A Mexican Mosaic- By Leopoldo Gomez Diaz

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Every time I return to Mexico, I don’t just see smiles, hugs, and friendly faces, but a land of extremes, with high mountains and deep canyons in the center of the country, sweeping deserts in the north, and dense rain forests in the south and east, and trajineras floating through Xochimilco. I see warm, bustling kitchens filled with the aroma of coffee, cinnamon, and tomatoes simmering for salsa. I hear my brothers’ and cousins’ laughter echoing on the patio, a radio crackling with mariachi music, and the distant hum of customers chatting in my mother’s store.

What I miss most about life in Mexico is the deep sense of closeness and daily connection, a warmth that flows from the heart and touches all five senses. It begins the moment you wake, impressed by the vivid colors of murals and landscapes, the aroma of fresh coffee and spiced food, and the flavors that awaken memory and joy. Then come the sounds: laughter, music, and conversations that fill the air like a familiar song. In Mexico, we joke in traffic, in waiting rooms, and even at funerals. We share meals and beers with strangers and celebrate small victories and birthdays as if we’d just won the World Cup; every moment is a reason to connect and live fully.

I grew up surrounded by flavors and scents. I remember going to the Portales Market to grind chiles and nuts for mole, or watching my mother and aunt prepare tamales for a party at my grandmother’s house. A large metal container on the coals in the yard, the laughter never stops. “That’s how you learn, by doing,” they would say. That phrase captures the soul of Mexico: learning through practice, patience, coexistence, brotherhood, and joy.

In Mexico, life-changing wisdom often comes in a few words, spoken clearly and powerfully. Once, my mother asked me bluntly, “Do you want to work in a store your whole life?” That moment of clarity changed my course. I decided to study and became an engineer.

There are places you visit and places that stay with you. As Lennon & McCartney wrote in “In My Life”:

“There are places I remember all my life…

Though some have changed, some forever, not for the better.

Some have gone, and some remain.

All these places had their moments,

With lovers and friends, I still can recall.”

Mexico is just like that. It’s not just a country; it’s an emotion. A song, a spice, a memory wrapped in warmth and color. Whether you’re walking through Teotihuacan’s ruins, savoring a tlayuda in Oaxaca, or singing with tequila and mariachis in Guadalajara, Mexico doesn’t just reveal itself; it involves and traps you. Also, know about visiting places in Mexico at https://travel.usnews.com/rankings/best-mexico-vacations/

Every celebration, Día de Muertos, Independence Day, or Christmas Posadas, overflows with piñatas, music, food, and emotion. What captures you first is the color, not just on walls but in people’s spirits. In Mexico, grief and joy often dance together. We honor death with marigolds, candles, jokes, and Catrinas, silently in our hearts and in anecdotes and songs.

Mexican cuisine is sacred history served on a plate. Each dish tells a story, ancient corn, pre-Hispanic dishes, colonial fusion, and regional pride. Mole poblano, birria, carnitas, barbacoa, cochinita pibil, pozole, cabrito, tamales, tacos al pastor, scorpions, and grasshoppers are not just meals but cultural testaments. I still remember eating mole negro in Oaxaca, albóndigas at home, or exquisite birria in Guadalajara. My younger son loves mole verde a lot; every Christmas, my mother made red mole and rompope, a creamy drink of egg yolks, milk, sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of tequila, bottled and shared with family, friends, neighbors, and even in-laws.

UNESCO has recognized Mexican cuisine as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Each regional flavor uniquely expresses community, geography, and identity.

Mexico’s connection to its ancient past is profound. The Mayas, Zapotecs, Aztecs, and Olmecs built great cities and developed astronomy, mathematics, and calendars. At Chichén Itzá, Monte Albán, Teotihuacan, and Palenque, you feel their imposing presence and magnificence, much more than ruins.

In Mexico, we don’t talk about resilience; we live it. We have a history that has been shaped by a quest for justice, a journey led by courageous, brilliant, and determined individuals such as Miguel Hidalgo, José María Morelos y Pavón, and Benito Juárez, who wrote: “El respeto al derecho ajeno es la paz” — respect for others’ rights is peace.

A century later, during the Mexican Revolution, Pancho Villa in the north and Emiliano Zapata in the south rose for land and dignity. Zapata’s cry — “Tierra y libertad”. Villa, a former bandit turned general, was a charismatic and feared revolutionary. Later, President Lázaro Cárdenas redistributed land, expanded education, and nationalized oil.

But what truly sets Mexico apart is its authenticity. Hospitality isn’t a gesture; it’s instinctive, heartfelt, and natural. A Mexican family will welcome you as if you’ve always belonged, without hesitation or pretense. Humor, warmth, and generosity aren’t learned behaviors; they are in our DNA; that’s the way we are.

Religion also plays a profound role. Mexico blends indigenous and Catholic traditions into rich, meaningful rituals. My parents met at religious events. “La Villa de Guadalupe”, the Basilica in Mexico City, is a spiritual home for many. My relatives from Guadalajara never miss a visit. Most Mexicans are Catholic, but there are some other religions too.

In Mexico, art is not a luxury; it’s part of life: from Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz to Diego Rivera and José Clemente Orozco, from Frida Kahlo to the Oscar-winning works of Guillermo del Toro, Alfonso Cuarón, and Alejandro González Iñárritu.

Musicians like Agustín Lara, Armando Manzanero, José Alfredo Jiménez, Pedro Infante, Vicente and Alejandro Fernández, Carlos Santana, Juan Gabriel, Luis Miguel, Lila Downs, Natalia Lafourcade, and the unforgettable María Félix, Indio Fernández, and Cantinflas, have carried our spirit to the world. Mexican creativity spans time and borders.

Mexico captivates visitors not only with its breathtaking landscapes and sun-drenched beaches but also with its unique warmth and friendliness, which makes them feel at home. It’s not a perfect country; it’s alive, complex, joyful, sometimes struggling, but always deeply beautiful.

Mexico offers more than memories; it gives you a profound sense of belonging. From the deserts of Baja California, Sinaloa, Sonora, Chihuahua, and Nuevo León in the north, through the vibrant heartlands of Guanajuato, Jalisco, Colima, Querétaro, Puebla, Hidalgo, Mexico City, and Morelos, down to the lush southern states of Guerrero, Chiapas, Tabasco, Campeche, Veracruz, and Quintana Roo, every region invites you in with its own colors, flavors, music, and soul.

Now, living in California, I carry those memories with me. My granddaughter whispers, “Your coffee is better than Daddy’s.” We speak Spanish at home, some days telling stories of my childhood, about my mother’s life and her store, soccer on dusty fields, how I built our first house, eating tostadas with avocado in markets, and learning in the streets. In those moments, I live again, not as nostalgia but as legacy.

Almost every weekend, I go to the IMAX and eat with my granddaughter at San Pedro Market in San José. She asks for chilaquiles or enchiladas and Jarritos. She rarely finishes but never wants to share. Some days we cook together, pozole. The scent of oregano fills the house. Their smiles fill my heart. In California, I now have my own activities and friends, such as playing soccer, studying at college, taking care of the house, and visiting my son. Although I feel slightly more comfortable, I’m still adjusting to this place.

I visit Mexico twice a year, going to Puerto Vallarta, Guadalajara, Chapala, Ajijic, Cuernavaca, Cocoyoc, and Mexico City. Each place has its own magic and people. I’m always asked, “¿Cuándo regresas?” I never know—but I always do.

Some time ago, a Mexican friend told me I have the best of both worlds. I’m still unsure, but I carry that thought with curiosity and gratitude.

When my sons were kids, we visited Puerto Vallarta every year. Now, we go to Nuevo Vallarta with our grandchildren. Fireworks light the beach, and coconut shrimp and pescado zarandeado are favorites. They are simple joys, deeply shared.

Festivals like Guelaguetza, Semana Santa, and Día de Muertos are more than events; they are emotional rituals. In Mixquic or Janitzio, families gather in cemeteries, sharing bread and mezcal under the stars. It’s like traveling to another dimension, to the ethereal.

Mexico shines in science and education, too. UNAM, my alma mater, is a symbol of national identity. Mexico City has more museums than almost any other city. I confessed that I had only visited some of them.

Creativity is deeply rooted in Mexican culture, where people often find clever, resourceful solutions to everyday problems. While some use their imagination for humor or fun, others apply it in practical ways. I once took an old computer to three repair shops in California, all of which said it couldn’t be fixed and recommended buying a new one. Later, in a small workshop in Tepotzotlán, Mexico, they repaired it in just two hours for twenty dollars with a simple, ingenious fix. That’s Mexican creativity at its best with few resources, efficient, and full of unexpected solutions, always finding at least one. That’s the way I have seen Mexicans work here in California.

And the markets — oh, the markets. More than places to shop, they are schools of life. As a boy, I went to La Merced, the biggest in Mexico City, sometimes alone, sometimes riding behind my brother on his motorcycle. I learned to be responsible, listen, pick produce, be alert, and respect work. Those were my first lessons in survival and community.

Today, markets like San Ángel, Coyoacán, Jamaica, La Ciudadela in Mexico City, and San Juan de Dios in Guadalajara are cultural treasures. Others, Oaxaca’s 20 de Noviembre, Mérida’s Lucas de Gálvez, and Guanajuato’s Mercado Hidalgo, reveal the soul of each region. Street markets rise and vanish daily, full of tools, jokes, colors, and community.

I worked for 40 years at the Mexican Petroleum Institute. Every Thursday, a street market would pop up just outside. I loved buying lunch, fruits, vegetables, or music, but mostly, I enjoyed listening to the vendors’ “albures.” It was a lively break. Even when I didn’t plan to buy anything, they’d ask me why, and often, I’d buy something anyway, to support them. We laughed, we connected. Read another article by the author at https://journals-times.com/2022/08/11/it-was-a-soccer-game-that-taught-me-many-valuable-life-lessons/

Mexico is a country of contrasts, with large cities, small colonial towns, wide asphalt avenues, narrow cobblestone streets, deserts and jungles, mountains and plains. It is ancient and modern, poor and rich, deeply religious and sometimes secular, joyful and grieving, cultured and carefree, a country where museums and cantinas coexist. Yet amid these contrasts, one thing remains constant: the Mexican spirit. We are loyal friends, empathetic, hardworking, and always ready to support one another in need. We face hardship with humor; some popular sayings reflect our resilient and hopeful nature, authentic, human, and full of joy:

• “No hay mal que dure cien años…” – No hardship lasts forever.
• “Después de la tempestad, viene la calma.” – After the storm comes the calm.
• “Donde hubo fuego, cenizas quedan.” – Where there was fire, ashes remain.
• “Más vale pájaro en mano que ciento volando.” – A bird in the hand is worth more than a hundred flying.
• “Más sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo.” – The devil knows more from being old than from being the devil.

Discovering Mexico is discovering friendship, flavor, creativity, and joy. That’s why, above all, I carry it in my heart and visit it again and again.