37 Best Sights in Mexico

Begun in 1561, Mérida's cathedral is one of the oldest on the North American mainland (an older one can be found in the Dominican Republic). It took several hundred Maya laborers, working with stones from the pyramids of the ravaged Maya city, 37 years to complete it. Designed in the somber Renaissance style by an architect who had worked on El Escorial in Madrid, its facade is stark and unadorned, with gunnery slits instead of windows and faintly Moorish spires.

Inside, the black Cristo de las Ampollas (Christ of the Blisters) occupies a side chapel to the left of the main altar. At 23 feet tall, it's the tallest Christ figure inside a Mexican church. The statue is a replica of the original, which was destroyed during the revolution in 1910 (also when the gold that once adorned the cathedral was carried off). According to one of many legends, the Christ figure burned all night and appeared the next morning unscathed—except for its namesake blisters. You can hear the pipe organ play at the 11 am Sunday Mass.

The majestic cathedral that forms the northern side of the Zócalo is nothing less than the heart of Mexico City, its most famous building, and the backdrop to many of the country's most important historical events. Construction on the largest and one of the oldest Latin American cathedrals began in the late 16th century and continued intermittently throughout the next 300 years. The result is a medley of baroque and neoclassical touches. There are 5 altars and 14 chapels, mostly in the ornate churrigueresque style, named for Spanish architect José Benito Churriguera (1665–1725). Like most Mexican churches, the cathedral is all but overwhelmed by innumerable paintings, altarpieces, and statues—in graphic color—of Christ and the saints. Over the centuries, this cathedral began to sink into the spongy subsoil, but a major engineering project to stabilize it was declared successful in 2000. The older-looking church attached to the cathedral is the 18th-century Sagrario chapel. 

Erected by Carmelite friars with the help of an Indigenous chieftain between 1615 and 1628, this church—with its domes, frescoes, vaulted archways, fountains, and gardens—was never actually a convent, despite its name. Though some locals might tell you otherwise, nuns never actually lived here. The church still operates (you can enter it for free from a separate entrance next door), but part of the church complex has been converted into Museo del Carmen, with a fine collection of 16th- to 18th-century religious paintings and icons. Much of the religious art (along with a captivating collection of photos that depict San Ángel and the southern portions of the city during the early 20th century) is on the second floor of the adjoining Casa de Acueducto, which overlooks another courtyard fringed by an interesting ancient aqueduct. It's also worth visiting the dozen-or-so mummified corpses tucked away in the crypt—a creepy but fascinating sight, for sure. For a perhaps much-needed breath of fresh air, saunter out to the gracious rear garden, with its shady trees and benches. There's usually an excellent temporary exhibit as well, typically touching on some element of Mexico City history and culture.

On the large plaza, the Basilica de Talpa is the main show in town. The twin-spire limestone temple is Gothic with neoclassical elements. After visiting the royally clad Virgin in her side chapel, stroll around the surrounding square. Shops and stalls sell sweets, miniature icons of the Virgin in every possible presentation, T-shirts, and other souvenirs. Chicle (gum) is harvested in the area, and you'll find small keepsakes in the shapes of shoes, flowers, and animals made of the (nonsticky) raw material.

This vast church with an ornate plateresque facade and Mudejar (Moorish) tile dome was consecrated in 1730. It's home to the Virgin (or Our Lady) of Zapopan: a 10-inch-high, corn-paste statue venerated as a source of many miracles. Every October 12 more than a million people crowd the streets around the basilica, where the Virgin is returned after a five-month tour of Jalisco's parish churches. It's an all-night fiesta capped by an early-morning procession.

Cortés ordered the construction of this cathedral, also known as Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, with work beginning in 1525. Like his palace, the cathedral doubled as a fortress. Cannons mounted above the flying buttresses helped bolster the city's defenses. The facade may give you a sense of foreboding, especially when you catch sight of the skull and crossbones over the door. The interior is much less ominous, though, thanks to the stained-glass windows and the murals uncovered during renovations.

Begun in 1561 and consecrated in 1618, this downtown focal point is an intriguing mélange of baroque, Gothic, and other styles. Its emblematic twin towers replaced the originals, felled by the earthquake of 1818. Ten of the silver-and-gold altars were gifts from King Fernando VII in thanks for Guadalajara's financial support of Spain during the Napoleonic Wars. Some of the world's most magnificent retablos (altarpieces) adorn the walls; above the sacristy (often closed to the public) is Bartolomé Esteban Murillo's priceless 17th-century painting The Assumption of the Virgin. In a loft above the main entrance is a magnificent 19th-century French organ.

It took two centuries (from 1650 to 1850) to finish this cathedral, and, as a result, it incorporates both neoclassical and Renaissance elements. On the simple limestone exterior, sculptures of saints in niches are covered in black netting to discourage pigeons from unintentional desecration. The church's neoclassical interior is also somewhat plain and sparse. The high point of its collection, now housed in the side chapel museum, is a magnificent Holy Sepulchre carved from ebony and decorated with stamped silver angels, flowers, and decorative curlicues. Each angel holds a symbol of the Stations of the Cross.

The downtown church, Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Paz, is a simple, unassuming building near the site of La Paz's first mission, which no longer exists. Built in 1861, it's one of La Paz's oldest buildings, and so no changes can be made, even for restoration. It was built with volcanic stone, the primary available material at the time; inside you can find a modest gilded altar but beautiful stained-glass windows.

The gleaming white St. Mark's Cathedral sits across from the sprawling Parque Central, which is really more plaza than park. The modern structure shows some colonial touches. The tower has 48 bells that ring every hour as mechanical figures resembling the apostles appear halfway up the tower. Inside, you’ll hear services in Tzotzil and Tzeltal, Chiapas’s primary indigenous languages, as well as Spanish. The Vatican approved official mass translations for both languages in 2013, and Catholic churches throughout Chiapas use them. The building is open daily 8–2 and 4:30–8. A sound-and-light show is presented Thursday through Sunday evenings at 8, with brightly colored Chiapas-themed images projected onto the cathedral's white facade.

The Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe is dedicated to the patron saint of Mexico and of Puerto Vallarta. The holy mother's image, by Ignacio Ramírez, is the centerpiece of the cathedral's slender marble altarpiece. The brick bell tower is topped by a lacy-looking crown that replicates the one worn by Carlota, short-lived empress of Mexico. The wrought-iron crown toppled during an earthquake that shook this area of the Pacific Coast in 1995 but was soon replaced with a fiberglass version, supported, as was the original, by a squadron of stone angels. This was replaced with a newer and larger rendition in 2009.

Several blocks south of the city center, the restored Hermitage of St. Isabel, also known as the Hermitage of the Good Trip stands on a square that is the heart of the neighborhood named after the church—La Ermita. Completed in 1748, the beautiful edifice served as a resting place for colonial-era travelers headed to Campeche. It's one of the most peaceful places in the city and a good destination for a ride in a horse-drawn carriage, though it's typically open only during mass. Behind the hermitage are huge tropical gardens, which have a waterfall and footpaths and which are usually unlocked during daylight hours.

Facing the main plaza, the enormous 16th-century former monastery and church of St. Anthony of Padua is perched on—and built from—the remains of a Maya pyramid devoted to Itzamná, god of the heavens. The monastery's ocher-painted church, where Pope John Paul II led prayers in 1993, has a gigantic atrium (supposedly second in size only to the Vatican's) facing a colonnaded facade and rows of 75 white-trimmed arches. The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception, to whom the church is dedicated, is the patron saint of the Yucatán. A statue of Nuestra Señora de Izamal, or Our Lady of Izamal, was brought here from Guatemala in 1562 by Bishop Diego de Landa. Miracles are ascribed to her, and a yearly pilgrimage takes place in her honor. Frescoes of saints at the front of the church, once plastered over, were rediscovered and refurbished in 1996.

The monastery and church are now illuminated in a light-and-sound show of the type common at some archaeological sites. You can catch a Spanish-only narration and the play of lights on the nearly 500-year-old structure at 8:30 every night but Sunday. Diagonally across from the cathedral, the small municipal market is worth a wander. It's the kind of place where if you stop to watch how the merchants prepare food, they may let you in on their cooking secrets.

Five long blocks away from the main plaza is the 16th-century, terra-cotta Ex-Convento e Iglesia San Bernardino, a Franciscan church and former monastery. The church was actually built over Cenote Sis-Há, which provided the monks with a clean water source. You can view the cenote through a grate in the well house, where much of the original stone still remains. If a priest is around, ask him to show you the 16th-century frescoes, protected behind curtains near the altarpiece. The lack of proportion in the human figures shows the initial clumsiness of indigenous artisans in reproducing the Christian saints.

The Jesuits built this fine baroque church in honor of St. Joseph just before they were booted out of the New World in 1767. Its block-long facade and portal are covered with blue-and-yellow Talavera tiles and crowned with seven narrow stone finials—resembling both the roof combs on many Mayan temples and the combs Spanish women once wore in their elaborate hairdos. You can ask the guard (who should be somewhere on the grounds) to let you in. From the outside you can admire Campeche's first lighthouse, built in 1864 and perched atop the right-hand tower.

In 1890, local fishermen landed at a deserted colonial settlement known as Ecab, where they found three identical statues of the Virgin Mary, each carved from wood with porcelain face and hands. No one knows where the statues came from, but it's widely believed they were gifts from the Spanish during a visit in 1770. One statue went to the city of Izamal in the Yucatán, and another was sent to Kantunikin in Quintana Roo. The third remained on the island. It was housed in a small wooden chapel while this church was being built; legend has it that the chapel burst into flames when the statue was removed. Some islanders still believe the statue walks on the water around the island from dusk until dawn, looking for her sisters. You can pay your respects daily between 11 am and 4 pm or between 6 pm and 8 pm, or attend mass, mostly in Spanish, with a few services in English throughout the week.

Mascota's pride is La Iglesia de la Preciosa Sangre (Church of the Precious Blood), started in 1909 but unfinished due to the revolution and the ensuing Cristero Revolt. Weddings, concerts, and plays are sometimes held here under the ruins of Gothic arches. Note the 3-D blood squirting from Jesus's wound in the chapel—you can hardly miss it.

Just north of Parque Hidalgo is one of Mérida's oldest buildings and the first Jesuit church in the Yucatán. It was built in 1618 from the limestone blocks of a dismantled Maya temple, and faint outlines of ancient carvings are still visible on the west wall. Although the church is a favorite place for society weddings, its interior is not ornate. In former convent rooms at the rear of the building, however, you'll find the Pinoteca Juan Gamboa Guzmán, a small but interesting art collection. The most engaging pieces are the striking bronze sculptures of indigenous Maya crafted by celebrated 20th-century sculptor Enrique Gottdiener Soto. On the second floor are about 20 forgettable oil paintings—mostly of past civic officials.

On one corner of the plaza is the town's white-spire Iglesia de la Virgen de los Dolores. The Virgin of Sorrow is feted on September 15, which segues into Mexican Independence Day on the 16th.

This evocatively faded red church is typical of Yucatán's colonial sanctuaries. It has been ransacked on more than one occasion, but the Cristo Negro (Black Christ) altarpiece is original. The best view might be from the outside, where you can take in the facade and savor the slow pace of the town as families ride by in carts attached to bicycles and locals mill around in traditional Maya dress.

With its flat, boldly painted facade and bells ensconced under small arches instead of in bell towers, the Church of St. Francis looks more like a Mexican city hall than a Catholic church. Outside the city center in a residential neighborhood, the beautifully restored temple is Campeche's oldest. It marks the spot where some say the first Mass on the North American continent was held in 1517—though the same claim has been made for Veracruz and Cozumel. One of conquistador Hernán Cortés's grandsons was baptized here, and the baptismal font still stands.

Like most Franciscan churches, this one is sober and plain, and its single bell tower is the only ornamentation. The equally sparse interior is brightened a bit by some colorful stained-glass windows, and the carved and inlaid altarpiece serves as a beautiful backdrop for an ebony image of Jesus, the "Black Christ," brought from Italy in about 1575. Although understandably skeptical of Christianity, the indigenous people, who the Spaniards forced into perpetual servitude, eventually came to associate this Black Christ figure with miracles. As legend has it, a ship that refused to carry the holy statue was lost at sea, while the ship that accepted it reached Campeche in record time. To this day, the Feast of San Román—when worshippers carry a black-wood Christ and silver filigree cross through the streets—remains a solemn but colorful affair.

Iglesia de San Sebastián is a restored 1800s-era church that comes to life in the days preceding its saint's day, January 20.

On the south side of the town's main plaza stands the large Iglesia de San Servacio, sometimes spelled "San Gervasio." Although many refer to it as a catedral, it is not the seat of the diocese—that's in Mérida. Its limestone exterior is impressive, but the interior is rather plain. The church makes a stunning anchor for the plaza when illuminated at night.

The exterior of this 16th-century church might be simple, but inside waits an explosion of color and swirling shapes. To facilitate the conversion of the indigenous population, Franciscan monks incorporated elements recalling the local cult of the goddess Tonantzin in the ornamentation of the chapel. The result is a jewel of the style known as churrigueresque. The polychrome wood-and-stucco carvings—inset columns, altarpieces, and the main archway—were completed in the late 17th century. The carvings, set off by ornate gold-leaf figures of plant forms, angels, and saints, were made by local craftspeople.

The elaborately carved main altarpiece and matching side altars here were restored inch by inch, and this long, narrow house of worship now adds more than ever to historic Calle 59's old-fashioned beauty. Built in 1565, it was originally called Iglesia de San Francisco for St. Francis. In addition to a statue of Francis, humbler-looking saints peer out from smaller niches.

La Villa—the local moniker of the site of the two basilicas of the Virgin of Guadalupe, about 7 km (4 miles) north of the Zócalo—is Mexico's holiest shrine. Its importance derives from the miracle that the devout believe occurred here on December 12, 1531: a Mexica named Juan Diego received from the Virgin a cloak permanently imprinted with her image so he could prove to the priests that he had experienced a holy vision. Although the story of the miracle and the cloak itself have been challenged for centuries, they are hotly defended by clergy and laity alike. Every December 12, millions of pilgrims arrive, many crawling on their knees for the last few hundred yards, praying for divine favors.

Outside the Antigua Basílica (Old Basilica) stands a statue of Juan Diego, who became the first indigenous saint in the Americas when he was canonized in 2002. The canonization of Juan Diego was wildly popular among Mexican Catholics, although a vocal minority of critics (both in and out of the Church) argued that, despite the Church's extensive investigation, the validity of Juan Diego's existence is suspect. Many critics see the canonization of this polarizing figure as a strategic move by the Church to retain its position among Mexico's indigenous population. The old basilica dates from 1536; various additions have been made since then. The altar was executed by sculptor Manuel Tolsá. The basilica now houses an excellent museum of ex-votos (hand-painted depictions of miracles, dedicated to Mary or a saint in gratitude) and popular religious, decorative, and applied arts from the 15th through 18th centuries.

Because the structure of the Antigua Basílica had weakened over the years and the building was no longer large enough or safe enough to accommodate all the worshippers, Pedro Ramírez Vázquez, the architect responsible for Mexico City's splendid Museo Nacional de Antropología, was commissioned to design a shrine, which was consecrated in 1976. In this case, alas, the architect's inspiration failed him: the Nueva Basílica (New Basilica) is a gigantic, circular mass of wood, steel, and polyethylene that feels like a stadium rather than a church. The famous image of the Virgin is encased high up in its altar at the back and can be viewed from a moving sidewalk that passes below. The holiday itself is a great time to visit if you don't mind crowds; it's celebrated with various kinds of music and dancers.

It's possible to take the metro here—La Villa-Basílica station is just a couple of blocks south. But it's not the safest or most scenic part of town, and it's quicker and more secure to go by Uber.

One of the most magical experiences in San José is strolling past this historic mission as its bells chime. Originally founded in 1730 near the local estuary, it was the southernmost Jesuit mission established in the Vieja California territory during Mexico's colonial days. The mission walked a tightrope between baptizing the area's indigenous Pericú and being locked in battle with them. In the 19th century the mission was destroyed by an attack, and it wasn't until 1940 that the mission was rebuilt on its current site. The mission is currently the head of a parish comprising six churches and more than 45,000 parishioners. It holds English mass every Sunday at noon.

Todos Santos was the second-farthest south of Baja California's 30 mission churches, a system the Spanish instituted to convert (and subdue) the peninsula's indigenous peoples. Jesuit priests established an outpost here in 1723 as a visita (circuit branch) of the mission in La Paz, a day's journey away on horseback. The original church north of town was sacked and pillaged twice during its existence, before being relocated in 1825 to this site in the center of town. Additions in the past two centuries have resulted in a hodgepodge of architectural styles, but the overall effect is still pleasing, and the structure serves to this day as the community's bustling parish church.