Of the 86 motorcycle clubs in Guadalajara, one is unique on several counts. First, its meetings are in Spanglish; second, its ten members aim to preach the Gospel; third, they have no officers. “We have one president and his name is Jesus,” said Paul Fisher, the club pastor.

On the north end of the city, at the terminus of Calzada Independencia, butted against the University of Guadalajara’s art, architecture and design school, sits a plot of land belonging to the city of Guadalajara known as Parque Mirador Independencia. Now, during the rainy season, this space greens, verdant and lively with groups of dragonflies humming from tree to tree. There are other typical park attractions: a basketball court, swing sets, slides and even an amphitheater.

On several occasions, the Guardabosques or Rangers of the Primavera Forest had invited me to observe the liberation of rehabilitated mammals, reptiles and birds deep inside the woods, but never did I suspect that an event like this would one day take place in my own yard, turning me into the foster father of an enchanting baby fox.

The tiny town of Tlajomulco, well known for the giant impetus it gives to culture via its longstanding program of historical tours under the umbrella of “Rutas Franciscanas” (Franciscan Routes), continues to roll out the red carpet to foreign and Mexican tourists with its popular photographic bus tours and, this fall, horseback tours and mariachi galas, many free of charge.

The tequila world is complex. Unbeknownst to most, even the most basic variety, tequila blanco, is made using any number of diverse processes. Some are done right from scratch, the slow and unproductive way while others are made in large industrial operations. To smooth this large-volume tequila out for sipping, it might be triple distilled or very slightly aged. Glycerin might be added for a better throat feel. It’s almost always filtered on top of that, whether by carbon or cellulose processes for varying effects. Most of this information is not printed on the bottle or otherwise advertised, so how’s a person to differentiate between a product of substance and one that’s done quick and dirty?

Concerned by the sewage and chemical waste that is slowly killing Lake Chapala, Mexican-American photographer Victor Hugo Casillas Romo is using his artistic talent to draw attention to its plight.