Why I Stopped Eating Animals and What I Learned

When I changed my diet and stopped eating animals, it happened overnight. That story is here if you want to read it.

Everyone has their own reasons for choosing what they eat. Mine are clear: I changed because of the animals, for my health, and for the environment. It’s now been 3 years and 4 months without consuming animal products — and that’s also how long it’s been since I last got sick.

In those first days after the change, I was angry. I carried a deep, heavy anger inside me for months. At the same time, I felt sad and overwhelmed by the documentaries I’d watched — by the helplessness of seeing animals suffer and not being able to stop it.

I was angry at myself and at the industries that sell animals as food. At myself for not wanting to see the truth earlier, and at those industries for how unethical they are, and how they operate.

When judgment gets clouded by emotion, it’s hard to be reasonable. We get swept up in what we feel and forget to think objectively — especially when we see someone causing harm to other living beings.

Watching those documentaries opened my eyes, even though I already knew they existed. I had chosen not to watch them because I didn’t want to change. I was afraid of what I might see, afraid of watching animals suffer, cry, scream, and make desperate sounds. I didn’t want to see them because I didn’t want to feel bad about what I was eating.

In the beginning, I wanted to share everything I saw. I wanted to show people what was happening in the meat and dairy industries, and in the animal farms where chickens and pigs are raised. I wanted people to know, or at least not forget.

I wanted to change the world and show the truth behind every plate of chicken or meat. I felt, mistakenly, that I had a responsibility to expose what was wrong. I wanted people to become aware, but I wasn’t doing it the right way.

I forgot that I used to eat chicken, pork, turkey, fish, and everything else. I forgot how I used to react when I had a vegetarian or vegan sitting in front of me.

I had a girlfriend in university who was vegetarian, and I used to tease her for eating salads, vegetables, pasta, and for not eating meat tacos. That was in 2006. Even though almost 20 years have passed, that behaviour wasn’t okay. I was (and sometimes still am) totally ignorant, and I had (and still have) a lot to learn.

Seeing that most people eat animals, I normalized it too. I stopped seeing the food on my plate as an animal. What I saw was just food, something my mum, my grandmother, and my family had been eating for years.

But just because something has been done for many years doesn’t mean it’s right. The same goes for traditions. Not all traditions are good just because they’ve been around for a long time.

It used to be normal for the Aztecs to do human sacrifices and remove people’s hearts. I don’t think that tradition would be welcome today.

Another thing I did wrong when I stopped eating animals was eating everything I saw that was vegan. Pasta, sauces, chips, ultra-processed food. I wasn’t thinking about the long-term effects.

Besides not knowing how to eat properly, I kept exercising like usual, running and staying active. That’s why I started losing weight. I didn’t feel bad or low on energy at the time, but I know that if I had continued like that, it could have harmed me in the long run.

A lot of brands take advantage of words like vegan, organic, or gluten-free to sell their products. But just because something has those labels doesn’t mean it’s good for us. Eating Oreo cookies for breakfast with a Coke is a 100 percent vegan combination. Still, there’s nothing healthy about it.

We don’t know how to read food labels, and honestly, we’re too lazy to learn. On top of that, we’re influenced by advertising and by what our families and “dactors” have taught us (actors dressed like doctors).

I really do believe that if schools taught us how to read product labels, disease rates would drop significantly.

I kept losing weight until I started noticing it more in my face. That’s when I decided to focus on learning about nutrition. I wanted to understand how to read labels, know which ingredients to avoid, and figure out how much and what kind of food I needed to eat.

It’s something I still do often — learning and improving. I keep updating my kitchen recipes and experimenting with natural, energy-giving ingredients that help me feel good and support my physical activity.

One of the most common questions I’ve been asked is, “How are you going to get your protein?” We’ve grown up surrounded by ads pushing protein. More meat, more protein. More chicken, more protein. More eggs, more protein.

We’ve been taught to worry more about eating enough protein than about what our cholesterol or triglyceride levels look like.

In the beginning, I was worried too. I didn’t know where I was going to get my protein from. I also didn’t know that we only need about 10 to 35 percent of our daily calories to come from protein. I was surprised to learn that I needed to focus more on fibre and carbohydrates. That percentage varies depending on the person, but most of us don’t know that.

Learning about what we eat takes effort, time, and willpower. But for me, it’s become easier and now I do it almost automatically. For example, when I go to the supermarket, I don’t even walk through the aisles with the products I don’t eat. I don’t look at them anymore.

There are plenty of apps where you can log what you eat in a day, and they tell you how many calories, macronutrients, and micronutrients each ingredient has. That’s how I’ve been learning what I actually need, and how nutrition works for me.

And I enjoy it. It’s become a bit of a game. I already know which vegetables, fruits, or combinations work best for me.

My body type is ectomorph. My metabolism is really fast, so for most of my life I’ve been considered thin or skinny. A lot of people assume that thin people are sick or weak, and that people with bigger bodies or more weight are the healthy ones.

I’ve learned that every body is different, and so is every person’s metabolism. The way society has boxed us in is way too general, so we shouldn’t assume someone’s health just by looking at their body type. I also think that’s why most diets don’t work unless they’re personalised.

I also learned that not all natural food is good for everyone. For example, if two people eat the exact same apple, each person’s body will process it differently.

Trying to change the world through veganism isn’t the right approach. It’s also not right to tell people what to eat. And it’s not just about food, I don’t think it’s right to tell anyone what to do. That’s been one of my biggest lessons.

I have a complicated relationship with the word “vegan,” but that’s the word people understand when I say I don’t consume animals. My conflict is that I don’t really think I’m vegan, and I don’t think anyone can be vegan 100 percent.

Just by living, we’re not fully vegan. Being vegan means rejecting any kind of animal product, not just in food but also in clothing and the products we use. It also means being against the death of any living being.

But just by walking, we might step on ants or spiders. When we drive down a highway, the front of our car ends up covered in the bodies of butterflies and other insects. I don’t think that’s very vegan.

And even if we don’t drive ourselves, just by ordering something on Amazon, more than one insect probably died on the way from the warehouse to our door. And there are many more examples like this, which are sometimes used to criticise or attack veganism.

That’s why I struggle with the word. But in the end, it’s not about being 100 percent vegan or trying to make the whole world vegan. What matters is starting with food, and slowly reducing the suffering of other living beings. Focusing on what we can actually control, and starting with what we choose to eat.

This journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s become lighter with time. Thankfully, eating without animal products is more common now, and in many places — even restaurants — there’s at least one option. Asking for it to be healthy too might still be a stretch, but we’re getting there.

I’ve learned a lot of tricks along the way, and I’ll share them in another post. But the biggest lesson so far has been this — be, and let others be. Just like with exercise, learning not to judge is a muscle we have to keep working on.

When you have willpower and a clear purpose, everything gets easier. My purpose is to eat in a way that nourishes my body and mind, without needing another living being to die for it.

There are always excuses. Even now, I cook almost every day and I think I’m getting better at it, but there was a time when I was afraid to even touch the stove.

Time is another excuse. I work full-time Monday to Friday, and on weekends I work on my own projects. I also have responsibilities at home and with my wife. There is time — what’s often missing is organisation.

The biggest excuse I used to have was about my friendships, and about my family. But that… I’ll save for the next post.

If this story resonates with you, I’d love to hear from you. Whether you're exploring a similar shift or just feeling curious about the journey, I’m always open to real conversations. You can write me, reply to the post, or simply share it with someone who might need it.

Documenting 87 Traditional Drinks in Oaxaca Changed How I See Photography

How did Bebidas de Oaxaca begin?

At first glance, you might think I’m a chef, a food expert, or a documentary photographer. But when I started Bebidas de Oaxaca, I had no culinary background. I didn’t know anything about traditional Mexican drinks.

The idea came to me three months into living in Vancouver, Canada. I was missing Mexico deeply. Maybe it was the cold, grey winter. Maybe it was because I couldn’t work as a photographer, since I was there as a tourist. I’ve always believed that things happen for a reason, even if you don’t see it at first. Eventually, it makes sense.

At that time, I was living with an African family. My brother had recently joined me, looking for work opportunities. One afternoon in the kitchen, he made agua de mango (Fruit mango water). In Mexico, it’s common to use ripe fruit to make agua fresca instead of letting it go to waste. The family had never tried mango water like that, so simple, fresh, and full of flavour. They loved it. That moment led to a long conversation about all the traditional drinks we have in Mexico: agua de sandía, jamaica, horchata, melón, papaya, avena, and more.

By then, I already knew I wanted to return to Mexico, but I didn’t know how or what I was going to do. After working at an advertising agency, I was disillusioned, I knew I didn’t want to go back to that world where sales mattered more than the well-being of the team or the quality of the products being promoted. I wanted to work independently, travel, and take photos.

And then the idea came: what if I documented traditional Mexican beverages through photography?

I began researching. I found the usual drinks like pulque, mezcal, tequila, coffee, but much of the information was repetitive. I felt there was still a lot left undocumented. So I made a plan. I’d visit the southern states, starting with Oaxaca, to photograph 13 traditional drinks in a month and a half. I didn’t know anyone. I had no contacts in the food world. But I was excited and determined.

That short trip turned into five years. I ended up documenting 87 drinks in Oaxaca.

Why drinks?

I wasn’t trying to become an expert. I just saw drinks as something that connects all of Mexico, just like tacos do. But unlike tacos, there weren’t many visual or cultural projects focused on traditional beverages. I saw a gap in Mexican gastronomy and wanted to contribute.

In the beginning, I planned to take clean product-style shots. But everything changed with the first drink I documented: Tejate. I watched how it was made. It wasn’t just mixing ingredients, it was a slow, ancestral process involving fire, a metate, a comal. It required time and deep knowledge.

As a food and documentary photographer exploring Oaxacan culture, I was captivated. I decided to photograph everything: the ingredients, the tools, the process, even the plants and trees where the ingredients come from.

Without realizing it, this project was teaching me to slow down and appreciate the value behind every drink, dish, and ingredient. We often only see the final result and forget what it takes to get there.

I was new to Oaxaca, and to its food culture. Everything was unfamiliar, which made it even more fascinating. I became obsessed with observing and documenting every step. Many locals told me they hadn’t noticed the things I was capturing. That outsider’s perspective helped me build a visual library of techniques, textures, and traditions.

What surprised me most?

There’s a saying: "I came looking for copper and found gold." That’s exactly how I feel.

The gold was the people. The friendships, the warmth, the generosity. The way they let me into their kitchens and their lives. I’m from the north of Mexico, and things are different there. Oaxaca touched something deep in me.

I was amazed by the wisdom and resilience of people preserving their traditions and not just culinary ones, but also crafts, rituals, and ways of living. I was surprised by the tequio (community work), by how often I left homes with my hands full of gifts. In Oaxaca, people give what they have.

And the more I traveled, the more I realised that many drinks are not even documented online. My list of 13 turned into 87. There’s so much more that deserves our attention and especially from those interested in Mexican culture and ancestral knowledge.

How did it change me?

I spent 13 months traveling throughout the state by shared vans, taxis, hitchhiking, city buses, long-distance buses, and car. The turning point came when I learned about the coffee-making process.

We all know coffee in a cup or instant commercial coffee, but not the labor behind turning a cherry into a bean. I felt lucky to learn it, to pick the fruit myself, to feel my skin swell from insect bites in the fields but also sad and outraged by how little value is given to the effort of the people who work the land.

Since then, the way I see food, drinks, and the people behind each recipe has changed. I began focusing on capturing the ingredients with respect and showing the beauty of the process, the colors, the details, not just the final result.

My photography changed too. I left behind the commercial style and started documenting more honestly. No posing, no directing. Just observing and being grateful.

This body of work became not only a photo archive of traditional drinks in Mexico, but a deep exploration of culture, identity, and storytelling through visual language.

What I hope this project inspires

For those who read it, I hope the stories take you to the villages I visited and that they spark a desire to travel, to taste, to care for, and to value these traditional drinks.

For Oaxaca, I hope this project becomes a small piece of cultural heritage that inspires support for preserving its food traditions.

This book has felt like a gift from something greater. It changed me and brought me back to what really matters. That’s why I keep sharing Bebidas de Oaxaca so more people can discover these drinks, so we have more natural options instead of sodas, and so traditions can keep living on.

How did this project affect me?

Don’t get me wrong, but there was a moment when I didn’t want anything to do with Bebidas de Oaxaca. I started this project because I love photography and expressing myself through images, but at some point, I felt like people forgot I was a photographer or that I could photograph other things I deeply care about, like buildings, patterns, and landscapes.

It might sound like I’m overreacting, but I realized it when I put together a presentation for a brand I wanted to work with, and my wife said, “I didn’t know you could take those kinds of photos.” That made me start paying attention, and I noticed how Bebidas de Oaxaca had put me in a box. I was proud of what the project had achieved, but I also felt a little empty. Like everything I’d done before, or the kind of work I still wanted to do, no longer fit within the image people had of me.

Taking a break from photography and from Bebidas de Oaxaca helped me reset. It wasn’t about choosing one thing or the other, it was about bringing everything together and finding a way to communicate it without splitting myself apart.

How you can support Bebidas de Oaxaca

There are many ways. One is simple: next time you eat out, ask for the traditional drink of the day instead of ordering a soft drink.

If you’re in Oaxaca, go to the markets. Try Tejate, seasonal fruit aguas, cacao drinks. Take photos. Share them. Let’s make our traditions go viral.

And yes, buying the book (print or digital) helps a lot. This is a cultural project, but also a living one. One that needs support to grow and reach more people.

Thank you for reading. And thank you for choosing drinks that come from the earth, from memory, and from love.

https://bebidasdeoaxaca.com/

Why I Stopped Photographing Alcohol

A personal reflection on choosing alignment, walking away from spirits photography, and reconnecting with purpose.

Five years ago, if someone had told me I’d one day be writing about my experience with alcohol — and the ways it’s affected me — I probably would’ve laughed.

Life takes many turns. Long-term plans rarely unfold the way we imagine. Sometimes things turn out even better than we’d hoped, and other times they simply shift or fade away.

We behave in ways that match the stage of life we’re in, based on what we know, what we’ve lived, and what we think it means to live fully.

When I stopped drinking, I didn’t plan to give it up for good. My goal was to take a three-month break and see if it would help lower my cholesterol. But the longer I went without drinking, the better I felt — and that’s how it’s been ever since. It’s now been three years and eight months.

During that first year, I often pictured myself drinking again at parties or celebrations — raising a glass of tequila, mezcal, or beer. On hot weekends I’d sometimes think, “What if I just have one?”

But as I learned more about how alcohol affects my body and mind, those urges slowly faded. I now know I can still celebrate, still raise a glass — just not with alcohol. And that feels right.

In 2019, I took photos for a restaurant and later shared them on my Behance profile. Thanks to those images, the brand Tequila Ocho reached out to me to document the tequila-making process and photograph their bottles in Arandas, Jalisco — the birthplace of tequila.

It was my first paid job with a spirits brand, and I loved it. I was fascinated by the entire process — seeing what goes into a single bottle, the time, the people, the craft. Much like what I’ve experienced with my Bebidas de Oaxaca project, understanding how a drink is made deepens my respect for it.

It was an incredible experience. I remember walking through fields of agave, camera in hand, completely absorbed by the beauty of the landscape and the generosity of the Camarena family and the Tequila Ocho team.

From that first shoot, a relationship began that I’m still grateful for. Over the years, I’ve continued photographing their fields, their bottles, their factory — and the agave landscapes that surround it all.

Other tequila and mezcal brands have contacted me since then, and my knowledge of these traditions has grown with each project.

My favourite part has always been the fields — watching the sunrise light up the texture of the magueyes, the way the sky slowly fills with colour.

Some mornings it’s all soft pastels, other times it glows in deep orange.

Life gradually started pointing me toward becoming a spirits photographer. Bit by bit, I began working with more clients in both Mexico and the United States — photographing bottles, cocktails, and bars. My portfolio in this area grew quickly.

In Mexico, cocktail and spirits photography is still a niche — far less visible than in other countries. But with more bars opening and restaurants including cocktails on their menus, the field has begun to grow.

At the time, I was sharing only spirits-related projects on my website, as that was the type of client I was trying to attract. I followed related accounts on social media to connect with them directly. Even my LinkedIn profile said, “Specialised in agave spirits photography.”

All of that will start to disappear, little by little — because I’ve decided to step away from photographing alcohol and distilled spirits.

It hasn’t been an easy decision. And it’s not one I’ve taken lightly. I’ve been sitting with this idea for over a year now, but part of me didn’t want to face it.

Spirits photography, I’ll admit, is well paid — though like everything else, it depends on the brand and the reach of their product.

Over the years, I’ve worked across various industries — metalworking, energy, food, agriculture, corporate, fashion, restaurants — and I can say that the budgets in the spirits world have been among the highest.

That financial reality has been the root of an internal conflict I’ve carried for some time. We work where we can, where it pays the bills, where it supports our family. But it made me ask myself:

Do we put our values on pause when we’re in need?

These days, the lifestyle I lead — along with meditation and daily writing — have helped me become more aware of my thoughts, my words, my actions, and the environment around me. In short, they’ve helped me be more present.

Learning is a path that never ends. And sometimes, we don’t learn when we want to — we learn when life decides to teach us.

That’s what led me to start reflecting more deeply on my work and how it connects with my way of life. Since I stopped drinking alcohol, I began to feel uneasy whenever I photographed mezcal or tequila. Something felt off, but I couldn’t quite name it.

I’d tell myself: I’m just taking the photos — I’m not the one making people drink. It’s not my fault if someone gets drunk. It’s just a photo.
And I’d sit with those thoughts for days, turning them over. Questioning what I was doing and how my actions might affect others.

Recently, I decided to do a personal inventory — to really look at what I feel and what makes me uncomfortable. I made a list of pros and cons about my choices, where I want to be in the future, and what gives me peace of mind.

And I came to the conclusion: photographing alcohol while not drinking it doesn’t sit right with me.
They’re two opposing forces that no longer coexist in my life — and I can’t ignore that without feeling dishonest.

At this point, I won’t be going back to drinking. At first, I stopped for health reasons (and I still do), but now that I know the benefits of not drinking — and I’ve lived the difference — I have no reason to return to it.

Maybe it sounds extreme. Even my wife told me not to quit (as I write this, she still doesn’t know I’ve made the decision).
Maybe you're thinking, people will drink anyway — whether I photograph spirits or not.

And I think that’s a fair point. I’ve had those same thoughts. People will always have opinions, and I’ll never please everyone.
There will always be “but what if…”
So the only thing that truly matters is doing what makes me feel at peace, aligned, and true to my values.

It’s a long journey, but I can’t afford to be dishonest with myself. Photographing something I no longer consume — knowing the harm it causes — takes me further from the future I want to build.

That’s also why I’ve unfollowed alcohol brands on social media. In the end, we shape our feed with what we choose to consume — visually and mentally.

I don’t know what will happen when I share this. But right now, as I write it, I feel lighter. Like a weight’s been lifted.

I know I might lose some friendships, invitations, or commercial opportunities. But none of that matters at this moment.
What matters is how grateful I feel for everything I’ve learned — and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

There are still photos of mezcal and tequila projects on my website — but that doesn’t define me, either as a photographer or as a person.
From now on, I want to slowly share more of what I believe in — and what’s helped improve my health.

As a photographer, I’d love to work with clients who prioritise the environment and the wellbeing of the people who live on this planet — whether that’s through products, services, or experiences.

The alcohol industry is changing. More and more alcohol-free options are becoming available, and it’s increasingly common to meet people who don’t drink.
Maybe one day I’ll collaborate with brands that focus on non-alcoholic drinks.
Or maybe I won’t.
Like I said at the beginning — life takes many turns.

What I know now is this: I feel at peace saying goodbye to photographing spirits and alcoholic drinks. It feels honest — and that honesty brings me joy. This is more than a personal shift; it’s a creative one too.

I want to keep building a body of work that feels nourishing, intentional, and aligned with the kind of future I believe in. If you're a brand, café, or project that shares these values,

I’d love to hear your story. Let’s create something meaningful, together.