How Mexico Charmed (and Challenged) Europe in 1858
Step into 19th-century Mexico through Marcos Arróniz's 'The Traveler's Manual.' This guide, penned in 1858, unveils a rich history of ancient wonders, city life, social customs, and literary luminaries, shaping the early roots of Mexican tourism.
It's 1858, and Mexico, barely 50 years free from colonial shackles, is ready to charm the world (or at least Europe). Enter Don Marcos Arróniz, poet, activist, Byron fangirl, and the architect of Mexico's first-ever tourist manual Manual del Viajero en Méjico (“The Traveler's Manual in Mexico”).
Imagine a Lonely Planet, but written by a 19th-century dandy with a dash of social critique and a healthy dose of “Europe, please love us!”. Forget tacos and tequila, Arróniz's Mexico is all about chinampas (those Aztec floating gardens, like Venice but weirder), mysterious hieroglyphics, and opera houses with more chandeliers than a disco ball.
Chapter one? Aztec bling-fest, baby! Tenochtitlan gets compared to Rome (because, obviously), with palaces overflowing with exotic animals and roads smoother than Don Juan's moves. We even get a sneak peek at the gossip rags of the time – Hernán Cortés and Bernal Díaz dishing the dirt on Montezuma's court.
Next, Arróniz takes us on a whirlwind tour of Mexico City, the “Modern City.” Forget Uber, we're hailing mule-drawn carriages! He throws in bookstores, bakeries, and even public bathrooms (revolutionary for the time, apparently). But Arróniz can't help but slip in some snarky remarks about the “vulgar” costumes (seriously, guys, those water carriers need a stylist).
Chapter three throws shade like a fiesta. Arróniz celebrates our quirky traditions – Day of the Dead parades, posadas with enough punch to fuel a revolution, and wakes that are basically roast-and-toasts for the dearly departed. He throws in a jab at critics like Lewenstein and Chavalier, who dared call Mexico “barbaric.” “Pah!” says Arróniz, “Come see our rodeos and blacksmiths, you philistines!”
Then comes the obligatory literary brag. Arróniz parades Mexican authors like trophies, from Aztec chroniclers to Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, the nun who wrote sonnets hotter than habaneros. He even throws in a dig at the Academy of San Juan de Letrán for being a tad stuffy.
Finally, we get to the juicy bits – the tourist traps (before they were traps, they were… adventures?). Basilica of Guadalupe? Check. Teotihuacan pyramids? Double check. Chapultepec? Of course, it's basically Hyde Park with better weather. Arróniz even throws in some bonus day trips to nearby towns, from the posh Tacubaya to the gambling haven of Tlalpan.
But Arróniz doesn't stop there. He wants you to see the “unknown Mexico,” the one hiding in caves (hello, Cacahuamilpa Grottoes!), behind waterfalls (Regla, you're a stunner!), and even in the ruins of ancient civilizations (Xochicalco, La Quemada, Chicomostoc, oh my!). He even name-drops Madame Calderón de la Barca and John Stephens, the OG influencers of Mayan ruins.
And here's the kicker: Arróniz wants you to see that Mexicans are, above all, “hospitable.” So come, dear traveler, open your mind, leave your prejudices at the border, and let Mexico charm you with its quirky customs, ancient wonders, and, well, maybe some decent French food while you're at it. (Seriously, Arróniz, where's the mole?)
So, ditch your Baedeker and grab Arróniz's guide. It's a hilarious, fascinating glimpse into 19th-century Mexico, where tourism was in its infancy and charm was all about pyramids, posh promenades, and proving to Europe that Mexico was more than just conquistadors and cacti. After all, who wouldn't want to visit a country where the dead throw parties and the ruins whisper forgotten secrets? Just don't forget your dancing shoes and your pesos – Arróniz wouldn't want you to miss out on the real Mexico.
In-Text Citation: José Luis Juárez López, Los primeros pasos turísticos de México en el siglo XIX, Correo del Maestro. No. 54, pp. 56-58.
