In Depth

Ever since Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortez set sail in 1519 to find a world of gold and riches hidden beyond the sea, curious travelers have been coming to this land in search of "the real" Mexico. Like all time-worn myths, such a place remains just out of the reach of reality. Over the years, countless novelists, travel writers, columnists, and glossy-magazine writers have claimed to have found something real while strolling along the sun-parched cobblestone streets of Mérida, nesting in the steamy jungles of Chiapas, or swooning in the arms of a Mexican lover.

My personal "real Mexico" is an amalgam of my family history and my current adventures as an expatriate in Mexico City. It exists in a netherworld between the rolling auburn hills of my ancestral homeland, Los Altos de Jalisco, where patient Jimadores (agave farmers) wait up to 10 years for their crops to mature for harvest, and a Saturday night in Mexico City's posh Polanco district where blonde, blue-eyed Mexicanas teeter into swanky bars on Gucci stilettos. Sure, both involve tequila, but even that's not the answer to the question -- in southern and eastern Mexico, pulque and mezcal are the cantinas' choice.

Mexico is wrapped in ancient myth, romantic mystery, and modern stereotype. If you spend too much time looking for that "real" big-picture Mexico, you're likely to miss out on the fascinating minutia that live between myth and truth -- the tiny details that make this country so enthralling. Keep your eyes open, eat all you can, and be prepared to throw all your conceptions into the sea.