The migration of the North American monarch butterfly between Mexico and Canada is a journey of life, death and rebirth, a testament to the tenacity and ingenuity with which one generation ensures that life continues after it has alighted on its last leaf, sprig, twig, or patch of soil, the desperate flutter of wings slowing down until it lies still and dead in the sunlight, its brilliant raiment of orange-red gradually fading to the sepia tone of an old photograph.

It was while reading through one of her resource books that Kassandra King discovered the term “rementia.”

It may be news to some of my readers: U.S. citizens with “seriously delinquent” tax debt are at risk of having U.S. passports not renewed or revoked.

Just about everyone who comes to Ajijic to retire has a colorful story to tell, and Sonya Strahl is one of them.

Volunteers are the life blood of the Mexican National Chili Cookoff.

“I don’t think most people have any idea what this opal mine is like,” said Iñaki Oyarvide, as we set off on our day tour, zipping along the highway to Magdalena, 76 kilometers (47 miles) northwest of Guadalajara.