mere folklore or souvenirs, Lechuga approached them as fine art. Her guiding philosophy was that “folk art is not anonymous.” She refused to blindly collect items. Instead, she got into her car, tracked down the specific mask-makers and weavers, built deep personal relationships with the artists, and ensured the individual artisan’s name and production techniques were meticulously documented.

The more she traveled to see and collect the art of rural communities, the more she realized how completely different the culture was. “It couldn’t be understood through European eyes. It is neither superior nor inferior—simply something else. Until you realize this and stop trying to observe the culture clinically, you will never be able to form part of it,” she said in an interview.

Lechuga became a major authority in the field, publishing fundamental research papers and books on Indigenous clothing, textiles and masks. She balanced independent fieldwork with formal institutional roles including being curator at the National Museum of Popular Arts and Industries (INI ) from 1977 to 1994. She also served as advisor for the National Fund for the promotion of Arts and Crafts (FONART).

She believed that each piece of art was a fragment of Mexico’s identity which had to be protected, as reported in the YouTube documentary, ‘A Sensitive Memory of Mexico.’ “She collected as if she was building a bridge between the present and the past, city and countryside, academia and rural communities.”

Initially she started with an avid interest in archeology but became more interested in Indigenous communities and the people who lived in them and in the folk art and objects they created.

In time, all of her artifacts and 1,200 ceremonial masks along with 1,500 textiles pieces were displayed across three connected apartments in Condesa. On her death, they were bequeathed to the Franz Mayer Museum where they are presently on display in Mexico City.

Ruth Lechuga will be remembered as the doctor turned anthropologist who spent 60 years amassing the largest collection of Mexican folk art. She is one of the great unsung chroniclers of Mexico. And probably the most accurate view of her was this by Linda Litchfield, “Where others saw curiosities or folklore, she saw art.”

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SOURCES

Brenda Chávez Molokai. Ruth D. Lechunga: A Sensitive Memory of Mexico. Museo Ampeo/YouTube. October 2024.

Ruth D. Lechuga, Chloe Sayer. Mask Arts of Mexico. Chronicle Books. March 1995.

Ruth D. Lechuga. Attire in indigenous Mexico. MNAIP (Museo Nacional de Artes y Industrias Populares). 1982.

Ruth D. Lechunga. The Techniques of Textiles in Mexico’s Indigenous People. FONART. 1982.

Linda Litchfield. “Ruth D. Lechuga Folk Art Collection, Franz Mayer Museum, Mexico City.” Linda Litchfield, Art. March 11, 2019.

Ruth D, Lechuga. A Mexican Memory. Franz Mayer Museum. 20023.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! Back in 2024 I wrote about the newly annointed Tren Maya or Maya Train project and its objectives. Not only did Mexico plan to provide travelers an alternative to driving long distances between major attractions on the Yucatán Peninsula, but also initiate jobs in the process. Now, as the project settles in, we’ll have a look at the numbers. Please read on.

As Mexico's multi-billion dollar railway faces mounting financial losses, a trail of felled trees and polluted caves reveals the cost of an empty economic promise. Operating just under three years with a $28 billion dollar USD price tag—$20 billion over budget—the question begs to be answered: Is Tren Maya pulling its weight?

The 967-mile (1,525 km) Maya Train connects both eastern and western coasts of the Yucatán Peninsula and crosses five states. The first phase of the railway network was inaugurated December 15, 2024.

Far from materializing the promise of lifting southeastern Mexico out of poverty, the railway has exhausted its budget and is running a deficit. This year, the federal government increased subsidies again in second quarter, according to financial reports reviewed by Diaro de Yucatán and El Universal.

In spite of the boost, the railway reported a net loss of $49.8 billion USD with ticket revenue falling about $6.9 million USD this year.

Money’s not the only issue. A federal appellate court granted an injunction covering the stretch between Cancun and Tulum. This section of tracks, number 5, has been at the forefront of environmental issues since the beginning.

The main criticism has been that it cut through jungle above the region’s underground river system. Though the court ruling doesn’t halt further construction outright, it forces Profepa, Mexico’s environmental protection agency, to up inspections and conservation measures in that area.

Environmental group Sélvame del Tren, which had pushed for the order, called it a meaningful accountability win. But it’s obvious the damage has already been done. National Geographic reported that 15,000 steel pillars have been constructed around the Peninsula to support the railway. Some have been driven into sensitive cave ecosystems. Spelologist Roberto Rojo witnessed one of the most dramatic incidents, NatGeo continued. While exploring a cave in QRoo, he heard an industrial drill pierce the limestone ceiling above him.

With the rail line beginning in Cancun and ending in the city of Campeche on the Gulf, former Mexican President Andrés López Obrador (Amlo) projected the train would provide travelers an alternative to driving long distances between major attractions on the Peninsula and initiate new jobs in the process, lifting southeastern Mexico’s economy. Though it could easily ensure the first promise, the second has proved far more difficult to achieve.

Controversial from the start, community activists say for decades the government has promised that development would bring opportunity, but instead, the forests have been cut and communal lands eroded. Pedro Uc, member of the Assembly of Mayan Territory Defenders, stated “It’s an attack on the environment and the Mayan identity.”

The Riviera Maya, which the train passes through, is the largest jungle in the Americas after the Amazon. Laying the 967 miles of tracks resulted in cutting 3.4 million trees, according to the Mexican government. Environmentalists suggest the actual number is closer to 10 million, as reported by The Guardian. One research group estimated 16,455 acres of forest has been lost. López Obrador initially pledged to not chop down a single tree while building the train line, as reported by the New York Times.

And trees aren’t all that’s been at risk. Cenotes and underground rivers, some of the world’s most fragile ecosystems, have faced irreparable harm due to the government’s dismissal of geological studies before construction began. The Yucatán Peninsula’s unique system of underground rivers includes the world’s longest.

The train route cuts a 46-foot wide swath (14 meters) across the landscape, bringing civilization closer to vulnerable species such as jaguars. It also passes above a system of thousands of subterranean caves carved by water from the region’s limestone bedrock formed over millions of years.

With little transparency and near delinquent lack of testing, a number of those caves and ancient Maya cenotes, sacred to the Maya and an essential aspect of local water needs, have undergone irreparable damage. To bolster pylons for support, some have had concrete poured into them for additional reinforcement. The mere thought of even placing pylons in cenotes is beyond comprehension. If you’ve ever swum in a cenote, or even just seen one, this should make your heart hurt. In the ‘how could anything go wrong department,’ the results have created leakages with flotsam now floating in once pristine waters.

A quick geology lesson: The Yucatán Peninsula sits on an extremely fragile limestone shelf that is structurally unstable because it’s filled with hollow spaces. For millions of years, corals and marine organisms died and built up a massive bedrock foundation, a process that peaked around 100 million years ago.

Underground caverns on the Peninsula are plentiful and the ceilings are often only a few feet thick. Heavy weight can cause the thin rock layers to cave in unexpectedly.

Trains weighing up to 217 tons are crossing directly over this unstable ground. “A nearby highway, built on similar land, collapsed from the weight of cars and construction in at least two sections in recent years,” the New York Times reported.

The hurry-hurry mentality to get the train running transpired due to Amlo’s desire to get work done quickly to complete his flagship project while he was still in office. Environmental groups feared the worst.

Reuters has closely documented the project since its inception and wrote that the government cut corners in its environmental review processes. Amlo insisted that the railway’s status as a national security project allowed the government to side-step usual environmental safeguards and insisted the Mexican government would protect the environment in line with global standards.

At present, Profepa and Maya train administrators meet weekly to evaluate the situation with the train’s seven sections. The group must determine what permits are missing, what conditions have not been met, and what actions should be taken, said Dr. Alicia Bárcena Ibarra, Secretary of Environment and Natural Resources.

It’s also examining the government’s reforestation and environmental restoration plan to determine how to best compensate for the damage caused by the project.

Question: How does one ‘repatriate’ virgin forest that’s been clearcut? And how can rainforest ever be replaced?

Despite promises, local communities near the tracks have seen little benefit. The train route intersected 40 municipalities and 130 towns/localities, wrote Wikipedia.

A Reuters review of census data and interviews with dozens of residents in towns along the tracks found that poverty has not gone away, and well-paying jobs are still hard to find. In the pueblo Vida y Esperanza, literally steps from a railway maintenance depot, residents hoped the train would bring change and electricity.

Power lines installed for the train run almost directly above the towns’s houses. But locals must still depend on rented solar panels and generators for energy needs. The local primary school sits a stone’s throw from the depot but has no grid electricity for fans, computers or stable lighting. The teacher, Lidia Patricia Chan Us, told Reuters she has spent years trying to get power connected. Authorities told her electricity cannot be installed until the land beneath the school has formal titles, a common disclaimer by the state.

In the state of QRoo, where Vida y Esperanza is located, the share of homes having electricity actually fell slightly during the period the rail line was being constructed, according to official data, even as new substations were built to power the line, reported Reuters.

And in Xpujil, close to the train line near Calakmul Biosphere Reserve and pyramid site, Nicolas Moreno Jimenez, a beekeeper and farmer, told the reporter that when he turns on his tap inside his home, no water comes out.

When Amlo was asked directly about the town’s chronic water shortages in 2024 when the Xpujil water aqueduct was inaugurated, he promised, “How could a major project like the Maya Train not bring water?”

But Moreno said the taps are still dry. Each week he brings water by car from another community to have water at his house. Around 70 percent of the population of Campeche has access to running water, data shows. The other 30 percent must rely on a cache system or local cenotes.

Six hotels, built with military backing, were constructed on the Tren Maya route. The 144-room Campeche Hotel Edzná has already closed down, though notices say it’s closed temporarily. When Reuters reviewed government data, it showed hotel properties averaged low monthly occupancy rates, between five and 24 percent most of last year.

The Maya Train is now fully operational for passengers and has plans to expand its infrastructure into freight services. But that’s another story. Federal officials have said the Tren Maya’s financial model will not be complete until it begins carrying cargo, as passenger operations alone cannot achieve a break-even point without cargo services, wrote Yucatán Magazine.

López Obrador projected the train would transport three million people a year once finished. But with all 34 stations in use, it’s only recently passed the one million passenger mark in nearly three years of operation.

Regarding the project, President Claudia Sheinbaun defends the line as a success. Asked at a press conference how it had helped regional development, her response was “It’s not something that happens overnight.”

If you want to give me a little lift, a restack helps more than you’d think! It makes it easier for others to find Mexico Soul. Gracias!

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SOURCES

Enrique Gomez. “Maya Train operating in the red; losses skyrocket.” El Universal. August 28, 2026.

Michale Finkel. “The fight to preserve Mexico’s portals to the underworld.” National Geographic. September 2025.

Staff. “Tren Maya Spends Eight Times More Than It Earns, Lawmaker Says.” Riviera Maya News. September 14, 2026.

Cassandra Garrison. “In Mexico, flagship Mayan tourist train leaves trail of broken pledges.” Reuters. April 22, 2026.

Staff. “Third Tren Maya Derailment Since 2023 Launch.” Yucatán Magazine. September 2, 2026.

Maria Abi-Habib. “Over Caves and Over Budget, Mexico’s Train Project Barrels Towards Disaster.” NYT. August 28, 2022.

Louise Morris. ‘A megaproject of death’: Fury as Maya train nears completion in Mexico. The Guardian.org. May 23, 2023.

Staff. “Revenue Down, Losses Up Again for Tren Maya.” Yucatán Magazine. August 19, 2026.

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Hola Amigos! The Caste War of Yucatán is not widely discussed though its importance is immense. Lately I’ve received questions about it and decided to update a post from a few years ago. I first read about it in Michel Peissel’s adventure tale, The Lost World of Quintana Roo. In 1958, QRoo was still a territory, unruly and sparsely populated, all jungle and mangroves. But of greater importance to Peissel was that the Caste War had ended with a half-hearted truce only decades prior to his walk-about. Tempers still flared. The only requirement granting safe passage was that one be a person of color, which Peissel was not. How did it come to an all out war? Allow me to tell you an amazing story that ends with a speaking cross. Please read on!

Living in the land of the Maya one takes for granted the solemn undercurrent of a revered, majestic culture that built pyramids, developed the concept of zero, and for centuries, quietly held their ground against the Spanish when their Aztec neighbors had succumbed in a heartbeat.

While sunbathing on endless white sand beaches, snorkeling off the Great Meso-America Reef or simply kicking back to enjoy Mexico’s gracious hospitality, it’s easy to forget to whom one owes allegiance. But just beneath the surface of a postcard perfect existence lies a Yucatán tale that isn’t much talked about but has set the tone for the past century: the Caste War of Yucatán.

When cultures collide, history requires a winner and a loser. But in Quintana Roo after the Caste War, which began in 1847 and ended first in 1901 and again in 1935 with a half-hearted truce, it’s difficult to determine who won the battle and which side lost the war.

From 1847 until the 1930s, the Caste War made it impossible for a light-skinned person to walk into the eastern Yucatán or the territory of Quintana Roo and come out alive. This was a place where only Indigenous Maya could safely roam. Anyone with light skin was killed on sight. What caused the fierceness of this Maya uprising that lasted nearly a century?

No single element alone instigated the rebellion, but as in most revolutions, a long dominated underclass was finally pushed to its limits by an overbearing ruling class that had performed intolerable deeds. Indentured servitude, land grabbing, and restrictive water rights were but a few issues that pushed the Maya into full-fledged revolt against their Yucatán overlords.

The history of the Caste War, not unlike Mexico’s dramatic history, is complicated. Mexico’s successful break with Spain led to changes in the Yucatán government, including arming the Maya to help fight the Mexican war against the US in Texas. Maya numbers were needed to assure victory. Armed with rifles and machetes, this tactic backfired in Valladolid, considered the most elitist and race conscious city in the Yucatán.

After a decade of skirmishes, in 1847, when the newly armed Maya heard one of their leaders had been put to death by firing squad, a long simmering rebellion broke out into full-fledged battle. The Maya rose up and marched on Valladolid, hacking 85 to death by machete, burning, raping, and pillaging along the way.

Merida braced itself, sure to be the next staging ground for what was fast becoming a race war. In retaliation for the Valladolid massacre, Yucatecans descended on the ranch of a Maya leader and raped a 12-year old Indigenous girl.

With this affront, eight Maya tribes joined forces and drove the entire white population of Yucatán to Merida, burning houses and pillaging as they went. So fierce was the slaughter that anyone who was not of Maya descent prepared to evacuate Merida and the Peninsula by boat.

But just as the Maya tribes approached Merida, sure of victory, fate intervened when great clouds of winged ants appeared in the sky. With this first sign of rain coming, the Maya knew it was time to begin planting. They laid down their machetes against the pleadings of their chiefs and headed home to their milpas. It was time to plant corn—a thing as simple and ancient as that.

In 1848 the Yucatecans staged a comeback, killed Maya leaders, and reunified. But as the Maya harvested corn planted in hidden fields, they kept fighting, relying on guerrilla tactics to preserve the only life they knew.

Throughout it all, the Maya were pushed to the eastern and southern regions of the Yucatán Peninsula and Quintana Roo, as far south as Bacalar. Mexico slowly gained control over the Yucatán, but rebel Maya held firmly onto QRoo, using Chan Santa Cruz (Felipe Carrillo Puerto) as their base.

Tired from years of struggle, the Maya regained confidence from an unlikely source: a talking cross found deep in the jungle near a cenote. Revolutionary José Maria Barrera, driven from his Yucatán pueblo, led his band of people to an uninhabited forest and to a small cenote called Lom Ha (Cleft Spring). There he discovered a cross that was carved into a tree. The cross bore a resemblance to the Maya tree of life, La Ceiba, and a new religion formed around it, the Cult of the Speaking Cross, centered in the Tulum area.

Barrera, a mestizo, said the cross transmitted a message which was later given as a sermon by Juan de la Cruz (of the Cross), a man trained to lead religious services in the absence of a Maya priest. Barrera also used a ventriloquist, Manuel Nahuat, as the mouthpiece of the cross, and through this medium directed the Maya in their war effort, urging them to take up arms against the Mexican government, assuring the people of the cross they would attain victory.

From this speaking cross a community evolved—Chan Santa Cruz (Little Holy Cross)—and its inhabitants came to be called Cruzob, or followers of the cross. By chance, the cross bore three elements sacred to the Maya: the Ceiba tree, the cenote, and a cave. The cross was found growing on the roots of a Ceiba, the Maya tree of life, which sprung from a cave (caves were sacred to the Maya), by a cenote, which the Maya believed was the place where the rain gods lived, making it easy for the Maya to accept this supernatural phenomenon.

It was also not a stretch for the Maya to believe the cross spoke to them. In the Chilam Balam, an ancient Maya text, priests were described as hearing voices from the gods. So, even this aspect of mysticism fell into an acceptable myth.

To the Chan Santa Cruz, the voice of God came from that cross in that tree. The cross was inspired by a shamanic ventriloquist—the man speaking to them through the cross was God’s chattel, a mouthpiece of the gods. A shaman. The Cruzob believed this tree and this cross were connected underground, 100 kilometers from Lom Ha cenote to Xocen—the center of the world—from where the first speaking cross originated.

As scholar Nelson Reed wrote in The Caste War of Yucatán, during times of extreme cultural stress, that’s when prophets arise. In 1850 the Maya were losing the war and their religious structure was falling apart—their priests and saints had been expelled. Spanish heritage had replaced it during the war.

Four crosses are said to exist at counter points—tips of the cross—marking the boundaries more or less of the Cruzob Maya. The religion is still practiced in four sacred shrine villages— X-Cacal Guardia, Chancah Veracruz, Chumpon and Tulum—their geographic positions describe the territory of the Cruzob Maya.

In 1935, the Chan Santa Cruz from the last holdout villages signed a treaty of sorts which allowed the rest of Mexico to rule them. The jungle-wise Maya had kept the Mexican government at bay for over 50 years.

I visited the church of the speaking cross in Tulum. Hiding in plain sight and sitting very near el Centro, it’s a humble white-washed structure surrounded by trees. A narrow path with overgrown shrubs on either side disguised the entrance that leads up to it. Before entering the churchyard, I passed through an enclosed area watched over by a custodial guard. He gave a nod and I continued on towards the church. A posted sign instructed that shoes and hats were forbidden, as were photos.

Inside votive candles lit the church and the musky scent of copal wafted through the darkened church. The interior is a large open room with seating. Straight ahead, three crosses covered in small white huipil-like veils sat on an otherwise barren altar. The room held little else except for a Maya woman kneeling on a blanket in a rear corner. I stepped back outside into blinding Yucatán sunshine.

Of the four crosses held at the counter points, one is said to be the original. Tixcacal Guardia village elders fiercely guard what they swear is the original speaking cross and let no outsiders near it. It’s kept in a city within a city, much like the Vatican, according to blogger Logan Hawkes, safely hidden away from all save the Cruzob spiritual leaders—a head shaman and circle of elders.

For generations, Maya have flocked to these outposts to worship a wooden cross that became a dynamic part of their history during the Caste War. In Tixcacal Guardia, the church which houses the cross is open to the public only on feast days, but even then it’s said the artifact is not on display. It’s located on an altar covered with veils in a blocked-off section called La Gloria. No one is allowed to enter the inner sanctum and the cross is guarded day and night by local Maya.

Even though Chan Santa Cruz, the rebels' capital city, now Felipe Carrillo Puerto, is not one of the counter points of the cross bearers, it was the main stronghold of Cruzob Maya rebels during the war. To this day a rotating team of followers keep vigils at a local chapel where a flower-adorned shrine is set up. Tihosuco, an hour to the northwest, is home to the Caste War Museum.

With history this unique, it’s not hard to realize that the newly founded Riviera Maya is but a shell for a more mysterious land of an ancient, respected people who have had an ongoing conversation with the gods and the universe for more than a millennium.

More information can be found in Nelson Reed’s excellent The Caste War of Yucatán and fall into the beauty of MacDuff Everton’s black and white photos in The Modern Maya, A Culture in Transition.

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SOURCES

Nelson A. Reed. The Caste War of Yucatán (Revised). Stanford University Press. 2002.

MacDuff Everton. The Modern Maya: A Culture in Transition. University of New Mexico Press. 1991.

Michel Peissel. The Lost World of Quintana Roo. E.P. Dutton. 1963.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! An ongoing conversation continues in the art and antiquity world questioning the propriety of why antiquities from less developed countries continue to languish in museums, art galleries and private collections in lands that carry more social weight, power or wealth. Lately, there’s been a significant wave of high profile repatriations to Mexico, as President Claudia Sheinbaum continues in predecessor López Obrador’s footsteps with the popular movement, #MiPatrimonioNoSeVende. (My Heritage is Not For Sale). Please read on.

“Tombs are robbed, temples looted, all to feed the international market for antiquities.” Donna Yates, Archeologist of Antiquities Theft and Art Crime, The Netherlands.

We drove across Mexico in our Ford Escort wagon, loaded to the nines with our belongings and cat, heading towards a new life on the Mexican Caribbean coast. Our hearts quickened after passing Escarcega. At the end of that lonely 200-mile stretch, we’d cross from the state of Campeche into Quintana Roo. Homeward bound.

As Escarcega receded in our rearview mirror, the road narrowed and we settled in for the drive. We decided we’d take a break halfway when we got to a small grouping of pyramids, have a sandwich, and let Max, then just a kitten, walk around.

I’d read about this pyramid quartet—Kohunlich, Becán, Chicanna, and Xpuhil—not far from the ceremonial center, Calakmul. Though these sites didn’t have the star power of Chichen Itza or Tulum, Kohunlich and its Temple of Masks had a moment in 1968 when it was mistaken for the site Placeres, in Campeche.

Not only stealth-like, looters are also cunning. At Placeres, they’d discovered a magnificent intact frieze decorated with giant masks, not unsimilar to those at Kohunlich. To obscure its true location, they told the antiquities dealer the piece came from nearby Kohunlich. Thus, Kohunlich received a lot of press when New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, the designated buyer, alerted Mexican authorities of the theft-in-process. The attempted heist was kept secret until 1980.

But back to our road trip. We saw no other cars and around 4 p.m. we passed Chicanna. Soon after, I spotted one of the towers of Xpuhil. “Want to stop?” I asked Paul.

He nodded and we drove down a deserted sascab lane through an unlocked gate into an empty parking lot. I pulled myself from the car while Paul saw to Max. I stretched, went to the way-back to find the cooler and brought out sandwiches. I called to Paul.

With Max in the car, we leaned against the door to eat. Afterwards I wanted to have a quick look around the site. Just as I bit into my sandwich, a white, older model International hauling a sizable tarp-covered trailer drove into the parking lot, leaving dust in its wake. Two men sat inside. An older man was driving.

The vehicle was 300 feet away when the guy riding shotgun jumped out. He was young and lanky and moved quickly across the lot. The truck had Canadian plates and the driver kept the engine idling.

“Weird. Why’d just one guy get out and why didn’t the driver turn off the engine?”

“It is weird,” Paul said. We watched the younger man dart through an opening in the fence and run along the path that led to the site. The truck was still idling.

“I don’t feel good about this.”

“Me neither. What are they doing?”

Paul started pushing things into the way-back. I followed his lead and closed the cooler, holding my sandwich in one hand as I tossed things into the car.

“Let’s get out of here. Something’s wrong. Why the trailer? Grave looters?”

“Not sure,” Paul said. “But the tarp? Let’s go.”

The International had parked at just the right angle so we couldn’t see the driver. If these guys were grave looters, we didn’t want to be around when INAH (National Institute of Anthropology and History) discovered them, or worse, the federales. Stealing artifacts is a serious crime.

Paul started the car and headed towards the highway. The International was still idling when I turned around to give it one last look.

“Looters?”

“We don’t want to know,” Paul said as he eased onto the uneven asphalt, revved the engine and we headed towards Chetumal.

Antiquity theft— the world’s second oldest profession?

Antiquity looters come in many guises—unassuming tourist types, locals, businessmen looking to make a buck, collectors.

Art theft is big business—a ‘trade’ worth billions. Ask any dealer of antiquities. And as the international appetite for Maya culture grows so does the hunger for illegal artifacts.

As long as there’s poverty in undeveloped countries where ancient civilizations once stood, you can bank on it. Art dealers call it the world’s second oldest profession.

“Any country in conflict is ripe for antiquities looting,” said Tess Davis, Boston University legal expert and archeologist. When conflict erupts in an archeological rich country, the art market is flooded with that country’s antiquities. Looting becomes a means of subsistence when homelands are war-torn.

“This is not just a white collar crime. Terrorists, are using the antiquities trade to fund their efforts. Unless we get it together, I fear there will be nothing left,” Davis said in her lecture, “Tomb Raiders and Terrorist Financing.”

Now, too, most organized trafficking groups are business savvy and have diversified portfolios. As with real estate, logging, oil and iron ore, the prices antiquities command are too high to ignore.

Art and antiquity underwent a huge upheaval the first half of the 20th century, according to Donna Yates, in “Displacement, Deforestation and Drugs: Antiquities Trafficking and Narco Economies.” Tastes in contemporary art shifted. Tribal art and distinctly different looks from Asia and the Americas became the rage.

Compared with well known ancient civilizations in Europe, archeological interest in the Maya came relatively late, partially due to the forbidding nature of the jungles.

The demand for it grew as connections were drawn to famous artists of the day, including Kahlo and Rivera. Soon, shrewd collectors began to source them from their countries of origin.

And this is where we begin our present day story.

For decades, countries have demanded the return of cultural heritage as part of a global process of decolonization, wrote Center for Art Law. Larger discussions have centered on Egypt’s demand for the return of the Rosetta Stone and Greece’s ongoing request for the return of the Elgin Marbles from the British Museum. Many African nations have also made claims, including Nigeria, Ghana and Ethiopia.

Mexico, in particular, has embraced the movement in its aggressive campaign to reclaim its cultural heritage, spearheaded by INAH (National Institute of Anthropology and History). It has yielded successful results. They’re demanding repatriation and protection of pre-Hispanic antiquities, including Maya artifacts, in a major policy priority of President Claudia Sheinbaum’s administration.

President Sheinbaum has institutionalized the fight against the illicit trafficking of cultural property. Her administration continues to utilize the prominent national motto, #MiPatrimonioNoSeVende (My Heritage Is Not for Sale) and has recovered thousands of pre-Hispanic objects.

Under López Obrador’s presidency, the campaign brought in 14,048 cultural artifacts in his six-year term. Sheinbaum’s efforts have totaled 3,716 recovered properties her first year and a half in office.

As well as fighting large institutions, the Mexican government is convincing private citizens to voluntarily step forward. In August, a Texas businessman traveled to the Mexican Consulate in Albuquerque to voluntarily hand over four Maya clay artifacts he’d purchased decades ago in a Canadian auction house.

And it’s not only Mexico asking for voluntary returns. In August, an American collector began researching the provenance of 48 Egyptian antiquities he’d acquired and contacted the FBI’s Art Crime Team to report his concerns. He noticed questionable documentation regarding how the items entered the US. They were turned in and he was not charged. A growing trend with smugglers is to provide buyers with forged paperwork to fake an item’s legal history.

So where do antiquities belong? The state of antiquities held in foreign museums is undergoing a profound structural shift, said Luigi Prada, Associate Professor of Egyptology at Uppsala University, Sweden. “It’s put some major museums in a difficult position regardless of their intentions. They had their way for a long time, but the atmosphere is changing. The mood at present is pro-restitution. The British Museum has had the Rosetta Stone since 1801.

“Three words are important at the moment: restitution, return and conscience, like legal and ethical issues,” he continued in an Al Jazeera TV report.

“For example, there are serious problems with the antiquities markets. No one in my world of antiquity and historical objects would ever act in bad faith, but the antiquity market . . .

“The problem goes beyond legal reparations and where the legal rights stand. It’s also about ethical issues and reparations of historical wrongs. Legal entities of long ago who now may no longer exist at one time turned over papers or a contract, and handed over antiquities, like with the British Museum and the Elgin Marbles.

“So it becomes ethical. How far do we want to go to fix the wrongs of history? What about antiquities that were moved in times of conflict? Not all were stolen or taken by force.”

Dr. Jos Van Beurden, Senior Researcher in Cultural Collections and Restitution, Free University of Amsterdam, asked what if there is no documentation. “Is it booty or not? Do we know if it was confiscated or acquired in a forceful manner? We don’t know.”

The state of returning antiquities to their lands of origin is at an all-time high, characterized by law enforcement seizures, voluntary surrenders, and aggressive cultural diplomacy. Global authorities and major museums are under intense scrutiny, shifting the baseline from ‘finders keepers’ to a standard of proactive restitution.

Twenty-seven pieces of Mexico’s ancient heritage returned home in July. Italy formally returned archaeological objects recovered through investigations targeting illegal trafficking of cultural property.

The handover took place at Rome’s Mexican Embassy following work by Italy’s unit for protection of cultural heritage. The objects are connected to Maya, Zapotec and Nayarit cultures, along with Teotihuacan heads, ceramic objects and fossils.

The Manhattan District Attorney’s Office alone has been particularly active in repatriating artworks. In 2025, antiquities valued at millions of dollars were returned to Italy, Greece, Nepal, Cambodia, Paraguay, Pakistan, Egypt, Hungary, Spain, Costa Rica and Poland.

So where are we now? Though all stolen antiquities will never be repatriated, there’s finally recognition that all nations deserve to retain the hallmarks of what made them flourish, through their art, culture and history. A step in the right direction is underway, and in Mexico, the government is in pursuit of spoils that were lost or stolen long ago. May many more return. Ojala, as the Maya say.

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SOURCES

Sophia Molina. “#MiPatrimonioNoSeVende: Mexico’s New Era of Cultural Repatriation.” Center for Art Law. Sept 13, 2026.

Secretary of Relations/Exterior, “Culture and Foreign Ministries Complete Repatriation of 160 Heritage Pieces.” Gobierno de Mexico. April 6, 2026.

Jordan Honeycutt.”Four Mayan artifacts returned to Mexican government.” Albuquerque News, Aug 27, 2026.

Adrian Finnegan. Inside Story. “Museums around the world are returning artifacts to countries of origin.” Al Jazeera/English. July 2023

Staff. “Maya Peoples in Guatemala Demand the MET Return Sacred Artifacts.” Cultural Survival. February 6, 2023

James Imam. “Italy Returns Artifacts.” The Art Newspaper. July 17, 2026.

Jorge Rodriguez-Jiminénez. “The U.S. Just Returned 900+ Stolen Mesoamerican Artifacts to Mexico.” Mitú. March 18, 2025.

Staff. “From Stolen Heritage to Restitution: The Story Behind Looted Art.” Center for Art Law. May 6, 2024.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you so much for being here! Before I begin writing an essay, I’ve already become fascinated with the subject I’m planning to pursue. Being an optimist, I often visualize the Pollyanna version. I can even see it like a movie in my mind. Then reality sets in when I start to research. Oftentimes the opposite of what I thought is true. Sometimes darkly true. And so it is with Las Adelitas. Please read on.

Just over a century ago the Mexican Revolution ended. Photos from that time show soldiers riding on horseback with wide-brimmed sombreros, wearing crossed bandoliers slung over their shoulders. It’s a romantic image that glosses over the reality of an incredibly bloody conflict, with over two million Mexicans killed.

The Mexican Revolution, 1910 - 1920, didn’t take place on professional battlefields. It was fought in the streets and villages of a people struggling for their rights. It upended daily life.

The women of this conflict, formally known as soldaderas but also called Adelitas, were never just spectators. During the Mexican Revolution, women did not stay at home while men went off to war. Many were active combatants who carried rifles, managed supply lines, served as cooks, strategists, couriers, spies, ammunition smugglers, and sometimes led troops as coronel(as). To bypass traditional gender roles, some women disguised themselves as men to take part while others fought openly alongside male relatives.

“They lived the revolution, mourned it, fought in it, and died for it,” wrote journalist Regina Campos.

Thousands of women of every age and social class joined the fight. The decade-long war had many sides. Soldaderas fought for whichever side they believed in, wrote Destiny Torres for CSU/Diablo Hills Bulletin.

Despite being strong soldiers, soldaderas were romanticized due to misogyny and a popular song, “La Adelita,” by Sergeant Antonio Gil del Rio Armenta, wrote Chicano Studies Professor Alexandro Hérnandez, CSU/Diablo Hills. The actual story, wrote Hérnandez, goes as follows. . .

“A soldadera named Adela Velarde Pérez was the inspiration for the song, who Armenta was in love with. She served as a nurse for Cruz Blanca/White Cross for around two years under Pancho Villa on the hospital trains. She was born in 1900 to a wealthy family in Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua, and against her parents’ wishes became a soldadera at 13.

“This soldier falls in love and creates a romantic view of her by saying she had to follow him everywhere . . . but the story is much bigger than that.”

In time, a folksong, “La Adelita,” became synonymous with all revolutionary women. Rumor has it that during lulls between battles Armenta would serenade her outside her medical tent. Their romance was cut short after the 1914 battle at Gómez Palacio, Durango. As he lay in her arms, this time fatally wounded, he asked her to go to his backpack and take out a gift. It was a piece of paper with this song:

If by chance I die in campaign

And my corpse is going to be buried,

Adelita, for God’s sake, I beg you

That you don’t cry on my behalf.

The song was given to the brigade’s musicians and they began to play it. The verse became a corrido—a narrative ballad—during the war. Since Adela’s identity was unknown at the time, soldaderas were renamed Adelitas symbolizing their beauty and love for the male soldiers rather than their passion for the Revolution.

The soldaderas or Adelitas who fought during the Mexican Revolution embodied the active role women had in its history. Without women, the Mexico of today would not exist, Campos wrote.

Women were important logistical support since the army didn’t have an organized way to provision troops. “There were no commissaries for the troops, so women often followed their men,” said Gilbert Joseph, history professor at Yale University.

Women foraged for food and cooked for the soldiers. They also nursed the wounded. Some did this while pregnant or carrying children on their back. Married women followed their husbands to war because the women had nothing for them at home, often including no place to live and no food. Following their husband was all they could do.

Since the Federal Army had forced recruitment, desertion rates were high and army service was considered a form of semi-slavery. Allowing families to remain together reduced desertion rates. Soldaderas earned no pay for their work.

The women came from various social backgrounds and most were likely rural, mestizo and Native women about whom little is known. Without female camp followers, the armies fighting the Revolution would have had an even rougher go. For a time, tired of having women in camp, Pancho Villa stripped his ranks of what had become established camp structure and banned soldaderas. It backfired. The lack of female companionship led to a breakdown in discipline. Without regular access to organized camp procedures and meals, soldiers increasingly resorted to looting and sexual violence against civilian populations in captured towns.

By joining the fight the soldaderas proved they were not weak or incapable of taking on important roles in society to show their bravery and resilience. But it was not easy. They faced discrimination and risks. Violence and rape were common, from both their comrades and opposing forces, but they refused to be intimidated.

In Southern Mexico in the army of Emiliano Zapata, soldiers were usually based in their home villages and operated locally, so camp followers weren’t needed. But when the Zapatistas operated farther from home and the forces lacked camp followers, Zapatistas’ rape of village women was well-known.

The treatment of women varied between different leaders, but in general they were not treated well. Even horses were said to be treated better than women. Some women were forced into the revolution through brute force. Male soldiers often kidnapped women and forced them to join armies. If the women refused, they would be threatened until they gave in or else could be shot and killed. These kidnappings were no secret in Mexico and were frequently reported in the country’s newspapers. Unfortunately, women from the lower classes often could not read and found this out too late.

Many women joined the Revolution for protection. With the men in their family off to fight, there was a lack of protection for those left behind. For safety, most women followed their husbands and joined the force he was fighting for.

Perhaps the most important reason women fought in the Revolution was to refute a Mexican civil code that had passed during Porfirio Diaz’s 30-year regime, restricting women’s rights in their own homes and in the workplace.

The law stated a woman remained under the legal control of a male relative throughout her entire life, nullifying her independence and ability to work outside the home. Though women fought the war for their country, they also fought to gain personal independence. The Revolution was an opportunity to explicitly fight for legal equality and citizenship.

Las soldaderas’ dedication to armies on both sides had an impact on the Revolution’s outcome and on the future of Mexican politics. After their efforts, Mexico’s 1917 Constitution finally defined a Mexican citizen as someone born or naturalized in the country. Women were officially given more rights, though unfortunately, those changes didn’t have a wide-reaching impact overall.

The corrido “La Adelita” turned Adela Velarde Pérez’s personal story into a collective symbol. The name Adelita became synonymous with all the women who took part in the Revolution, without distinguishing between nurses, soldaderas, spies or cooks. Because of that, the original identity of Adela Velarde was diluted. She was never an armed combatant, but a nurse on the most vulnerable frontline of the conflict, wrote the site laAdelita.org.

“The figure of “La Adelita” lies at the intersection of historical fact and symbolic representation. Her name and image transcended thanks to the popular song “La Adelita,” which turned her into a cultural icon and archetype of the soldaderas.”

The photo most associated with Adela is not accurate. It was taken in 1911 by Antonio Garduño. At that time Adela was only 10 or 11. Sadly it’s the most widely circulated photo representing her.

Today, soldadares are celebrated as heroines and symbols of courage in Mexico’s history. Adela Velarde Pérez is one of the few soldaderas recognized from the Revolution. After the war ended she moved to CDMX where she worked in the Mexican Postal Service. Though it came late, she was officially named a Veteran of the Revolution by the Secretariat of National Defense in February, 1941, and in 1962, she was inducted into the Mexican Legion of Honor..

Years later, after the war ended, she was contacted by Colonel Alfred Villegas who she’d met on the battlefield as a young nurse. Adela was deeply in love with Armenta, so nothing romantic developed between them during the conflict.

As a widower living in Texas, Villegas sought her out through the assistance of a military contact. After nearly 50 years apart, they married in 1965. She moved to Texas and spent the remainder of her life loved and cared for by Villegas and his family who preserved her belongings, letters and her legacy after her death.

The life of Adela Velarde Pérez is the portrait of a young woman who defied the expectations of her time and crossed social boundaries to care for those in need in the worst case scenario. Beyond the corrido and the myth was a brave and passionate young woman, often forgotten by history.

Remembering Adela is a tribute to all the women whose voices are still waiting to be heard.

Adela Velarde Pérez died on September 4, 1971, in Del Rio, Texas. RIP, dear Adelita.

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Sources

Destiny Torres. “Soldaderas: The Unspoken Heroines of the Mexican Revolution.” CDU/DH Bulletin. August, 2020.

Arianna North Castell. “Cartucho y Las Adelitas – the Mexican Revolution through the Female Lens”. Retrospect Journal. 2022.

Marilyn LaJeunesse. “The Real History of Las Soldaderas, the Women Who Made the Mexican Revolution Possible.” Teen Vogue. March 12, 2019.

Regina Campos. “Adelitas—The Leaders of the Mexican Revolution.” Modern Mexico Mercadito. March 7, 2023.

Maura Hohman. “When Women Took Up Arms to Fight in Mexico’s Revolution.” History. May 27, 2025.

Gustavo Leal Cueva. “125th Anniversary of “La Adelita”: A Symbol of Women in the Mexican Revolution.” laadelita.org. September 8, 2025.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! The Maya civilization includes a pantheon of gods who rule everything—human activities, social roles and major forces of nature, even the wind and the rain. Ixchel rises to the top, like Venus on a new moon. She’s the belle of the ball. Please read on!

Ixchel, Mother goddess of the moon, fertility and women has a special relationship with Puerto Morelos. A modern-day Maya goddess explained it to me like this: For over a millennium, Maya women used our coastal port as a place to congregate before journeying to a sacred fertility site blessed by Ixchel on Cozumel.

According to Maya scholar Sylvanus Morley, in the Maya pantheon, Ixchel is the moon goddess and also patroness of pregnancy. That’s why she’s often portrayed with rabbits, a universal sign of fertility and new life. She’s also linked to water, sometimes known as Lady of the Rainbow, a direct translation of her name—‘Ix’ is lady and ‘chel’ is rainbow.

From the shores of Puerto Morelos women awaited passage to the island, to be ferried across the waves in dugout canoes. From here their spiritual journey began. There’s no doubt Puerto Morelos is a place where incantations have been chanted. It drew ancient Maya then, the goddess said, and is still pulling others with a spiritual craving to its shores now. Early on we noticed Puerto Morelos’ cosmic draw to psychics, healers, artists, aura readers, jungle journeyers and Maya calendar devotees. Learning it was an ancient departure point for goddess journey pilgrimages was no surprise.

Maya women seeking to ensure a fruitful marriage or healthy pregnancy traveled to San Gervasio, assumed to be the earthly dwelling of the goddess, to make the pilgrimage. Tradition has it that behind a giant statue of Ixchel, a hidden priestess would act as a speaking oracle and answer pilgrim's’ questions to the goddess. It’s now a Maya archeological site in her honor.

Besides the heady duty of assisting with fertility, Ixchel is viewed as the protector of women, a mistress of medicine, and a patron of weaving. She is considered one of the most important goddesses in the Maya pantheon.

Ixchel was the consort and wife of Itzamná, lord of the heavens. Together they were the supreme creator couple. As the most powerful deities of Maya mythology they represented the sacred balance between moon and sun, the feminine and the masculine, creation and destruction.

Because the moon changes phases, as ruler of the moon, Ixchel is considered dual-faceted and takes the role of a beautiful young woman representing fertility and the waxing moon, and also as an aged crone representing wisdom, destruction, and the waning moon.

Midwives frequently placed small idols of Ixchel underneath the bed of a woman in labor to ensure the safety of both mother and newborn. An entwined serpent serves as her headdress, crossed bones sometimes adorn her skirt and instead of human hands and feet, at times she has claws. Some say she resembles the Aztec earth goddess, Tlaltecuhtli.

It is believed that Ixchel began as a moon goddess before she was worshipped as the goddess of childbirth and fertility. Then she became a goddess of weavers—whose spindle is considered the motion at the center of the universe.

North of Cozumel, Isla Mujeres also honors Ixchel. Known as the island of women, it was given the name by early Spanish explorers who discovered ceramic statues of women that represented the goddess and her priestesses. On the southern point of the island at Punta Sur there’s remnants of a small Maya temple built in her honor.

Even though Isla Mujeres doesn’t hold the significance that Cozumel did, Isla was also a pilgrimage site for women who wanted to honor the goddess. There’s a statue with a plaque to commemorate her overlooking the ocean.

Follow the path to the pyramid erected for the goddess on the bluff. It’s a pleasant break from the hustle of downtown Isla, and the drive there gives a different view of this island paradise. After checking out Ixchel’s Isla sanctuary, circumnavigate the island on the lonely back road. It’s not uncommon to find yourself alone as you view the rocky shores on the island’s far side. And if you tune in, you may even feel the spirit of Ixchel on the ocean breeze.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! I’ve written about chocolate’s ancient Maya ties and food historian Sophie Coe’s writings on it, but current news tells us the world of cacao is rapidly changing. After a little history on this scrumptious treat, I’ll tell you how the cacao world is moving at warp speed, adding new prospects for Central and South America, even Asia. Please read on.

Cacao was sacred. The Maya thought of it as a gift from the gods. Though many may lay claim to where it came from, the jury’s in on its origin. It came from Mexico. But even by narrowing it down to a country, the exact location has been questioned more than once. Is it Oaxaca? Central Mexico? The Yucatán?

Anthropologist and food historian Sophie Coe knew it, studied it, and wrote about it in The True History of Chocolate. She draws on botany, archeology, and culinary history to present chocolate’s complete and accurate beginnings.

“Coe’s book brings serious pleasure reading to lay readers who are cooks, eaters, and students of food ways,” said a review in American Anthropologist.

Sophie Coe’s interest in the food and drink of pre-Spanish peoples of the New World inspired her to write America’s First Cuisines in 1994. During that research, she discovered the important position given to chocolate in Mesoamerica. In 1988, she became fascinated with chocolate’s history while writing a paper titled “The Maya Chocolate Pot and Its Descendants.”

Unfortunately, Coe died before the book was finished. With thousands of pages of reference amassed, she was too ill to complete the task. Her husband, famed archeologist and pre-eminent Maya scholar Michael D. Coe, promised he would see it through to publication.

In the introduction, Michael Coe explains that writing about food and drink only became a ‘respectable,’ scholarly subject in recent decades. Early on, culinary history was left to amateur enthusiasts who promoted one food, drink, or cuisine.

Sophie’s book is fascinating because as a culinary anthropologist, she looked at her subject with a world view. Along with her husband Michael Coe, readers could not have a better pair to be guided through the world of cacao.

Sophie, a researcher’s researcher, spent hundreds of hours in American and European libraries tracking down all possible references to chocolate and cacao as well as vast amounts of time in her husband’s enormous Mesoamerican home library. Michael Coe is famed author of esteemed books on the Maya including Breaking the Maya Code and The Maya, nine editions. With Ms. Coe’s scientific background and a doctorate in anthropology, she left no stone unturned.

After her death in 1994, Michael continued organizing her manuscript. Even though much had been done, the book wasn’t published until 2003. The second edition, 2013, bore new information on cacao, thanks to the recent decipherment of Maya hieroglyphic texts. It’s now in its third edition.

One thing determined in the decade between the book’s first and second editions was that the royal occupants of every Maya tomb went to the next world accompanied by Mesoamerica’s most revered drink.

This we know due to pyramid excavations that gave archeologists insights into the importance of chocolate to these civilizations.

The cacao tree, Theobroma cacao, is picky. It refuses to bear fruit outside a 20 degree latitude north or south of the equator. Nor is it happy if the altitude is too high—then it will shed its leaves. It’s a magnet to rodents of all kinds who steal the pods for the sweet white pulp.

A botanical problem child, it gets diseases: pod rots, wilts, and fungus produce extraneous growth called witches’ brooms. It takes three years to bear fruit. It was first thought it needed the shade from taller trees, but cacao also needs litter on forest floors of old leaves, dead animals, and rotten pods to create a rich soil base.

The young pods, green in color, can turn yellow, red, or remain green when ripe. They cannot open on their own. Animals are drawn to the pulp surrounding the acidy bean, and break the bean out of its shell for the meat.

It takes four steps to produce cacao ‘nibs’ or kernels so and winnowing. For three thousand years, this is how the production has gone, they wrote.

It’s thought the cacao species Theobroma originated in the Amazon River Basin below the slopes of the Andes. Researchers don’t think it was used by South Americans. It may have been transported already domesticated from South America to Central America and Mexico, with the discovery of the intricate chocolate process made by Mesoamericans.

It was known that chocolate was used among the Aztecs both as drink and currency. And, Coe writes, Spanish invaders derived their earliest knowledge of the word cacao not from the Aztecs but from the Yucatec and Central American Maya.

In fact, one thousand years before the Spaniards landed on their shores, the Maya were writing ‘cacao’ on magnificent vessels used in preparation of chocolate for their rulers, both living and dead.

But before the Maya, there were the Olmecs. Their complex culture flourished in Mexico’s Gulf coast lowlands 1500 to 400 BCE. Prodigious builders of massive ceremonial centers, they left behind colossal stone heads and exquisite jade carvings.

Sadly, no writings exist for ethnographers to decode. Linguists did decipher an ancestral form of a family of languages, Mixe-Zoquean, still spoken by thousands today near Olmec lands.

At the height of their influence, the highly civilized Olmecs used ‘loan words’ to communicate with other cultures. These are still in use today. One of those words is cacao, originally pronounced kakawa.

So the Olmecs either first domesticated the plant or discovered the chocolate process. Hershey Foods, US chocolate candy manufacturer, got involved with chocolate’s history by scraping archeological ceramics used for liquids and detected alkaloids found in Theobroma cacao as far back as 38 centuries, which pre-dates the Olmecs.

Excavations show the Barra, a pre-Olmec pottery producing culture, dedicated sophisticated jars that had most likely been used to display valued drinks rather than for cooking. Radio-carbon dates them from 1800 to 400 BCE. In some pieces the compounds/alkaloids of cacao were found.

Hershey’s excavators discovered a bowl that tested positive for theobromine in San Lorenzo’s Olmec region dating to 1350 BCE. The Olmec knew of chocolate, had a word for it, could have adapted it from another Mesoamerican culture, and passed that knowledge to the Maya.

The Maya not only consumed chocolate but revered it. Maya written history and art displays chocolate drinks being used in celebrations. Carvings on pots discovered in royal burial tombs show drawings of a drink being prepared, undoubtedly chocolate.

In Maya culture, chocolate wasn’t reserved for the wealthy. It was readily available to anyone. Before the Spaniards arrived, it was prepared as a drink, gruel, powder, possibly even a solid substance. It’s believed Maya households served chocolate with every meal. When used as a hot drink it was thick and frothy, and combined with chile peppers, honey, or water. They also liked foam on their chocolate, and created it by pouring the liquid from one vessel to another, like a Starbucks barista.

The Aztecs, too, believed it was a gift from their gods. They also enjoyed the caffeinated kick of hot, cold, and spiced chocolate beverages served in ornate containers.

Both Aztec and Maya used the beans as currency. In Maya culture, cacao beans were more valuable than gold. For Aztecs, it was an upper class extravagance, and Moctezuma II supposedly drank gallons each day for energy and as an aphrodisiac. It’s said he also reserved some beans for his military.

Cortés was introduced to chocolate at Moctezuma’s court. After returning to Spain, cacao beans in tow, he kept his knowledge a well-guarded secret. But by the late 1500s it was a much-loved indulgence. Spain began importing chocolate in 1585. By 1639, a colonial source said of Mexico, “The business of this country is cacao.”

Given the dry climate of the Yucatán, which is unsuitable for cacao cultivation, the Yucatec Maya learned to grow cacao trees in the damp environment of cenotes. The Spanish hacendados saw cacao pods dangling from sinkhole roofs in a form of ‘silvi-culture.’

Though Europeans embraced chocolate slowly due to Spain’s secret, they finally got a taste of it when Phillip II was king. Chocolate was the highlight at his daughter’s wedding to France’s Louis XIII.

The craze was nudged along by a New World pirate-botanist, William Hughes. A natural historian, he began documenting the region’s plants and foods. In 1672, he wrote the New World’s first plant book, The American Physician, which included a recipe for hot chocolate.

Chocolate was ready for its close-up. For the past 500 years, its popularity has skyrocketed. We can thank the Olmecs, the Maya, the Aztecs, the traders, growers, and marketers of chocolate for our long love affair with this desirable treat.

The chocolate industry in the US alone brings in 24 billion dollars a year. While its growth continues, old suppliers have become considerably less reliable. West African nations—the Ivory Coast, Ghana, Nigeria and Cameroon—have dominated the global market for decades. Latin America, however, is emerging as an important producer. Ecuador, Peru, and Colombia are making significant strides, expanding production.

Substacker Ruth Moloney/Planifolia, clocks in on where the lion’s share of today’s cocoa (Ruth’s preferred spelling) comes from: the Ivory Coast and Ghana. They produce and export more than 70 percent of the world’s cocoa.

Moloney, originally from Australia, studied Soil Science and for 30 years was a commodity trader on three continents—in sugar, cocoa and coffee. Since 2016, she farms cocoa and vanilla in Belize using regenerative agriculture and is now producing fine chocolate through their company Floreo Belize, which can be purchased worldwide.

She’s built a sustainable agroforestry model in Belize based on cocoa and vanilla using her own resources. To stay abreast of cocoa news, Moloney attends conferences throughout the world. At a sustainability conference, the discussion leaned heavily on the Ivory Coast’s numerous problems, including a rampant root virus. After 30 years of declining tree maintenance, and now with the virus, it’s unlikely they’ll make a long term recovery, she writes.

For years, industry experts have predicted diminishing yields due to poor crops along with increasing world demand. In addition to the virus, other issues exist. In Ghana, there’s illegal gold mining—much more lucrative than cocoa. And on the Ivory Coast, the average farmer is 60. Many are giving up and switching to rubber production. Their children have no desire to continue farming.

On the manufacturing side, chocolate makers have responded by shrinking pack size, layoffs, and switching focus to sugar candy.

Once cacao’s key producer, West Africa is facing competition from Latin American players. Ecuador, Peru, and Colombia are expanding their cocoa production, carving out a niche in premium and sustainable cocoa sectors, where Moloney’s Floreo Belize is positioned.

West Africa still dominates the global market but Latin America’s share of cacao production, benefiting from younger trees, is positioning for long-term growth.

South America’s increase in production has helped fill the supply gap, led by Ecuador, which is poised to up their production in 2026-27. It could surpass Ghana as the world’s second largest grower, thanks to soaring prices, the chairman of the cacao export association told Reuters.

A global consortium including Green America and International Labor Rights Forum publishes a report every two years, “The Cocoa Barometer.”

“Twenty years into rhetoric, challenges remain large. Poverty is still the reality for virtually all West African cocoa farmer families, child labour remains rife, and old-growth forests continue to be cleared to make way for cocoa production.”

These complex challenges need radical change at the systemic level. But with changing times come changing attitudes and new players who are willing to up the ante. Even Asia is getting involved in the cocoa game. And with the gang all here, it looks like cocoa and chocolate will live to see another day.

If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this email, you will make my day and make it easier for others to find this publication.

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SOURCES

Staff. “2025-2026 Cocoa Season Outlook: Challenges and Sustainability in Focus.” Farmforce. August 5, 2026.

Shelly Leachman. “Not just for the gods: New insight on the use of cacao among the ancient Maya.” Phys.Org. September 26, 2022.

Megan O’Neill. “Chocolate, Food of the Gods, in Maya Art.” Unframed. August 7, 2026.

Staff. “Belize is the New Black for Chocolate Makers.” The Chocolate Journalist. March 2, 2026

May Angel. “Ecuador set to become world’s No. 2 cocoa grower, industry head says.” Reuters. September 25, 2025.

Ruth Moloney. Planifolia Substack. ruthmoloney.substack.com

MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland made it easy to pyramid hop on our days off from Alma Libre Libros, the bookstore we founded in 1997. Owning a bookstore made it easy to order every possible book I could find on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids and the archeologists who dug at these sites and the scholars who wrote about them. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually website publishers, Mexican newspapers and magazines, even guidebooks asked me to write for them about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! We’ve all seen the movies—Art heists with multi-million dollar paintings stolen, forged, or ransacked. In films there’s often a reprisal or happy ending. Mexicans fear the worst, however, for a real time showdown on 160 works from Mexico’s greatest masters being sent overseas, for a minimum of two years. Please read on.

With glaring, outstanding legalities at full throttle, 160 of Mexico’s most prized art treasures—including works by Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera—are going for a ride. A two-year plus exhibition beginning September 8 opens in Madrid, if the government and a Spanish bank have their way.

Banco Santander now controls one of the most important collections of Mexican art in existence, the Gelman Santander Collection. To namedrop, it includes 10 works by Diego Rivera, 18 by Frida Kahlo, masterpieces by David Alfaro Siqueiros, Rufino Tamayo, Jose Clemente Orozco, Tina Modotti, Miguel Covvarubias and more.

The highly publicized legal battle, ongoing, though it best resolve soon, escalated into a legal case regarding Mexico’s culture, sovereignty and heritage laws.

It’s a mystery hiding in plain sight and sounds like something out of a noir film. It stretches from Monterrey, Mexico, to Spain. The subject at large: The Gelman Collection, a renowned private trove of 20th-century art amassed by the late collectors Jacques and Natasha Gelman.

Jacques Gelman and Natasha Zahalka, political refugees and emigrés to Mexico, met and married there in 1941. Jacques achieved professional success producing films featuring the character “Cantinflas” during the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema. Their wealth grew from that, and they began their shared interest of collecting art, initially buying modern European art which they displayed in their New York apartment.

The Gelmans fraternized with Mexico’s bohemian avant-garde and hosted soirees in Mexico and New York. Their interests led to Mexican muralists and artists of the Mexican Renaissance, and Jacques commissioned both Kahlo and Rivera to paint portraits of Natasha. In 1943, Rivera’s portrait became the first piece in their Mexican collection. They also acquired paintings by José Clemente Orozco, David Alfaro Siqueiros and Rufino Tamayo, among other Mexican masters. According to reports, five Kahlo paintings hung in Natasha’s bedroom. They owned 18 by Kahlo in all, including her portrait of Natasha.

By contrast, experts say the Mexican government owns only seven of Kahlo’s 152 known works. Mexico long lacked the funds to pay the hundreds of millions of dollars needed to purchase the Gelman cache, a former chief of the country’s fine-arts agency told Milenio news outlet this year.

When Jacques died in 1986, Natasha gifted the couple’s modern European works to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, while bequeathing management of her Mexican collection to a US curator, Robert Littman, in 1993. Her instructions were explicit— that it be displayed to the public and would remain in Mexico, as stated in an article July 14 by The LA Times.

However, various legal claims over ownership led to the collection dropping from public sight in Mexico after 2007. Banco Santander announced that Littman had sold the collection to Mexico’s Zambrano family, heirs to CEMEX cement fortune in Monterrey. This information was withheld until January 2026, LA Times wrote.

While the art remains the property of the Zambranos, the Santander Foundation is in charge of preservation, care and temporary exhibition. A report stated that the Zambranos borrowed the funds and received a discounted rate, because by law, the artworks could not leave Mexico. It’s considered a captive form of collateral, making the loan much safer for the lender to issue.

A July 8 article from Center for Art Law, discussing The Gelman Collection quagmire, wrote that Public Notary No. 103, Mexico City, 1993, “certified Natasha was of sound mind and full legal capacity, designating her close friend and art advisor, American art gallery director Robert R. Littman, as her will’s executor.

“In March 1995, a neurologist concluded Natasha suffered from progressive Alzheimer’s disease and lacked testamentary capacity. She died three years later on May 2, 1998.

“Ever since, the validity of the testament has been the subject of legal controversy; the testament has never been public. On March 13, 2013, the Public Notary No. 103 associated with Natasha’s will, Armando Gálvez Pérez Aragón, was fatally shot and killed in an attack in the Polanco neighborhood,” continued Center for Art Law. “Pérez Aragón was deeply entangled in legal controversies surrounding his role in certifying the will.”

The killer was never found.

Dead notary, no killer, multi-million dollar art collection bought using debt to acquire it, and the woman signing it over had Alzheimer’s?

“The use of national cultural treasures as collateral for private international bank debt has sparked legal pushback and outrage from the citizen collective,” wrote The LA Times.

Public outcry is vehement. A citizen’s collective of 380 art historians, lawyers and curators have voiced objections. The Santander deal hinges on rules designed to keep the work of 10 celebrated 19-20th century Mexican artists in the country. Kahlo’s art was declared an “artistic monument” in 1984, and any Kahlo work in the country at that time cannot leave permanently, although it can be lent to a foreign institution for up to two years.

Said one curator, “Why should a piece by Frida Kahlo, such as her masterpiece, Diego on My Mind, be exhibited abroad when it has barely been seen in Mexico in the 21st century? The Mona Lisa has never left the Louvre since 1974. It makes no sense,” reported Mexico Daily News.

President Claudia Sheinbaum has pushed back on how the collection changed hands, but it hasn’t been nationalized. “Defendamos la Colección Gelman (Let’s Defend the Gelman Collection) has criticized the government’s fine-arts agency, INBAL, for quietly cutting deals and granting export flexibility that bypasses public oversight and legal protections,” wrote The LA Times.

“Detractors say the arrangement contradicts the original collectors’ wishes, which prioritized keeping the assemblage intact.

“They say it robs Mexicans of an artistic treasure and breaks the cultural heritage rules that forbid important works from leaving the country long term.”

“The Gelman Collection was on view from February 17 to July 19, 2026, in Mexico City. After nearly two decades out of sight, it reappeared briefly in what feels less like a return than a tightly bound five-month engagement. A treasure trove of paintings by Frida Kahlo has drawn tens of thousands of visitors to Mexico City’s Museum of Modern Art. Record crowds lined up to see 70 pieces from the collection that haven’t been shown for 20 years,” wrote The New York Times in July.

Some of the works displayed were Kahlo’s Self Portrait with Monkeys, Rivera’s The Flower Vendor, Rivera’s Retrato de Natasha Gelman, Kahlo’s Diego on My Mind, Rivera’s Calla Lilly Seller, Kahlo’s Self-Portrait with Necklace, Rivera’s Vendadora con Alcatraces, David Siqueiros’s El Coronelazo, Jose Clemente Orozco’s Self Portrait, Tina Modotti’s Woman from Tehuantepec, among others.

Center for Law Art printed questions from financial documents that suggest Banco Santander may hold a lien on a loan that enabled the Zambrano family to acquire the collection. What happens if the Zambrano family defaults? Would Banco Santander be entitled to foreclose on the collection and record it as a financial asset? Would a collection of artistic masterpieces then appear to be treated merely as that? An asset?

But we must remember, art is much more than a financial asset. Would this mean that part of the collection traveling to Spain could remain there for good in the event of default—thus contradicting Natasha’s expressed wish that the collection remain together, and in Mexico?

To again quote Center for Art Law, “On January 7, 2026, a Collaboration Agreement was signed between INBAL, Banco Santander, and the Santander Foundation with the intention of “ . . . management, coordination, and cultural outreach functions, without this agreement modifying in any way the ownership of the artworks or their legal status . . . ” This agreement will remain in force for a term of five years, from January 7, 2026 to September 30, 2030.

“The ongoing uncertainty stems largely from the lack of transparency surrounding the agreement. The artworks are expected to return to Mexico sometime between 2028 and 2030.

“The duration of the artworks’ stay abroad remains uncertain. Successive renewals could potentially extend the period beyond 2030 . . . For now, the outcome of the controversy remains uncertain. Whether the collection will indeed return to Mexico and remain together remains to be seen.”

Mexico News Daily has much to say about the entire situation, specifically in a printed letter to Mexico’s president. I’ll quote the digital publication directly: “What real guarantee is there that the Gelman Collection will return? Are we to take the word of the very same people who have blocked and denied us information for at least 18 years?

“History is rife with expropriations. Mexico, in fact, has a long track record of such actions—ranging from oil companies plagued by corruption to banks and even soda and bicycle factories. But once every century or so, a compelling case arises for taking such a significant step. The Gelman Collection, whose works include a virtual who’s who of 20th-century Mexican art, presents just such a moment.

“President Claudia Sheinbam Pardo must seize and nationalize it, and she must do so now. Nationalization secures a permanent home for a collection that embodies the Mexico of a bygone era. Nearly a century ago, the country opened its doors to Jacques and Natasha Gelman—a de facto refugee, and she, officially recognized—and their contribution to Mexican culture is now woven into the fabric of the country. Nationalization honors them by keeping the fruits of their labor within the borders of the nation that adopted them.

“The collection belongs in Mexico. The current generation of Mexicans knows next to nothing about Kahlo or the artists whose works comprise this collection. To many, Kahlo is simply the artist whose image graces the 500-peso banknote.

“Even if the legal status of the Gelman Collection were currently unimpeachable, nationalization would still be a legitimate consideration. Natasha Gelman died in Cuernavaca in 1998, and there have been five Mexican wills and at least one in the US. There is little credible history beyond the testimonies of the predominantly American group that surrounded her, a group that would later face allegations of fraud, elder abuse and collusion.

“Mexican courts were treated with disdain by Robert Littman, the apparent legal beneficiary of the artworks. Litigation in the US casts serious doubt on whether Littman was, in fact, the designated beneficiary and whether he benefited unduly following Natasha’s death.

“Published reports document Littman received more than US $11 million, and several lawsuits have been filed against him in Mexico. Few familiar with the history of the Gelman saga believe the contested Mexican wills were actually “created and revised by Natasha.”

“In the US, lawsuits filed in 2000 and 2002 accused Littman—along with New York attorneys—of elder abuse, alleging that they kept Natasha confined to her Cuernavaca home and induced changes to, as well as the removal of, beneficiaries,” wrote MND.

Annulment of wills? “Sufficient legal grounds exist for Mexico to retroactively annul all of the Gelman wills based on testimony regarding elder abuse and unjust enrichment.

“The stakes are high when it comes to the Gelman Collection; this would be a landmark case for the people, involving art and historical legacy, intended for a new generation of Mexicans. Nationalizing would serve as a precedent, signaling to the world that Mexico’s heritage laws are real.

“This presents an opportunity for Mexico to send the right signals to stop all forms of pillage, however sophisticated they may be.

“What real guarantee is there that the Gelman Collection will return? It must be declared that no private interest stands above the interest of the nation. Reclaiming these works is genuinely “what the People demand,” wrote Mexico News Daily,

In my experience, I’ve noticed that corners are often cut regarding security for the numerous artistic and archeological treasures of Mexico—there are so many. INAH’s resources cannot keep up with the number of pyramid sites that exist, even now. In 1969, the Placeres Frieze in Campeche, an 8-ton, 25-foot Maya artifact, was cut into 48 pieces, and offered to New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art for $400,000 USD. It was eventually recovered through a sting operation. The jade mask of Palenque ruler K’inich Janaab’ Pakal was stolen from the National Museum of Anthropology in 1985. And those are legendary examples. There’s no way to even wager how much antiquity theft has occurred in the Maya world since explorers stumbled onto the Maya civilization and its wonders. And now Mexican artworks may be at risk of never returning home.

As for keeping 20th century artists’ works safe and secure across an ocean, let’s hope Sheinbaum’s government didn’t drop the ball on priceless paintings by the most famous artists in Mexican history. As always, time will tell. And I only hope in two years’ time, I can report a happy ending, just like the movies.

Hit the heart at the top of this email to make it easier for others to find this publication (to stimulate those pesky algorithms) and make me very happy.

SOURCES

Almaden Barragán. “The mystery of the Gelman collection: Mexico does not know where some of its most famous artworks are.” El Pais/50. November 26, 2024.

Paula Gutierrez de Villasante. “From National Treasure to Asset Class: The Gelman Collection’s Case.” Center for Art Law. July 8, 2026.

Victor Burnett. “Protests in Mexico Challenge Move of Frida Kahlo Trove to Spain.” New York Times. April 7, 2026.

Patrick J. McDonnell and Cecilia Sanchez Vidal. “The battle over Frida Kahlo: Activists sue to keep her art from leaving Mexico.” LA Times, July 14, 2026.

Isabel Vincent. “$350M Mexican art collection, secretly sold by NYC curator, causing mayhem.” California Post. May 5, 2026.

News Desk. “Legal Pressure Intensifies Over Management of the Gelman Collection’s Mexican Masterpieces.” ArtForum. July 2, 2026.

Keith Rosenblum, Jesus Ibarra. “Dear President Sheinbaum: You must expropriate and nationalize the Gelman Collection.” Mexico News Daily. August 16, 2026.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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Hola Amigos! Even paradise can have its downside. At times, somewhere else the grass seems greener, the sand much whiter. Our disillusionment grew when regulations became something that were never stationary, always moving targets. Maybe it was the new influx of foreigners that had Profepa’s knickers in a twist. But we started thinking about far away places—specifically Argentina. So we did a little internet surfing, lined up a place to stay, got visas and flights, and flew away! This is my second of three articles on Buenos Aires. Stay tuned for more, and please read on.

Our first trip to Buenos Aires was as an exploratory search to see what another country could offer, other than the one we were born into, the US, and different from the one we’d chosen to call home a decade earlier, Mexico.

At the time there was a growing number of US expats in Buenos Aires, specifically, and Argentina in general. Online meet-up groups and Argentine sites espoused everything from detailed living expenses and health care to apartment rentals and neighborhood summaries. All seemed to overflow with ebullient expats living the good life, South American style.

The era was before Argentina’s next big devaluation—but long enough after the last one—to be enticing to anyone looking to get out of the US while the Iraq war still raged and George W. Bush was in office.

I searched for a hotel in Recoleta district and came up with a modernist hotel at the right price. It faced a park and was within walking distance of several good restaurants. We could roam around and see if we wanted to trade Argentina for Mexico. But we also planned to do some sightseeing, take in tango shows, search out Cafe Tortoni—the hangout of Jorge Luis Borges and other intellects of his day—eat our way through the city, and get a general feel for life at the bottom of the world.

Also on the list was a deep dive into Eva Perón.

Our first night we walked to a nearby restaurant named for a famous Argentinian horse —Mala Cara. Although it literally means bad face, the place didn’t look bad at all. On entering, the maitre d’ welcomed us like we were old regulars. She took a liking to us—made us feel at home.

We were seated and she immediately came over with glasses of champagne. “Did you wonder about the name?”

Yes! She began the story of Mala Cara, a stallion belonging to a Welshman in the 1880s. He lived in Patagonia and enroute back from the Andes, his expedition was chased by a band of ne’er-do-wells, killing the other three members of his party. The bandits took chase and Evans urged his horse on. Cornered near a deep ravine, he urged Mala Cara to the edge. The horse jumped the 12 foot chasm, carrying Evans to safety. None of the varmints dared try what Mala Cara had just accomplished. Evans’ safe return to Patagonia secured the presence of Welsh pioneers in the region. And because of that, Mala Cara was hailed as a hero for his legendary leap. He became an enduring Argentine legend.

After that charming tale of equine heroics, we ate freshly baked bread and grass fed beef cooked over wood, papas fritas, along with a luscious lettuce and tomato salad tossed with a vinaigrette. We refused dessert, but instead, the maitre d’ insisted on giving us a remembrance—a small plaque with a horseshoe.

The next day we began roaming the city’s barrios, Palermo, Recoletta, San Telmo, La Boca. Along with a desire to see both Eva Perón’s tomb in Recoletta Cemetery and her museum, we also planned a late day trip to San Telmo for tango in the park and a stroll down Calle Defensa, a street filled with antique shops. We decided to first see Eva’s museum. It was well done with good displays, not far from our hotel. Then off to Recoletta Cemetery we went. But first, a short bio of this Argentine icon is in order.

Of course we knew of Eva Perón and her legendary background. On our first city taxi ride we passed Casa Rosada, where she had given rousing speeches to the public as First Lady to husband, Argentine President Juan Domingo Perón.

The taxista was chatty. We’d been talking about politics, the peso, and Juan F. Kennedy when I spotted the presidential palace.

“What did you think of Eva Perón? Is that where she gave her speeches?”

“Oh, yes, an angel!” He crossed himself as he spoke. (I love the heartfelt displays of emotion so easily dispensed in southern climes).

“But then, as a girl she was very poor. And she helped so many. Povrecita. She died so young. Just 33.”

There we were, 60 years after her passing, and a new generation of Porteños was still mourning her. Maria Eva Duarte de Perón. Evita. Who was she? She grew up in extreme poverty, the youngest of five illegitimate children of Juan Duarte, a wealthy married rancher. A year after her birth in 1920, Duarte de-coupled from Eva’s mother, leaving the family destitute. Her mother took in sewing to try to make ends meet. Eventually they moved to Junin, a larger city where there was more work. By this time her older siblings could also assist. Too young to help out, Eva saw matinees. Her favorite film star was Norma Shearer, and watching her movies made her determined to someday become a movie star.

At 15 she left her family and Junin behind. She moved, as so many did during the Great Depression that had spread globally, even to Argentina. Before the US stock market crash of 1929, Argentina had been one of the top 10 countries in the world. After the crash, it would never come close to regaining that status.

In Buenos Aires, at first things were rough for Eva, but she was determined. She eventually found work in theatre productions. Her actual film debut was in 1937, but she quickly transitioned into radio, realizing film work offered limited mobility compared to the booming radio industry. Soon she was self-producing and starring in radiotelenovelas, soap operas, which launched her to stardom as a top-earner. In 1940, she was making $2000 USD per month. She co-owned her own production company and produced a series titled Great Women of History, starring in the roles of Elizabeth I, Catherine the Great, and Marie Antoinette.

But her true starring role was yet to be written. That engagement came about due to Argentina’s devastating San Juan earthquake of 1944. Juan Perón, Secretary of Labour and Social Welfare, had organized a massive relief drive, asking Argentina’s popular stars to help by using their fame to raise money. Eva answered the call.

If history books have it right, she was seated beside Perón the night of the benefit. Her heart belonged to Perón before they even met, wrote Alicia Dujovne Ortiz in Eva Perón.

“It had become clear that the Colonel, who was in charge of labor relations, was emerging as the real authority in the new regime. He looked magnificent in uniform. His smile was benevolent and virile. His radio speeches had thrilled her. She was 24, he 48. On the platform, she turned her eyes on Perón as he walked to his seat. Their first words to each other were as follows:

“Colonel.”

“What is it, my girl?”

“Thank you for existing.”

That got his attention, wrote Dujovne Ortiz. Perón was ambitious but lazy, wily but aloof, and interested in few things besides himself and his French poodles. But he appreciated her savvy and instincts. She worshipped him until the moment of her death. In their eight years together, she did nothing in public or private that was not in some way an act of devotion.

They married in October 1945, shortly before the 1946 election, which he easily won. With so much star power, from both players, much has been written about them. Fact has occasionally morphed into fiction, but here are some of the more famous fantabulations re their Argentine reign. Evita: The Life of Eva Perón, explores the mythology and legacy that have grown around her, examining her representations in literature, film, and theatre to uncover the truth behind her enigmatic existence. Below are comments from other authors, as well.

1) Eva and Juan provided shelter for Nazis fleeing Europe in exchange for part of the Third Reich’s treasure. False, wrote author Tomás Eloy Martínez in a 1997 Time cover story on Eva. She was not a fascist, but may have been ignorant of what the ideology meant. (Perón, however, did facilitate the entrance of Nazis to the country). Generations of Argentines flat out refute the accusations because of what Perón gave them: A political movement that legitimized the working poor.

2) Was Evita still Eva Duarte after she lost her telltale rural accent? And was she greedy and a thief? No, wrote Eloy, though she did like jewelry, furs, and Dior dresses, she could own as many as she wanted without the need to rob others. In fact, she would take off her own jewelry and give it to those in need.

3) Was the suffering mother of all Argentines the same as any ruthless politician? There are parallels that could be drawn between her life and the lives of ambitious women who forced their way from poverty to fame through their own image. Instead, her life more parallels the lives of saints, wrote Julia M. Taylor, because she did it all for someone else. “Mi vida por Perón!” she cried a thousand times to roaring crowds.

4) Evita looked radiant while consuming herself with devotion to her husband and the poor. The dramatic change in appearance compares her to a zealot compelled to take on the suffering of an entire nation and make it her own.

5) While some thought of her as a person who sought to uplift women and the poor, others viewed her as self-serving and egotistical, using sex to rise up Argentina’s social and political ladders. Oddly, it’s said she had ‘a lack of sex appeal,’ that was mentioned by all who knew her. The shoe didn’t fit.

6) Evita worked tirelessly to promote women’s suffrage, emphasizing the problems facing Argentine women. She took over the Female Peronist Party, assuming leadership in 1947 after women’s suffrage was ratified. Her work brought millions of Argentine women into the political arena, and 63 percent voted for Juan Perón when presidential elections came along. She also established the Eva Perón Foundation, using 10,000 pesos of her own money. Through taxing casinos and unions, politicians, a tax on lottery tickets, horse racing and more, the Foundation’s assets grew into the hundreds of millions of USD within a few years of operation.

With these funds she built public hospitals and schools throughout the country, endowed scholarships, built houses for those in poverty, built retirement homes for the aging, provided direct loans and tools for workers, including sewing machines. Her exhaustive working hours in 1948 - 1951, sometimes 18-20 per day, were for her love of the people, and they gave her their love in return.

7) Her biographers diverge regarding her sincerity. Who works 18 hours a day if they’re not sincere? Others denigrated her for her lack of education, and the fact that she was an actress, frowned upon at that time.

In 1950, the long hours and tireless devotion to the cause caught up with her. She collapsed on stage at a social function. She was diagnosed with cervical cancer and two weeks later she had an appendectomy. In 1951 her health continued to worsen. She suffered from abdominal pain and would have fainting spells. At the same time, her husband nominated her as vice president on his presidential ticket, coming November 1951. He was not aware of how severe her health issues were. When he discovered their enormity, he retracted the bid.

In August on the Casa Rosada balcony, he announced in front of a teaming crowd of supporters who just wanted a glimpse of her, that she would not accept the vice presidential bid. The crowd went crazy. They wanted Evita! Overwhelmed, but ever the trooper, she was brought to the stage. She uttered a barely audible statement that she would consider it. If she had said nothing, the entire nation threatened they’d go on strike. Perón handily won his election. Evita went to New York immediately afterwards for both a hysterectomy and chemo treatments, but these came too late. She died July 26, 1952.

Nicholas Fraser writes that Eva Perón is the perfect cultural icon for our times, but was way ahead of her times. Actresses were considered de-classé. It was considered scandalous that an entertainer would enter the world of politics. Her detractors accused her of turning political life into show business. (Oh, the irony).

In Eva Perón: The Myths of a Woman, cultural anthropologist Julia M. Taylor claims Evita has remained important because of three unique factors: Femininity, mystical or spiritual power, and revolutionary leadership. These display an underlying common theme (think Joan of Arc). “Anyone who can claim all three elements lays claim to dominance through forces that recognize no control in society or its rules. Only a woman can embody all three elements.”

Taylor goes on to suggest a fourth factor: Death. “To some extent her continuing importance and popularity may have been attributed not only to her power as a woman but to the power of the dead. . . Death by its nature remains a mystery, a source of disturbance and disorder. Women and the dead. Death and womanhood.”

After Eva Perón died, a great grief overtook the nation. At her funeral, many were trampled as they tried to get a look at the coffin holding Eva’s embalmed corpse. It was kept in state for nearly three years, until Perón was overthrown in a military coup in September 1955. At that time her coffin was moved and hidden for 16 years because the new dictatorship feared her corpse could become a political shrine.

She was buried in Italy under an assumed name. Her partial body finally returned to Argentine in the 1960s. After much discussion regarding being buried next to Juan Perón, it was decided her final resting place would be in her father’s mausoleum in Recoletta Cemetery, the Duarte crypt, where what parts were left of her lie to this day. The crypt is garlanded with bouquets and notes of gratitude from those who have come to pay respect, as we did also. This outpouring of love for Evita provides further evidence of her revered status in Argentine culture. The crypt and the cemetery are impressive, even though lines to get in are long.

“Maria Eva Duarte de Perón stands as a highly influential historical figure who lived only 33 years. . . She came to symbolize certain naive, but effective, beliefs: Hope for a better world; a life sacrificed on the altar of the disinherited, the humiliated, the poor of the Earth . . . myths which somehow reproduce the image of Christ,” wrote Tomás Eloy Martínez.

During her life she was elevated to the status of “spiritual leader” of her country, and after death she was regarded as a martyr and a saint by many of her followers.

Over 70 years after her death, Peronism, the political philosophy devised by Eva and Juan Perón, remains a force in Argentina politics, but it also inspires deep enmity. Wrote Eloy, “While some controversial political figures tend to become more broadly or neutrally admired as the distance from their lifespan grows, in her country, Evita remains as much a lightning rod as ever.”

SOURCES

Alma Guillermoprieto. “Who Was the Real Eva Perón?” The New Yorker. November 24, 1996.

Alicia Dujovne Ortiz. Eva Perón. St. Martin’s Press. 1995.

Tomás Eloy Martinez. Santa Evita. Alfred A. Knopf. 1995.

Nicholas Fraser. Evita: The Real Life of Eva Perón. W.W. Norton. 1980.

Julie M. Taylor. Eva Perón: The Myths of a Woman. University if Chicago Press. 1979.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! Today’s post is a departure from the usual. I’m including a one-time chapter from my Yucatán thriller, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival. Our protagonist—a young Layla Navarro who far in the future will become head of Mexico’s most powerful cartel—travels with her mother to a remote village to have her fortune told. This excerpt was not included in the trilogy. Please read on.

Sierra Occidental Madre Mountains

Even Layla had a divination as a child; she was ten at most. She remembered her mother dragging her to a pueblo even poorer than Valle del Gatos where she grew up. They traveled by bus and the journey was long, seemingly forever. Was it a Nahuatl divination? She couldn’t remember.

The bus dropped them a kilometer from the plaza. As they arrived at the pueblo, her mother stopped a curious-looking old woman, back hunched from years of labor, who watched them as they walked into el centro, little more than a patch of cleared ground without a single tree, surrounded by a handful of scruffy huts.

“La casa de Don Cuauhtémoc?” her mother asked.

The crone pointed across the square to a stick hut set apart from the others.

As they neared it an old man wearing a faded wool poncho with white hair falling well below his shoulders emerged. A smile appeared on his aging face. He seemed energized at the sight of them.

“Por fin,” he said as her mother approached. “You have brought her at last.”

“Si,” her mother said, firmly grasping her daughter’s hand.

Don Cuauhtémoc ushered them into the hut and asked them to be seated. He went out the back opening where a fire smoldered over an outdoor pit—his kitchen—and rummaged around for several minutes while he prepared an aromatic herbal tea that he brought inside. The shaman handed them each a steaming glass.

“Bienvidos. Té,” he said, pointing at the dark liquid, motioning for them to drink. To Layla, the contents of the glass—hot to the touch—smelled fragrant and tempting. She blew on it before taking a sip.

The adults exchanged small talk. The girl tuned in and out as she stared at the humble home made with twig walls and dirt floors. Who was he?

Layla would never forget what happened next. Her mother and the shaman looked at her; small talk ended. There was a long silence. Don Cuauhétmoc shifted his gaze, smiled, walked over and asked her to stand. As she did so he bowed his head and put both hands on top of hers. He let out a low hum. Her mother sat in the background, observing.

Don Cuauhtémoc left her standing where she was and moved to the other side of the hut where a rectangular table sat. He spread a clean cloth over it. From a corner he brought out a vessel that contained copal and lit it. He waited a moment as the fire took hold and smoke appeared. The smell from the pungent incense crept through the hut. Rummaging again in his special corner he pulled out a bag that contained his divining paraphernalia and placed it in the center of the table. The shaman then sat at the table on a low stool. He planted both feet firmly on the hut’s earthen floor and closed his eyes. With palms facing upwards, one on each knee, he opened his body to the cosmos. For several moments the shaman sat transfixed. When he opened his eyes, he asked Layla to sit directly across from him on an adjacent stool.

“Pardon my sin, God; pardon my sin, Earth,” Don Cuauhtémoc said in a low voice, eyes again closed as he held the divining bag. “Allow me to borrow the breath of this day, today, to make this divination.”

He opened his eyes and stared at young Layla for a long time. It seemed as if his mind was made up. His question emerged. “How will this girl’s life unfold?

Silence.

“I am now borrowing the breath, the cold, the wind, the cloud, the mist at the rising sun of the east, at the setting sun of the west, four corners of the sky to the south, four corners of the Earth to the north.

“On this holy and sacred day I am taking these seeds and these crystals.”

He continued his liturgy, calling upon volcanoes, lakes, rivers and all the world’s natural resources. His long invocation was spoken at times in a muted tone, sometimes in a robust one. In closing, he beckoned to white sheet lightning, a bizarre natural phenomenon, and begged a response to his directive.

Having summoned the cosmos and borrowed its breath and lightning, the diviner began to untie his divining bag. An exotic smell—sandalwood and smoke— escaped as he emptied the blend of crystals and seeds onto the table, mixing them together in a counter-clockwise direction with his right hand.

The ceremony fascinated Layla and she nearly reached out to touch the bag’s contents but was stopped by a stern look from Don Cuauhtémoc. He spread the seeds and crystals before her and began to select ten crystals. He rubbed his hands over all of them. He chose three from the ten—one for the center of the table, the other two as its bishops. He held the main crystal up to the light, examining it before again stating his question. “How will this girl’s life unfold?” addressing the three main crystals.

With his left hand he took the seeds and spread them around the crystals. Then he called upon his ancestors, asking for advice on his simply stated question.

Only twigs crackling in the outdoor pit broke the silence.

Don Cuauhtémoc stopped, blew into his right hand and grabbed as many crystals and seeds as he could. He placed the handful aside and pushed the remainder towards the right side of the table, separating seeds and crystals into groups.

“Come, Lord, you are being spoken to,” he announced in a reverential murmur.

He bowed his head in contemplation for some time, slowly nodding back and forth. After what seemed an eternity, the shaman opened his eyes. He moved the main crystals closer to the girl now with his left hand and said, “The answer is this: The woman is coming.”

Layla’s mother, silent until this moment, let out a sigh, apparently satisfied with the outcome. As for Layla, the endeavor mystified her though she had no idea what it meant.

Since her mother looked confident, she felt it was a good omen and the long journey to the dusty pueblo succeeded in offering some form of solace for their lengthy travels.

Hit the heart at the top of this email to make it easier for others to find this publication (to stimulate those pesky algorithms) and make me very happy.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

Check Out My Books!

If you liked this post, you may also like these:

Hola Amigos! Though a determined private investigator stumbled onto multiple transnational crimes connecting perpetrators in Cuba, Miami and Cancun some years ago, real progress on the Cuban Mafia case is only now coming to light. A bombshell NYT scoop, published August 11, exposed the Cuban Mafia of Quintana Roo. And that’s not the least of it. There’s a surprise twist. Please read on. On another note, a very sad one, there’s been another death in my family and I’ll be in northern California for the service. It’s been a really hard year. I hadn’t even come to fully accept the first death before the second one came. It was like deja vu, in the worst way. I’ve been trying to deal with this all, and now it’s so apparent to me why funerals or celebrations of life are so important. It’s not only honoring those gone, but a finalization for we the living, too. Allowing us the next step, whatever that may be. If I seem to be missing in action for a few days, that’s why. I’ll be with family, my reset on all that ails me. Always.

Stolen boats, migrant smuggling, Cuban baseball players, a possible political connection, and $2.8 million in missing gold flakes. That combination sounds like a storyline from Miami Vice (RIP) or a Carl Hiaasen novel. And the location: Quintana Roo, Mexico, home to Cancun.

It’s definitely a book I’d read. The Miami Herald writes, “Over the past two decades, a loose group of criminals—the Cuban Mafia who operate independently and with one another—has been implicated in an array of crimes, including gold heists and home invasions in South Florida, as well as migrant smuggling and hit jobs in Mexico, according to public records and media accounts.”

David Bolton, a private investigator in Miami, uncovered some of the local members when he was working for a Bolivian exporter who’d reported gold theft in Coral Gables, in 2012. It reads like something straight out of a heist movie: “Three men hold up a courier transporting over one hundred pounds of gold flakes worth $2.8 million enroute to a refinery.”

For the record, it was the biggest precious-metal robbery in South Florida history. Five men, wrote The Miami Herald, all with histories of serving time in both state and federal prisons, were implicated in the gold caper and hit with other charges in the 2010s.

The indisputable fact is that “The Cuban Mafia of Quintana Roo” is real and now being reported by The Miami Herald, The New York Times, El Universal, La Jornada, Havana Times and Telemundo 51, for starters.

But the story started long ago, back in 2009. For years luxury boats and outboard motors were going missing in Sarasota and Naples. Initially, three men were arrested in an unrelated sting operation in Sarasota to trap thieves stealing GPS devices. It took a decade, wrote The New York Times, for federal authorities to link the missing GPS devices to a major conspiracy that trafficked humans and hundreds of stolen vessels and outboard motors from Cuba to Mexico to the US.

Quintana Roo on Mexico’s eastern coast boasts 250 miles of coastline all the way down to Belize. It’s home to 15 fishing cooperatives and thousands of participating fishermen. Their panga’s outboard motor is the boat’s lifeblood, and they’re not cheap. For a 20-foot panga, a new 70-hp outboard can run as high as $9,000 USD. It’s not unknown for fishermen to have an outboard stolen, if the boat isn’t in a secure location.

The Cuban Mafia of Quintana Roo (even writing that seems surreal), reported the press, “is a brutal transnational criminal organization involved in human smuggling, boat theft, extortion, and drug trafficking. It operates primarily out of tourist hubs like Cancun and Isla Holbox.”

Holbox? Have you been to Holbox? Maybe the isolation is the key. Remote, definitely. Hidden coves and unlimited water access? Yes.

The New York Times wrote that the Cuban Mafia became the focus of an FBI and Homeland Security investigation task force known as Operation Sisyphus. In 2020, the US Department of Justice indicted several Cubans based in Mexico as being members of the Cuban Mafia. They were accused of stealing boats in southwest Florida dating from 2009, using them to smuggle thousands of migrants out of Cuba, to Mexico, and ultimately to the US.

One smuggled migrant, wrote The New York Times, was professional baseball player Los Angeles Dodgers’ Yasiel Puig. Migrants were charged $10,000 USD as a smuggling fee, and if not able to pay, were held in Mexico. They were tortured with tasers and their families were extorted, prosecutors said. Some women were forced into working in strip clubs, according to court records.

The traffickers contacted victims’ relatives and threatened to torture, starve or kill victims if the relatives did not pay. Those whose fee was paid were sent by bus to the border and told how to request asylum.

Once the FBI began to focus on it, Raúl G. Rodriguez Castro, grandson to former Cuban president Raúl Castro and also known as El Cangrejo, was named as someone who helped the Cuban Mafia from inside Cuba. He has not been charged.

Of the 28 indicted, eight men are facing charges under a RICO conspiracy indictment. It carries a sentence of 20 years in prison. Some ringleaders have already been sentenced. Adding to the severity of the crime, at least 25 people died during the voyages, according to court documents.

For additional information, The Miami Herald interviewed Miami attorney Barbara Llanes who had been a legal advisor for the DOJ at the US Embassy in Mexico City between 2020 and 2021. She said immigrant smuggling from Cuba to the Yucatân Peninsula was “A significant issue before, after, and during her time with DOJ.

“For a long time, Quintana Roo, despite being an attractive tourist destination, was also an attractive area for criminal activity,” she said, noting the influence of Mexican drug cartels, such as Los Zetas, and Cuban migrant smugglers in that immediate vicinity.

“What makes it attractive is its proximity to Cuba. That area was easier for migrants to travel to and be received.”

With a big name like the grandson of former Cuba president Raúl Castro in the mix, the media is all aflutter. At one time, the present US administration had considered him in a leadership role if things in Cuba changed. The New York Times has called him “The golden boy of Cuba,” and wrote, “This Castro is a key envoy to Trump. Could he be Cuba’s next leader?

“As the family envoy, he has been in talks with the Trump administration and was once named in a case targeting a Cuban smuggling ring.”

The connection was reported August 11 in an extensive article published by The New York Times. It notes, as mentioned above, that “Raúl Rodriguez, currently considered a key figure in conversations with Washington, has not been formally charged with any illicit connections. El Jornada wrote, “Mexico has no information or evidence on alleged ties of Raúl Castro’s grandson to human trafficking in Quintana Roo.”

Regarding the Cuban criminal group, one of the members who pleaded guilty in the United States, Miguel Gonzalez, testified he gave Raúl Castro’s grandson numerous gifts. According to court records, the gifts were in exchange for allowing the illicit goods . . . to pass through Cuban customs,” reported The New York Times.

Said private investigator David Bolton, “The tentacles extended everywhere in south Florida and the Caribbean.”

This is reading more and more like a Carl Hiaasen thriller. And I’m sure the story is far from over. Stay tuned.

If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this email, you will make my day and make it easier for others to find this publication.

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RESOURCES

Jay Weaver. “‘Cuban Mafia’ boss caught in Mexico is expected to face charges in Miami.” The Miami Herald. May 14, 2026.

Staff. Havana Times. “Raúl Castro’s Grandson’s Mafia Links in Mexico Exposed.” Havana Times. August 11, 2026.

David C. Adams, Frances Robles. “What to Know About the Cuban Mafia in Quintana Roo.” The New York Times. August 11, 2026.

David C. Adams, Frances Robles. “This Castro Is a Key Envoy to Trump. Could He Be Cuba’s Next Leader?” The New York Times. August 11, 2026.

Gustavo Castillo Garcia. “Mexico Has No Information or Evidence on Alleged Ties of Raúl Castro’s Grandson to Human Trafficking in Quintana Roo.” La Jornada. August 11, 2026.

Staff/Mundo. “Raúl Castro’s grandson linked to Cuban mafia in Mexico, The New York Times reveals; the network was involved in human trafficking.” El Universal. August 11, 2026.

Staff/Cuba. “What is known about the ‘Cuban Mafia in Quintana Roo’ and its alleged link to Raúl Castro’s grandson?” Telemundo 51. August 11, 2026.

MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

Check Out My Books!

If you enjoyed this article, you may like:

Hola Amigos! Thank you for being here! There are so many unsung heroes and heroines in this world sometimes it’s hard to decide who to write about. Allow me to introduce Sophie Coe, who began her career as an anthropologist and morphed into the world’s first food historian after writing America’s First Cuisines. The Maya and their food is today’s focus but first I’ll delve into the life of a woman who was drawn to the history of foods throughout the globe and wrote about them, starting with foods of the New World. Please read on.

Much of modern gastronomy owes allegiance to the abundance of plants flourishing in the New World, their assets uncovered when the Europeans came to call. Long before that unsettling time, by inquisitiveness and necessity, the Aztecs, the Maya and the Inca had figured out what to do with the foods we enjoy to this day. Here we’ll concentrate on the Maya. And this is where Sophie Coe comes in. I’d written about her a year ago when researching the Maya’s role in the origins of chocolate. More on chocolate will come in a future post. Her book, The True History of Chocolate, published posthumously, is in its third printing.

Born to Russian parents, a geneticist and an evolutionary biologist who’d emigrated to the US in 1927, Sophie entered the world in 1933 in Pasadena where her parents had settled before moving to NYC.

After receiving a doctorate in anthropology from Harvard, being fluent in Russian and interested in the Maya, she translated chapters of Yuri Knorozov’s The Writing of the Maya Indians.

Knorozov provided the pivotal foundation for breaking the Maya code in 1952, but due to strong-arming by the leading Mayanist of the day, along with the chill set upon the West by the 1960s Cold War, his theories were dismissed.

Here’s where my interest intersects with Sophie’s connection to chocolate and the Maya civilization. I wrote about Knorozov here regarding his initial breakthrough on the Maya code. His derision by the archeological community, thanks to Mayanist J. Eric S. Thompson, was vindicated after Sophie Coe’s translation came out (her collaborating editor was Tatiana Proskouriakoff) legitimizing the validity of the Russian’s research. Knorozov’s hypothesis based Maya writing on a logo-syllabic system, combining word signs and syllable signs, as taken from his reading Spanish Friar Diego De Landa’s writings in Yucatán Before and After the Conquest. The King of Spain had ordered the priest to write it after he obliterated all things Maya in a 1562 auto-da-fe, burning all but four codices (paperbark books) containing information on their sciences, astronomy and culture. Even after Knorozov’s remarkable discovery, it took decades for Maya hieroglyhs to be fully translated.

But as Coe also notes, it’s ironic that we must turn to “That famous observer of things Maya. Seldom has there been a more two-faced figure. A Franciscan, he incinerated at least 27 Maya books yet recorded an ‘alphabet’ which provided a vital clue to the hieroglyphic decipherment of the language. He subjected his Maya flock to hideous tortures, yet left an exhaustive account of their daily life. It is to him we must turn to find out what 16th century Maya ate, and how and when they ate it.”

After her translation of Knorozov’s chapters, Coe fell deeply into the study of native New World cooking. She found their cooking included the origins of chocolate, as information on it continued to crop up in her research. This led her to write The True History of Chocolate. Unfortunately, she became seriously ill while writing it, and though the final draft had been finished, she did not live to see its publication. Finalizing Coe’s manuscript, her husband, Michael D. Coe, noted Maya archeologist and author, (Breaking the Maya Code; The Maya) added a preface and the book was published in 1996.

Coe’s long reach between New World foods and ancient Maya translations are also where our world’s converge.

According to Coe, maize dominated the New World diet. It was domesticated by the Mexicans long before Europeans forced that name on the plant they had lived with and depended on for millennia. Europeans picked up the word in the Antilles. Zea mays is the Indigenous name the Maya used for their number one food source.

It’s the third most important crop in the world, she wrote, following wheat and rice. Regarding its longevity, pollen dating to 80,000 years ago was found under Palacio des Bellas Artes in Mexico City. Obviously, maize had already made a name for itself long before humans came on the scene in central Mexico. The next time it was found was 5000 CE, in the dry caves of the Tehuacan valley south of Puebla, in Oaxaca, where researchers found domesticated maize. On another continent, “Explorers found domesticated maize in Peru, which is different than the Mexican variety. No wild maize grows today,” she wrote.

Maize emerged as the go-to food source for the Maya. It became a superior food because of nixtamalization, a complex process that starts with soaking ripe maize grains and working them with lime and/or wood ashes.

“This enables the transparent skin to be removed, makes it easier to grind and enhances the protein value of it for humans,” she wrote.

The key word here is protein: the building block for bones, muscles, skin and blood. Scholars believe that without this process, the rise of Mesoamerican civilization would not have happened. It would have stayed forever at village level, so great is this necessity in our foodstuffs due to its protein and mixture with the lime and wood ashes.

Manioc became a crop of importance, too, but never to the extent of maize, which came in numerous forms, from ground maize, to maize dough, to maize drinks and its use in posolli, as per Landa’s spelling.

Regarding fruits and vegetables, garbanzos and lentils, squash, pineapple and avocado, papaya and mamey were popular produce items in the New World that the invading Europeans relished. Tomatoes, herbs and chile peppers were also of huge interest, especially since the Maya used chile peppers for bartering.

Landa speaks of bread, but Coe explains that could mean tamales or tortillas, as the Spanish may have considered any type of starch to be bread or pan. But, she wrote, “Tamales are considered Indigenous and tortillas an import from highland Mexico.”

She notes that comales, the flat clay griddle tortillas are toasted on, are absent in eastern Maya Mexico, but found near Copán, Honduras.

The most notable product the Europeans went crazy for was Theobroma cacao, for brewing a sacred, bitter, and frothy ceremonial beverage, better known to us as chocolate. “Cacao had the honor,” wrote Coe, “of being the first foodstuff to have its name read from a hieroglyph on Maya vessels.”

Chocolate drinks were the last foodstuff to be mentioned by Landa, “but we know they were consuming it long before Landa, because inscriptions can be read off rims of vessels that they drank from.”

Such importance was placed on it by the Classic Maya that it was taken with the deceased into their darkened burial tombs. One elegantly painted clay vessel showed a scene of chocolate preparation. Coe wrote this same type of chocolate had been shown in Aztec antiquities, but among the Maya, 1000 years earlier.

“Cacao has been traced to the Olmec, an earlier culture of Mesoamerica. The Olmec probably gave the word to the Maya.”

Landa wrote, “Cacao can be used as currency or the cacao can be eaten toasted like chickpeas. They make many drinks from it, some drunk cold, some hot and the most common one is chocolate, made with ground cacao, honey, hot water, always with a foam on top, sometimes the additions of chiles. It was used often in rituals.”

Landa devoted pages to maize foods, and allotted only one sentence to flesh stews. “In all but one description of Maya food, the number of maize dishes far outnumber the ones mentioning flesh,” Coe wrote. With the exception, she continued, of the high quality of the elite diet.

“Meat, fish or fowl were not ordinary foods for the Maya, then or now. When the meat-eating Europeans arrived, they considered Maya life as perpetual Lent.

“The foods of the lords were turkeys and deer which they ate with maize tortillas and usually beans. . . The elite male (as seen from elite graves in Lamanai, Belize) enjoyed an unusual amount of seafood, though maize was the cornerstone of his diet. With Lamanai being far inland, up the New River, but with a small port at the site, fish may have arrived there directly from the sea.”

Seafood was considered high-status nourishment, and gave the Maya rulers another chance to exert political pressure over each other. Landa wrote the Chel tribe, from the Yucatán coast, would refuse to trade salt or seafood with the inland Cocom Maya, who then in turn would not export game or fruit to the coast.

Not to be left out of the Maya diet is the iguana, green or black. The Spanish immediately claimed it as a fish and therefore permissible food on Fridays or during Lent. Landa wrote, “At times there was nothing to eat but iguanas . . . the taste everyone finds in them is more like that of a very good rabbit. . . It is an ugly beast, but tasty once you get over your disgust at eating it.”

The carbon pathway showed edible animals were fattened on maize and these included tapirs, manatees, howler and spider monkeys, the occasional armadillo, in addition to the turkeys and deer previously mentioned. Freshwater snails, fish, small shrimp, stews with wild onions and garlic vines, an anise scented root, even insects were consumed by the Maya.

Beverages consumed, other than chocolate, included the ritualistic alcoholic drink balché, which was often “stepped up with hallucinogens, like Psilocybe mushrooms, and Nymphaea, from the water lily, along with fruit beers,” she wrote.

Coe’s research and descriptions of the Aztec and Inca are as complete as her information on the Maya. She not only describes foodstuffs but delves into how little regard is given to the Indigenous peoples of North America for their ability to domesticate animals and plants.

“It is implied American Indians loafed in their hammocks, with tropical produce literally dropping into their laps, and it was up to the Europeans to take the crops they found growing, presumably spontaneously, and make something truly important and edible out of them.

“The fact that many millennia of patient observations, considered economic decisions, and hard physical work were necessary to assemble the New World crop inventory. . . all that was brushed aside. Domestication is no quick and simple matter.”

To this day in rural Mexico, nearly every front yard boasts a small garden with basics of squash, beans and corn. Indigenous communities still call these garden staples the three sisters and have for millennia. Maya men still farm a milpa, usually outside the pueblo, to grow crops for family and the local community. Plots are tended for a couple years then allowed to lie fallow several years to let the forest and soil recover. As long as the cycles are not cut short, it will go on indefinitely, states the MesoAmerican Research Center.

Cultivation methods and foodstuffs eaten by Maya today are still the foods eaten since ancient days. Times may change, but diet remains the same.

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RESOURCES

Sophie D. Coe. America’s First Cuisines. University of Texas Press. 1994.

Sophie D. Coe, Michael D. Coe. The True History of Chocolate. Thames and Hudson. 1996.

Diego de Landa. Yucatán Before and After the Conquest, Revised. Dover Publications. 2013.

Jeanine Kitchel. “The Three Sisters, the Maya Growing System and the Genius of Indigenous Agriculture.” Mexico Soul. November 29, 2024.

Staff. “Milpa Cycle.” MesoAmerican Research Center. Date unknown.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland made it easy to pyramid hop on our days off from Alma Libre Libros, the bookstore we founded in 1997. Owning a bookstore made it easy to order every possible book I could find on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids and the archeologists who dug at these sites and the scholars who wrote about them. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually website publishers, Mexican newspapers and magazines, even guidebooks asked me to write for them about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

Check Out My Books!

If you enjoyed this post, you may also like:

Hola Amigos! Six degrees of separation—me and Michel Peissel, the explorer fantastico who walked the Quintana Roo coast in 1958 shortly after graduating from an Ivy League school and before jumping into a life in finance, or so he planned. Finding his out-of-print travel book in a vintage bookstore propelled my own adventure tale. Please read on to see how my real life fantasy unfolded. And thank you for being here!

Though I considered myself a seasoned Mexico traveler I’d never ventured to the Yucatán Peninsula and my introduction to its eastern shores came unexpectedly. I found an out-of-print book, The Lost World of Quintana Roo, in a vintage book shop in Moss Landing, California.

Along with a compelling cover, the dust flap intrigued me. “This is the true story of a remarkable adventure. Michel Peissel, a young Frenchman with an international background, was stranded on the coast of Quintana Roo in eastern Yucatán, abandoned by boatmen he had engaged to take him southward.”

I was hooked.

Peissel’s tale was a tall adventure indeed. Nearly three-quarters of a century ago he’d walked the land and considered Quintana Roo to be “the most savage and wild coast on the American continent.”

At the time it was a mere territory—with no laws, no government, no roads—accessible only by sea or on foot. It was 1958 and this was how Peissel, then just 21, discovered it. Through a strange set of circumstances, Peissel’s fate led him on a solo walkabout through thick mangroves and dense jungles from the northern tip of Quintana Roo to Belize.

On graduating from Harvard in 1958, Peissel planned a six-month sabbatical in Mexico before entering grad school for a business career. He writes that after meeting a well-traveled German writer in Mexico City, he became fascinated with a little known territory on the Yucatán Peninsula, Quintana Roo. Peissel first headed to Merida, then Progreso, where he chartered a boat to Cozumel. From there he planned to sail down the Quintana Roo coast. After arriving in Cozumel he hired two young Maya boys with an 11-foot vessel, bamboo mast and rag sail, to take him to the QRoo mainland.

After a harrowing eight-hour crossing, they arrived at Puha, a coco plantation or cocal, on the mainland. At that time the coast was entirely uninhabited except for Puha, Puerto Morelos, and Tankah. Exhausted, Peissel fell asleep and missed the second half of the journey on the Maya sailboat, which left him with a fateful decision—how to get to Chetumal in a land with no roads and virtually no people. After being abandoned, his only hope to exit the jungle was to travel on foot from cocal to cocal, relying on the assistance of the Maya who lived there for food, water, and direction.

Wearing only sandals as his boots left with the boat, he began his 200- mile journey through dense jungle and mangrove swamps. He was chased by chiclero bandits (chickle cutters for gum trees) and encountered Chan Santa Cruz Indians, who until then killed any non-Maya on sight as the Caste War of Yucatán had ended only 20 years earlier. He partook in religious ceremonies with Indigenous Maya and discovered 14 previously unknown pyramid sites. Peissel became the first person known to walk the entire coast of Quintana Roo, arriving in Belize 40 days later.

It would be three years before Peissel made a return trip and in that time he found many things had changed along the QRoo coast—mainly the transformation of the coastline from a wild frontier to a developing region.

By 1974, Quintana Roo had become a state of Mexico and shortly thereafter the Mexico Tourist Council devised a project for a planned resort community which is now present day Cancun.

When Peissel again returned to Quintana Roo it was 1987. He paddled and sailed his way down the coast, this time with archeologists, in a Maya dugout canoe they built, demonstrating that ancient Maya maritime trade routes outshone inland roads, which contributed to a shift in Maya societal power at the end of the Classic Period.

After his early Yucatán adventures he abandoned his plans to become a banker and went on to write 15 books, produced 20 documentary films and embarked on 40 expeditions. Because of his travels in Quintana Roo, journeying to outback destinations like Tibet, Nepal and Bhutan would become his life’s passion. Peissel died in Paris October 7, 2011. At 74, his was an adventurous life well lived.

On a personal note—and this begins my six degrees—I was contacted by the author in 2000 after I wrote a review of his 1963 Lost World of Quintana Roo for The Miami Herald. It reached Peissel in Paris. He located me through email and thanked me. He mentioned the book was out of print and if I knew of a publisher who might want to re-publish, to let him know. I had few publishing contacts, but was excited to have been contacted by Peissel. Later his brother Bernard reached out and explained he’d read the book review and forwarded it to Michel. Bernard—by then a Canadian having migrated from France—and I remained in contact for years, until his passing. It was Bernard who informed me of Michel’s death. I wrote an obituary for him in MexicoFiles.

But my six degrees of separation with Michel did not stop with the review. I traveled to Paris and one of my stops was Shakespeare & Company. Owning a bookstore in Mexico as an expat drew me to this famous Parisian landmark. By chance I met the owner, George Whitman. Though an ocean apart, we were kindred spirits—expats with bookstores on foreign soil. When I told him about Alma Libre Libros, he asked where it was in Mexico.

“Quintana Roo.”

And then the conversation got interesting. “Quintana Roo? Quintana Roo! I walked Quintana Roo when I was young.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Oh yes, in the 1930s I traveled through Mexico. My visa ran out and I helped build a bridge between Chetumal and Belize to get my papers back in order.”

“Have you read The Lost World of Quintana Roo? By Michel Peissel?”

“Michel, of course. He’d come into the bookshop when he was a student at the Sorbonne. We often talked about my travels in Quintana Roo.”

So Peissel had piggy-backed onto Whitman’s true life adventure. Whitman was his game changer as Peissel was mine. I’d come full circle, by finding an out-of-print book in California that became my heart’s desire, inspiring me to travel south and settle in Mexico.

My serendipitous meeting George Whitman had been the final pin drop, connecting the dots with Peissel. How sweet life can be.

Whenever we were in Paris we stopped at Shakespeare & Company. George always offered us lodging in the stacks but we had a hotel nearby. We did manage to get to one of his Sunday teas though. On his passing, his daughter Sophie sent us a photo of his funeral procession that took place at Pere La Chaise Cemetery. George had been such an inspiration to us, as a person and as bookstore owner. I’ll always love the sign he had over one of the doorways, ‘Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise’. He called this his Tumbleweed policy. He offered a bed in the stacks to thousands of aspiring writers and artists over the years who needed a place to stay in exchange for a few hours of daily help in the store.

Though The Lost World of Quintana Roo is long out of print, it’s possible to find copies through various sellers. It’s a compelling tale. Climb on board and get ready for a fascinating armchair adventure, one of the many taken by explorer, ethnologist, writer and adventurer, Michel Peissel.

RESOURCES

Michel Peissel. The Lost World of Quintana Roo. E.P. Dutton. 1963.

Jeanine Kitchel. Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. Enchanted Island Press. 2003.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland made it easy to pyramid hop on our days off from Alma Libre Libros, the bookstore we founded in 1997. Owning a bookstore made it easy to order every possible book I could find on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids and the archeologists who dug at these sites and the scholars who wrote about them. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually website publishers, Mexican newspapers and magazines, even guidebooks asked me to write for them about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

Check Out My Books!

If you enjoyed this post you may also like:

Hola Amigos! Diego Rivera was truly a renaissance man. With diversity in so many creative areas, he ticked off all the boxes. His lifelong dream was to have a museum dedicated to elevating his country’s Indigenous roots. He well accomplished that in his final project, Museo Anahuacalli, a shrine to the country’s ancient and remarkable past. Though he didn’t live to see the finished product, it’s a huge benefit for the rest of us. Please read on.

World famous artist Diego Rivera is well known for his undying support of Mexican muralism. His work with other painters and muralists is legendary. He enlisted great numbers of budding artists to assist in the creations of his massive murals in numerous locales, not only giving them license, but also IRL inspiration of seeing a master at work in his craft. His last great project was creating a museum that was inclusive of his most cherished ideals. Though the facade seems foreboding—it is indeed a fortress—but one of ideals, art, dreams, memories, favored antiquities, all on display for the public.

The hardship caused by the Mexican Revolution was catastrophic. It was one of the deadliest conflicts in the Americas and claimed nearly two million people, most not from combat. Famine and disease took an immeasurable toll as did the effects of a total collapse of infrastructure. Railroad and train lines were used for military only, halting distribution of food and everyday necessities to citizens.

With long-standing dictator Porfirio Diaz finally gone and after an anguishing ten-year battle and as many presidents, the country was crying for massive change. The bloody, agonizing war spawned an artistic revolution, at long last realized after Mexico’s citizens had endured horrific conflict.

As is said, from the ashes . . . The revolution sparked a dynamic arts and cultural push for the nation’s coming together along with incentives for education. The government commissioned the painting of public murals to visually unite its citizens and celebrate Indigenous heritage and political ideals gained from the revolution. Chosen to lead the transformation were artists Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros. By painting murals in public spaces they came to be known as Los Tres Grandes. They transformed walls into visual history books, a clever way to educate a population where many could not read.

The celebration of the country’s Indigenous roots elevated Mexico’s culture from before the Conquest. Following the war, art produced a cultural renaissance, a reason for Mexico’s citizens to be proud of their country and themselves.

Working with Mexican Folkways magazine as artistic director under publisher Frances Toor, Rivera began his role in 1926 and maintained the position until the influential magazine stopped publication in 1937. The magazine’s tour de force was how it directly influenced the Mexican Muralism movement and helped form modern Mexico.

Mexican Folkways advanced the theme that Indigenous culture is the true, authentic foundation of Mexico’s national identity. It came to be known as Mexicanidad, and thrust Mexico’s Renaissance into high speed by elevating topics on the culture of folk art, pottery, textiles, masks, festivals and dances, Mexican music, archeology, legends and myths, even children’s stories and dress: the stuff of Mexico itself.

It was only fitting that Rivera’s museum, Museo Anahuacalli, would become a shrine to Mexican artists, past and present. The artist began collecting pre-Columbian art in his childhood, urged by a need to protect his ancestors’ creative output. The museum, whose name means “house surrounded by water,” is located on the southern edge of CDMX, wrote My Modern Met. It houses Rivera’s expansive collection, honoring both the artist’s vision and Mexico’s cultural legacy. He personally arranged 2000 pieces throughout the museum’s 23 rooms as the project inched towards completion, each dedicated to a unique pre-Hispanic experience.

The main building of the museum was designed by Rivera. Made of volcanic stone, the structure mixes Teotihuacan, Toltec and Maya building techniques with the artist’s vision. Many of the building’s ceiling panels are works of art, with ceramic tiles designed by Rivera, showcasing and blending art with architecture.

Brought to life in collaboration with his daughter, architect Ruth Rivera, and artist and architect Juan O’Gorman, the Anahuacalli Museum opened its doors in September 1964, seven years after Rivera’s death.

Rather than presenting his treasured artifacts like an archaeology exhibit, Rivera wanted the museum to create a more immersive experience. “I am returning to the people whatever I was able to salvage from their ancestors’ artistic legacy,” Rivera said about the collection.

In addition to his personal pre-Columbian collection, the museum holds some of Rivera’s sketches, sharing a view inside his creative process.

Along with the pyramid styles of Aztec and Maya, Rivera stated the museum’s design also used what he himself dubbed ‘Traditional Rivera’ styles. The ceiling mosaics in the main hallway were designed by the artist, and the ceiling shows a dialogue between the feathered serpent god, Quetzalcóatl and the god of fire, Xólotl.

When Rivera and Frida Kahlo bought the site in the 1930s, their intention was to build a farm not far from the city. Instead, in 1942, Rivera began work on his dream to build a home for his extensive collection of pre-Columbian artifacts. His aim was to bring ancient Mesoamerican civilization to life for future generations.

Working with O’Gorman, friend and architect of his and Kahlo’s twin homes in Coyoacán, the vision came together. Combining the rules of organic architecture conceptualized by American architect and designer Frank Lloyd Wright, the construction is perfectly integrated with nature, wrote Lampoon.

On arriving at the property, one comes to a long stone path. Set in a nature reserve, the magnificent three-tiered pyramid is a perfect vessel for the artist’s collection of pre-Columbian art.

A pioneering environmentalist, Rivera integrated the architecture into his ecological reserve of four hectares to ensure the protection of regional flora and fauna which he’d researched in a Mesoamerican manuscript compiled by Indigenous scholars in the 16th century.

Rivera’s original vision conceived Anuahacalli as a city of the arts, a multi-dimensional space where people could connect with art, culture and nature.

Although this ambition largely foundered after the muralist’s death, a recent extension of the museum represents a concerted effort to revive it. Designed by Mexican architect Mauricio Rocha, “the annex is a network of low buildings connected by walkways that hover over the volcanic landscape, to minimize any disturbance to the natural habitat. They represent a step towards the founder’s dream of Anahuacalli facilitating an ongoing conversation between Mexico’s ancient pre-Columbian origins and contemporary culture,” wrote The World of Interiors.

Recently Rivera’s grandson, Juan Rafael Coronel Rivera, art historian and curator, donated 150,000 pieces of art to the museum. Born in 1961 in Mexico City, he’s a photographer, art historian, critic and curator, and has devoted 40 years to building a personal collection of Mexican art, including the largest collection of Mexican folk pottery in the world. Coronel Rivera’s recent donation has breathed new life into the museum showcasing the grandeur conceived by master artist and muralist, his grandfather Diego Rivera. The museum in itself is a work of art.

Museo Anahuacalli is open Tuesdays through Sundays.

If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this email, you will make my day and make it easier for others to find this publication.

RESOURCES

Jane Withers. “Tales from the Rivera Bank.” The World of Interiors. June, 2025.

Regina Sienra. “This Mexico City Museum Holds Diego Rivera’s Expansive Pre-Columbian Artifact Collection. My Modern Met. May 15, 2026.

Nicholas Sarazan. “Diego Rivera’s Grandson Donates 150,000 Objects to the Museo Anahuacalli in Mexico City.” ArtMajeur Magazine. April 2026.

Debora Vitrulano. “A home for art built from the ashes of a volcano: Museo Anahuacalli, Mexico City.” Lampoon. July 2025.

Staff. “How Mexican moralism sparked a public art movement.” PBS, Season 2020, Ep 302.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland made it easy to pyramid hop on our days off from Alma Libre Libros, the bookstore we founded in 1997. Owning a bookstore made it easy to order every possible book I could find on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids and the archeologists who dug at these sites and the scholars who wrote about them. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually website publishers, Mexican newspapers and magazines, even guidebooks asked me to write for them about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

Check Out My Books!

If you enjoyed this post, you may also like:

Hola Amigos! Thanks for being here! Archeology may well be the scientific study of the human past through recovering what remains, but in the Maya world, new twists about those remains keep cropping up, thanks to lidar. Mexico clocked in recently on yet another find, again in the pyramid-rich region of the Calakmul Biosphere. Not only were pyramids and stelae found but the site revealed information on how some southern Maya cities managed to hang on in the face of extreme drought while more famous sites declined rapidly. Minanbé is one of those outliers. Please read on.

An undisturbed ancient Maya city was recently discovered in southern Mexico, deep inside the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve near the Guatemala border. What looked like untouched jungle exposed pyramids, plazas, roads and housing areas that had been invisible for centuries.

Historians are taking note. The Maya world was even larger and more interconnected than once believed. The site stayed hidden under dense vegetation within the confines of the jungle for over 1000 years, untouched.

Minanbé means “no way in” in Yucatec Maya. The name perfectly fits the location. Thick vegetation and difficult terrain made access impossible for centuries. So impossible that, except for vines covering the mounds, there was no trace of looting when researchers hacked a six kilometer path through untamed jungle with chainsaws to locate it. By escaping the looting and destruction that pretty much affects most other archeological sites, researchers have a rare opportunity to study a Maya urban center that’s in exceptional condition.

This discovery, 16 hectares in all, offers a glimpse not usually seen. Large sites like Chichen Itza or Tikal are testimonies to the royal dynasties that ruled them. Calakmul has towering pyramids reaching 148 feet into the sky with large plazas, surrounded by stelae (huge limestone slabs) with hieroglyphic proclamations of king accessions, royal marriages and births, battles won.

In contrast, Minanbé’s smaller urban center with a 43-foot pyramid and a dense concentration of carved monuments and altars, is different, said lead archeologist, Dr. Ivan Šprajc, professor of Mesoamerican Studies at University of Ljubljana, Slovenia. Minanbé has Rio Bec style architecture whereas the Petén architectural style is found at Calakmul, same biosphere but both inclusive in its rambling 723,000 hectares.

While both cities are within the southeastern Mexican state of Campeche, they sit in entirely different geographic regions. Minanbé sits much further south, deep within the Reserve.

The monuments at Minanbé explicitly record elite dynastic politics. Historians like María Elena Vega Villalobos have confirmed that the hieroglyphs include the specific name of a ruler and distinct elite imagery, a ruler wearing a feathered headdress, wrote the Smithsonian Magazine.

Minanbé doesn’t fit into a categoy, and scholars believe its findings may unlock mysteries into the final flourishing years of the Maya civilization before the lengthy drought and evacuations that likely caused the civilzation’s dramatic decline.

Like nearby Valeriana, the Minanbé site was also discovered by lidar technology. In 2018, a Tulane grad student identified a then unknown pyramid on the other side of the Calakmul Reserve. Valeriana made a huge splash in the Maya archeological world. I wrote about it here. Šprajc’s team indicated they also used lidar technology to determine a site was actually there. Lidar uses laser pulses fired from aircraft to digitally remove vegetation and reveal landscapes hidden beneath. The jungle had kept secrets for centuries. Tech is now uncovering hidden ancient ruins.

The discovery of Minanbé fundamentally challenges long-held assumptions about the Late Classic Maya decline that occurred from 800–1000 CE. This site is revealing that urban life persisted in the lowlands far longer than previously thought. Dates on stelae appear just under a century before the Maya abandoned large sites en masse.

Around 760 CE, centuries-long parched conditions hit the southern lowlands, forcing the Maya to abandon their cities. Over the next 150 years, this devastating climate shift slowly pushed populations into the northern Yucatán Peninsula. The region where Minanbé was found showed numerous agricultural alterations visible in aerial scans using lidar. Valeriana, its biosphere neighbor dating much earlier, around 150 CE, used 95 percent of the land for agriculture, unheard of in any day or age. With continued excavations, use of advanced agricultural techniques could also be detected at Minanbé.

Laser scans mapping the area revealed it was far more than an isolated outpost, in spite of its size. Scholars suggest it was a sophisticated urban center engineered to manage the environment to survive regional dry spells to feed a dense population.

Unlike the slash-and-burn methods associated with early Maya farming, Minanbé featured extensive agricultural terracing made from stones to prevent heavy rains washing away fertile topsoil. Their sophisticated water management also revealed an intricate network of canals and reservoirs directly integrated into civil and agricultural layouts. With testing done on environmental DNA and sediment DNA, archeologists discovered the city relied on companion planting such as the ‘Three Sisters,’ the age-old foundation of Mexican diets consisting of maize, beans and squash.

Heading into the jungle on ATVs, Šprajc’s team found Maya altars, stelae, plazas and terraces, and that 43-foot well-preserved pyramidal temple. On one monument, a relief was carved depicting a scene of decapitation, with a calendar date of 849 CE. Epigrapher and researcher Octavio Esparza, UNAM/Campeche, explained that this locked in dates for the site. Another stela bore a date in the late 600s CE, he said. What is considered to be the last dated Maya stela, 909 CE, is carved in the Long Count calendar system at Toniná, Chiapas. Minanbé was definitely in for the long haul pulling up at the end of the Maya’s extensive reign.

Shortly after the year 909 CE, all carving on dated stone monuments stopped across major cities, signaling the collapse of the Classic Period.

“The big surprise was that there were so many monuments,” said Šprajc. “A kind of row of monuments. That was incredible for such a relatively small site.”

While many core cities in the Petén region fell into decline during this period, Minanbé shows evidence of thriving architectural growth and continuous occupation during the exact centuries the civilization was supposed to be in decline. Though it did not actually outlast the general Classic Maya timeline, scholars suggest it must have been a highly resilient city until the very end of the Classic period.

At the time, every city had its own ruler, its own dynasty. There was a great deal of competition. The discovery of Minanbé provides proof that the ‘collapse’ was not a simultaneous, region-wide event. Minanbé acted as a resilient pocket where royal authority and monument construction continued late into the Terminal Classic period, seemingly a Late Classic safe haven.

Many monuments and intricate architecture suggest that scribes, architects and rulers maintained a workable balance in the deep jungle while neighboring superpowers were fading. At Minanbé, there was a preservation of elite knowledge.

Other archaeologists noted that insights coming from the team’s discoveries delve into a long understudied part of Mexico.

“They’re doing the incredibly hard work of recording very remote areas in person,” said Lisa Johnson, an archaeologist at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. “The findings show the extent of urbanization among ancient Maya populations and the way they built and modified the landscape. That could previously be described as an archaeological blind spot,” she told Smithsonian Magazine.

Most surprising for some was the pristine state of the site. Luis Alberto Martos, an archaeologist at Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology (INAH), recalled expeditions that led to ransacked sites. “That’s really painful,” he said, “because it destroys everything. Minanbé will give us a lot more information.”

Hidden under the forests of Mexico and Central America, countless more lost cities are waiting to be found. With the help of lidar technology, that will most likely happen.

If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this email, you will make my day and make it easier for others to find this publication.

RESOURCES

Sonja Anderson. “Deep in the Mexican jungle, archeologists discovered a lost Maya city that may yield clues about civilization just before it ‘collapsed.’” Smithsonian Magazine. June 27, 2026.

Alan Yuhas, Emiliano Rodríguez Mega. “Archeologists find Maya Ruins Off the Beaten Path. Way Off.” NYT. July 4, 2026.

Muskan Singh. “Deep inside the Mexican jungle, archeologists found what could be the Mayan civilization’s missing puzzle piece.” The Economic Times. June, 2026.

Anastasia Prizma. “Ancient Mayan City Minanbé Discovered Deep in the Mexican Jungle.” World Gone Mad. July 1, 2026.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

Check Out My Books!

If you enjoyed this article, you may also like these:

Hola Amigos! Today I want to share how the Maya code was broken. Though a long line of scholars tried to crack it, I believe three separate incidents were tantamount to bringing about the final breakthrough. Please understand, this is a very condensed version. Allow me to take that leap and tell you a story of a mysterious civilization deep in southern jungles, surrounded by stepped pyramids and ancient columns, all etched in a mysterious indecipherable script. And how it plagued archeologists no end—until it didn’t! Please read on.

In 1973, a small gathering in Palenque broke the Maya code achieving what decades of scholars could not. Maya hieroglyphics had stymied archeologists ever since re-discovering the pyramids in the 1840s by explorers John Lloyd Stephens and Frederick Catherwood.

Though many tirelessly worked at cracking the code, a trifecta of events brought about the historic breakthrough. Two can singularly be credited to determined scholar/epigraphers. The third I credit to a group who came together en masse at Palenque at historic round table talks that cracked it wide open. And as archeologist, artist and author Linda Schele wisely stated in A Forest of Kings, “No one person is, or ever can be, responsible for the sum of the discovery.

“The Round Table discovery came at the end of 150 years of inspired work by hundreds of people who built the foundation that made it possible this time at Palenque.”

It’s not possible to name all here, but I’ll list a few who were key in opening the portal to understand the Maya world. Though a European genius named Constantine Rafinesque cracked the Maya counting system, and librarian Ernst Förstemann, working in the library that owned the Dresden Codex, decoded their astronomy tables along with how they measured time, and UK’s Alfred Maudslay, fascinated by writings on the Maya, worked with a glass-plate camera to capture close-up glyph images that gave Maya studies its first systemic body of inscriptions—I am going to jump ahead to my First, Second and Third place winners in the race to break the code.

For now, I will merely make mention of the one person who, though a genius in his own right, single-handedly quashed an early victory in cracking the code: British archeologist, J. Eric S. Thompson. Thompson became the world expert in glyph studies with his numbering system that assigned a unique ‘T’ number (T for his surname) to every single glyph in their writing system. He also deciphered signs related to the Maya calendar and astronomy, but was adamant that no other way than his existed. He dismissed the idea of a phonetic Mayan language, stifling decades of future research by a multitude of archeologists. After his death in 1975, younger scholars began using the methods of one of those listed below, which finally unlocked the true meaning behind Maya hieroglyphs.

1) Yuri Knorozov. It took over a hundred years for Maya hieroglyphics to make their way to the annals of scholarly interest and dissertations. Not until the 1950s did the world gain a foothold on how to proceed in deciphering the glyphs. This came about from the Soviet Union, by Russian Yuri Knorozov, linguist, epigrapher and ethnologist.

He’d figured out how to read their hieroglyphics by studying the Maya alphabet. This had been recorded by Spanish Bishop Diego de Landa, the priest responsible for the 1562 auto-da-fé that destroyed all Maya cultural works with the exception of four codices or paperback books. If ever there was a bogeyman of the Spanish conquest, it was Landa.

After Landa’s annihilation of a society, the King of Spain ordered him to write down everything he knew about the Maya and their civilization. He wrote the book Relación de las Cosas de Yucatán, in which, among other things, he reproduced their alphabet. But that alphabet, which was in fact the key to decipherment, was ignored for centuries because it did not make sense to the Western mind.

After digesting the bishop’s book, Knorozov published a paper, “Ancient Writing of Central America,” based on what he’d observed in other early scripts and decipherment systems, such as ancient Egyptian. Though the general consensus was the Mayan script did not have these features, through his studies in comparative linguistics, Knorozov came to believe Mayan script was no different.

His insight led him to treat Mayan glyphs as per Landa’s alphabet, though he considered it not an alphabet but a syllabary, meaning each individual symbol represented a spoken syllable, as in the Chinese language. In effect, the Landa “alphabet” was to become the Rosetta Stone of Mayan decipherment.

J. Eric Thompson firmly rejected Knorozov’s idea of a phonetic Mayan language, and combined with Cold War tensions of the day, Western scholars ignored Knorozov’s premise for decades.

2) Tatiana Proskouriakoff. Though Thompson and the Cold War suppressed Knorozov’s early success and ability to communicate his theories to the West, his concepts hit home with Russian born architect and epigrapher, Tatiana Proskouriakoff. Her family became exiled in the US during the 1917 Russian Revolution and she remained in the US permanently. Her schooling led her to graduate studies in architecture at University of Pennsylvania where she prepared archeological illustrations as a volunteer in the university museum. Through her work with the museum’s curator, she was invited in 1936 to join their excavation work at the Maya site, Piedras Negras, in Guatemala.

After her field trips to Piedras Negras and later to Copán, from 1936 to mid-1940s, her stunning sketches of the pyramids caught the eye of famed archeologist Sylvanus Morley. With her architectural background she surveyed the sculpted Copán plazas to paint how the city looked at its height. She’d already completed a drawing of Piedras Negras.

Eventually hired by Carnegie Institute with blessings from Morley, she was sent to document El Castillo at Chichen Itza, then spent five years excavating nearby Mayapán, and soon after published her landmark book, An Album of Maya Architecture. In 1958, moving on to Harvard’s Peabody Museum, she shifted her focus to the Maya writing system. In 1960 she published her historic breakthrough after 25 years of studying the physical monuments in person before deciphering their secrets.

She revolutionized the study of Maya hieroglyphs by proving the glyphs recorded real human history, not only religious and astronomical cycles which Thompson had insisted upon. With her architectural training she put to use the background of pattern, art, and drafting to assist in cracking the code, proving that Mayan writing used pictures, called glyphs, that stood for sounds and words.

Her research inspired Peter Mathews, University of Calgary grad student, who used Proskouriakoff’s glyph information as a bible, transcribing her work onto index cards he and Linda Schele used at Palenque to assist in cracking the code.

3) Palenque Round Table. Enter Merle Greene Robertson, artist, explorer, anthropologist, epigrapher, teacher, and much more. The woman is nearly indefinable—so interwoven was the role she played with her Maya work and ability to organize and pull people together, including at the 1973 Round Table.

Over a 50 year period she taught students, trekked to scores of pyramid sites in Mexico and Central America, revived an ancient archeological rubbing technique for stelae and Maya monuments using Japanese ink on rice paper creating over 5000 rubbings, and assisted in breaking the Maya hieroglyphic code by co-founding the Palenque Roundtable talks in 1973 along with artist and soon-to-be archeologist Linda Schele. I wrote about Robertson here.

At Palenque, along with fellow scholars, they shaped an understanding of ancient Maya civilization. Robertson’s ability to galvanize others—the ultimate organizer and planner—made her a fulcrum at the very moment the Maya re-emerged on the world stage after a long overdue absence.

The idea of a discussion to break the Maya code came like a flash to Robertson and Schele. Schele, artist and art professor at University of S. Alabama, had traveled to Mexico with her husband in 1970. He’d received a commission for architectural work that took him to the Yucatán. I wrote about Schele’s circuitous entry into the world of the Maya here.

In 1973, things were beginning to gel in the Maya world. Through Merle’s and Linda’s conversations, an idea emerged—why not have a meeting of like minds? And Robertson had just the place: Na Chan-Bahlum, her and husband Bob’s home in Palenque.

Concerned that Maya research was limited to a few experts with special access to key resources, the Robertsons built their home where anyone could come to study the site’s art and inscriptions. And come they did.

The two sent out feelers and soon afterwards, Merle heard from famed archeologist Michael Coe who suggested to convene in December in Palenque. The idea ignited and the first Maya conference was on the books.

Through discussions, lectures, late nights and visits to the pyramids just steps away, the group was closing in on breaking the hieroglyphic code. The conference became known as Primera Mesa Redonda de Palenque.

Talks ranged from art, history, chronology, iconography, early explorers, sacrifice, inscriptions, trade and the surrounding area. Word spread, everyone came: Local guides, archeologists, scholars, artists, students. Fourteen universities from Mexico, the US and Canada attended. All attendees were asked to present a lecture. By its second year, the governor of Chiapas opened the ceremonies in Palenque’s Municipal Auditorium. The first had convened in the living room of Merle and Bob’s Palenque home.

That first year’s highlight was the discovery of the names of Palenque’s rulers. In part that happened because of Schele’s inability to handle what she considered extremely scholarly Maya discussions. Her go-to for sanity was walking the short distance from Merle’s house to the Temple of the Cross. On this particular occasion, she brought along Peter Mathews, keeper of comprehensive index cards he created through his study of Proskouriakoff that included the ‘T’ numbers.

He’d arrived at the conference with hands-on structural knowledge of the site’s texts, having cataloged every single inscription at Palenque before arriving, using Thompson’s classification system.

With the use of the cards and an ‘aha,’ near out-of-body experience for Schele as she grasped Palenque’s iconography and artistic patterns—seeing all with an artist’s rather than scholar’s eye—they created the first complete timeline of the kings of Palenque. Mathews eventually won a MacArthur Genius Award for his incredible skills in reading and cataloging glyphs.

Proskouriakoff’s groundbreaking study proved that the monuments actually recorded the historical biographies of real kings, identifying specific glyphs for ‘birth’ and ‘accession to the throne.’ Schele and Mathews applied her historical approach to unlock the text at Palenque.

This milestone was made possible by bridging the structural insights of Tatiana Proskouriakoff with Mathews’ meticulously organized index cards and the duo’s field observations at the Temple of the Cross.

Artist Schele and grad student Mathews achieved a monumental breakthrough in cracking the code by reconstructing the dynastic history and life stories of six Palenque rulers in just three hours. They used the Table of the 96 Glyphs, a 54 x 23 inch carved stone panel from Palenque, with 96 detailed hieroglyphics arranged in a grid of recorded dates. Discovered in 1935, it told the story of Palenque’s royal rulers and pieced together a massive timeline of the city’s kings. Before this meeting, researchers only vaguely understood the tablet. The Dresden librarian Förstemann had interpreted the Maya number system as Base 20 math, their use of the zero, and their calendar system. The duo used that as a base.

When they sat down at the stone tablet, Mathews’ cards allowed them to instantly locate repeating prefixes, suffixes, and patterns across different stone panels at the site. That anchored these timeline patterns into actual royal identities, Schele wrote in Forest of Kings.

They cross-referenced their findings with the inscriptions from the Temple of the Cross Group, Schele continued. In studying the Tablet of the Cross, they saw how the texts intertwined mythological events with historical life stories of Palenque’s kings. They recognized that the accession imagery in the temples explicitly depicted the transfer of power, one of five core ingredients that historians use to determine if a civilization is ‘great.’ Peaceful transfer of power, as written by the authors of Why Nations Fail, is the single most critical factor in determining whether a great civilization survives or collapses.

Rushing back to tell the others of their breakthrough, they were met with shock and disbelief. The exact quote that best describes the situation came from legendary archeologist and epigrapher Michael Coe. He authored the definitive book on the subject, Breaking the Maya Code.

In describing the atmosphere of the First Palenque Round Table, Coe noted that much of the academic community—who had been taught for decades by J. Eric Thompson that the Maya were peaceful stela-worshippers—were initially unconvinced when Schele and Mathews revealed that the glyphs actually recorded a blood-stained history, warfare and detailed royal dynasties.

“They sat in shock,” wrote Coe. “For decades, the leading scholars believed Maya writing only showed religion and astronomy. The idea that it recorded actual history and kings was highly debated and challenged.”

It took esteemed linguist Floyd Lounsbury to test the code on other stones with Schele and Mathews and confirm it was correct. With master linguist Lounsbury, they successfully decoded the name of Palenque’s greatest ruler, Pacal.

The group used the rest of the Round Table to test the new system and began piecing together entire family trees and historical events. In just a few days, with the now broken code, Schele and Mathews presented the entire history of Palenque’s kings, queens and wars. This proved the Maya script was a true readable history.

Combining Proskouriakoff’s theory, Mathews’ index cards, clues from the Temple of the Cross, and the artist mind of Schele, the duo shattered the old paradigm. Maya hieroglyphics were no longer an unreadable mystery. The discovery completely changed how historians viewed the Maya. The code was broken.

The Palenque Round Tables continued for 20 years, from December 1973 until June 1993, and the group published 10 volumes of The Palenque Round Table Series.

RESOURCES

Arthur Allen. “Old Glyphs and New Software Help Unravel the Mysteries of the Maya.” Los Angeles Times. August 16, 1992.

Staff.“An Interview with Dr. Peter Mathews.” MayaExploration.org. July 12, 2008.

David Stuart. “Breaking the Maya Code Interview.” Nightfire. April 12, 2005.

Staff. “Cracking the Maya Code. Nova. April 8, 2008.

Alex Pezzati. “The Hand of Fate in Tatiana Proskouriakoff’s Career from the Archives.” Expedition Magazine. 2001.

Kelly M. “Meet the Mayanist—Tatiana Prouskouriakoff.” Tomb Raider Horizons. May 2018.

Tatiana Proskouriakoff. An Album of Maya Architecture. University of Oklahoma Press. 1970.

Linda Schele, David Freidel. “A Forest of Kings.” William Morrow Paperbacks. January1992.

Merle Greene Robertson. Never in Fear. Pre-Columbian Art Research Institute. November 2006.

Michael D. Coe. Breaking the Code, Third Edition. Thames and Hudson. 2012.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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Hola Amigos! Thanks for being here today! A competitor to the Panama Canal? The InterOceanic Corridor has been in the works for a long time. Maybe you’ve heard of it. No one thought it possible. Even though much of the groundwork has been laid, problems are cropping up. To see how Mexico and hopeful transporters will fare, please read on. And for my Spanish readers, this post will come translated into español thanks to a new feature added this week by Substack. So if the default language on your device is Spanish, it’s already translated for you!

In a world dependent on getting products from Point A to Point B, the globe has depended on the Panama Canal for over a century. Now Mexico has partially opened a 300 kilometer land bridge between the Atlantic and Pacific, called the InterOceanic Corridor (CITT), that hopes to compete. Ships will arrive on the Pacific at Salina Cruz. Cargo then moves cross country by rail and reaches the Gulf of Mexico at Coatzacoalcos.

Though it’s long been discussed, that it has come this far seems like a miracle. What kicked it off in earnest was Panama’s severe drought in 2023-2024, forcing transits down to 22 ships a day from full capacity of 38. This may have pushed the envelope, instigating actions by Mexico. But after heavy rainfall last year, rising reservoir levels have replenished the canal’s primary freshwater sources and Panama is buzzing along as usual.

The Panama Canal Authority, ACP, confirmed there were no transit restrictions planned for the remainder of 2026.

But one wonders—as does Panama—will that always be the case? The country is set to begin construction in 2027 on a new reservoir to feed Gatun Lake, the primary engine and water source for the entire canal. It doesn’t use sea-level water but instead is an elevated gravity-fed waterway, 85 feet above sea level. The water lifts and lowers ships across Panama’s isthmus.

Mexico’s isthmus project, InterOceanic Corridor of the Isthmus of Tehaunatepec, CITT, will not have a water-filled canal across its narrowest point. Instead, its equivalent is both interoceanic rail canals—a fast railway built across a narrow land strip to connect the two oceans—and land bridges. Recent construction began in June 2020, though the concept of a transit route across the isthmus has been bandied about for more than a century.

Construction history is divided into two parts: The original project, dating back to the late 1800s through 1907, with a number of Mexican leaders, Spanish colonizers and private contractors clocking in. All failed to produce due to finance, disease and various other crises.

The modern portion of the project began in 2020. First suggested in 2006 by President Vicente Fox, it was then called Plan Puebla Panama. Fox, like other Mexican presidents since, had planned to stimulate economic growth in the southern region of the country. Carrying on with that thought in mind, President Enrique Peña Nieto, during his tenure, hoped a new Special Economic Zone (SEZ) would shine a light on both the Veracruz and Salina Cruz ports that are now central for the CITT.

Fox’s Panama Canal solution had plans to create a new passage from Mexico’s east coast to the west, in hopes of energizing trade from both the EU and the Asia Pacific—China, Japan and Korea.

Peña Nieto’s thrust, also, was for additional economic growth in Mexico’s southern region, its least prosperous. He hoped to establish 10 industrial parks along the corridor to enhance additional trade, but his plans never got past go. He’d postponed the project until 2017, the last year of his term, and his decrees to declare both regions as Special Economic Zones came too late to act upon.

But the drought that hit Panama hard in 2022-2023 may have raised the current desire for a canal/throughway connecting both the Atlantic and the Pacific through Mexico. In June 2025, according to Alphaliner data, Panama Canal container ship traffic hit an all-time high for the first five months of the year with around 1,200 vessel transits recorded in each direction.

The canal relies on the watershed from Gatun Lake to raise the locks’ levels which lift ships going through the canal. Each transit requires 200 million liters of water. Even with adequate rainfall since the last drought, water levels remain volatile. Scientists say rainfall patterns in Panama are shifting permanently, expressing that what the world experienced in 2023 is the new normal, not a one time event. With that in mind, Panama implemented a new infrastructure project.

Enter Río Indio, a $1.6 billion project that involves constructing a new dam with lake to store freshwater to combat severe droughts. This would allow 12 to 15 additional ship crossings per day.

But on May 1, a protest march took place in Panama City against the Río Indio project even though one of its aims is to meet necessary drinking water demands for the next 50 years. Locals state the dam construction will displace dozens of farming communities and has sparked widespread opposition to the reservoir’s construction.

Zapotec environmental defender Edgar Martín Regalado spoke to Mongabay, an environmental/conservation science news service, about the impacts of mega-projects, such as the Interoceanic Corridor, on indigenous lands in Mexico. He said, “It is a Trojan horse that is leaving unprecedented environmental disasters in its wake. No one will travel on this train because its purpose is to provide roads for mining concessions and extractive companies.”

If Río Indio can overcome environmental backlash, the ambitious 10-year roadmap would reinforce Panama’s strategic role in global trade as well as taking on the ever present issue of changing climate patterns.

When water is scarce, the Panama Canal Authority (ACP) is forced to reduce the number of daily ship transits—sometimes dropping from a normal 36 down to 20-25 per day—while enforcing strict weight limits. This leads to massive shipping backlogs and soaring toll costs.

The CIIT is expected to serve as an alternative to the Panama Canal, which Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum has described as “saturated.” The CIIT began freight and passenger service in 2023.

“The Isthmus of Tehuantepec is the best route to go from the Pacific to the Atlantic,” Sheinbaum said in a press conference last year. “Even with the new tariff situation there will continue to be world trade from Asia to Europe and vice versa.”

But all is not serene in the land of infrastructure building. Environmental reporters are on guard with this massive project after the skipped steps taken with the 1550 kilometer construction of Tren Maya during Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s term. As I wrote about here, the Maya Train, a quickly put together extravaganza to promote tourism and lift southern Mexico’s flagging economy, is still experiencing a tsunami of environmental problems.

The reporters reviewed government risk assessments and found that large portions of the isthmus, one of Mexico’s most biodiverse regions, could become a deluge of industrial zones if safeguards fail. The outcome could well be polluted rivers, degraded soils and declining wildlife. Already the land is considered fragile—as shown in the display below—with jungle, wetlands, and grasslands that could give way if not properly administered to during project construction.

In addition to the geology of the land, in December, 2025, in Oaxaca at Nizanda, a crash occurred when engineers oversped as the train entered a dangerous curve, Mexican authorities said. With 250 people on board, four deaths occurred and 98 people were left injured.

Because of this the Mexican government announced the need to change the railway’s pathway, on recommendations from Mexico’s Regulatory Rail Agency. They’re focusing on restructuring the sharpest curves leading into the west coast port of Salina Cruz. President Sheinbaum’s recent decision to re-engineer and bypass the dangerous curve came after the agency’s recommendation.

Meanwhile, cargo trains continue to use the current line with stricter speed limits through the Nizanda sector. Passenger service on the main line between Salina Cruz and Coatzacoalcos, however, has been suspended and will resume again once the curve re-engineering is in place, by mid 2027.

Though not without ups and downs for the Panama Canal and the CIIT, ideas overflow on both sides. In the world of trade and transport, a multi-trillion dollar international industry, striving to figure out new ways to get products from point A to point B will always be a head scratcher, and in the end, a profitable one. Stay tuned as infrastructure projects involving transportation of goods continues to take center stage in Central America, Mexico and the southern hemisphere.

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RESOURCES

Michelle Fleury. “Can the Panama Canal save itself?” BBC. March 5, 2024

Adrian Duhalt. “The Interoceanic Corridor of Mexico’s Isthmus of Tehuantepec and the North-South Development Gap.” Baker Institute. June 12, 2021

Monica Pelliccia. “In Rio Indio, farmers fight Panama Canal reservoir project—and displacement.” MongaBay. June 16, 2026.

James McLoughlin. “Mexico’s Interoceanic Corridor of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec set for completion in 2026.” Automotive Logistics. Jan. 13, 2026.

Alejandro Crail, Diego Prada. “Mexico’s Interoceanic Corridor Set To Transform Vital Ecosystems Into Industrial Zones.” Pulitzer Center. August, 2024.

Rocio Flores. “The Zapotec defender who is standing up to the Interoceanic Train in Mexico.” Mongabay. June 4, 2025.

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Hola Amigos! Some of you have heard this story before, but I was reminded of it recently when asked how we bought our land in Mexico. Marketing Guru Rachel Sarah Thurston asked me to sit on a marketing panel at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference this past week for her Magical Marketing seminar, and we’d discussed my Mexico Soul Substack and serialization of Where the Sky is Born, my travel memoir about buying land, building a house and opening a bookstore in Mexico. I realized there was no way to describe our land experience in a sound bite. After all, first and second tries had ended without a clear title. So I pulled this from the archives as it tells our tale to anyone new to Mexico Soul. Please read on.

Just 35 years ago, some land deals in Mexico’s newest state, Quintana Roo, home to Cancun, were the equivalent of horse trading. I know this to be true because our first land purchase was involved in just such a deal.

Although we should’ve been prepared to expect the unexpected, the government’s seizure of our land by eminent domain startled us. Alejandro’s remarkable pivot in swapping his Playa del Carmen beachfront property—including our lot—for a worthwhile piece of similar land took equal parts ingenuity, luck and connectedness.

Though it looked good on paper, the size of the new property—200 hectares—was overwhelming. This unforeseen expansion demanded more collateral to finance a make-over on our untamed piece of wilderness. It was far more property than the Playa land which had access to power lines and water sources already in place. None of that existed at the new, over-sized location. More effort and manpower would be essential, just to get to the starting line.

Yes, it had cenotes, three rivers—a rarity in the Yucatan—and jungles erupting with wild orchids and bromeliads. But it was also a demanding mistress requiring infinite cash. For starters, heavy equipment was needed to carve a virgin roadway to the beach through thick tangled jungle. Without a road, no construction could begin. The land was a blank slate. There was nothing there but mangroves and jungle. Us and the wilderness.

The shift began. Alejandro and his brother Jorge approached landowners on both sides of the site asking to buy their property. Because the new land had much more potential than the old due to its natural resources, it was vital, they said. With room on either side, this wild beautification project could expand. Alejandro compared the property to what Epcot Center had been, only decades earlier—mangroves, swamps, fresh water, wildlife. Nothing landfill and vision couldn’t change. The site had promise—now we just had to work with it.

We were in high spirits for our next trip to Mexico. Alejandro promised us a look at the new land and it sounded like getting there would be a true life adventure. He told us to wear hiking boots and bring sunscreen and mosquito repellant. We met him at his house to drive to the land’s work site.

About 20 minutes south of Puerto Morelos, he pointed to a barely visible clearing alongside Highway 307. We pulled in. A new palapa stood to the right of the dirt drive where banana trees grew in a cluster. An old Maya man, Miguel, ventured toward us. He would point us to the campsite.

Though thicket had been trimmed around the palapa, those efforts stopped abruptly at a row of tangled trees no more than 100 feet away. We walked briskly to keep up with Alejandro wielding a machete, hacking away at virtual scrub jungle on what was barely wide enough to be called a path. About 10 minutes later, sweaty from the hike, we approached the camp which consisted of a lone rectangular-shaped palapa.

Stirring an oversized pot propped on an open fire was a dark-haired Mexican woman. Trim, 40s, she looked like she’d be better suited behind a desk in an insurance firm. This was Alejandro’s sister-in-law, Rosa, Jorge’s wife.

Though the camp was tidy and well-kept, we saw only Rosa, Jorge and four Maya workers. Even on just arriving we could see the new property had promise, but the task of taming it would be overwhelming for four men. After small talk we continued on our way. At one point the clearing had been unsuccessful and we had to ford a tributary of one of the rivers, searching out river rocks as stepping stones.

Following Alejandro into the jungle seemed like our very own adventure land, I thought as I sloshed through ankle-deep sludge, soaking my new Zodiac hiking boots in the foulest water they’d ever encounter.

Once past the river we could hear the rushing sound of fresh water meeting the ocean downstream. It seemed to beckon and we picked up the pace. In five minutes we saw the ocean and the long windswept beach. To bedraggled city folks, it was the complete picture of paradise. Paul and I stood in awe. I was barely breathing as I took in the vista—wide beach, whitest sand imaginable, swaying palms. The jungle path’s heat and humidity vanished as had the mosquitos. We breathed ocean smells.

“Here you have it!” Alejandro announced with a smile. “This is where the three rivers meet.” He pointed. “My house will be there, overlooking the cenote.”

Beyond the rushing river was the cenote. Words failed me.

“Let’s walk to it.

Getting to the cenote was no small feat. We forded the river again, drenching our shorts as we now held our boots overhead.

Encroaching green foliage surrounded the 50-foot wide pool of water displaying a backdrop of primeval forest. No other water I’d seen compared with its clarity. At first I thought I saw reflections of trees above the water level. Only after a closer look did I realize I was seeing mangrove tree trunks that stretched up from the bottom of the cenote to thirty feet above the water line. The water was clear as a green diamond, and I could see to its very depths.

After we stood in silence for several minutes, awed by our surroundings, Alejandro motioned us to the beach. “Yours will be the last lot on the property at the southern end. On one side you’ll be bordered by empty land which will give you privacy. Let’s walk the property line.”

That, of course, was what we came to do: see the new land and compare it to the original property we had once almost owned. I’m happy to say we weren’t disappointed. I think my mind went to dreamland as I pictured our new life, on the ocean, next to a cenote, in the Mexican Caribbean.

We didn’t know exactly when we would escape city life. Certainly not in the immediate future. We still needed a master plan and we liked Alejandro’s idea of renting out our piece of paradise as he did with his Puerto Morelos house when not there. He’d placed ads in travel sections of large newspapers, enticing travelers to his section of the Riviera Maya and was quite successful. Through his trial and error we’d learn how to advertise our own beach house some day. In watching Alejandro actualize his plans we were learning fast. We were eager students and thankful to have an attentive mentor with money on his mind. For money is what it would take to pull this off. Money and luck.

If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this email, you will make my day and make it easier for others to find this publication.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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If you enjoyed this post you also might like these:

Hola Amigos! My fascination with the Maya has led me down many a road— literally and literary—as you probably noticed. Studying the Maya and their civilization is fairly new in archeological terms. The first explorers to bring the Maya to the world wrote about the civilization in the 1840s. New perspectives surface regularly, as in recently discovered Valeriana, an ancient city in Mexico’s southern jungles. A Tulane grad student found it using LiDAR technology. I wrote about it here. New news continues from the Maya world. On another note, I’ve been asked to participate in an Authors Roundtable titled Marketing Magic at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference next week. It’s presented by Marketing Guru Rachel Sarah Thurston and my presence on Substack got me the gig! Now, onto the main event: Maya mysteries. Please read on.

Who were the ancient Maya? Were they pyramid builders? Astronomers? Lords of the jungle? High priests and shaman? Mathematicians?

After years of studying the Maya, aside from those glorious pyramids, I believe they’ll most be remembered for their stargazing abilities. The Maya were called naked-eye astronomers.

They had good reason to be stargazers. Their rulers took direction from planetary movements, specifically those of Venus, which assisted in a multitude of ways. The ancient mathematicians, often priests, kept painstakingly detailed records on the position of the sky—day by day, year by year, century by century. With this consistency and the use of nothing other than the naked eye, they recorded precise calculations for more than a millennium.

They kept track of the night sky in paperbark books called codices. Unfortunately all but four were burned by Spanish priests in an auto-da-fé in 1562. Through these precise recordings of the night sky’s movements, the Maya were able to simulate what we today can do in the blink of an eye with a telescope. The Maya viewed the Milky Way as the World Tree, La Ceiba. It was considered the Maya Tree of Life—a tree with branches so large it could hold up the world.

But to the Maya, the Milky Way was more than that familiar smudge across the night sky. The Milky Way was also the Sac-be or road, their path to the sky that led dead souls to the underworld—their River Styx. Without the Milky Way, the dead had no road to guide them and would be unable to find their way. They would be caught in an unforgiving limbo.

Maya astronomers were left with the weighty task of deciphering how each star and planet would align. It was their destiny to forever record the nightly movement of the stars so that those departed souls could find their way to the underworld, not unlike Charon, the ferryman in Greek mythology.

Even though all but four of their paperbark books were destroyed, additional proof in this theory of the Milky Way and the World Tree’s importance is carved onto the sarcophagus lid of Pakal, Palenque’s greatest ruler. If you’ve never been to Palenque, go. To me, it’s the most spiritual and mystical pyramid site. At one time accessible only by a narrow two-lane highway, it was no easy journey. Tren Maya has now made the trip easier.

Once there it’s a lush jungle setting, like Hawaii with pyramids, in a smattering of near Asian-style structures. The Asian influence makes one pause. But back to the sarcophagus lid—it shows the king descending down the World Tree into the jaws of the underworld, or Xibalba, to his death.

Descending the stairs to Pakal’s musty tomb is a journey in itself. As an aside, Pakal’s tomb was discovered by accident in 1952 by famed archaeologist Alberto Ruz when a worker noticed holes in a floor slab. When lifted, it showed a stairway filled with rubble that took three years to clear. But Pakal’s tomb, and the discovery of the king’s bejeweled death mask, made those efforts worthwhile.

Palenque was also the site of the famous Palenque Roundtable in 1973 where 40 of the world’s foremost Maya archaeologists, scholars and students came together and broke the Maya code. At the meeting, the group deemed that the greatest portal to the underworld was found in the night sky, and it related back to the Maya creation myth. At long last having the ability to read the Maya stelae (carved slabs in front of pyramids), these archaeologists determined the myth portrayed the Milky Way as a tree to be the center of their universe, dating back to their creation myth in the Popul Vuh, the Maya Bible.

Have I lost you yet?

But not only did the Maya gaze at the stars so that they and their rulers could find the starry path to the underworld; they also monitored the planet Venus to decide when to make war on fellow Maya city-states, and when to plant their crops, specifically maize.

So determined were the Maya to follow this star-Earth continuum that temples on numerous sites, such as the Temple of Ku’kulkan at Chichen Itza, are aligned astronomically, meaning they strategically positioned structures in relation to celestial bodies.

Each spring and autumn equinox the sun casts its shadow onto this temple due to its place in the heavens, the building’s earthly position, and the Maya’s precise calculations configured centuries ago for the equinox.

The sun’s shadow creates the illusion of the serpent’s body (the temple sports a huge serpent on each of its four corners) slithering down to the base of the staircase, finishing at the serpent’s mouth on ground level. Again, if you’ve not yet been to Chichen Itza, go. Other Maya sites are also clearly aligned, creating spectacularly coordinated displays, not unlike sunrise at Stonehenge on solstice. One wonders—how did they do it? But they did. And no, it was not space aliens to the rescue. If you follow Mexico Soul, I delved into their material resources here, as explained by archeologist Edward H. Thompson.

So who were the Maya? To me, they will always be stargazers who tamed the night skies long before modern humanity would have thought it possible to do so. Had any more than four of the supposedly hundreds of burned paperbark Maya books been saved for posterity, what other wonders would have we discovered?

In their Classic Era they epitomized the best of civilization. They had organized cities, a complex religion, an advanced calendar, dynastic leadership, a writing system and extensive trade routes. They began farming 3000 years ago and the cycle of maize became a metaphor for Maya life. They used advanced style irrigation systems and landscape management techniques at some sites that enabled them to use 95 percent of available land for cultivation.

The Maya had no metal yet they created artistic carvings using obsidian and stone tools. They had no animals to carry cargo so humans became their beasts of burden. They had no wheel yet they invented the concept of zero.

They delineated the position of the planets and when full eclipses and equinoxes would occur, then built monuments and temples that perfectly aligned with these planetary displays. And many of those pyramids still stand.

They created an intricate system of calendars (28 in all) that coordinate as accurately as the Gregorian calendar does today. Three were the staple of daily life: the Tzolk’in, Ha’ab and Long Count. The Tzolk’in, or sacred round, is a 260-day calendar—the daily go-to, and the Ha’ab, is a 360-day ‘solar’ calendar to coordinate with the Earth’s rotation cycle around the sun. Five days, called unlucky time, were added at the end of the Ha’ab to make up a full 365-day sidereal cycle. They calculated the sun’s cycle as 365.242 days. Calculations according to our Atomic Clock are 365.2425 days. All this was done without a slide rule, calculator, or telescope. The Long Count calendar is made up of 5,126 days and ends in their 13th Baktun, a time of great importance to the Maya.

Remember, until the 1970s, the Maya were viewed as peaceful priest-scholars who studied time and the night sky and didn’t have warfare or sacrifice. This concept originated due to a hypothesis pushed by the leading Mayanist of the day, J. Eric Thompson, who believed the hieroglyphs were merely abstract concepts. Of course, once the hieroglyphic code was broken, evidence contrary to this notion became undeniable.

If this article doesn’t inspire you to go to the nearest pyramid site and stare in wonder, I have failed to do my job.

If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this email, you will make my day and make it easier for others to find this publication.

RESOURCES

David Freidel, Linda Schele, Joy Parker. Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the Shaman’s Path. William Morrow and Company, Inc. 1995.

Merle Greene Robertson. Never in Fear. The Pre-Columbian Art Research Institute, 2002.

David Stuart. The Order of Days: Unlocking the Secrets of the Ancient Maya. Crown. 2012.

Jeanine Kitchel. Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy. Jeanine Kitchel. 2012.

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MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland we’ve pyramid hopped everywhere and often. Over the years I’ve searched out every book on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids, the archeologists who dug at these sites, the scholars who wrote about them and talked to locals with stories to tell. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually began to write about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

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