The only reason why I decided to have two days sleeping on a night bus was to reach Tehuacán, more in particular the biosphere surrounding the town.

Almost 5000 square kilometers of land with the most fascinating endemic cactus and plants that span across 21 municipalities between Puebla and Oaxaca. And it’s all open to roam with a car.

With José, a local plant expert, we spent hours across a private patch that protects one of the biggest elephant trees in the world. You know those tiny trees you usually see at the flower shop? The same but 2600 years old with a 9-meter diameter.

While I listen to José’s story, I’m mesmerized by the ability of nature to adapt and evolve to live in these harsh conditions. I truly believe we as humans are the same, even if most of us forget that skill.

Making compelling photos here is not easy, even if the subjects are still and all around me. Maybe a part of this struggle is my reference, Richard Misrach. I love his work and how he pictured the deserts of the American West. And honestly, I’m not really a landscape photographer.

I tightened my hat, put a bit more sunscreen on my face, and I closed my eyes. The wind moving through the valley oddly brought me to the ocean. A whisper of a past that is still part of this soil, a whisper of the ocean that was here millions of years ago.

I woke up in the morning welcomed by the same grey sky as yesterday. But today is different, it feels like it will linger longer. And so I do what I often do in these situations. I turn to black and white, forging the dramatic feeling of the sky into the photos.

For days I’ve seen dolls all over the place. Beautifully dressed dolls. People are carrying them around, some are painting them and repairing them. I’m surprised and confused, what’s going on?

Curiosity is ignited, so I stop by one of the stalls and ask: what’s going on? What are all these dolls?

Turns out that February 2nd is the Día de la Candelaria, a celebration where people dress up the Niño Dios and bring it to the church to have it baptized. The traditions have clear rules, such as that you must dress the doll in white the first year you do it. And then every outfit has its own significance and wish: one for health, one for abundance, and so on.

The same reflection I had about interacting with people also happens with asking around. Why does it come more naturally while traveling than when I’m at home? That surely has to do with some egotistical part that still lingers in the back of my mind, one that doesn’t like to feel like a fool in the place where I live, where people might recognize me.

On the way back to the hotel, I stop to clean my shoes that are still brownish from yesterday. I’ve never done it before and, as usual when I try something new with an open mind to whatever will be, the unexpected happens. These 15 minutes turn into a deep talk about religion, faith, and the influence of cultural traditions in everyday life with Athanasio, a person that was sitting on the side that only after saying goodbye I discovered he gave me his spot on the chair. I say goodbye to him and Xavier, and we walk towards the hotel and my last bus trip before heading back to Europe.

I would have loved to stay in Tehuacán to experience the Día de la Candelaria with the people I met during these days, but Mexico City is waiting for me, and I’m sure it will offer a great February 2nd.

Speak from there,

— M