Centuries-old conquistadores’ colonial architecture of Merida.


Some kind of indigenous-inspired mural. Like the feral redheaded kid in Talladega Nights said of anarchy when he went buck-wild on the neighbor with the garden hose, “I don’t know what it means, but I like it.”


In Chichen Itza, an ancient Maya pyramid structure that was the epicenter of the city.


Apparently, an old woman fell down the steps some years ago while touring the temple, so you’re not allowed to climb it anymore. Plus, it’s a World Heritage site now.


The interior of a cenote, the traditional freshwater source for this region of the Yucatan Peninsula, where no rivers or lakes exist.


A curious, vaguely sadomasochistic sculpture in a conquistadors’ Catholic Church erected on the ruins of a Mayan temple that they pillaged and razed because it was the work of the devil.


A laser arts show on a 15th-century cathedral, potentially blasphemous.


Black Jesus is also potentially blasphemous, depending on whom you ask.


A Mexican strummer on the streets of Merida. He called me a “brother from another mother,” and I gave him some pesos. Does that make me a saint, or just a solid candidate for sainthood?

When you go:

Chichen Itza

Written by: Ben Bartee

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Ben Bartee is a Bangkok-based American journalist with opposable thumbs.



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