mexico city

Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera’s Fascinating Connections to Fallingwater

A seduction at the iconic Frank Lloyd Wright home. The influence of Frida’s home, the Casa Azul. Juan O’Gorman’s insulting mural project. And the Kaufmanns’ role in the Mexican artists’ success. We explore the artistic ties that bind these fascinating personalities.  

Frida standing with The Two Fridas

Imagine visiting Fallingwater, Frank Lloyd Wright’s iconic masterpiece. You’re surrounded by stunning natural beauty, and the architecture is simply breathtaking. 

But what if I told you that two of the most famous Latin American artists, Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, were also friends with the Kaufmann family, who commissioned and lived in the home? It’s a story that’s as fascinating as the house itself.

When [Levy] returned to his bedroom, there was Frida — waiting for him!
— Hayden Herrera in "Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo"
Edgar sr., Edgar jr. and Liliane Kaufmann standing on the balcony at Fallingwater outside of Pittsburgh, PA

E.J., Edgar jr. and Liliane Kaufmann at Fallingwater, their now-legendary weekend home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright

The Kaufmanns: A Family of Taste and Distinction

Edgar Jonas Kaufmann, or E.J. to his friends, was the head of a well-known Pittsburgh department store family. He was a highly respected businessman, aesthete and philanthropist who, along with his wife, Liliane, turned the family retail empire into a center of culture and fashion. 

Fun fact: The surname Kaufmann fittingly means “merchant” in German. 

As lifelong patrons of the arts, E.J. and Liliane enjoyed spending time with architects, artists and other creatives. Their only child, Edgar Kaufmann jr. (the lowercase “jr.” was his preferred abbreviation), inherited his parents’ love of art. He was particularly interested in modernist design, and he believed that functional objects could also be works of art.

Diego Rivera stands by a study of the mural Man at the Crossroads, which was commissioned by Rockefeller

Diego Rivera standing with a study of his mural-that-was-never-to-be, Man at the Crossroads. Rockefeller, who commissioned it, found it to be a bit too Communist for his tastes.

The family’s weekend home, Fallingwater, was filled with a formidable collection of artworks and objects. If the Kaufmanns weren’t already familiar with the socialist works of Mexican artist Diego Rivera, they most certainly became aware of him when his unfinished mural, Man at the Crossroads, caused a major controversy in 1933. The mural, which featured a portrait of Vladimir Lenin, was commissioned by the Rockefeller family, but they were so outraged by the inclusion of the Marxist leader that they had the mural destroyed. (Rivera’s re-creation, Man, Controller of the Universe, is on display at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City.)

Frida Kahlo sits in a chair while her husband, Diego Rivera, stands next to her, with a hand on her shoulder

Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera had a lot to thank the Kaufmann family for in helping them gain fame.

When the Kaufmanns Met Frida and Diego

It’s possible that the Kaufmanns were introduced to Rivera by John McAndrew, the newly minted curator of the Department of Architecture and Industrial Art at New York’s Museum of Modern Art, aka MoMA. McAndrew visited Fallingwater in 1937 to document the house for the upcoming exhibit, A New House by Frank Lloyd Wright on Bear Run.

A waterfall runs below Fallingwater, the iconic Frank Lloyd Wright house in Western Pennsylvania

Fallingwater has a surprising connection to Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera.

It’s not hard to imagine that McAndrew would have talked about Rivera to the Kaufmanns during his visit to Fallingwater. McAndrew had previously traveled and studied architecture in Mexico, where he was inspired by the country’s rich cultural heritage. 

E.J. and Liliane were drawn to the rustic charm of Casa Azul, Kahlo’s childhood home in the Coyoacán neighborhood of Mexico City. The Kaufmanns saw it as an antidote to city life and wanted to create a similar sense of peace and tranquility at their weekend home, Fallingwater.

Frida Khalo, wearing shawl and white dress, standing in the garden of her home and studio, the Casa Azul

Frida Kahlo at her home, Casa Azul, which provided inspo for Liliane Kaufmann.

They appreciated the objects that Kahlo had filled her home with, including sculptures by the self-taught Mexican artist Mardonio Magaña. Four of these sculptures are on display at Fallingwater, and a reproduction of one is available for purchase at the Fallingwater museum store. (Completing the loop, a photograph of Fallingwater hangs in the permanent collection at Casa Azul.)

Small sculpture of four people in a circle by Mardonio Magaña at Fallingwater

One of the works by Mexican artist Mardonio Magaña found at Fallingwater

In the 1930s, E.J. and Liliane became patrons of Rivera, and later of Kahlo, his wife. For nearly two years, E.J. provided Rivera with a monthly stipend of $250, totaling $5,000. That’s equivalent to about $86,000 in today’s dollars. Although Rivera never ended up being commissioned to paint anything by the Kaufmanns, he and the couple were friends, and two of his works are on display at Fallingwater.

Profile of a Man Wearing a Hat by Diego Rivera hanging above the red bed in the guest bedroom at Fallingwater

Look for Diego Rivera’s Profile of a Man Wearing a Hat hanging in the guest bedroom at Fallingwater.

Torrid Siesta (El Sueño) by Diego RIvera, of a young girl laying on the ground, hanging at Fallingwater

Torrid Siesta (El Sueño) by Diego Rivera, in the passageway that leads out to the guesthouse at Fallingwater

Profile of a Man Wearing a Hat originally hung in E.J.’s private Wright-designed office at Kaufmann’s sprawling Pittsburgh department store. And Torrid Siesta (El Sueño) was first placed in E.J.’s study on the third floor of the house but was later relocated to its current location on the enclosed bridge that leads out to the guesthouse.

Liliane Kaufmann found Frida Kahlo to be “most interesting.”

A Love of Latin America 

The Kaufmanns’ interest in Latin American culture grew, and in May 1938, Edgar jr. and Liliane took their first trip to Mexico City. The newly reestablished government of Mexico was eager to forge a national identity that promoted its pre-Hispanic heritage to American tourists. 

While there, Junior and Liliane visited Diego and Kahlo at their home and studio in the neighborhood of San Ángel, a modernist structure designed and built by their mutual friend, Juan O’Gorman. It was a place of creativity and conflict. While the couple were both artists, they had very different approaches to their work. Rivera was a well-known and successful muralist, while Kahlo was a more private painter who focused on self-portraits. 

Liliane wrote:

Yesterday we visited Diego Rivera at his home in San Ángel. It is a very interesting house inside and he is a very simple charming man. He showed us a lot of things and took us over to meet his wife who was most interesting. She paints also, very delightfully, and we had a swell time.

At the home and studio, Kahlo played the role of dutiful wife. She also served as Rivera’s secretary, entertaining and courting patrons for him. While Rivera enjoyed socializing with high society, Kahlo resented it. 

Frida Kahlo, wearing lots of rings and a floral headpiece, has her hand on her face and looks down in a sad manner

Don’t be sad, Frida! You’re about to catch a big break!

Frida Kahlo’s Big Break 

It was during this period that Kahlo retreated to Casa Azul, where she developed her commanding signature style. She had a difficult life. She contracted polio when she was 6, which left one leg thinner than the other. And when she was 18, she was in a bus accident that left her severely injured. She hid this by wearing long ruffled skirts, boxy shirts to conceal her surgical corsets and adorned herself with jewelry. Inspired by traditional Mexican indigenous clothing, her style came to represent a patriotic identity and a defiance of traditional gender roles.

Kahlo’s first big break occurred a short time after Liliane and Junior’s visit. In the summer of 1938, Hollywood actor and art collector Edward G. Robinson, famous for playing gangster types in film noirs, purchased four of Kahlo’s paintings for $200 each while vacationing in Mexico City. 

Film still of Edgar G. Robinson clutching his arm by shop window riddled with bullet holes

Edgar G. Robinson might have played tough types in the movies, but he was blacklisted in Hollywood as a Communist and helped launch Kahlo’s art career.

At the time, Kahlo was virtually unknown in the United States and she was always a bit shocked when anyone liked her work. She had often given it away for free, and she later wrote of the Robinson sale:

For me it was such a surprise that I marveled and said, this way I am going to be able to be free; I’ll be able to travel and do what I want without asking Diego for money.

When the French writer and founder of the Surrealist movement, André Breton, included Kahlo among its canon, she refused the label. She said, “I never painted dreams; I painted my own reality.” 

But she did understand the power of marketing. Breton introduced her to Julien Levy, a New York gallery owner who specialized in being the first to present avant-garde artists to American viewers. When Kahlo met him, she knew that he could help her reach a wider audience.

We wish we could see your reaction to Frida Kahlo’s My Birth.

In November 1938, Kahlo’s first solo show at Julien Levy Gallery in New York marked a shift in her artistic career. E.J. and Liliane were in attendance and purchased two of her paintings: My Birth (1932) and Remembrance of an Open Wound (1938). The latter was lost in a fire at the country home of Edgar jr. and his companion, Paul Mayén, sometime in the 1980s. The exhibition was a great success, and Time noted that it was “the flutter of the week in Manhattan.”

The Kaufmanns invited Kahlo and Levy to visit Fallingwater. Biographer Hayden Herrera recounts that Kahlo’s visit was one for the books:

Julien Levy, gallery owner in NYC

The gallery owner Julien Levy, who seems to have gotten lucky with Frida Kahlo at Fallingwater

Once Levy took Frida to Pennsylvania to visit his client and friend Edgar Kaufmann Sr., who, Levy said, wanted to be Frida’s patron. The train ride was everything train rides are supposed to be — a slow but inexorable buildup of erotic anticipation. When they arrived, however, Frida flirted not just with Levy, but with their elderly host and son as well. She was very cavalier with her men, Levy recalled. She liked to play one off against the other, and she would pretend to one suitor that she thought the other was a nuisance or a bore. At bedtime, Levy and the senior Kaufmann tried to wait each other out so as to spend the last moments of the evening in romantic solitude with Frida. When she retired, Fallingwater’s complicated double stairway [the exterior steps up to the guest room] served as the stage for the evening’s drama. After biding his time until he thought everyone was peacefully asleep, Levy emerged from his room and started up one side of the staircase. Much to his astonishment, he found his host climbing the stairs on the other side. Both retreated. The same confrontation took place several times. In the end, Levy gave up. But when he returned to his bedroom, there was Frida — waiting for him!

Liliane and Junior’s continued travels to Mexico laid the groundwork for the fittingly titled Below the Rio Grande, a shoppable exhibit at Kaufmann’s flagship store, which introduced consumers to Mexican antiques and folk art. Some of these items were later incorporated into Fallingwater’s décor. 

Nearly a dozen small pre-Columbian objects can be found in the guesthouse. These were likely gifted to the Kaufmanns by Rivera, who was a passionate collector of pre-Columbian art. During his lifetime Rivera amassed over 50,000 pieces, many of which are housed at the must-visit Anahuacalli Museum in CDMX. 

Landscape: Jalapa, Mexico by José María Velasco hangs in the bedroom of the guesthouse at Fallingwater

Landscape: Jalapa, Mexico by José María Velasco hangs in the bedroom of the guesthouse at Fallingwater.

One of the guesthouse bedrooms features a large oil painting by José María Velasco, a mentor to Diego. The work, entitled Landscape: Jalapa, Mexico, hangs over the bed. Velasco’s artistic endeavors are so esteemed that the Mexican government considers them national monuments. This painting was acquired by the Kaufmann family around 1937 for $500. In 1954, it was hanging in E.J.’s suite at the William Penn Hotel in Pittsburgh, and was moved to its current location by Edgar jr. in 1960.

The Mexican artist Juan O'Gorman, wearing glasses and holding a cigar, leans on a railing

Juan O’Gorman, whose mural commissioned by Edgar Kaufmann Sr. featuring prominent Pittsburgh tycoons below a toilet, was deemed too controversial for the Young Men’s and Women’s Hebrew Association

Kaufmann’s Rockefeller Dreams and Botched Mural

Pittsburgh society was dominated by wealthy families like the Carnegies and Mellons. This made it difficult for the Kaufmanns, who were Jewish, to achieve positions of power and influence. Despite lobbying for many public works projects throughout his life, E.J. saw few of them come to fruition. 

In 1940 he invited the socialist architect, painter and muralist O’Gorman to Pittsburgh to submit a proposal for murals for the interior walls of the Young Men’s and Women's Hebrew Association, of which he was president. 

As a guest of the Kaufmann family, O’Gorman spent a weekend at Fallingwater, which he later described as “one of the most beautiful buildings in the world.” 

When it came to the mural, though, O’Gorman clearly missed the brief: His preparatory sketches for the project portrayed Pittsburgh tycoons Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick and George Westinghouse as the kings of a polluted plutocracy that arose from consumer capitalism. As if that wasn’t enough, O’Gorman further emphasized his sentiments by prominently featuring an open toilet and a roll of toilet paper above the tableau. 

O’Gorman’s proposed mural was clearly at odds with the organization’s mission to celebrate the moral development of youth. As a result, the project was rejected and O’Gorman returned to Mexico City. As compensation for the failed project, E.J. sent the artist a check to subsidize a mural at the Biblioteca Gertrudis Bocanegra in the town of Pátzcuaro, Mexico. 

Juan O'Gorman's mural at a library in Patzcuraro, Mexico

Even though he kiboshed Juan O’Gorman’s Pittsburgh mural, Edgar Kaufmann footed the bill for this astounding mural in Mexico.

Divided into four sections, the mural vividly depicts the history of the Purépecha people. The first shows the indigenous people before the Spanish conquest; the second, the arrival of the Spanish and the beginning of the conquest; the third shows life after the conquest, when the Purépecha were forced to adopt Spanish customs and religion; and the fourth shows Gertrudis Bocanegra, the martyred heroine of the 1820 War of Independence, her white dress smeared with blood from her execution by firing squad. 

Frida Kahlo's What the Water Gave Me, a painting with her feet in a bathtub filled with imagery, including a volcano and nude women

Frida Kahlo’s What the Water Gave Me

Edgar Jr.’s Artful Encounters, From MoMA to Madonna

Edgar jr. traveled with McAndrew to Mexico in 1939, looking for works of art to include in the MoMA exhibit Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art. The pair recognized Kahlo’s talent, and the show, which opened on May 15, 1940, featured no fewer than three of her paintings: The Two Fridas (1939), What the Water Gave Me (1938) and The Wounded Table (1940). 

The Wounded Table by Frida Kahlo, a painting with Frida seated at a table with her hair lifted and a giant skeleton, children, a deer, blood spatterings and a giant with a tiny head

The Wounded Table by Frida Kahlo

In 1943 Junior purchased and donated Self Portrait With Cropped Hair to the MoMA. The painting is part of the museum’s permanent collection and was conceived shortly after Kahlo’s divorce from Rivera. It’s thought to be a reflection of her feelings of anger, sadness and independence after the separation. Kahlo’s oversized charcoal gray suit (surely Rivera’s) and short haircut are symbols of her rejection of traditional femininity, while the scissors she holds suggest her decision to take control of her own life.

Frida Kahlo's Self Portrait With Cropped Hair, in which the artist wears a gray suit like her ex-husband Diego Rivera's, and has short hair

Self Portrait With Cropped Hair by Frida Kahlo shows the artist after her divorce from Diego Rivera, wearing one of his suits and having chopped off her locks to resemble his hairstyle.

After his parents died, Junior brought Kahlo’s My Birth to his apartment in New York City. The painting is a deeply personal and imaginative work of art, depicting Kahlo’s birth from a dead mother.

According to Fallingwater director Justin Gunther, Edgar jr. had a dry, ironic sense of humor. Case in point: He kept the painting hidden in a closet in his New York apartment, and would only reveal it to his guests at the most unexpected moments. He loved to see the look of surprise on their faces when they saw it for the first time.

Madonna in front of her painting My Birth by Frida Kahlo

Madonna purchased My Birth from Edgar jr. She says you can’t be friends with her if you don’t like it.

In 1987 Edgar jr. sold the painting through his dealer to the pop star Madonna. Although worldly, he didn’t know who she was when he met her, and had planned on selling My Birth to her for just a little more than what his parents had originally paid for it. But his dealer told him, "We can do better than that,” and quoted a much higher figure.

Madonna was later quoted in Vanity Fair saying, “If somebody doesn’t like this painting, then I know they can’t be my friend.” –Duke

The Marvelous (and Controversial) Murals at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City

Make the rounds at the Palace of Fine Arts in CDMX’s Centro to see works from some of Mexico’s most famous muralists, including Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros.

This provocative mural was being renovated when we visited the Palacio de Bellas Artes and could only be viewed from across the way.

On our first trip to Mexico City, we only admired the Palacio de Bellas Artes from afar — namely, from the Sears across the street, which affords the best view of that gorgeous Art Nouveau dome, glowing in an ombre that starts with bright saffron and fades to pale yellow. 

Instead, we followed a scavenger hunt of sorts, rambling around Centro in a search for its most Instagrammable spots

The Palacio de Bellas Artes is more than just a pretty façade — there’s a gallery of famous murals inside.

This time, we planned to actually enter the Palacio de Bellas Artes, though we had no idea what lay within. Duke and I were pleasantly surprised to discover that the top floor was devoted to a gallery of murals from some of Mexico’s most famous artists. 

Interior of Palacio de Bellas Artes

The inside of the Palace of Fine Arts in Mexico City isn’t too shabby, either. Be sure to get tickets for the mural museum when you visit.

We purchased our tickets on the ground floor, then climbed the grand staircases up two flights. The murals form a ring around the space, with the center open, letting you look down at the palace’s lobby or admire the murals from afar. When we visited, one of the murals was being restored and we could only see it from across the way.

Sit and admire Diego Rivera’s kooky mural — which Rockefeller rejected.

El Hombre en el Cruce de Caminos o El Hombre Controlador del Universo

Translation: Man at the Crossroads, or Man, Controller of the Universe

Date: Date: 1934

Artist: Diego Rivera

It’s a battle between capitalism, as represented by figures including Charles Darwin (the fellow with a white beard surrounded by animals)…

Detail from Diego's El Hombre en el Cruce de Caminos o El Hombre Controlador del Universo

…and Communism, depicted on the righthand side, with Leon Trotsky, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels all making appearances.

Fascinating fact: The original Man at the Crossroads was commissioned for the Rockefeller Center in New York City. But when Nelson Rockefeller got wind that it included a depiction of Vladimir Lenin and a Soviet May Day parade, he ordered it destroyed — before it was even completed.


González Camarena’s mural moves from slavery to spiritual liberation.

Liberación o La Humanidad Se Libera de la Miseria

Translation: Liberation, or Humanity Frees Itself From Misery

Date: 1963

Artist: Jorge González Camarena

Fascinating facts: This is a re-creation of a no-longer-existing mural that had been painted on the Edificio Guardiola, where the Bank of Mexico placed its vaults. The first part shows a man tied up in a coffin and a nude tattooed woman to protest agrarian policies after the Mexican Revolution and slavery. The last section to the far right depicts a mestizo woman (someone of indigenous and European blood) — a radiant symbol of spiritual liberation.


Knight in Apoteosis de Cuauhtémoc mural

Siqueiros’ mural presents revisionist history, where an Aztec ruler isn’t conquered by the conquistadors.

Apoteosis de Cuauhtémoc o Cuauhtémoc Redivivo and Tormento de Cuauhtémoc
(Díptico Monumento a Cuauhtémoc)

Translation: Apotheosis of Cuauhtémoc, or Cuauhtémoc Resurrected and Torment of Cuauhtémoc (Monumental Diptych to Cuauhtémoc)

Date: 1951

Artist: David Alfaro Siqueiros

The Aztec ruler Cuauhtémoc had his feet burned until he caved and told the Spanish where to find a treasure trove.

Fascinating facts: One panel shows a revisionist history, what the artist wishes had happened — that the Aztec emperor Cuauhtémoc had defeated the Spanish conquistadors. The other shows what really happened: The ruler was tortured by the Spanish, who burned his feet until he revealed the location of Montezuma’s treasure.


Alegoría del Viento mural at Bellas Artes

Note the personifications of the wind blowing in this Art Deco mural fragment.

Alegoría del Viento o El Ángel de la Paz o La Aviación

Translation: Allegory of the Wind, or The Angel of Peace, or Aviation 

Date: 1928

Artist: Roberto Montenegro

Fascinating facts: This is the only portion of the original Art Deco work at the former Colegio Máximo de San Pedro y San Pablo that survived the humidity. It’s the oldest mural in the collection.  


Man vs. machinery battle it out in Orozco’s bizarre and disturbing mural.

Katharsis o La Eterna Lucha de la Humanidad por un Mundo Mejor

Translation: Catharsis, or Humanity’s Eternal Struggle for a Better World

Date: 1935

Artist: José Clemente Orozco

Detail of La Chata in Katharsis by Orozco

A detail of La Chata, the infamous pug-nosed prostitute in Orozco’s mural

Fascinating facts: Orozco, like his contemporary Diego, was no stranger to controversy, as evidenced by this horrific vision of dystopia. The naked woman, wearing a massive pearl necklace, grins outward and opens her legs to a piece of machinery. She’s known as La Chata (Pug Nose) and has the dubious honor of being considered one of the most repulsive images in art. 


México Folclórico y Turístico by Diego

Rivera’s mural panels poked fun at White tourists and played upon circus themes.

México Folclórico y Turístico and Dictadura
(Políptico Carnaval de la Vida Mexicana)

Translation: Folkloric and Touristic Mexico and Dictatorship (Carnival of Mexican Life Polyptych)

Date: 1936

Artist: Diego Rivera

Section of México Folclórico y Turístico by Diego

There’s a lot to find offensive in these murals, from an officer depicted as a pig to a flag that sports a swastika.

Fascinating facts: Alberto Pani commissioned the series for his Hotel Reforma. But Diego, ever the shit-stirrer, inserted political motifs and unflattering representations of tourists. Pani “touched up” the offensive bits; Diego sued and won, and was allowed to restore his work. But the hotelier put the work into storage, where it remained hidden away until it was sold to the government in 1963 and installed at Bellas Artes. 

Murals are, by their nature, public works of art. If you’re in CDMX’s Centro neighborhood, take a quick spin through the murals of the Palacio de Bellas Artes — and see if you can spot all the controversial sections. –Wally

Exterior of the Palace of Fine Arts in CDMX

Palacio de Bellas Artes
Avenida Juárez s/n
Centro
Cuauhtémoc
06050 Ciudad de México
Mexico

 

A Perfect Morning in La Condesa, Mexico City

One of CDMX’s hippest hoods has its own distinct vibe with the racetrack-turned-oval-park Avenida Amsterdam and an array of eye-catching Art Deco architecture, green spaces and cafés. 

Colorful buildings along Avenida Amsterdam in Mexico City

If you’re in Mexico City, you’ve got to take a walk around the colorful colonia of La Condesa — especially the pedestrian-friendly, lush Avenida Amsterdam.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Mexico City began to experience the influence of a new international artistic movement, which had great importance in graphic and industrial design, the decorative arts and architecture. What was this revolutionary style? Art Deco, of course. 

Art and design are still a driving force in the hip, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood of La Condesa. Here’s how to spend a pleasant morning in the colonia (neighborhood).

Art and design are a driving force in the hip, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood of La Condesa.
Purple house with sign out front for Avenida Amsterdam in Mexico City

This periwinkle house and sign became a familiar guidepost for us.

1. Go round Avenida Amsterdam and the surrounding streets.

Start your day by heading to Avenida Amsterdam in Hipódromo, the heart of La Condesa. The avenue gets its shape from a former horse racing track. 

Median park along Avenida Amsterdam in Mexico City

Following the old horse racing track, Avenida Amsterdam is now a median green space in the heart of La Condesa.

Stroll along the central pedestrian median of Avenida Amsterdam and stop to gaze at La Fuente de la Glorieta Popocatépetl. The 1927 Art Deco fountain by José Gómez Echeverría is popularly known as the Bomba. The fountain consists of a dome supported by four white columns decorated with tiles. An aperture at the top allows sunlight to illuminate it, if only for a fleeting moment. 

Edificio San Martin in La Condesa, Mexico City

There are lots of Art Deco delights to discover while wandering around La Condesa, including Edificio San Martín.

As you wander this neighborhood, admire the Art Deco and Streamline Moderne doorways and façades of mansions and apartments that line the streets. The San Martin building, designed by Ernesto Ignacio Buenrosto, with its symmetrical entrance and canopy on Avenida México, perfectly characterizes the Art Deco style.

Wally’s all set for brunch at the cozy back patio at Frëims in La Condesa. He and Duke of course loved the mural.

2. Grab breakfast on Frëims’ charming back patio.

Fuel up for the day at one of our favorite spots in La Condesa, Frëims (Avenida Amsterdam 62B). The space occupies the renovated first floor of a former 1920s home reimagined as a bookstore, record shop and restaurant serving food and a variety of coffee drinks. 

We were seated at a table on the sun-dappled patio. While we were there, the gallery and garden wall mural featured a collaborative installation by Colombian artist Sofía Echeverri and Oaxacan illustrator Vero Anaya called The Origins of Knowledge. The artists describe their imaginative pieces as embodying the concept of “soróbora”: the juxtaposition of sorority, a society of women, and ouroboros, the snake that nurtures itself and symbolizes infinity by eating its own tail. 

Lemon pancakes at Freims restaurant

Lemon ricotta pancakes

Eggs Benedict at Freims restaurant

Eggs Benedict

I tried the lemon ricotta pancakes and Wally got his usual huevos benedictinos, paired with a coffee for me and a latte for Wally. We also ordered two Vecinos, a fresh-squeezed juice blend of pear, lime, cucumber and cardamom. 


Facade of Ojo de Agua in La Condesa, CDMX

ANOTHER BREAKFAST OPTION: Ojo de Agua in La Condesa


Dog park in Parque Mexico, Mexico CIty

A large section of Parque México is devoted to a dog park.

3. Take a walk in the park…Parque México, that is. 

Officially Parque San Martín, La Condesa’s large urban park was built on the former site of the elite Jockey Club de México — and everyone refers to it as Parque México now.  Built in 1927 the park is a favorite among families, dog walkers and skateboarders. 

Rollerbladers and others enjoying the Teatro al Aire Libre Coronel Lindbergh in Parque Mexico, Mexico City

This plaza, named for Charles Lindbergh, offers a space for dog walkers, children and rollerbladers to congregate.

Bougainvillea covering a pergola in Parque Mexico, CDMX

Bougainvillea covers the pergola that surrounds the open-air theater.

At the front of the park, there’s a communal space consisting of five pillars topped with a canopy and bordered by a pergola. The exterior walls are covered with graffiti and when we walked by, we watched a group of kids learning to rollerblade.

Fuente de los Cántaros in Parque Mexico in Mexico City

Nice jugs! El Fuente de los Cántaros (Fountain of the Pitchers) was modeled after Luz Jiménez, once the go-to model for indigenous Mexicans.

Standing serenely in front of the open-air Teatro al Aire Libre Coronel Lindbergh, named in honor of the American aviator, is a concrete figure of a nude woman holding a pair of jugs (literally). Known as Fuente de los Cántaros (Fountain of the Pitchers), it depicts Luz Jiménez, who modeled for its creator, José María Fernández Urbina, as well as Diego Rivera and Tina Modotti. She was considered the it girl archetype of the Mexican indigenous woman.

Clock tower fountain in Parque Mexico, CDMX

This clock tower with Art Deco ironwork, designed by Leonardo Noriega, has bells that chime to mark the hour.

Every visitor to Mexico City should spend some time in this colonia — if not use it as a base, as we did, staying in the delightful and chic Octavia Casa. –Duke

Catch the Bazar Sábado While You Can

The ephemeral San Ángel market in Mexico City is worth saving a Saturday for.

Paintings for sale outside at the Bazar Sábado

Handicrafts, artworks, pottery and other goodies are on sale at the Saturday Bazaar — one day a week only.

Unlike the village of Brigadoon, which rises out of the Scottish mist once every 100 years, the no-less-enchanting Bazar Sábado in the colonia (neighborhood) of San Ángel in Mexico City bursts into life every Saturday. An artisanal market rises and fills the hilly cobblestone streets, Plaza del Carmen and surrounding shops.

Originally, the colonia, located southwest of Centro, the city center, was a weekend retreat for Spanish nobles, who built their 19th century colonial-style homes here. 

The enchanting Bazar Sábado in San Ángel bursts into life every Saturday. The artisanal market fills the hilly cobblestone streets, plaza and surrounding shops.
Market stalls selling handicrafts at the Bazar Sábado

The handicraft portion of the bazaar lines the street.

Shopping in San Ángel, CDMX

A few of the shops, including Caracol Púrpura, have beautiful contemporary and traditional objects for sale but were too expensive for us. We wanted to take some pictures to write about their shop but they told us no photos when they saw us getting ready to take a few snaps. We managed to capture a few anyway — we are the Not So Innocents Abroad after all! 

Sign of the store Caracol Púrpura

A high-end shop in San Ángel

No photos allowed!

Catrinas for sale at Caracol Púrpura

Long and lean Catrinas

Man selling pressed tin artwork of the Virgin Mary at the Bazar Sábado

Pressed tin depictions of the Virgin Mary

Colorful woven garlands at the Bazar Sábado

Colorful garlands woven from palm leaves

Painted masks for sale at the Bazar Sábado

A fun selection of masks for sale

Marzipan fruit at el Bazar Sábado

These adorable tiny fruits are made of marzipan.

The next shop we entered was called Paskwarho. While Wally and I looked at a display of hand-painted dishware, we met Arturo, an expat and cofounder, who relocated from Chicago. I’m assuming that my Midwestern accent and Spanglish tipped him off. He kindly said to me that even after living in the country for many years he still doesn’t understand everything that’s said to him. 

We bought a papier-mâché skull rattle with an articulated jaw that was handmade by one of the women who works in the shop as well as a burnt orange and white casserole baking dish hand-painted in the capulineado style, a pointillist flower pattern named after the town where they’re made. 

Colorful howling wolf alebrije by stairs

A large howling wolf alebrije — fantastical Mexican folk art creatures

Día de Muertos tienda at the Bazar Sábado

A store devoted to Día de Muertos

Skeletons, skulls and catrinas for sale at the Bazar Sábado

Skeletons, skulls and marigolds

Artisans Galore

Outside are a multitude of tented stalls selling everything from handicrafts to jewelry to pottery and more. We purchased a couple of T-shirts and a change purse to keep our growing collection of coins.

The market can get crowded, but uttering a simple, apologetic, “Con permiso” goes a long way and will help you pass others politely. It’s like saying, “Excuse me” in English. 

People sitting below mural at el Bazar Sábado

A delightful mural in the building that houses part of the Bazar Sábado

The Bazar Sábado was founded in 1960 as the first of its kind before relocating to its current home in 1965 and contains hundreds of artists and an open-air interior courtyard with a restaurant. After taking our temperature and offering us hand sanitizer, we were permitted to enter. 

Courtyard restaurant with large tree at the Bazar Sábado

There’s a restaurant in the central courtyard, where women cook up meals on large griddles.

Sign that says "Bar" with monster drinking a margarita

Follow the sign.

Woman and man drinking at bar in the Bazar Sábado

And grab a drink at the small bar.

A devilishly cool sculpture hanging in one of the rooms adjoining the courtyard

We found a stand for Cervecería Monstruo de Agua, a Mexico City-based microbrewery offering a distinctive range of beers. They were one of my favorite discoveries on this visit. I had purchased a couple of bottles of Sugoi, a blonde ale brewed with agave, ginger and lemongrass at a small beer shop in La Condesa. I mean, who can resist a brand whose mascot is an axolotl, an amphibian with a long tail, six hornlike appendages and bulging eyes and whose name translates as “water monster” in Náhuatl? Not us! We ended up buying a small round glass with the creature embossed on it. 

Whimsical animal sculptures

Volcanic rock pottery at the Bazar Sábado

Molcajetes made of volcanic stone are a must for home-made guacamole.

We were delighted to discover Cerámica San Germán, a shop filled with traditional hand-painted ceramics and stoneware from the town of Tonalá. We purchased several bowls and a plate depicting the nahual, a jaguar-like cat with a smiling face. 

Also of note were the wares of Silva Dufour. I loved the colors and satin-finish glazes of their ceramic objects, which included scarab beetles and contemporary interpretations of traditional helmet masks. 

Artist working on a drawing outside at the Bazar Sábado

One of the artists at work

When we exited the bazaar, we brought the unfinished open bottles of Monstruo de Agua with us. An elderly local artist in the park, which is filled with painters selling their artworks, told us that it’s prohibited to drink alcohol outside. I’m not sure the police would have noticed, but we returned to the building to finish our beers. Better to err on the side of caution than to risk violating the law in another country. 

Men sitting on fountain in plaza of el Bazar Sábado

The plaza with this fountain is surrounded by artists selling paintings.

Luchadore masks for sale at Bazar Sábado

Which luchador mask would you choose?

Wally purchased a few desiccated Roses of Jericho (aka resurrection plants) from a street vendor as gifts for his coworkers, and we wandered down the hill into Happening, a store and gallery that carried cool clothes and objects from local artists and designers. While there I saw La Escalera, a bold graphic print by Boston-born, Mexico City-based artist Sophie Greenspan. Wally remarked that it reminded him of the modern architecture of Luis Barragán, which we had experienced earlier in the day on a tour with The Traveling Beetle. 

The impressive tiled cupolas of Nuestra Señora del Carmen are visible from the end of the thoroughfare — just a stone’s throw from the bustling market area. 

We’ll definitely return to San Ángel on our next trip to CDMX (we’re utterly smitten), especially for the basement crypt at the Templo y Museo del Carmen to see the mummified bodies of wealthy donors to the Carmelite order. And for a chance to view the embalmed severed hand of former Mexican President Álvaro Obregón in the basement of the WWI monument to him. Who knew such a charming neighborhood held such gruesome secrets? –Duke

 

El Bazar Sábado

Plaza San Jacinto 11
San Ángel
Álvaro Obregón
01000 Ciudad de México
CDMX
Mexico

Animal Symbolism in Pre-Columbian Pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

The meanings behind monkeys, jaguars, ducks, bats, dogs and other animals in Mesoamerican myths as depicted in pre-Columbian artifacts at the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City.

Coati sculptures of pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

A lot of the exhibits at the National Museum of Anthropology in CDMX depict animals — each of which held symbolic meaning for the ancient peoples of Mexico.

Something that’s always fascinated me about ancient cultures are the similarities in beliefs with other civilizations around the world. Despite being oceans apart, many shared highly developed civilizations and a deep reverence for the natural world. 

We saw this in action during our last visit to Mexico City, when we finally made it to the Museo Nacional de Antropología. The scale and scope of the galleries at the museum is dizzying. Wally and I don’t like to overdo it, so we spent half a day just wandering through the first floor. One of the highlights for me was the large number and variety of Mesoamerican animal-shaped effigy vessels on display. Like other ancient societies, the pre-Columbian peoples believed that certain animals embodied a spiritual energy in which sacred beings manifested themselves. 

Conquistadors developed such an appetite for Xoloitzcuintli Mexican hairless dogs that they nearly ate them into extinction. 

These ritual objects were not used in everyday life; they were often placed in tombs as burial goods. Animals played a key role at all levels of society and symbolically linked the three cosmic realms of the universe: the heavens, earth and underworld.

Stone Aztec calendar at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

Aztec cosmology posited that time is cyclical — and that we’re in the Fifth Sun, the final cycle of the world.

Here Comes the (Fifth) Sun

According to the Aztec legend of the Fifth Sun, time is cyclical. Four suns, or eras, have passed, created by a different deity and successively destroyed. Each cycle included inhabitants who died or transformed into various creatures, including monkeys, turkeys, dogs and fish. Our present world happens to be the Fifth Sun. 

Brightly colored feathers were used in religious ceremonies.

The pre-Columbian people used animals for a variety of purposes. Parrots and macaws, for example, provided a source of food as well as prized blue-green plumage used to adorn headdresses. However, animals also held great symbolic significance. They served as cultural and cosmic metaphors based on their habitat and natural features. 

Duck pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

Ducks were particularly holy to Mesoamericans, as they moved between three realms: water, the sky and land.

Just Ducky

Birds symbolized the celestial realm, the sun and moon in particular, and were considered messengers between the natural and spiritual worlds. 

Ducks were particularly holy, perhaps because they ticked all the boxes: They can fly, walk on land and dive underwater, possessing the ability to travel freely between these different spheres. 

Ducks and related birds were also associated with the wind god Ehécatl (pronounced “Eh-heh-ka-tul”), one of the avatars of Quetzacoatl, the great plumed serpent. The deity was frequently portrayed with a duckbill-like appendage on his face, which he used to summon the winds. 

The Maya considered bodies of water to be pathways to the Underworld. Ducks and other waterfowl were ritualistically sacrificed, eaten and used to ward off demons.

Coatimundi pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

This little guy represents a coatimundi, which figures in a Mayan myth that involved a decapitated head in the Underworld.

Coati Encounters of the First Kind

The coatimundi, or coati, are members of the raccoon family. They have distinct mask-like markings on their faces, resembling a combination of kinkajou, anteater, raccoon and bear cub. 

In the Popol Vuh, the sacred text of the Maya, a bat rips off the head of Hunahpu, one of the Hero Twins, and takes it to the ball court of Xibalbá (the Underworld) to be used in place of a rubber ball. A coati fashions a fake head from a calabash squash and places it on the shoulders of the headless hero. Hanapu’s brother Xbalanque places Hanapu’s head back on his shoulders, and the brothers succeed in defeating the Lords of Xibalbá.

Sitting monkey pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

Monkeys represented the good (luck and joy) and the bad (immorality).

Monkeys: Sacred Simians 

Spider and howler monkeys are the two most common species native to the tropical lowlands of Mexico. Playful and social in nature, these nimble primates live in the high forest canopy and are mankind’s closest living relative. They were symbols of good fortune and joy, as well as pleasure and immorality — the latter of which was punishable by death. Monkeys were domesticated and kept as pets by both Zapotec and Aztec nobility and weren’t used for food or sacrifice. 

Head of monkey pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

The “leftovers” of the Second Sun cycle of the universe were turned into jabbering monkeys.

Statue of Ehecatl the god of the wind at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

Ehecatl, the Aztec god of the wind, was associated with monkeys.

Monkeys were also associated with the Aztec wind god Ehécatl. According to the legend of the Fifth Sun, the disobedient survivors of the Second Sun, whose cataclysmic end included hurricanes and floods, were transformed into monkeys by Ehécatl. Deprived of the ability to speak, they were condemned to emit meaningless noises for the rest of their existence. 

Xoloitzcuintli dog pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

A person’s spirit would hold onto a Xoloitzcuintli dog’s tail to be guided through the Underworld.

Dogs Truly Are Man’s Best Friend

Before the Chihuahua became the most popular dog breed from Mexico, there was the hairless Xoloitzcuintli (pronounced “Show-low-eats-queent-lee”). This breed got its name from Xolotl, the god of lightning and death, and itzcuintli, dog. To the ancient Aztec and Maya, the canine was created by Xolotl to guard the living and guide the souls of the dead through the perils of Mictlán, the Underworld. Deceased souls held onto the dogs’ tails as they led their owners through the afterlife. They were also bred as a source of food — in fact, the conquistadors developed such an appetite for them that they nearly ate them into extinction. 

The most common depictions of Xoloitzcuintles take the form of small ceramic vessels known as Colima dogs for the modern state of Mexico where they are commonly found. More than a few of these red clay objects are depicted with chubby bodies — this may be an indication that they were fattened up to be eaten.

Frida Khalo and Diego Rivera owned a brood of Xolos, and Wally and I saw a few sunning themselves at el Museo Dolores Olmedo, which houses a large collection of works by this famous duo.

Grasshopper pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

Grasshoppers were associated with agriculture and fertility — but could also mean destruction.

The Grasshopper: the Insect That Sings for Its Supper

The name of Chapultepec Park, where the Museo Nacional de Antropología is located, comes from Náhuatl for “Hill of the Grasshopper.” This hill rises from the center of the park, was a sacred place for the Aztec and is where Chapultepec Castle stands. 

Grasshoppers were associated with agriculture and fertility and were associated with the period following the annual rainfall, which brought an abundance of the insects. 

In addition to their symbolic importance, the Aztec snacked on chapulines, cooking them on clay surfaces with spices. 

To the Mexica, they represented the duality of abundance vs. destruction: Drought triggers the solitary grasshopper to become social, changing color from green to yellow and black. Under such conditions, they move in swarms, devouring crops and vegetation.

Bat on bowl of pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

Bats were paired with the Underworld, which was accessible via the caves they live in.

Bats Out of Hell

Bats are nocturnal creatures that travel the sky by night and hide in caves by day, which Mesoamericans believed were portals to the Underworld. 

Bat pre-Columbian artifact at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

The stuck-out tongue on this bat statue hinted at the creature’s blood-sucking nature and connected it to the practice of human sacrifice.

The Zapotec venerated the god Camazotz, who had the head of a bat and was associated with night, death and sacrifice. Most likely due to the sanguinary diet of the vampire bat, native to most regions of Mexico, where it feeds on the blood of mammals, the creature became associated with rites of bloodletting and human sacrifice practiced to honor the gods and secure bountiful harvests. 

Jaguar pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

A common symbol in ancient Mesoamerica, the jaguar was linked to power and protection from evil.

Jaguars Hit the Spot(s)

The jaguar was one of the most important sacred symbols of power, ferocity and protection from evil. According to Mexica lore, a jaguar and an eagle both sacrificed themselves to bring light to the world, and in doing so became gods. 

Jaguars were believed to have the ability to travel between the worlds.

Laying jaguar pre-Columbian pottery at the Museo Nacional de Antropología

The Maya connected the jaguar’s spots with heavenly lights.

The jaguar is closely associated with the “night sun” (the sun during its nightly trip through the Underworld) and darkness as well. As such, the big cat was thought to have the ability to move between the worlds of the living and the dead. The Maya venerated the feline, seeing heavenly lights in its spots. –Duke



Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

A tour of this Colonial Baroque Catholic church built for the Discalced Carmelites in one of CDMX’s most charming neighborhoods.

Man in front of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

Wally’s a bit obsessed with the domes of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel in Mexico City.

Those domes! Those wondrous brightly tiled domes! I didn’t want to stop looking at them. There was something captivating about their faded glory. 

We spotted them in our Uber en route to el Bazaar Sábado, the Saturday Market in the charming CDMX colonia (neighborhood) of San Ángel. 

Nuestra Señora del Carmen was built for the strangely named order of Discalced Carmelites (known colloquially as Barefoot Carmelites for their tendency to forgo footwear). 
Saint in niche at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Saint with child in niche at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Interior of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

The church was founded for the order of Discalced Carmelites (aka the Barefoot Carmelites).

So, after we finished shopping at the market (and being told we couldn’t drink our beers while walking through the square outside), Duke and I knew we had to explore the church at the base of the hill. And thankfully, unlike in the States, we’ve found churches in Mexico to be unlocked any time we’ve wanted to go in. 

Exterior of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

The church is designed in the Baroque Colonial style — with a plain façade and an ornate gilded altarpiece.

The Discalced Carmelites: Barefoot but Not Pregnant 

Design and construction of Nuestra Señora del Carmen was overseen by Fray Andrés de San Miguel between 1615 and 1626 for the strangely named order of Discalced Carmelites (known colloquially as Barefoot Carmelites for their tendency to forgo footwear). The order was established in 1562 by Saint Teresa of Avila, an epileptic Roman Catholic nun. 

The Barefoot Carmelite nuns stayed in their cloisters, “above all to lead a life of unceasing prayer in silence and solitude,” according to their official website

Gate of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

There’s more to the Carmen Complex than the church — including mummies!

El Carmen Complex

We weren’t able to wander the entire grounds, which includes a former convent and monastery that’s now a museum (complete with mummies!). 

The property extended quite far, and the scenic orchards are part of what attracted the aristocracy to make the neighborhood its home — giving birth to the colonia of San Ángel. 

The complex was taken over by the government after the War of Reform, which was fought between the Liberals and Conservatives from 1857 and 1860. The lefties won and subsequently greatly diminished the power of the Catholic Church, stripping it of most of its property. The local school was shut down and was used by the town council. Parts of the Carmelite grounds became a prison and barracks. 

The church, also known as the Templo del Carmen de San Ángel, is in the Colonial Baroque style — somehow austere in parts, such as the façade, and yet over-the-top ornate in others (that altarpiece!). 

Altarpiece at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

The Baroque movement was all about drama — rounded edges and shimmering gold create a dizzying effect.

We spent some time exploring the church and all of its offshoot chapels, trying to be respectful of those praying within. Heavens knows we’ll be back to admire those beautiful domes — and to see the creepy mummies, of course. –Wally

Cherub at altar in Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Cherub in Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Interior of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Ceiling at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Ceiling at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Ceiling at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Angel statue at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Infant of Prague
Statue of Jesus carrying the cross at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Chapel with San Clemente Flavio in Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Side chapel at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Painting of saint in Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Painting of Christ on the cross in Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Side chapel at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Crucifix and pews in Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Exterior archway at Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City
Man on tiled staircase at el Carmen Complex in CDMX

Nuestra Señora del Carmen (Templo del Carmen de San Ángel)

Avenida Revolución s/n
San Ángel
Álvaro Obregón
01000 Ciudad de México
CDMX
México

 

Death Cults of Ancient Mexico

The post-death rituals of the pre-Hispanic peoples of Mexico involved human sacrifices, dog sacrifices — lots of sacrifices.

The pre-Hispanic people of Mexico often left a token in a corpse’s mouth to help the spirit on its journey through the underworld.

Our current death rituals are typically one of two extremes: We either pump a corpse full of chemicals in an effort to preserve it — or we burn it to a crisp. 

The pre-Hispanic peoples of Mexico went to their own extremes when it came to the cult of death, often involving sacrifice of some sort. 

Death goddess at the Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City

Known as the Lady of the Dead, Mictecacihuatl was the Aztec goddess of death, who ruled the underworld.

Here are some interesting facts about their death rites, which we learned while exploring the amazing Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City — currently my favorite museum in the world. 

A xoloitzcuintli Mexican hairless dog was sacrificed when someone died in the belief that it would serve as a spirit guide.

The death rites of pre-Hispanic peoples involved an elaborate spiritual journey that began with the killing of a dog.

When someone died in pre-Hispanic Mexico, a 40-day death ritual kicked off with the sacrifice of a xoloitzcuintli dog. The corpse was dressed in fine clothes, if their family could afford it. Otherwise, simple mats would do. A jade bead (or blue-painted pebble) was placed in the body’s mouth.

The person’s soul began a journey through the darkness of the nine planes beneath the earth. The skin was shed and dangers faced, including savage beasts that could only be appeased by being given the bead or pebble, which represented the person’s heart. 

As the spirit traversed this sinister landscape, family members would help them on their way by abstaining from sex and certain foods.

Eventually, the soul reached the Chignahuapan, the river at the border of the ninth plane. Waiting patiently, and probably wagging its tail, was the little doggie, who would lead the way across the water, into Mictlan, the dark and cold place of no return. 

Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent at the Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City

A reconstruction of the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent at the Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City. The original was the site of mass human sacrifices.

Excavations at a major temple in Teotihuacán revealed human sacrifices.

In Teotihuacán, within the confines of its religious and political centerpiece, the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent (Pirámide de la Serpiente Enplumada), evidence of mass human sacrifice has been unearthed. Built from 150 to 200 BCE, the temple houses the remains of numerous sacrificial victims dressed as warriors. The symmetrical pattern of the bodies reveals that they were connected to the culture’s cosmology and calendar.

Stone carving of skull at the Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City

This disc from the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacán represents the death of the sun.

It was an honor to be sacrificed to the god of war and darkness.

Tezcatlipoca (“the Obsidian Mirror”) helped create the universe and, as the Mexica god of war and darkness, held dominion over those activities that often took place at night, including theft and adultery. Not surprisingly, the color black was associated with him. Tezcatlipoca was also the god of masculinity and procreation. 

Every year, an unmarried man under the age of 20 was chosen to represent him as a living god. He was dressed up like the deity and lived large — until, that is, the fifth month of the year, when he was sacrificed.

Statue of goddess at Museo Nacional de Anthropología in Mexico City

Coatilcue, the goddess of the earth, had a head made of two serpents and liked to wear a necklace of severed human hands and hearts.

People were shot to death with arrows in a fertility rite.

Ancient peoples did many unusual things to ensure the fertility of their crops, and the residents of Mexico were no different. Tlazolteotl, the Aztec goddess of purification, lust and vice, liked people to be shot full of arrows in the fields. The sacrificial person’s blood fell to the earth to ensure fertilization and to thank the goddess for her bounty. –Wally

Masala y Maíz: One of the Best Restaurants in Mexico City

A delectable mix of South Asian, East African and Mexican cuisines are served up with natural wines at a chic spot in CDMX’s hottest hood.

Masala y Maíz green kitchen

One section of the kitchen is visible right when you enter the restaurant.

There are places that can be epitomized by the creative energy behind them or the emotions they stir. Masala y Maíz is one of those places. Even before Wally and I ate there, I highly suspected it was going to be a place we’d love. I first read about the restaurant in the Monocle Travel Guide to Mexico City and found myself swiping through their feed on Instagram not long after. 

Small table in front of Masala y Maíz

Masala y Maíz ended up serving the best meal we had during our trip to Mexico City.

Masala y Maíz: Where South Asian and East African Cuisine Meet Mexico

Norma Listman and Saqib Keval are the husband-and-wife team behind Masala y Maíz. While the restaurant has now established itself, opening was no small feat. 

In September 2017, the couple set up shop in San Miguel Chapultepec, but an earthquake epicentered in nearby Puebla had other plans. A 7.5-magnitude quake shook Mexico City and postponed the opening. Six months later, the restaurant was shut down after Listman and Keval refused to pay a mórbida, a bribe to support corrupt government officials. Undeterred, the resourceful duo spent months drifting from one venue to another as a pop-up, while obtaining the necessary licenses and paperwork before being allowed to reopen. 

A bit of a revolution is happening at Masala y Maíz.

The owners, Listman and Keval, want to dismantle the culture of abuse and sexism that exists in the food industry.

The “masala” part of the name refers to the variety of South Asian spice blends and relates to Keval, the American-born son of East African immigrants who trace their ancestry to Kutch, India. 

Tables and  interior at Masala y Mais restaurant

The simple interior at Masala y Maíz lets the culinary creations be the stars of the show.

Listman was born in Texcoco, Mexico, and her interest in cooking started when she was young, growing up surrounded by food and home cooks. This is where “maíz” comes in. Spanish for corn, maíz is one of the building blocks of Mexican cuisine and a source of constant culinary inspiration for Listman — it’s a key component in many of her dishes. 

Man and little girl dressed as clowns in Juarez, Mexico City

Send in the clowns! A view from our table at Masala y Maíz in Colonia Juárez

The pair met in San Francisco while honing their skills in the Bay Area and share a passion for their respective ancestors’ culinary legacy — specifically the histories, traditions and interconnections between South Asia, East Africa and Mexico. Just don’t call it “fusion” — for some reason, they hate that word.

Listman and Keval take cues from the mestizaje, the diaspora and gradual mixing of cultural groups in Mexican history due to colonization. This mélange is part of what makes Masala y Maíz so special. 

The restaurant is located in the Colonia Juárez neighborhood of Mexico City, which a local at a coffeeshop described to us as “the new Roma.”

Man in front of street art posters of dogs

Duke pausing in from of fun street art while wandering the Juárez neighborhood before our meal

After we had arrived for our lunch reservation (note that they’re only open from noon to 6 p.m.), we struck up a conversation with our server, Ariel, who asked whose birthday it was and where we were visiting from. (I had pre-booked a reservation and was able to let them know there was indeed a special occasion: my birthday.) When we told Ariel we live in Chicago, he told us that he was familiar with the city, having gone to college there and survived the brutal winter. Wally and I laughed in understanding — we often need to escape the months-long bitingly cold weather. 

Two men in restaurant booth

Wally and Duke cheers to a fab meal at Masala y Maíz.

On to the Main Course(s)

First up were the encruditos, which perfectly highlight Listman and Keval’s culinary philosophy: These thick rounds of pickled corn and cassava chips are served with a wedge of chili-dusted lime whose brightness complemented the dish. 

Pickled corn and cassava chips at Masala y Maíz

The pickled corn and cassava chips

This was followed by the samosas de suadero. Two were filled with mouthwatering slow-cooked brisket, the other potato, and dressed generously with cilantro. Wally and I can never say no to savory little golden pockets, and these were served with a chutney verde, which added a welcome kick. 

Samosas at Masala y Maíz

Be sure to share the samosas de suadero — two are filled with potato, two with brisket.

Next, was the infladita chaat, served on a banana leaf. The flaky puffed chaat was almost too pretty to smash. But that’s exactly what we did, following Ariel’s direction. Made with masa, it was garnished with fennel fronds and mint. The pocket was packed with bold pops of flavor and texture: carrots, jicama, pepitas, beets and minced pickled green mango. 

Chaat at Masala y Maíz

BEFORE: The infladita chaat looking pretty

Smashed chaat at Masala y Maíz

AFTER: Our server told us to smash it — so we did!

Then came the camarones pa’pelar: seared chile-rubbed peel-and-eat jumbo shrimp sitting atop a contrasting bed of cool, thinly sliced beets. These were accompanied by a maroon-colored dipping sauce that yielded a complex and unusual flavor, which I can only describe as something Alice might have eaten in Wonderland. Vanilla and ghee are your first taste, which gives way to a spicy finish of smoky dried morita chiles. 

Jumbo sprimp at Masala y Maíz

Chile-rubbed jumbo shrimp and beets

Next up: matoke mixiote, banana-stuffed clams steamed in parchment-like maguey leaf membrane and simmered in a flavorful broth of turmeric, coconut milk and tomato masala served with freshly baked paratha, a type of Indian flatbread. 

Clams at Masala y Maíz

Matoke mixiote, banana-stuffed steamed clams

Wally ordered a Parasol, a subtly flavored sparkling water — but didn’t like it and ended up stealing my housemade tepache, a spiced beverage made from the fermented peel and rind of pineapples, sweetened with piloncillo, unrefined pure cane sugar. 

The restaurant also offers a selection of natural wines by some of Mexico’s finest vintners. We ended our meal with a celebratory glass of Radical, a funky organic red. Ariel shared the interesting story of its vintner, Silvana Pijoan. Her vineyard is located in Valle de Guadalupe, Baja, California. Pijoan was a trained professional dancer, but in 2017 decided to pursue her winemaking passion. 

Wine glasses and napkins on table at Masala y Maíz

Be sure to try some natural wines during your meal — they’re all the rage.

Masala y Maíz’s interior is intimate and refined and features barrel-vaulted ceilings. I was obsessed with the display of cookbooks lined up neatly on a shelf and the candy-colored glazed terracotta plates and cazuelas our food was served in.

Woman working at Masala y Maíz

The owners of Masala y Maíz want to break free of the sexism and poor treatment of workers that infuses the restaurant industry.

Shaking Up the System

A bit of a revolution is happening at Masala y Maíz. Listman and Keval are fostering a vibrant community, dismantling the brutal culture of abuse and sexism that exists in the food industry. I have nothing but admiration for their mantra, “A construir la comunidad en la que queremos vivir” — to build the community we want to live in. This core belief ensures that all parts of their restaurant meet fair and equitable work conditions. From the local farmers they source from to the team employed at the restaurant, everyone involved is treated fairly, with the dignity and respect they deserve. 

End of meal plates at Masala y Maíz

The remains of our delicious meal at Masala y Maíz. We’ll be back for more next time we visit CDMX!

Wally and I are always drawn to chefs who offer surprises for the palette. Masala y Maíz checked every box: delicious food full of unexpected, utterly unique flavors, great service, a pleasing atmosphere and a business philosophy we can get behind. –Duke

Masala y Maíz is open from noon to 6 p.m. — in large part so its staff doesn’t have to work late hours.

Masala y Maíz

Calle Marsella 72
Juárez
Cuauhtémoc
06600 Juárez
CDMX
Mexico

 

Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela: One-Stop Shopping in CDMX

The best market in Mexico City is filled with folk art and handicrafts from all around Mexico.  

brightly colored alebrije fantasy animals

A selection of fantastical alebrijes on sale at La Ciudadela

Mexico City has no shortage of markets. There’s the Saturday art market along the adorable cobblestone streets on the hills of San Ángel. There’s La Lagunilla, the Sunday antiques market. There’s also the Mercado Sonora, with a witch market tucked into a back corner, and the vibrant, two-story Mercado Coyoacán. And market stalls pop up all over the city, including in the Plaza de la Republica at the entrance to the Monumento de la Revolución

Papier-mache devils at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Papier-mâché devils hanging around the mercado

¡Mucha lucha! A luchadore-themed shop at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Religious artifacts at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Religious artifacts on sale at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

But if you’re into folk art, handicrafts and arte popular, as Duke and I are, the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela is a dream come true. It’s so massive you couldn’t even hope to cover it all on one visit. We’ve been there on both visits to CDMX — and will make it a stop every time we go back. 

If I’m being perfectly honest, Duke and I have a problem. We just love traditional handicrafts so much we can’t help but bring home half a suitcase full of goodies. As you can imagine, our home is practically overflowing with these souvenirs of our world travels. 

Nuns shopping at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

A nun is amazed at the selection of folk art on sale at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

Pre-Columbian style clay statues at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

We bought a few things at this stall with clay artworks in the pre-Columbian style.

Puppets and other handicrafts at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Puppets and other arte popular fill every stall at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

Mexican Trees of Life at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Mexican Trees of Life at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Folk art for sale at a shop in Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

A typical shop at La Ciudadela

Fonda Carmelita at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Break up your shopping — and grab a margarita — at the cantina in the market.

Tips for Shopping at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

When you enter, the main part of the market is to your right — but don’t miss the smaller section off to the left as well. 

The stalls offer handicrafts from various regions all over Mexico: alebrijes, brightly painted wooden fantastical creatures from Oaxaca; colorful Otomi textiles, including hand-embroidered pillow covers and tablecloths depicting animals, flowers and plants; clay sculptures that surpass those sold at the Museo Nacional de Antropología gift shop with many in the pre-Columbian style. 

Market stall at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

There are handicrafts for sale from all over Mexico at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

At La Ciudadela, prices are set — but it doesn’t hurt to ask for a bit of a discount if you’re buying multiple items from one vendor. 

People dining at Fonda Carmelita

We always eat lunch at Fonda Carmelita, the cantina in the middle of the market.

There’s a cantina in the middle of the market called Fonda Carmelita, where we always stop to get a bite of traditional Mexican fare — and a couple of margaritas, por supuesto. The first time we were here, Duke went to the back to use the baño and returned to the table, reporting that our frozen margs were being whipped up in a blender by an 8-year-old boy. 

The cantina will always be a welcome resting spot for us to recharge and discuss the stalls we want to revisit after lunch. Apparently, the loud-talking German-speaking tourist at a neighboring table didn’t get the memo that smoking indoors has been banned in CDMX since 2008. He lit up a cigar after his meal, which was our cue that it was time to ask for la cuenta and get back to shopping. 

Food stall in front of Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Right out front of the market, a couple of women whip up tacos with homemade blue corn tortillas.

Exploring the Neighborhood

On the sidewalk outside the market, small vendors set up. The first time we came, we stopped to buy veggie tacos — and were obsessed with watching one of the women make homemade blue corn tortillas on a large metal drum right before our eyes. 

And on our most recent visit, a quirky used record stand had popped up. 

One of the best traditions of Mexico City: open-air dancing in the parks

After a half-day of shopping, the tote bags we had brought with us stuffed full of amazing finds (some for gifts, most for us), we explored the park across the street, Parque de la Ciudadela. We’re familiar enough with CDMX traditions now not to be surprised to see couples dancing in the open air. These people are doing life right. –Wally

Wall reading, "Artesanias Ciudadela"

Our fave spot to shop in CDMX

A mural on the wall in front of the mercado

Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

When you see this, you know you’re in for a shopping extravaganza!

Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Balderas S/N
Colonia Centro
Cuauhtémoc
06040 Cuauhtémoc
CDMX
Mexico

 

Paseo de los Gigantes and the Plaza del Bebedero

Parque Los Bebederos once hosted fashionable events, which the modern architect Luis Barragán would use as a sales pitch to entice homebuyers to the Mexico City suburb of Las Arboledas. 

Two men among trees at Parque Los Bebederos

Our guide, Martín, with Duke, got us to appreciate even this park, showcasing works by Barragán that have fallen into disrepair.

Paseo de los Gigantes. Promenade of the Giants. An evocative name — but when you visit, you might wonder where these mythical monstrosities can be found. 

Stop and look around this green space outside of Mexico City. The answer is right in front of your eyes. See the tunnel of majestic, gnarled bark eucalyptus trees? Those are the giants for which the park is named.  

Eucalyptus tree at Los Gigantes

A massive, gnarled eucalyptus tree — one of the namesake “giants” of this linear park

It was our last stop on our half-day tour of Luis Barragán’s suburban designs: Torres de Satélite, Fuente de los Amantes and the amazing Cuadra San Cristóbal

Barragán was fond of designing paseos. These long, thin green spaces now act as medians dividing grand boulevards, but they were once country paths used for horseback riding.  

For this is horse country, a suburban enclave for equestrian aficionados northwest of CDMX. In fact, the main purpose of this particular linear park was to generate interest in the local community of Las Arboledas. Los Gigantes was a social hotspot, offering stands to view races at the horse track that once stood here. (Nothing remains, sadly — all you can see now are homes. It would have been cool if they had incorporated the track to shape the neighborhood like they did in La Condesa with Avenida Amsterdam.)

These narrow parks, set along medians, followed old country roads once used for horse riding.

Old viewing stands at Los Gigantes

The faded red viewing stands were used for social events to watch horses gallop around a no-longer-existent racetrack.

Barragán held events in Los Gigantes, though little evidence of its fashionable past remains. The park is but a shadow of its former glory. 

As with Frank Lloyd Wright, some of Barragán’s designs might have looked impressive but just don’t stand the test of time. A fountain here with a bright tangerine-colored backdrop lacked a proper foundation (not to mention was a colossal waste of city water), and the basin has been drained. 

While we gazed upon it, a guy on a BMX bike kept riding through the empty fountain, treating it as a ramp to practice his tricks and jumps. 

Orange drained fountain at Los Gigantes

Barragán’s orange fountain at Los Gigantes is now drained. Its foundation was sinking — and it used quite a bit of city water.

The red concrete viewing stands look outward, away from the park, once facing the horse track. Tucked behind a wall, there used to be a bar where people would get refreshments to enjoy the show, our guide, Martín, told us.

“I wish it was still a bar,” I muttered. 

Large tree and red concrete stands at Los Gigantes

The red structure in the background once housed a bar for fancy cocktail parties Barragán would host to lure rich horse enthusiasts to buy land in the local development.

All this spectacle was designed to attract the CDMX élite. “Barragán was clever,” Martín continued. “In essence, he was saying, ‘This prestigious life could be yours. You can raise your kids here. Why don’t you buy a piece of land?’”

Barragán grew up with horses and was passionate about the equestrian lifestyle — but he was also, one imagines, well paid to promote the area. 

White and blue walls at Parque Los Bebederos

The blue wall marks the end of the park.

Plaza del Bebedero

Continuing along in the park, we came to the Plaza y Fuente del Bebedero (Plaza and Fountain of the Trough. The long, thin rectangular horse trough, like the other fountain, is now empty. 

The trough is considered the centerpiece of the green space — in fact, the area is sometimes called Parque Los Bebederos (although there’s only one).

Fuente del Bebedero

The Fuente del Bebedero (Fountain of the Trough) used to be a watering hole for horses but is now empty.

A white wall nearby acts as one of the canvases for the play of shadows that’s a Barragán trademark.

White wall by Barragán at Parque Los Bebederos

A white wall in Parque Los Bebederos was one of Barragán’s famous screens for the play of shadows.

And closing off the space is an indigo wall. “It’s the perfect device to separate the park from the city,” Martín said. He’s a huge fan of Barragán — and now we are, too. 

blue wall in Plaza del Bebedero

The blue wall in Plaza del Bebedero seen from another angle

Old orange storage building at Los Bebederos

The orange building is administrative and was where Barragán stored the supplies for the parties held in Parque Los Bebederos.

Wandering through Los Bebederos, which has changed so drastically since its heyday, I couldn’t help but wish we had been able to experience the Promenade of the Giants when it was a big deal — sipping a cocktail while cheering on the horses racing around the track. –Wally

 

Parque Los Bebederos (Los Bebederos Park)

Avenida Paseo de los Gigantes
Las Arboledas
52950 Cuidad López Mateos
México