When the Spanish conquistadors landed on the shores of the Mexican peninsula, they asked the local people the name of that land. The answer, in the ancient Mayan language, was: Ma’ati Na’ti Katan — “I don’t understand.” Unaware of the misunderstanding, the Spaniards assumed that was the name of the place. And so, from a simple misinterpretation, the name Yucatán was born.
Centuries later, in December 2024, my partner Laura and I travelled across that same region in a small Nissan March. Over 3,000 kilometers through Yucatán, Quintana Roo, and Campeche, along endless roads, hidden villages, and unexpected encounters.
This project is a visual diary made of fragments and impressions: domestic altars, deserted highways, torrential rains, fleeting light. A Mexico that slowly reveals itself in daily gestures and quiet details that often go unnoticed.
One of the things that struck me most was the relationship people have with their vehicles. Trucks, cars, motorbikes, bicycles — not just tools, but travel companions and symbols of identity. Old, worn, patched up, but full of stories, affection, and dignity. Like Pancho, who welcomed us into his home in Valladolid and proudly posed next to his old 1950 Ford pick-up, as if it were a lifelong friend.
Each photograph in this project seeks to capture a fragment of this journey — not only the places, but the soul of the people who inhabit them. Because sometimes, to truly understand a place, you must first be open to what you don’t immediately understand.
The project was selected and published by Collateral.al, a platform focused on contemporary photography, art, and visual culture. The full series includes 36 photographs. | Read the article here
A curated selection is shown here.
