When I visited Chichén Itzá in November 2025, I walked through the remains of a city that had been a major centre of Maya political, religious and commercial life. Its history spans many centuries, but the monumental city visible today flourished especially between approximately the ninth and thirteenth centuries. Located in northern Yucatán, it brought together local Maya traditions and architectural influences that reveal the extensive connections of Mesoamerica. The site was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1988.

At the centre of the great plaza stands El Castillo, also known as the Temple of Kukulcán. Its four staircases, terraces and temple summit express the importance of sacred architecture and the calendar in Maya society. Each of its four stairways has 91 steps; together with the upper platform, they are often interpreted as a reference to the 365-day solar year. Near the spring and autumn equinoxes, the interplay of light and shadow along the northern balustrade can suggest the body of a serpent descending toward the carved serpent head at its base. The spectacle is striking, although claims that every detail was deliberately engineered for a precise equinox effect remain debated.

The Great Ball Court, about 168 metres long, is the largest known ball court in Mesoamerica. Its high walls, carved panels and stone rings remind us that the ball game was more than recreation: it was also bound to political authority, ritual and ideas about the cosmos. The reliefs include scenes of violence and sacrifice, evidence of the ceremonial significance of at least some games. Nearby, the Temple of the Warriors and the Group of a Thousand Columns evoke public gathering places, processions and the military imagery of the city.

Another remarkable structure is El Caracol, the circular building often described as an observatory. Its unusual plan and window alignments have encouraged interpretations connected with the observation of celestial movements, particularly Venus, although not every proposed alignment is universally accepted. For the Maya, the sky and the passage of time were intimately connected with agriculture, ritual and political life. Architecture could give these relationships a visible form.

Water was just as important as the heavens. In this limestone landscape, where surface rivers are scarce, natural sinkholes known as cenotes provided access to groundwater. The Sacred Cenote was also a place of offerings: archaeological investigations recovered precious objects and human remains, revealing a complex history of pilgrimage and ritual. Its presence helps explain why this particular landscape carried such enduring significance.

As I moved between the pyramid, the ball court and the colonnades, I tried to imagine the city before it became an archaeological site: traders arriving, ceremonies taking place, people crossing the plazas and the everyday sounds of a densely inhabited centre. Chichén Itzá eventually lost its former political prominence, but it was never simply forgotten. Its surviving stones still speak of a society in which engineering, belief, exchange and close observation of nature formed parts of a larger whole.