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Exploring Cuernavaca, "City of Eternal Spring"

Chapel of the Tercera Orden


One of the places I'd been hoping to visit one day was Cuernavaca, a city 85 kms (53 miles) south of Mexico City, so when I heard Lynda Martinez was organising a trip there, I signed up straightaway. A comment of hers got me raring to go: "You are going to go crazy with your camera there!" And that's exactly what happened.... I'll let my photos tell the story of our day out.

We drove to Cuernavaca along the excellent D-95 highway, passing lots of wooded areas. The original name of the city in Nahuatl was Cuauhnáhuac (which looks a mouthful but is more or less pronounced "Kwownáwac") meaning "surrounded by or close to trees", but since the Spanish conquistadores couldn't pronounce it, they named the city Cuernavaca. The volcano Popocatépetl lies quite close too.

At this point, we passed into the State of Morelos. Cuernavaca is the capital and largest city of Morelos and now has a population of more than 600,000.

A sign seen as we came down into the city. This place is famous for its Revolutionary fighters, especially Emiliano Zapata who was born in Morelos, but was also where the Aztec Emperors and Spanish rulers had their summer palaces. Wealthy residents of Mexico City built mansions here due to the pleasant climate. Today many foreigners come here to learn Spanish.

Our first stop was at the fortified Palacio de Cortés, built by the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés in 1526 on the site of a former Aztec pyramid, to be used as his residence and administrative offices. It is the oldest civil building still standing in New Spain, with battlements and thick walls. Apparently it has also been a warehouse, a prison, military barracks and a State Government Palace. Today it is a museum recounting the history of the Sate of Morelos and Mexico.

Lynda giving us a few explanations before we went in. It was a beautiful sunny day and there were very few people around.

Arches at the back and front of the museum give wonderful views of the surrounding city.

Some of the pre-Hispanic exhibits

When the Spanish arrived in Mexico, among other animals, they brought the horse.

In the inner courtyard you can see some of the pre-Hispanic remains

An Aztec codex with the names of different towns and villages using symbols.

View of Cuernavaca Cathedral from the museum

The Palacio de Cortés also has some interesting murals painted by Diego Rivera which narrate the history of the Conquest and the Revolution.

Section of the mural - on the left you can see the sugar cane production at the haciendas, set up by the Spanish.

Looking down over the square outside. As it was mid-week, it was very quiet. Weekends are particularly busy when many people come from Mexico City to enjoy clear skies and a smaller city!

Our coffee stop where Lynda began to tell us a bit of background information about the next place we were about to visit.

As we walked to the next place, we saw colourful buildings and trees everywhere.

A peppermint green building

With its sunny tropical climate, Cuernavaca is famous for its luxuriant vegetation and flora.

Our second visit was to the Robert Brady Museum, a real feast for the eyes!

Robert Brady was an American artist from Iowa, who settled here in Cuernavaca in 1962. He spent his life collecting art and other artifacts from all around the world and when he died in 1986, he bequeathed his house to the city as long as they didn't change anything.

The entrance to the museum-house, Casa de la Torre, left exactly as when Brady lived in it.

The colours, decoration and collections are exquisite... you can tell he was an artist!

The house and its grounds were originally part of the Franciscan monastery and back onto the walled Cathedral.

Lynda, our guide, in pink and the other five girls on the tour

A tastefully-decorated sitting room

Brady had bright cushions everywhere in the house

One of his collections of masks

The beautiful garden and pool

A shady porch area seen from the dining room

The bright cheerful kitchen

Brady's bedroom

A yellow-coloured sitting room with an original painting by Frida Kahlo on the walls

The so-called "Oriental Room" for guests

A group picture outside in the gardens

View of the street outside with brightly coloured buildings

We passed a school where there were lots of vendors waiting to sell food to the children when they came out

A big red building opposite the Cathedral

Our third visit was to Cuernava's Cathedral complex, a fortified walled compound enclosing the main Cathedral and three other chapels, one at each corner. In the middle of the atrium are beautiful gardens and shady walkways.

Sign which reads: "Cathedral of Cuernavaca. Founded by Franciscan monks in the 16th Century. Begun in 1529. Finished in 1552. Named "La Asunción de Maria". The frescos on the side walls of the nave depict the martyrdom of the Mexican saint Philip of Jesus. It became the Cathedral Of Cuernavaca in 1891."

Beautiful flowering trees in the gardens

The Cathedral, once the Monastery of La Asunción, was the fifth monastery/church in New Spain. It was built by Hernán Cortés to double up as a fortress.

Getting some interesting perspectives!

Lynda telling our group about the Cathedral at the bottom of the tower

An unusual feature is the "Open Chapel" or Capilla Abierta, one of the oldest parts, where they could say mass for hundreds of natives who were accustomed to worshipping outdoors, never inside.

The enormous buttresses of the "Open Chapel"

The top part of the tower was rebuilt after being toppled by an earthquake in 1882.

One of the wooden doors

The interior of the Cathedral underwent several restoration and renovation processes

Frescos along the side walls, discovered during the renovation work in the 1960s, depicting the martyrdom of St Philip of Jesus in Japan.

Learning about the history of this Cathedral

Looking out towards the gardens

The interior is now fairly modern

More frescos on the other side wall

The pink and white façade of the Chapel of the Tercera Orden, standing inside the walled compound

Side view of the chapel, with its concave façade, built in 1694.

Detail of the figures on the façade

The very ornate gold altar, quite a surprise for such a small chapel

A quiet place for explanations

Another chapel, the Chapel of Santa Cruz, with a different architectural style, also in the grounds

We had a quick look around the rather bare inside.

Looking out towards the Chapel of the Tercera Orden standing opposite this chapel and right next to the main entrance,

More church buildings can be seen up the street

There are many gardens in the City of Eternal Spring, nickname given to Cuernavaca by Alexander von Humboldt, the German explorer and naturalist in the 19th Century.

Heading back towards Mexico City, along the pine-forested highway.

We went past lots of fields with hay drying in the sun

The open skies are much clearer here, something missing from DF - a picturesque way to end our very interesting tour.

Now I'm looking forward to the next trip to Cuernavaca to discover a bit more about this city and visit its markets!

Posted by margaretm 04:04 Archived in Mexico Tagged churches museums history mexico trips colours colonial cuernavaca pre-hispanic Comments (1)

The rustle of autumn



Autumn has arrived in Mexico City. You can see it, hear it, smell it. The Master Artist has got out his palette again, like every year, and has started adding touches of gold and copper and, in places, a few brushstrokes of fiery red to the normally homogenous green foliage. The dull concrete pavements have become mosaics, with leaf-patterned carpets.

Early Saturday morning I clearly saw otoño, heard it, smelled it, felt it as I cycled through the woods in Chapultepec. Russet-coloured carpets had been rolled out under the trees. Park benches sat ankle deep in drifts of fallen leaves. One by one, or in twos and threes, tired leaves tumbled and twirled silently down from above me, unable to cling to the branches any longer. It felt like an autumnal snowfall, with leaves instead of flakes. They joined the crisp, crinkly rug under my wheels, producing a crackling soundtrack to my ride. Small squirrels scampered around collecting nuts and berries, just in case no-one feeds them this winter, highly improbable with the sheer number of visitors to the park, but they don't know that. Autumn fruit dangled and gleamed on trees and bushes, shiny blue and red. I half expected to smell wood fires and roast chestnuts. Yes, autumn is here.

Carpets of leaves

Autumn colours

Benches ankle deep in leaves

Bright-coloured leaves

A squirrel out foraging for food

Red berries

Early morning by one of the lakes in Chapultepec Park

Boat on the lake

Reflection of trees and rocks in lake

A squirrel with a nut in its mouth

Dark blue berries

Cycling through rustling leaves

There's a crisp chill in the early mornings that wasn't there before. My breath emerges like a whitened ghost, or maybe it's Jack Frost who's been in hiding since last year. As I cycle through the clumps of trees, my eye is drawn to the sight of a few golden leaves still dangling from almost bare branches. They catch a ray of sunlight and look like tear-shaped drops of amber, about to drip down on the ground. The needles on the huge ahuehuetes or Montezuma cypresses, whose crowns disappear far above me, are changing colour before my eyes. It's a lovely time to be out, enjoying nature's display in the heart of this city. I'm grateful that even chilangos, residents of Mexico City, can appreciate the changing seasons around them.

Yellow foliage

Autumn reds

One of the lakes in Chapultepec Park

Reflection of tree in water

Coloured needles of the Montezuma cypress

Brushstrokes of fiery red

Cycling in Chapultepec Park

Elsewhere, the sound of pavements being swept accompanies autumnal days. Swish, swish, swish. Some streets are swept clean, probably several times a day. The leaves barely get a chance to land when they are whisked off and packed down in bags. In other streets, drifts of dry leaves clog up under cars and crumble when you walk over them on the paving. A good autumnal wind is rare but the other day, it blew and dumped centimetres of crispy hojas secas everywhere. A downpour stripped the trees a little more. Now in the mornings woolly hats and gloves are sometimes seen. Although it warms up during the day, this city sprawls in a high-altitude basin and early morning hours at 2300 m (7500 ft) can be chilly. Ten days ago, temperatures sunk to 2 °C (36 °F).

Pavement covered in leaves

Crinkly, dry leaves

Morning light turns leaves bright red

Dry flower head

Yes, autumn is definitely here. The Mexican pear tree in our back garden is beginning its transformation from green to bright red and orange and the street outside is carpeted with weary leaves. Even Mexico City gets a colourful face-lift for a few short weeks.

Leaves on our pear tree turning bright red

Posted by margaretm 05:57 Archived in Mexico Tagged nature autumn colours mexico_city squirrels chapultepec_park Comments (0)

Trying to understand Mexico's Dia de Muertos (Part 2)




This year, I felt more relaxed about Día de Muertos. Those unnerving grinning skeleton figures or calacas didn't seem so ghoulsome. I was obviously getting a bit more used to seeing them around. Since they were springing up all around the city, in all places, from shopping centres, shops, museums, even restaurants, there was no way I was going to be able to avoid them.

At the end of October, I was wandering around the Centro Histórico when I was beckoned by one of these laughing calacas to enter through an enormous doorway. Curiosity got the best of me and I summoned up courage, having just seen a family with small kids go in. I mean, it couldn't be too horrific if they were taking their tiny offspring in there, could it? I crossed the threshold and found myself in the innards of an old colonial building where I stumbled on a Tianguis de Día de Muertos, a kind of craft fair selling all kinds of items related to the Day of the Dead. The smell of incense clogged the air and colourful tissue-paper decorations fluttered overhead between the stands where skulls (calaveras or calaveritas), joss sticks, catrina figures, candles, papel picado decorations, skeletons and sweets were being made by craftsmen and on sale. All around me were families with young children picking out their calaveritas and other things for the festival. The scene seemed a bit surreal. The stands looked like something you would find in a Mexican Camden Town but the family atmosphere didn't quite fit. On stage in the central courtyard, were three actors and musicians giving a show about life and death. As I emerged into the bright sunlight again, a small tot was bawling out her eyes as her parents were trying to persuade her to touch the skeleton at the door. I was glad to see I wasn't the only one who was reluctant to do so.

A not-so-spooky welcome to the Tianguis de Día de Muertos

Stands at the craft fair

Comical mariachi band and skulls for sale

An outing for all the family

A little further down the road, in a street where the church leans disturbingly sideways, visibly sinking down into the soft ground of the former lakebed, I came across an ofrenda set up in honour of "Cantinflas", Mexico's most famous comedian who was born 100 years ago. With heaps of orangey-gold marigold decorations, candles and comical skeletons, it was proving most fascinating to the two small boys holding their mum's hands. My mind boggled at the sheer number of craniums and calacas staring at me from the ofrenda and placed on each step of a nearby staircase. Counting them would have been an impossible task for the short time I was there. I began to wonder who would want to take their kids into a place like that but was beginning to see that most Mexicans are brought up from a young age to view this as normal. Death is not hidden away but rather is part of life. At this time of the year, it is brought out into the open and assumed. I was thinking about this on my way back to the car when I passed the same cake shop with the small figures I'd seen the previous year. The front window was crowded by a group of teenagers giggling about the funeral scene. That seemed to be the mood of the day.

Decorated street

Ofrenda in honour of Cantinflas

Teenagers at the cake shop

Miniature funeral figures

The Day of the Dead was approaching and I was stuck in the traffic, listening to the radio, as daylight was fast disappearing on November 1st. I was amused to see an army of miniature pumpkins, catrinas, and other small children in fancy dress costumes, escorted by their parents, making their way up Virreyes, a street lined by exclusive properties with guardias to answer the bell. The older kids knocked at the doors and tiny hands clutched plastic pumpkin or skull bowls to collect sweets and chocolates. Halloween is gaining ground too here in Mexico. On the radio programme, the presenters were extolling the virtues of the Mexican celebration of Día de Muertos over American Halloween. "Es que Halloween no es nuestro, no es tradición en nuestro país," one of the speakers was reiterating. Halloween isn't a Mexican tradition, it doesn't belong to the Mexicans, he was saying. Until one of the ladies on the programme pointed out that Día de Muertos is also a mixture of European All Saints' Day brought over by the Spanish Catholic Church. "And we took it on, we blended it in with our pre-Hispanic traditions. Who knows if the same is happening with Halloween?" she said. True, though at the moment Mexicans regard Halloween as a bit of fun for the children whereas their Day of the Dead is the more serious fiesta, celebrated by everyone. They continued with the programme, asking people to ring in from all over Mexico and share how they celebrate this day in their region. The account given by a listener in Campeche made my hair stand on end. "When people have been dead for more than three years, we dig their skeletons up and give their bones a good clean. If they still have any hair, we brush that and make them look nice before putting them in a box called an osario. After the all-night vigil and celebration on Día de Muertos, we bury them again in the box." Even the presenters were taken back. Left speechless for a few seconds. Then came a comment. "Not sure if I could dig up la Abuelita and do that to her!" Obviously traditions differ a lot from one place to another and some are quite alien to others.

Halloween is also celebrated

A tiny pumpkin tot

So what do Mexicans do on the actual Día de Muertos, 2nd November, when they aren't visiting the cemetry, or having a family reunion attended by live and dead members, I wondered? Graves, tumbas, cemetries, camposantos... I really didn't want to go along there. So I decided to tag along with some friends on the the Newcomers' trip which was going to visit three museums to see the altars set up there. Lynda Martinez del Campo, an expert on most things Mexican, would be delighting us with her knowledgeable explanations. First we went to the Museo Dolores Olmeda in Xochimilco, followed by the Museo de Anahuacalli created by Diego Rivera to house his collection of pre-Hispanic pieces, ending up finally at the Blue House, or Casa Azul as it is known here, which was Frida Kahlo's home in Coyoacán. It was an eye-opening excursion, to say the least. They all not only had riotously coloured altars on display but a whole host of other activities... a play, a children's workshop for decorating their own calaveritas (skulls), craft and food stands and, of course, the museums themselves. And they were teeming with families, young people, older couples. In the midst of the jovial atmosphere, I had to keep pinching myself to remember that this was Day of the Dead and not some summer festival. Although the holiday was associated with "death", there was decidedly more life and colour and festive excitement than I have seen in most places.

MUSEO DOLORES OLMEDA - A museum in an old hacienda in Xochimilco

Part of the old house

Mariachi band

A skeletal Hernán Cortés and his horse

Grotto-like ofrenda in honour of Dolores Olmeda

Actor in the play

MUSEO DE ANAHUACALLI - Set up by Diego Rivera in Coyoacán

The museum building made of black volcanic stone

Altar to Diego Rivera

A typical hanging altar for people who have drowned

White is the colour for those children "in limbo"

Kids decorating their own calaveritas

One of the finished works of art

Lady selling gorditas

MUSEO DE FRIDA KAHLO - Also known as the Blue House, in Coyoacán

La Casa Azul

Frida Kahlo and her husband Diego Rivera lived in the Blue House or Casa Azul

The bright colours of Frida's altar

Frida's portrait

Food items making up the ofrenda

COYOACÁN - The festive atmosphere in the town centre

The church in Coyoacán's main square

People everywhere in the square

Eating tostadas

Seen on the front porch of a private house

As a European, I have to admit it takes time to comprehend this festival, to understand how Mexicans seem to feel comfortable with reminders of death around them, how natural it is for them to look at "death" in the eye and make fun of it. We, on the other hand, try to hide it, pretend it isn't there, that it isn't part of life. Maybe Judy King sums it up well in her description:

"The Mexican flatters and woos death, he sings to her, dances with her, lifts his glass to her, he laughs at her. Finally, he challenges her, and in the challenging, death loses her power to intimidate him. Once he knows death intimately, death is no longer wrapped in a cloak of mystery or causes him to fear the darkness. Once the fear of death has been defeated, the clutch she has on the hearts and minds of the living is lessened once and for all. Death's morbid side is buried under music and remembrances, while skeletons laugh and dance and sing as Mexico celebrates life in its embrace of death."

Let's see what I'll be bold enough to do next year. Maybe eat a sugar calaverita with my name on its forehead? Still not sure about that.

Posted by margaretm 13:51 Archived in Mexico Tagged museums colours traditions mexico_city frida_kahlo offerings day-of-the-dead diego_rivera dolores_olmeda Comments (0)

Trying to understand Mexico's Dia de Muertos (Part 1)

Day of the Dead



Our excursion was rather surprising. Better than I thought it would be. Wednesday, 2nd November, was Dia de Muertos , the Day of the Dead festival in Mexico, and I was determined to find out what exactly was behind it. It's taken some time to digest. This is my third Day of the Dead.

The first one took me unawares. We hadn't been in Mexico for very long and suddenly skulls and skeletons and candles and offerings appeared all over the place. Marc came home from school, announcing that he had to write about the symbolism of the calavera or skull in the celebration of the Dia de Muertos. I looked at him to see if he was joking but, no, he wasn't. I suggested he looked it up on the Internet. Next day he came home saying that he was supposed to take candles to school for their altar or ofrenda. I drew the line at the candles as I didn't think it was appropriate for us. He looked relieved. Then Cristina arrived, talking about pan de muerto which translates into English as "bread of the dead". My imagination ran a bit wild as I wondered what on earth they used for flour. But it turned out to be a pleasant sweet bread bun that looks like it has knobbly bones on top. I still felt a bit spooked by all those skeletons dressed up in shop windows laughing at me but that year, I had more than enough on my plate. Like trying to work out how to drive the automatic car, decipher the rules of the road in Mexico City, find out where on earth you could buy epazote or even what it was, or how to find my way back to that supermarket tucked totally out of my internal GPS' range among the winding roads which followed the deep ravines behind our house. So Dia de Muertos came and went that year and in the end I managed to keep away from it.

Coloured tissue-paper banners

Altar set up in a shopping centre

An organ-grinder with a sense of humour

Candy skulls waiting to be given to children

Pan de muerto or bread of the dead

Last year was different. I knew it was coming. Right after Halloween, and the Halloween junk had been up in the shops since September. More or less the day after the Independence Holiday was over. So I summoned up a bit of courage and decided to look the skulls and skeletons straight in the eye socket and try and understand what this day was all about. That's when I discovered that Dia de Muertos is a syncretic celebration mixing pre-Hispanic traditions and Catholicism, creating a unique Mexican tradition. Most definitely not Christian. Very broadly speaking, many Mexicans believe that on one day a year, specifically November 2, the souls of people who have died can return to the world of the living for 24 hours as spirits to visit their family and friends. So families prepare altars at home or around their graves, with their loved-ones' photos or portraits and place their favourite food and drink there to welcome them back on this special night. Candles and copal incense are used to guide the souls to the right place, as is the scent of golden marigolds or cempasúchil o zempoazxochitl, the flowers which are typically used to decorate the altar and graves. Then November 2nd is spent in the company of the souls of deceased family members or friends with the celebration of fiestas and picnics. It is a festive occasion when they talk about the dead as if they were alive, a time of remembering, re-living and enjoying. There is also a widespread belief that the soul of angelitos, children or babies who have died, arrive first on November 1st and in some areas, all-night candlelight vigils are held by the graves of the family members.

An altar with food and drink

An ofrenda set out complete with chairs around it

Typical dishes which the deceased person liked

The scent of marigolds is believed to attract the souls to the altar

A Day of the Dead altar prepared by a family

Armed with that background information, I went along to the Zócalo last November to see what they called the mega-ofrenda or mega-offering. Towering up over the Panteón del Zocalo was a huge, rather strange, papier-mâché figure called the Árbol de La Muerte Florida, the Flowering Death Tree. Death was represented on one side and life on the other. The mega-offering was actually a joint affair by many of DF's associations and organisations and altars representing the different states of Mexico and consisted of lots of stands, each with skeletons in the guise of firemen, wrestlers, teachers and even passengers on a bus and train. I was surprised to see that many of the altars were full of humorous scenes, with grinning skulls, dancing esqueletos and even mariachi bands of skeleton musicians clutching instruments and wearing Mexican hats, basically having fun. This was definitely not my idea of a sombre, rather solemn All Saints' Day like we have back in Europe.

Panteón del Zócalo in Mexico City

Bright colours and flowers are used in the decoration

Huge Árbol de la Muerte Florida sculpture in the Zocalo

Skeleton wrestlers

A man preparing the coloured base for the altar

Dancing skeletons

Train with spooky passengers

Children posing for a photo in front of a skeleton-decorated bus

Humour plays a big part in the fiesta

The Fire Department's stand

Even a skull with a punk hairdo!

Hundreds of families were flocking around the stands, pointing out the funny things, nodding approvingly at the colourful and highly creative scenes and posing for photos in front of them. That's when I began to understand that Dia de Muertos, far from being a time of mourning, was actually full of life, colour, excitement and food. It was a way of recognizing the cycle of life and death that is human existence. And it certainly had nothing to do with the horror and gore of Halloween. Even so, I was still rather taken aback to see people wandering around the streets dressed up as catrinas (high-society female skeleton figures popularised by Mexican artist José Guadalupe Posada) who passers-by would pose next to for photos. Peering in the shop window of a cake shop, I could make out scores of small figures, all skeletons, enacting out a funeral and I struggled to imagine a similar scene in Spain or England. All around were candy and chocolate calaveras or skulls to be given to children, much like our chocolate Easter Eggs, I supposed. The sugar represented the sweetness of life, the skull the sadness of death. It was all a bit overwhelming but at least I was starting to unravel the meaning behind Mexico's most important festival, el Dia de Muertos

Passers-by having their photos taken with a Catrina in the street

A Catrina figure in a jewellery shop

Small skeleton figures in a cake shop window

This year, I got bolder and took another step.

(To be continued in Part 2)

Posted by margaretm 10:26 Archived in Mexico Tagged colours traditions mexico_city zocalo day-of-the-dead Comments (0)

Alebrije monsters invade Mexico City




Every year, towards the end of October, Mexico City is invaded by hundreds of strange-looking gigantic monsters. They come out of hiding to gather together in the Zócalo and then march down to Paseo de la Reforma. You can find them camped out between the Fuente a la Diana Cazadora and El Ángel de la Independencia, a mass of brightly-coloured beasts rubbing shoulders with each other and sparking off flashes (camera flashes, of course). These creatures can only be described as a wild mix of imagination, creativity and fluorescent colours, and seem to have been inspired by equal doses of fantasy-filled dreams and terrifying nightmares. Some may look pretty fearsome and spooky, especially to the smallest members of the public gazing at them. Thank goodness, they are all just made of papier mâché, cardboard, kilos of paint and weeks of hard work.

This year's 5th Monumental Alebrije Parade, organised by the MAP (Museo de Arte Popular), took place last Saturday. After weeks and months of trabajo duro, artists from all around the city, including professional craftsmen, schools, associations and families, put the finishing touches to their alebrijes and they were transported to the Zócalo. I saw them being taken on large trucks and being parked there on my early morning bike ride. Later that day, a long parade of eye-catching creatures snaked their way around the centre, ending up in Paseo de la Reforma where they have been left on show for thousands of people to see and marvel at over the next few days.

Alebrijes originated in Mexico City in 1936 when a Mexican artisan called Pedro Linares began making the strange, wild-looking creatures he'd seen in a feverish dream while sick. He re-created them, using cardboard and papier mâché, and painted them in bright colours and designs. The name alebrijes comes from the word he kept hearing in his hallucinations. Gradually the craft spread to other parts of Mexico, in particular Oaxaca, where they started carving and painting small, fantasy-inspired animal figures in wood. Nowadays, you can buy small examples of this popular Mexican craft in shops everywhere.

Small alebrijes for sale in a craft shop

No two of the tiny alebrijes are the same. Neither are the gigantic Alebrijes being exhibited in Reforma, which this year number around 200. Each one has a unique design and has been painstakingly painted and decorated at the whim of the artist or artists. Creatures with wings, scales, claws, spikes, fangs, spots, suckers, feathers, horns, tongues, tails, and all kinds of appendages have once again come together at their annual parade. An amazing display of imagination-run-wild, creativity and talent..... and true works of art, Mexican-style.






















Ozzy admires the alebrijes from the car

Don't forget your camera...

P.S. The Monumental Alebrijes have now been moved to the Zócalo until the 6th November

Posted by margaretm 03:49 Archived in Mexico Tagged art events colours traditions mexico_city crafts alebrijes Comments (0)

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