Puebla was not waiting for me.
That may be what I remember most about walking through the city. People were working, selling, shopping, driving, opening businesses, and moving from one task to the next. I was there to observe Puebla, but Puebla was busy being Puebla.
The first thing that caught my attention was color. It seemed to be everywhere, sometimes in ways that were impossible to ignore: an orange wall glowing in the sun, a bright yellow building surrounded by dark stone, a soft green façade with black iron balconies, pink storefronts, and papel picado hanging overhead in green, orange, blue, and red. Even an aging orange taxi became part of the palette.
As an artist, I found myself paying attention to these combinations almost automatically. The colors were not separate from the architecture or the life happening around them. They seemed to belong to the city.
Photograph by Erica Kendrick, 2026.
But Puebla was not simply picturesque.
Walking through the streets, I noticed how much of the city revolved around work and commerce. Stores opened directly onto the sidewalks. Signs competed for attention. Jewelry filled brightly lit displays. A hand-painted sign advertised something for ten pesos. People appeared to be working, selling, buying, or headed somewhere else.
There seemed to be fewer tourists than I expected, which made me more aware of everyday life around me. Instead of feeling like I was walking through a place arranged for visitors, I often felt like I had stepped into a city already in progress.
Photograph by Erica Kendrick, 2026.
The sounds reinforced that feeling. Cars passed constantly. Traffic and other vehicle noises became part of the background. Occasionally the smell of street food broke through the ordinary smells of the city, offering another reason to stop and pay attention.
Above all that activity were reminders of Puebla's strong religious presence.
Churches seemed to appear again and again as I walked. The massive stone façade of the cathedral felt very different from the colorful storefronts surrounding it, yet both seemed equally connected to Puebla. Inside shops, religious imagery continued: crucifixes, saints, devotional figures, and other objects filled entire walls.
Photograph by Erica Kendrick, 2026.
Photograph by Erica Kendrick, 2026.
That contrast interested me. Sacred images existed alongside jewelry stores, taxis, restaurants, signs, vendors, and pedestrians. History was not separated from contemporary life. It occupied the same streets.
And then there were the smaller details.
A patterned brick screen. Iron balconies casting shadows across a yellow wall. Decorative tile surrounding a doorway. Papel picado shifting overhead. A weathered car whose orange paint almost perfectly matched some of the buildings around it.
Photograph by Erica Kendrick, 2026.
Photograph by Erica Kendrick, 2026.
Those details are what remain with me.
Before visiting Puebla, it would have been easy for me to reduce the city to its famous architecture, churches, food, or brightly colored buildings. Being there made the experience more complicated and more interesting. The beauty was real, but so was the traffic. So was the work. So were the businesses, the street smells, the worn surfaces, and the people who were simply living their daily lives.
Puebla was colorful, but it wasn't a postcard.
It was a city in motion.
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