I was 7 when I first travelled to Mexico. It was my first plane ride, but barely old enough to remember any of it. The second time around, in 1995, we drove from California, crossing the border through Arizona into Sonora, Sinaloa, and a few other states along the way. We finally arrived at my grandparent's house in the state of Nayarit, a tropical oasis known for its mariscos (seafood), coconuts, and beautiful riviera—an unknown world that would eventually open up the door to a deeper sense of discovery and self identity.20 years later, I still remember everything from that trip: meeting my grandparents for the first time, refrescos (soda) in ziploc bags, the countless amounts of tacos, sabritas (chips), chocolates, candies, and the overall feeling of being in a mysterious, yet beautiful place . All of those feelings and sensations came back to me when my wife and I traveled to the capital cities of Zacatecas and Mexico DF earlier this year. My mom, her parents, and the majority of her family were all born in Zacatecas.
My wife's family is also from a small town in Zacatecas, an hour or so away from where my mom grew up, but neither of us had ever visited its capital city known for silver, mining, beautiful mountains and colonial architecture. We flew out from LAX and arrived to Zacatecas International Airport within a couple of hours. It started to rain a few minutes before arriving, so I took out my camera and took a few shots of the looming storm, in part because I was glad to see rain. When we landed, the storm had picked up and we were rushed to customs and baggage claim where we stood in line for an eternity. When we finally got our bags, we had no idea how to get to our hotel.Luckily, a crew of about 5 Taxistas were chillin outside. After a 45 minute ride on winding roads along beautiful landscapes, we arrived to the city and were completely blown away by its incredible beauty. One of the first things we noticed was how narrow and compact the streets are, yet everyone drove fluidly, without any yelling or honking—we weren't in LA anymore.
After getting a quick bite to eat at the overly-touristy restaurant across the street, our first real stop was only a few steps away from our hotel. We wanted to check out the local beer scene and had done some research on a few spots, Cervezeria Zacatecas being at the top of our list. They had a huge selection of beer—American and Mexican IPA's, stouts, porters, and some of Mexico's very own cerveza artesanal (craft beer) from up-and-coming breweries. The workers were nice, friendly and definitely knew their beer. This place grew on us for its tavern-like ambience, enormous catalogue and good music.As we were leaving, we noticed a flyer promoting workshops for women interested in brewing their own stuff. We later found out that our bartender, a girl, was part of it, which made us come back every single day to support a great effort.My first beer was a Breakfast IPA by "Cervezeria Calavera" — so good.The next day, we explored the city in its entirety. From its small streets, to huge museums, we were blown away by everything it had to offer.
Aimlessly walking the streets, we stumbled upon a few cool spots—some of them by surprise.The tranquilty and pace of life here is evident throughout the streets.Long before being the quaint, colonial city it is today, Zacatecas was known for its mines rich in silver, gold, quartz and other minerals. Growing up, I always heard a lot of stories about it from family members and definitely wanted to check it out. We got up early the next morning and walked across town towards El Cerro de la Bufa, the beautifully serene mountain range housing the mine at its core. Once we arrived, we received a short "do's and dont's" spiel from one of the workers, boarded the little train, and headed into the Mina del Eden.Not sure what to expect inside the mine's dreary walls, we found a whole new world of shiny stones and minerals. Our tour guide made it a point that things inside the mine haven't always been so bright and shiny, with hundreds of deaths due to explosions, collapsed rocks, and a slew of other causes—we proceeded into the mine with an ominous feeling looming over us.
When our tour came to an end, we took a rusty, janky mine-shaft elevator up a few hundred feet towards the top of the mine. One of the other attractions here is the teleferico, a cable car that connects to the southern part of the mountain. Due to high winds and rain, it isn't always open, but we were in luck.The view was amazing. We hovered over thousands of tiny, colorful buildings, like a giant kid overlooking a lego metropolis. Rich, vibrant colors were seen in every direction—a view that is hardly visible in the thick smog of Los Angeles.After a 3 minute ride across beautiful city views, we were surprised by yet another museum, this one in remembrance of one the bloodiest battles between revolutionaries and President Huerta's troops. Outside, a huge Pancho Villa sculpture overshadows the museum's entrance—one of Mexico's most iconic revolutionary heroes.After taking in bits and pieces of history, we headed back to city. We walked down a set of stairs that stretched for miles, finally arriving to the outskirts of the city.
From here, we were deep in that colorful jungle we saw from above: textures, shapes, and colors coming together in a swatch of architectural grittiness.As night approached, we headed back to Cervezeria Zacatecas, ending the night with some Mexican IPA's, Stouts, and Ceviche.Of all of the museums we visited, the most interesting one was the Museo Rafael Coronel, a multidisciplinary artists, as well as Diego Rivera's son in law. The museum exhibit's bizarrely intriguing masks touching on death, satan & demons, easter, among other subjects dealing with death and repentance. The first thing we saw were weird statues and masked crosses. Inside, we realized that each room focused on a subject. Before we knew it, our time in Zacatecas was coming to an end. There's much, much more we saw, ate, drank, and were a part of. One of the biggest learnings from traveling is that few things can be transcribed and documented as you experienced them. The real magic comes when you're fully immersed in those experiences—moments that can't be replicated by endless writing or photography—yours to keep forever.