No Shit Trips

Trips, no traps!

  • Huipil crafted and dyed using ancestral indigenous techniques. Temporary exhibition at Museo de Arte Popular, Mexico City.

    “In addition to this: the aforementioned Moctezuma gave me many garments of his own. They were such that, considering they were made entirely of cotton without a trace of silk, nowhere else in the world could anything similar be crafted or woven; neither in such diverse and natural colors, nor in such exquisite quality of manufacture. There were garments for both men and women, truly marvelous, and bed clothing that not even those made of silk could ever rival…”**

    Mexican manufacturers and artists have been appreciated around the globe for their singular way of merging raw matter, lines and color, with precision, quality and originality. As soon as you leave the airport and dive into the city, it is easy to notice that Mexico possesses a deeply visual culture. You can tell by the signs, the meticulously arranged fruit stalls planned for mouthwatering at first sight, and the food stands competing to be the first to catch the eye; in addition to the murals on the streets.

    Pre-Columbian and Viceregal societies were highly stratified and visual elements served as a precise language to distinguish social standing; even the slightest details were thoroughly coded to ensure no mistake was made. In the Aztec capital, nobles were granted the right to dress cotton garments, ornate capes and sandals, while common citizens were restricted to maguey fiber clothing and remained barefoot.

    In viceregal Mexico City, clothing similarly delineated the boundaries between the various religious orders and their internal hierarchies. When you observe a Mexican piece of art, understanding these nuances can bring you closer to its narrative.

    Nowadays, indigenous crafted clothes continue to be made with the philosophy and techniques preserved for thousands of years, tracing back to the Pre-classic period (ca. 2,500 b.C. – 100 b.C.). More than wearable pieces of fine cotton, they are woven manuscripts whose embroidered or brocaded symbols describe the worldview and personal or familial history of the person in it, transforming each piece into a unique work of ultimate Haut Couture.

    “…without counting all the jewelry of gold and silver, the featherwork, the stones and many other things of value […] which, beyond their intrinsic worth, were so marvelous that considering their novelty and rarity, they were priceless. It is hard to believe that among all the princes of the world of whom we have knowledge, any of them could possess such things of such exquisite quality.”**

    **Hernán Cortés, Second Letter of Relation to Emperor Charles V

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  • Figure of pre-Columbian god Huehueteotl: The ancient god, and god of fire. Museo Nacional de Antropología. Mexico City.

    There are a few things we ought to know about the pre-Columbian civilizations of present-day Mexico, in order to truly appreciate our visits to the different archaeological sites and museums dedicated to them.

    These civilizations, such as the Aztecs, Mayas, and Olmecs sprung in an area that specialists call Mesoamerica or Middle America, although there were a few others that found a way to tame challenges offered by the deserts of Northern Mexico and the Southern United States.

    At core of their philosophy, their purpose, their hopes and their fears there were the raw forces of nature. Over time, their worldview transformed these elements into revered gods: Tlaloc, the God of water and storm; Quetzalcoatl, the feathered snake; and a particularly powerful yet lovely—from today’s perspective, of course—old, wise man often considered a “humanized” volcano. His name was Huehueteotl, a Nahuatl word that can be understood as: The ancient god.

    But do not be fooled by the simplicity of his name; he was a profound metaphor for the simultaneously generous and destructive power of volcanoes. The deep wrinkles on his face represent an age as old as time. The bowl on his tired back evokes a crater. With one hand he gives, he offers; while with the other, perhaps, he paradoxically reclaims.

    Today, scientists have confirmed that the volcanic axis that crosses Mexico all the way from the Pacific to the Atlantic constitutes a natural barrier that separates the biodiversity of Central America, from that of North America. Volcanoes are not merely old, mighty geological accidents; they are also biological architects of Earth; and we should keep this truth in mind when we try to climb their summit, or understand complex characters such as Huehueteotl.

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  • “A landscape of ages” by Jorge González Camarena. Temporary exhibition at Palacio de Bellas Artes, Mexico City.

    Have you ever found yourself nodding politely in a Mexican archaeological site—be it the Pyramids of Teotihuacan, Monte Alban in Oaxaca, or the Mayan ruins of Chichen-Itzá or Tulum—while secretly wondering what exactly the guide means by Classic, Pre-Classic or Post-classic?

    Maybe you struggle to understand what came first—the Aztecs or the Mayas. Well, consider this is a post you will want to keep in your pocket while exploring Mexico’s archaeological sites and museums, or simply while trying to figure out the chronological order of the wonders standing before you.

    The Pre-Columbian history of present-day Mexico is complex and heavily subdivided. However, as a traveler, all you need to know are these three core periods:

    Pre-classic (ca. 2,500 B.C. – 100 B.C.): The start-up phase. It begins when people shifted their dependence to agriculture, transforming from nomads into settlers who developed villages and ceremonial complexes. It is the time of the Olmecs—the crafters of those iconic giant stone heads—who arguably gave birth to the cultural and material features that would define the civilizations to follow in the next two periods. By the time the Pre-classic was reaching its peak, the Mediterranean was going through the Iron Age and Confucius was developing his philosophy in China.

    Classic (ca. 100 B.C. – 900 A.D.): The golden days. Certain Pre-classic villages evolved into urban centers remarkably similar to our own. Some of these transformed into regional capitals that achieved high levels of social, political, economical, scientific, agricultural, urbanist, architectural and artistic sophistication. They managed the control of major trade routes, becoming vibrant, cosmopolitan, multilingual hubs. The Pyramids of Teotihuacan were in the making around the same time Jesus Christ was walking the Earth, and while the Romans were building the Colosseum.

    Post-classic (ca. 900 A.D. – 1521): The savage decline. Interestingly, a long famine and socio-political degradation seem to be the common factor in the collapse of the Classic capitals. New players appeared on the board: they were ferocious warriors and yet no single city-state managed to seize the same degree of power and control held by their Classic predecessors. However, culture re-emerged just as sophisticated. Significant progress in manufacturing and engineering allowed the Aztec capital to settle in the middle of a lake, mastering a flood-control system. While these city-states rose and faded, the Vikings were reaching Newfoundland and the Song Dynasty was turning China into the most advanced economy of the age. It was a time of falls as meteoric as the rises.

    These divisions apply primarily to Central and Southern Mexico. The Maya, for instance, were a world apart, moving through their own Pre-classic, Classic and Post-classic periods. Nonetheless, the dates we’ve used here remain an excellent reference if you are a traveler overwhelmed by the complex timelines guides often recite.

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  • Museo Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City.

    You will not believe this building is little more than sixty years old!

    A visit to the National Museum of Anthropology (Museo Nacional de Antropología) can be as versatile as you want it to be: It can be either relaxing or academic, entertaining or intriguing, sheerly intellectual or sheerly visual, short or long. And perhaps that’s one of the greatest achievements of its architectural design.

    Inaugurated in 1964, the building utilizes materials and carves out spaces inspired by the Pre-Columbian civilizations of present-day Mexico. As the most visited museum in the country—with over five million visitors in 2025—it stands as a timeless piece of time travel, relevant not just for the Mexican people but for all humankind, as it shelters a significant part of the Americas’ indigenous heritage.

    With twenty-two halls, you should never expect to cover the entire museum in a single visit, even if you are the youngest and most enthusiastic explorer. The National Museum of Anthropology is as fascinating as it is overwhelming; the stories and knowledge it holds require time to settle—much like a richly layered feast. It is a place to return to once or twice at least, dedicating two to three hours on every occasion.

    We love the National Museum of Anthropology; it is the gateway—perhaps one of the loveliest—to the peoples that developed highly sophisticated societies in near-total isolation from the rest of the world. However, we consider it our duty not to idealize, but to keep our feet on the ground. The museography can be profoundly biased: Mexico City was founded by the Aztecs, who were but one among dozens of independent civilizations; still, they were granted the most preponderant hall. Furthermore, many pieces were uprooted from their original contexts and communities—much like an Egyptian relic moved to the Louvre or the British Museum.

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  • Model of man-made islands for agricultural use. Museo del Templo Mayor, Mexico City.

    Now that we’ve uncovered why the Aztec capital had to be founded in the middle of a lake, why don’t we unveil one of the most stunning secrets in the history of engineering? The structures that guaranteed the empire’s food security: The ancient, yet still-living marvels called Chinampas.

    Chinampa is the name of the man-made islands that allowed the Aztec capital to flourish in the middle of the lake. The word comes from Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and it means “on the square made of reeds”. However, these wonders of agro, hydro and bio-engineering were invented thousands of years before the Aztecs even existed, which makes this technology even more stunning.

    The builders would prepare platforms using logs and cover them with nutrient-rich mud from the lakebed. Since the area is naturally high in minerals due to volcanic activity, the soil was exceptionally fertile. Finally they would plant a native species of willow tree along the perimeter so the growing roots would eventually weave together, containing and anchoring the entire structure. These trees are called Ahuejote meaning “water willow tree”.

    Yet, even more fascinating than the organic technique itself is the fact that philosophy and spirituality were present at the very core of this scientific advance! Agriculturists would grow squash, whose leaves spread across the ground to keep the moisture in. Meanwhile the maize served as the vertical axis for beans to climb, which in turn provided nitrogen to the soil to feed the other crops in a silent chemical dialogue that maximized growth. You might be surprised to learn that some specialists state that the Nahuatl word for One (Ce), comes from the first syllable of the word Maize (Centli). Keep in mind that maize constituted the vertical axis, the support for the nitrogen provider.

    In accordance with their worldview, where all knowledge was an indivisible unit, Aztecs and their neighbors believed that maize was the equivalent of human bones, beans represented the muscles and tendons, and squash the flesh. It was bio-engineering at its best.

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  • Fountain to the foundation of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, Zocalo Square, Mexico City.

    “No matter what we do, Mexico City will founder. It’s a mathematical certainty”.

    A fair question, frequently asked, is: Why did the Aztecs found their city in the middle of a lake when they could have done so on firm land?

    It is helpful to understand that the pre-Columbian civilizations of present-day Mexico conceived knowledge as an indivisible whole—a single, unbreakable unit.

    Today, we organize knowledge in subjects, separating physics from chemistry and math from linguistics—even though we know that physical reactions depend on chemical composition, and chemical reactions are driven by physical factors. Likewise, we recognize that math is a language; understanding conditionals and prepositions is a powerful tool to better access the logic of numbers and their relations.

    For Aztecs, science and religion, mythology and politics were not worlds apart—they were one. That is why founding their capital in the middle of the lake of Texcoco and keeping it there, even after they had mastered the world around them, was neither an accident nor a whim; it was as much a ritual as it was a strategic masterstroke .

    The lacustrine city fit perfectly within their mythology—or perhaps it was the mythology that was shaped to fit the city. Regardless, none of the Aztecs’ neighbors possessed the naval technology to attack from the water, turning the lake into an impregnable fortress. But then, the Spaniards arrived. They taught their indigenous allies to build European-style ships, which were ultimately used to besiege the Aztec capital.

    A better questions is: why didn’t the Conquistadors change the center of civil and religious power when they had the chance? Why do modern Mexicans insist on living on ancient like soil, despite the seismic threats it implies?

    During your visit to Mexico City’s downtown, you will witness firsthand how the walls of the presidential palace curve and the Metropolitan Cathedral tilts. Paradoxically, the Aztecs’ main temple was preserved thanks to this tragic geography. For years, engineers have made efforts to, at least, slow down the inevitable process.

    Do you remember the movie Titanic? The scene where the engineer delivers the fatal news? Here the story is exactly the same: “No matter what we do, Mexico City will founder. It’s a mathematical certainty”.

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  • Many modern cities lie upon the vestiges of famous capitals of the past. Rome, Athens and Cairo are perfect examples of this phenomenon that architects and archaeologists know as spolium: the practice of reusing materials from ancient structures to facilitate the construction of new ones.

    Across the Mexican territory, there are small villages where people have built their homes using stone blocks taken from pre-Columbian temples and palaces. You can see ancient reliefs scarred by modern graffiti if you look closely enough.

    While some see this practice as an attack on our heritage, others argue that we must honor and preserve the past—but not so much as to dwell in it and miss the future.

    The pre-Columbian civilizations of central Mexico would often cover their buildings with new layers of construction—frequently exact replicas of the ones beneath. The purpose varied: to celebrate a military victory, mark the end of a cycle, appease the wrath of the gods, or satisfy an emperor’s ego. However, the fact that these new structures mirrored what was buried below was a way of showing that life is not a straight line, but a cycle; that the fruits of today are the seeds of tomorrow, and from those seeds, the future will rise.

    These pre-Columbian civilizations would also bury their loved ones beneath the soil of their own homes. Much like the overlapping stages of construction, we interpret it as a way of saying: This land is ours because our past lies right beneath us. The past was not simply something that happened and passed away; it was the foundation of the present and, eventually, the support for the future.

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