The applause echoed through the vaulted halls of the Centro Cultural El Refugio in Tlaquepaque as 18 women stepped onto the stage, one by one, to receive their plaques of recognition. Each name carried its own story — of perseverance, innovation, and care — together forming a living portrait of the theme chosen by the Instituto Electoral y de Participación Ciudadana (IEPC) de Jalisco for this year’s Reconocimiento al Affidamento: “Confianza que transforma, redes que sostienen” — Trust that transforms, networks that sustain.

Go for a meal, stay for a tempting romp through minimalist home decor. That may be the marketing slogan at Guadalajara’s IKEA, the Swedish-based furniture giant that arrived here in November last year—the largest of three stores in Mexico.

One way to embrace the country’s unique customs is by commemorating the Day of the Dead with a traditional but personalized altar de muertos (ofrenda or altar to the deceased).

1965

Department of Morning Confusion

Chula Vista—It was 9 a.m. Sunday morning after a late Saturday night, when Josephine Luhnow and March McGennity were awakened by exclamations loudly voiced in the garden at the swimming pool.

“What a perfect location, overlooking the golf links … .most beautiful thing I have ever seen…”

Peeking from her bedroom window, Jo saw an attractive, well-dressed couple progressing along the terrace from room to room with a running chorus of admiration. She dressed hurriedly and went into the living room where the couple were now seated enjoying leisurely cigarettes.

Drums thundered down Progreso Street from the Tantuyo Cultural Center as the scent of fresh corn, coconut, and coffee drifted through the air. Beneath strings of papel picado, women from Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, El Salvador and beyond offered tastes of home — and a glimpse of new beginnings. The seventh edition of the Bazar de las Mujeres Migrantes, organized by the women’s collective Caminantas, turned a quiet Guadalajara afternoon into a celebration of Latin America’s resilience in exile.

The streets were still half-asleep when the first drumbeats rolled down Avenida Vallarta, echoing off the shuttered storefronts and apartment balconies. One by one, the dancers appeared out of the darkness — plumes of red, turquoise and gold swaying in rhythm, the sharp scent of copal mixing with the early-morning chill. Metal barrels mounted on wheels served as drums, their deep, insistent pulse carrying the heartbeat of a city on pilgrimage.