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As another season of epic annual monarch butterfly migration comes to an end here in Mexico, we started thinking about our accidental encounters with the fluttery masses last year.

And we do mean accidental.

One of the more exciting road signs in Mexico.

We were driving along  hwy 134 from Mexico City toward Valle de Bravo just minding our own damn business. Our first hint that something was in the air came when Mexican police cars suddenly veered into traffic and slowed all cars to a crawl. As a growing convoy of frustrated drivers crept around a corner the reason for the hold-up came into view: swarms of monarchs flying down the road in a slow-mo river of gold and black. These “butterfly cops” (as we dubbed them) were there to ensure that moving vehicles didn’t hit too many butterflies—or each other—in the winged confusion.

This monarch, and millions of others just like it, fly thousands of miles from the US and Canada to Mexico every year.

Most drivers kept going but we pulled over into the first turnout we saw along the highway. Soon we were hiking up a steep, dusty trail into the forest behind a handful of Mexican visitors in pursuit of what we could only hope was the home roost of the monarchs we’d just seen along the road.

Something in the air in Mexico.What looks like gently falling confetti is actually swarms of flitting butterflies.

Every year, between November and March, hundreds of millions of monarchs somehow navigate their way to the exact same areas of Central Mexico —some flying 5,000 miles or more from where they were born in Canada and the northern US. Scientists say they’re drawn to Mexico’s fir trees, but can’t provide a more complete explanation than that. Once the butterflies arrive, they rest and eat then mate like crazy before attempting the return flight home. Most never make it.

It’s one of the most puzzling, fragile and mind-boggling migrations on the planet and it gives those lucky enough to visit Mexico’s dozen or so protected monarch migration grounds the unique opportunity to see millions of butterflies in one place. There are so many of the orange and black beauties that the air is alive with the sound of their wings. Tree branches bend to the ground under their collective weight. They even begin to give off a not-so-beautiful smell, not to mention their aforementioned ability to stop traffic.

Thousands of butterflies rest in their beloved fir trees, cumulatively weighing enough to bend the branches down as if they were covered in snow.

Some of Mexico’s better known butterfly havens, like El Rosario, are becoming less of a haven as the hiking boots (and the horse hooves of those who take for the “easy” way up) of thousands of visitors churn up the hiking trails into dust bowls and encourage hillside erosion and fir tree loss.  That many humans also create noise and movement that stresses the colony.

But thanks to the Mexican police force we’d stumbled upon the Piedra Herrada site roughly 15 miles outside Valle de Bravo. This newly opened viewing area is one of a handful of migration locations in Central Mexico which attract one third of the world’s monarch population every year.

The hike was steep (prompting some potty-mouthed grumbling from a woman dressed for brunch, not for hiking) and the weather was hot. Some visitors opted to ride up on one of the handful of petite horses-for-hire, a proposition that looked even more uncomfortable than walking.

At the end of a 1,100 foot climb into the mountains there were still no butterflies in sight but we plodded on winding our way up through the thick forest and the thin air above 7,000 feet.

An hour later we were met by two uniformed local men, trained as official monarch monitors. They collected 23 pesos per person and admitted only a dozen or so people at a time into a roped off hillside viewing area roughly 50 feet from the pulsating colony. We were all under strict orders to move slowly and talk quietly and we remained under the watchful eye of these monitors for as long as we remained within the roped off area. It’s one of the few times we’ve felt grateful for being supervised as the monitors shhh’d and admonished with responsibility, care and obvious respect for the butterflies.

At the Piedra Herrada site, thousands of butterflies rest on the fir trees that they love, weighing down the branches like snow. Those dark clumps are all butterflies.

Yep, all those dark patches are monarch butterflies.

Encouraged by the good conditions and manageable crowd size at Piedra Herrada we committed to finding an area even more pristine and private. And we succeeded.

The next monarch meeting place we visited was an area called Cerro Pellon outside a town called El Capulin which is about 25 miles from Valle de Bravo. The trail here was less steep and a bit shorter than the route up to the first sanctuary and our obligatory local guide allowed us to stand within 20 feet of the butterflies.

Karen on the trail to see the monarchs at Cerro Pellon.

The best part, however, was that we were there along with just five other people (three of which were guides). Plus, the trail was less steep.

Monarchs warming up in the sun at Cerro Pellon.

Thousands of monarchs but only five humans at Cerro Pellon in Mexico.

Thousands of monarchs but only five humans at Cerro Pellon in Mexico.

You'd never know that thousands of monarchs were camped out less than half a mile up this hillside at Cerro Pellon in Mexico.

Thousands of monarchs but only five humans at Cerro Pellon in Mexico.

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It’s true that the future of Mexico’s monarchs is far from certain. Loss of habitat through persistent illegal logging, insufficient funding for the 124,000 acre Monarca Biosphere Reserve which straddles two states and encompasses most of the migration points and over-visitation threatens the butterflies.

To address some of those issues Mexican President Felipe Calderon pledged to add $4.6 million to the $36.4 million annual budget for the Biosphere Reserve (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) back in 2007. However, illegal logging (it’s a felony) and even clear cutting within protected monarch habitat is an ongoing problem as a quick Google Maps overview of some areas brings into stark relief.

Monarchs enjoying Mexico's sunshine

Our advice? Get yourself to Valle de Bravo, a charming Pueblo Magico (they don’t call it the Switzerland of Mexico for nothing) in time for next year’s migration. And note that later in the monarch season (late February and early March) warmer temperatures lure the butterflies lower down the hillsides shaving distance off your hike up to reach them.

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We’ve driven through Guanajuato, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, twice already but we’ve actually never spent more than a few hours there. Not good enough for a city that many consider to be one of the most beautiful in Mexico, so we scheduled a proper visit to the city that prolific local silver mines built and which played an early and important role in Mexico’s independence from the Spanish.

Built in a depression between dramatic mountains Guanajuato is a maze of steep, narrow streets and all traffic heading east to west use an underground tunnel constructed in the dry remains of what used to be a river. We won’t lie: it’s a bit of a driving nightmare, but it’s worth it.

This panorama of Central Guanajuato was taken from the Monumento a Pipila high above the city. (click image for larger panorama)

The city revolves around a densely-packed sprawling central area which is full of intact architecture from the 1600s and 1700s. Quiet squares, plenty of charming pedestrian streets and sidewalk cafes give Guanajuato the look and feel like a European college town. More than 20,000 Mexican students attend the Universidad Guanajuato and they mingle with students from around the world who come to town to attend the city’s many language schools. With so many students around there’s a broad range of places to stay, including plenty of hostels. We went in the other direction, however, and stayed at the Hotel Villa Maria Cristina, part of the conscientiously-vetted, full-service Mexico Boutique Hotels group.

The hotel, a converted and expanded mansion, is located slightly out of the fray of downtown Guanajuato in an area called Paseo de la Presa and we enjoyed being in a neighborhood within a 15 minute walk of the centro. We also enjoyed the hotel’s pool, hot tubs (indoor and outdoor), sauna and steam room–amenities not commonly found in city hotels.

Basilica de Señora de Guanajuato

High on our list of things to do in Guanajuato was the Museo-Casa Diego Rivera. Located in the artist’s childhood home, the museum features some lovely in-tact ground-floor living rooms and bedrooms plus a series of galleries on the upper floors of the building. We’ve seen a lot of Rivera’s work in various museums and in murals on public buildings across Mexico but his early work collected here was completely different. Here you can see Rivera’s sketches of traditional Mexican landscapes and even his attempts at Cubism. If not for the signature at the bottom most of us would never peg the stuff as Rivera’s. A bargain at 15 pesos per person.

In hilly Guanajuato the only access to most homes is via stairways up steep alleys.

Because Guanajuato is built amongst the hills, some of the town has sprawled upward onto the hillsides which means many neighborhoods require quite a hike up narrow, stone-paved alleys just to get to and from your house. We worked our way up a series of these streets to reach the Monumento de Pipila above town and all along the way we wondered how the many inhabitants deal with everyday household needs–like having a refrigerator delivered.

Built to honor a local hero of the war of independence, Monumento de Pipila is also a great place to enjoy sunset over the colors and church domes of Guanajuato. The walk up is also a great way to work up an appetite for rotisserie chicken at Restaurant La Carreta.

Not far from the restaurant is one of Guanajuato’s most famous sites: Callejon del Beso (little street of the kiss). This alleyway is so narrow that the second floor balconies of houses across the street from each other practically touch. On these balconies a kind of Mexican Romeo and Juliet doomed love story played out and the street has become a must-smooch destination in the city. Never mind that an anti-obscenity ad campaign in the city in 2009 momentarily gave the impression that kissing in public was forbidden. That is until Guanajuato’s mayor stepped in and proclaimed his city to be the “kissing capital.”

Pedestrians on bustling Calle Obregon in Guanajuato.

The trees in the plaza in front of the striking Teatro Juarez are some of the densest, lowest and best trimmed we’ve seen yet in any square in Mexico. The branches have literally grown together making a solid square around the plaza, like a tidy, green picture frame. This is lovely to look at or sit under but it makes it hard to get back from the theater far enough to get any perspective on the all-dressed-up structure.

Groups of singers and musicians gather around this square at dusk and start taking requests (and pesos) for surprise serenades they’ll slyly deliver to unsuspecting wives and girlfriends later that night.

This cafe makes good use of a bridge connecting two buildings.

One of the many fountains in Guanajuato.

The beautiful Teatro Juarez with a sliver of a moon rising.

The wide, inviting steps leading up to the opulent Teatro Juarez are a kind of impromptu  meeting place for students in  Guanajuato. The theater is gorgeous, but we wish they didn’t charge so much (35 pesos per person plus 40 pesos for a camera) just to go inside and look around.

Templo de San Francisco in Guanajuato.

About 10 miles outside of town, way up on a hill, sits the Cristo Rey statue of Jesus. At nearly 70 feet tall it’s said to mark the geographical center of Mexico. The only problem is that this is the second “geographical center of Mexico” that we’ve come across so far (the other one was in Tequisquiapan near Queretaro). We shouldn’t talk, however. We’ve been to two places that claim to be the geographical center of the United States.

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Mexico’s Fat Tuesday (Martes Gorda?) celebrations may not be as huge or as raucous or as naked as some, however, the annual Mardi Gras parade here in Ajijic did have its moments… 

…like this paper mache bull going after parading (intentionally bad) drag queens.
 

Male paraders traditionally dress up like old men or gaudy women. Sometimes it's hard to tell which look they were going for.

A guy with a long stick with a hook on the end of it had to follow Miss Mariposa and move the many low-hanging power lines out of the way so this her particularly tall float could safely pass.

What’s a parade with banda and some bovine love? 

Paraders can choose to give bystanders a face full of flour or a face full of confetti. Either way, squealing and chasing ensues.

A Mardi Gras moment during the parade in Ajijic, Mexico.

Superheroes and Supercharros mingle during Ajijic’s Mardi Gras parade.
 

This tiny white burro is a fixture of Ajijic and the fancy pedicure isn't just for Mardi Gras. Its owner paints its hooves a different color every week or so.

The "ladies" of Mardi Gras in Ajijic.

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Lonely Planet had a good idea. Find an easy way to work with the best travel blogs out there to A) add fresh, new content to the LP site and B) help boost awareness about the greatest travel blogs on the web. So they created the new Featured  Blogger program.

Even better? Our Trans-Americas Journey blog was  just accepted as a featured blog.  Our blog will continue to work the way it always has, only now the nearly 100 posts we’ve created and put up (so far) and all new blog posts going forward will also be found on the relevant pages of the massive Lonely Planet web site. For example, our latest post about Guadalajara is on our blog and on the Guadalajara page of the LP site. A beloved older post about wineries in Paso Robles, California is now also found on the Paso Robles page of the LP site.

Sure we hope this drives traffic to our blog  but we also hope that the addition of our content (and content from other Featured Bloggers) will enrich the amount of solid, current travel information out there enabling more people to hit their own road.

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All told we’ve now spent more than three months in and around Guadalajara and, as we prepare to finally move on, we wanted to share a few of heartfelt and (we hope) helpful observations about Mexico’s second largest city.

The Zócalo is anchored by the Guadalajara Cathedral or Catedral de la Asunción de María Santísima.

Best fish tacos: Taco Fish on La Paz. Yeah, 16 pesos is a whole lot to pay for a taco in Mexico, but this street spot slings expertly fried fish and shrimp tacos with all the fixin’s. The crowd speaks for itself. Warning: unless you’re an NFL quarterback (Go Saints!) do NOT order more than two. They’re huge as well as delicious.

Best old-guy bar: Molacho. There’s no sign. Go to the corner of Alcalde and Juan Manuel right in downtown and take the stairs off Juan Manuel up to the bar which is on the second floor above the Farmacias Guadalajara on the corner. What you’ll get is old guys galore (including one playing a baby grand piano, if you’re lucky) plus botanas (free bar snacks) galore, including tacos and tostadas and even soup. People rave about a place called Cantina La Fuente, but we found it to be too big and not very welcoming. Plus, there’s no baby grand piano and no botanas.

Palacio de Gobierno in Guadalajara, one of the few historic buildings left standing in the city.

Most disturbing corporate mascot: The Farmacias Similares guy. Okay, this is a national chain of pharmacies and you see them all over Mexico. However, there seemed to be even more of them than usual in Guadalajara–all with some poor guy dressed up like the chain’s perpetually smiling fake pharmacist mascot prancing around out front. There’s just something about this guy that makes us want to whack him in the head…

This kid likes the ubiquitous Farmacias Similares mascot way more than we do.

Best market and best market vendor: In Guadalajara the impressively massive Mercado Libertad gets all the attention and it MUST be visited. But our favorite go-to market (as in we went there every single day for lunch and sometimes later for dinner too) was the comparatively tiny Mercado Corona. Great food vendors (from tacos to seafood to carnitas) and the second floor is full of stalls selling potions and lotions and sprays meant to fix anything that might possibly be wrong with your life. Want more success at work? Pick up a can of Call Client, whose label proclaims that it contains “Genuine Spray.” Got problems with gossipy friends or a chatty-Cathy spouse? Both are easily handled by a product called “Shut Your Mouth.” Even better than that is our favorite market vendor, the perpetually happy man who runs a small health-food/juice bar stand on the market’s first floor. Not only did he make the best aguas frescas (water infused with fresh fruit) we’ve had in Mexico, he always spent time to help us with our Spanish too. tip: mix strawberry (fresa) with lime (limon).

Smartest urban quirk: the walking/running man.Guadalajara is Mexico’s second largest city (after the vastly more-huge Mexico City) and it runs remarkably smoothly thanks to a whole host of tools and rules that keep even the sometimes congested downtown under control. One such tool is liberal installation of fabulous crosswalk lights that now only countdown the number of seconds that you have left to cross the street but also displays a moving human who speeds up its pace as the seconds tick away. If nothing else, this walking/running man made us smile every morning on our way to Spanish language school. Mexico City could learn a lesson here.

Best totally different places to see live music: Casa  Bariachi and On the Rocks. Guadalajarans (aka Tapatios) love their live music–from traditional Mariachi (which Tapatios will claim was invented in Guadalajara) to modern rock. Our favorite place to see massive mariachi bands with a rotating cast of sit-in starts is Casa Bariachi, an enormous festive place that is almost always packed with tables full of Mexican families or Mexican women on a raucous (tequila-fueled) ladies’ night out. It’s unbeatable. For live rock we stumbled upon a place called On the Rocks which is run by a gregarious guy named Isaac who makes sure the waitresses are smiley and speedy and the bands (which usually play covers of US and European rock songs in English and in Spanish) are of high quality. His own band performs on Wednesday nights.

Most confusing moment: trying to figure out when/where the futbol (soccer) games were. Guadalajarans, like most Mexicans, are crazy for soccer. Here the two top teams are Chivas and the Liones Negros. We were understandably anxious to see one or both teams play, but our initial research on their official team web sites and the local sports pages left us totally confused about where and when the teams were playing. We even asked friends with much better Spanish than ours to do the same. None of us could figure it out. When we finally did get the hang of how to know which team was the home team and, therefore, where the  game was taking place we’d already missed a bunch of matched. We never did get to a game…

Most uninhibited fountain: Along a pedestrian mall in downtown Guadalajara is a fountain. That’s not the the remarkable part. The remarkable part is that the fountain consists of a group of small boys cast in bronze, all of them peeing into the center of the fountain. It’s called the “kids peeing” fountain.

Yep. This is a fountain full of bronze boys peeing.

Greatest family ever: the Delgadillo/Sanchez/Hellyer clan. The generosity, help, support and overall wonderfulness of every single member of this family not only made our time in Guadalajara immeasurably easier and more enjoyable but also added to our understanding of one of the greatest things about Mexico in general: the generosity and pride of the people. We literally can’t thank them enough for feeding us and letting us stay with them and putting up with our rickety Spanish and making us feel like we were part of the family. We look forward to continuing the friendships we started in the Guadalajara area long after we’ve moved on.

Karen is all ears sitting on one of the whimsical sculptures by Alejandro Colunga in Plaza Tapatía in front of the mural-filled Hospicio Cabañas.