Yesterday unfolded in a way that reminded me why I travel, not just to see places, but to be invited into them.
I have recently made a local friend here in Mérida who has been my personal driver a few times. Born and raised in the Yucatán, he carries an intimate knowledge of the land, the history, and the everyday rhythms of life here. Traveling with him offers something guidebooks never can, an insider look at Yucatecan culture shaped by lived experience rather than tourism.
After picking me up, we drove through several small towns scattered across the countryside. Life in these towns is not easy. Homes are modest, resources are limited, and daily life requires resilience. Yet there is a deep connection to the earth here that feels increasingly rare in Western culture. He shared how traditional Mayan homes are much smaller and shorter than typical homes, many so low that I would have had to slouch to enter. Most families sleep in hammocks, a practice rooted in both practicality and tradition. Seeing these homes firsthand made it clear that while life may be simpler, it is also deeply grounded, shaped by land, ancestry, and an ongoing relationship with nature.
We stopped at his favorite taco stand tucked away in one of the towns. Pork is the preferred local meat here, and while it is not my favorite, travel has taught me that experiencing culture means saying yes even when it is outside your comfort zone. In that place, eating what the locals love felt exactly right.
Our next stop was small in size but immense in significance and Yucatan history, the town of Tihosuco in present day Quintana Roo. The Guerra de Castas, or Caste War, is generally considered to have begun on July 30, 1847, in the town of Tepich when Maya resistance forces led by Cecilio Chi swept in. The conflict was rooted in Maya resistance to an oppressive caste system, widespread exploitation, and the denial of land rights and basic dignity, rather than senseless violence. Tihosuco is historically tied to the start of the conflict as well, as one of its main leaders, Jacinto Pat, was from there and the town became an early stronghold of the resistance. Standing before the Church of the Divine Child, Santo Niño Jesús, its war damaged facade felt like a quiet witness to a people fighting to be seen, heard, and treated as equals.
As we drove toward our next destination, we passed a brightly colored cemetery that immediately caught my attention. Noticing my interest, my friend turned the car around so we could stop. I hesitated at first, unsure if it was appropriate, but he reassured me that Yucatecans want to share their culture and that respectful curiosity is welcomed.
The cemetery reminded me of those in New Orleans, monumental, expressive, and deeply personal. Each resting place held offerings to loved ones, favorite foods or objects that kept their memory close. Rather than feeling somber, it felt alive. It was a beautiful reminder that connection to ancestors does not end, it simply changes form.
We eventually arrived at Ek Balam, a name meaning Black Jaguar or Jaguar Star. Once a powerful ancient Maya kingdom, Ek Balam offers a rare and remarkably preserved glimpse into Classic Maya life. The site is known for its massive Acropolis adorned with intricate stucco friezes depicting mythological scenes, as well as the tomb of King Ukit Kan Lek Tok’ found within the structure. Large concentric defensive walls surround the city, symbolizing strength and strategy, a rare feature for Late Classic Yucatán sites.
Discovered in 1980 and extensively uncovered in the 1990s, Ek Balam stands apart for its preservation. Buried structures protected murals, hieroglyphs, and sculptures that remain some of the best preserved in the region. It is also one of the few pyramids visitors are allowed to climb. Even with my fear of heights, I climbed all the way to the top on all fours, and carefully scooted back down on my rear. Terrifying and empowering all at once.
By then, the heat was intense, and my friend suggested cooling off at Cenote Hubiku, which was not far away. Of all the cenotes I have experienced so far, this one became my favorite. Buried deep underground and vast in size, it felt like stepping into another world. Several small openings above allowed soft light to filter in, giving the water a quiet, glowing presence.
In the center, a gentle waterfall trickled down, and I swam beneath it, letting the water wash away the day’s heat. Roots from an Álamo tree stretched from the ceiling all the way into the water, far taller than the tree’s trunk above ground. Álamo trees are always found near cenotes, and seeing its roots descend so deeply felt symbolic, like nature reaching back toward its own source.
Afterward, we headed to the charming town of Valladolid. Artsy, colorful, and full of life, it immediately invited lingering. Colonial style buildings painted in bold hues lined the streets alongside hand painted signs and unique shops. The atmosphere felt warm, creative, and welcoming.
My friend showed me his favorite places and took me on a walk down Calzada de los Frailes, a cobblestone street lined with cafes and boutiques that connects the town center to the Convento de Sisal. At night the street comes alive with a light show, but even during the day it felt magical, like a bridge between eras.
This day was not just about destinations. It was about perspective, about being guided not only through places, but through stories, memories, and ways of life that continue to shape the Yucatán. For that experience, I am deeply grateful.
If you would like to follow this journey more closely, I invite you to join my mailing list. During this residency, I am creating new work inspired by these experiences, the land, the history, and the quiet moments in between. Mailing list members will receive insider photos, behind the scenes glimpses into my creative process, process images of the artwork as it evolves, and the first look at the final piece. It is a more intimate way to share what is unfolding here, and I would love to have you along.