Chilly Day in Mexico City Gives Way to Cultural, Culinary and Human Warmth

It's 7:00 AM Monday morning, 41 F and cloudy in Mexico City. Treetops sway gently in a soft breeze. Today's high will be 64 F. Last night we turned on the electric mattress pad for the first time. The electric heater is on in the office. You get the idea.

Museo de Arte Carrillo Gill

Yesterday (Sunday) was the same. When I peeked out, even the streets were wet. It was a day for an indoor 'explore'.  Reed found the Carrillo Gill Museum of Art located in San Ángel, a Colonia (neighborhood) not far from us.  So off we went!

Interestingly, the exhibit was curated by perhaps half a dozen graduate students who were able to select from the Museum's collection of 1,700 works, including many by the renowned 20th century Mexican painters Orozco and Siqueiros.

It is not surprising that these young Mexican curators chose to address the theme of violence: Tiempos Violentos (Violent Times). Each student prepared a salon of paintings, drawings or other media—memorably, video interviews with women. 

In all, there were probably six or eight salons. Each salon was introduced by a curatorial note written by the student-curator. The quality was excellent, thought-provoking.

One standout was a collection of woodcuts and prints (black and white) by various Mexican artists. The subject was the violence that attended the Mexican Revolution (1910-1917). Mexican artists excel in this medium. The works (perhaps fifty in all) convey difficult truths in stark, stirring relief.

Los Muertos (1931), José Clemente Orozco (1883-1949)

One painting by Orozco affected me deeply. Completed in 1931 and titled Los Muertos, the work depicts skyscrapers falling down, but the rhythm, the dynamic destructiveness of the work nonetheless struck me as having a 'lyric' quality.

Los Muertos (1931), José Clemente Orozco

"Now that's a weird reaction," I thought. After I'd walked away, I was moved to return for a second look, which is when I realized that the buildings are coming down from something inside of them rather than from anything external—like a bomb, which is a theme addressed by another artist whose works are exhibited in another salon.

This morning when I looked again, it seems that the buildings are responding to centripetal force—going 'down the drain' of their own, what...unsustainability?

The curator's notes indicate that one of the themes of the works in the exhibit is the unsustainability of the modern way of life.

(Yes, I'm aware that the latest 194-nation conference to discuss the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change opens today in Durban, South Africa; expectations for progress are very low.)

Checking online, I discovered that Orozco lived in New York from 1927 to 1934, where he painted a series of works exploring the "dehumanized and mechanistic character of life in the great metropolis."

A few minutes ago, Reed pointed out that Orozco was in New York when Wall Street crashed in 1929— completing this painting two years later.  Yes, indeed, it is centripetal force at work in Orozco's painting of Los Muertos—and its destructive power is just as devastating in the aftermath of 2008 as it was in 1929!

Speaking of the artist as society's canary in the mine...!

Walkabout (2011), Miguel Ángel Ríos (1943—)

The work of Argentinian artist Miguel Ángel Ríos, also moved me.  Multi-media artist, Argentinian-born Ríos now lives and works in New York and in Mexico's northern deserts.

The title of the work, Walkabout, evokes the rite of passage undertaken by Australia's aboriginal young men. Based on the artist's personal experiences with desert solitude,  Walkabout  "...explores ideas of personal restoration and self-discovery by means of works that show the essential nature of identity, while at the same time questioning the subjectivity of the experience."

Walkabout includes a large, white cut-paper, wall installation (perhaps 4' by 6'), and a sound installation that takes advantage of unique acoustic effects natural to Mexico's northern deserts for capturing the sounds of tools used by men working in these desert lands.

The work also includes a series of six canvases in oil. The canvases are small (maybe 4" high by 16" wide)—so small that for display, they were set on a ledge at eye level. Although I tried hard, I was unable to locate photographs of these exquisite paintings.

Employing a pastel palette, they depict remote desert scenes. Infinity is conveyed in these undersized paintings by a horizon that ever yields to the curvature of the earth. A lone man stands in these barren, awe-inspiring yet somehow serene landscapes. 

The man's tiny figure (1/3" tall) is painted in painstaking detail. In the background of one painting, the man's tiny, red pickup truck is parked in the distance—the artist's spare comment on the relative importance of technology when viewed through the lens of the infinitude of la naturalezza, the natural world.

The paintings eloquently convey the finite-ness of man set against the grandeur of la naturalezza, but this barren landscape is not threatening. It just is...contemporary echoes of Mesoamerican sensibility.

Mexico City Surprises Us

Leaving the Museum, we walked through a flower market to the nearby Plaza del Carmen. Looking for somewhere we might sit down and enjoy 'a little something', we settled on a small restaurant with an artfully hand-lettered sign advertising 'pizza y postres' (pizza and desserts)—perfect!

Were we in for a delightful, unexpected surprise! Five tables charmingly set with blue and white, small-checked tablecloths occupied the first floor. We didn't climb the stairs to the balcony area above. 

We ordered what turned out to be a gourmet pizza made with fresh, fresh ingredients. Thin crust plus a delicate tomato sauce prepared by the chef's own hands, thin slices of eggplant, delicious mozzarella cheese and fresh basil leaves set on top—baked in a wood-fired oven and washed down by a soft red wine. Life is good! 

While waiting for the pizza, we shared an antojito (appetizer)—a warm slice of delicately sliced and marinated (olive oil and vinegar) salmon garnished with fresh basil and spinach leaves and served with slices of fresh, fresh Italian bread. 

We will definitely return. It is the best meal we've had in D.F.  Plus this bistro (little restaurant) had a 'homey' feel to it. We chatted with the chef, who told us he was born in Naples. Now married to a Mexican woman, they run this delightfully unexpected restaurant reminiscent of an Italian bistro.

Even the other customers were muy amable (very nice). An elderly couple seated at the table to our right ordered a delicious-looking poached pear topped with chocolate sauce, served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I asked our waitress what it was.  The woman must have heard me because she smiled and wished us buen provecho ('enjoy your meal') as they departed. 

Behind Reed was a table for five. At the head of the table was seated a man probably in his early forties; four women (mother, wife, two adult daughters?) completed the party.  Their conversation was animated, enthusiastic, unhurried in the typically Mexican way.  As we left, the man smilingly bid us to 'have a nice day'.  I had the feeling that given half a chance they would have chatted with us.  

To my left was a woman in her fifties having supper with a younger woman. Periodically, Chef Giuseppe sat down with them as they ate—probably family. They had ordered a large, beautiful green salad followed by lasagne—yes, we checked as we left.  Again, warm, welcoming smiles as they responded to my query.  

So we finished up a rare gray, dreary day in the warmth of a spectacularly delicious meal in the company of the friendly, welcoming Mexican people we so enjoy.

When people ask us, Why do you live in Mexico? — need I say more?

Keen to Learn More?

Here's the link to the Museo de Arte Carrillo Gill:  http://www.museodeartecarrillogil.com/

Here's the link to the exhibit Tiempos Violentos:  http://www.museodeartecarrillogil.com/ex_tiemposviolentos.html

Here's the link to Miguel Ángel Ríos' Walkabout:   http://www.museodeartecarrillogil.com/ex_miguelri.html

Bureaucracy: Reader Prevails With Help from a Friend!

A few months ago, we devoted two posts to our experiences with Mexican bureaucracy, including useful Tips for Successfully Resolving Trámites (bureacratic paperwork and procedures).

   Let's face it: If you live in Mexico, the odds are that sooner or later you, too, are likely to be caught up with one or another bureaucracy.

   Update:  A reader-friend not only found the posts useful, but was generous enough to write to tell me about it!  I'm posting her story because it highlights key strategies for dealing with Mexican bureaucracy. It also illustrates how the gestor or gestora employs exactly the same strategies to deal with el sistema (bureaucracy).

   Keep in mind: A gestor (gestora is female) is a person who combines the roles of attorney and accountant in undertaking to deal with public bodies on behalf of private customers or companies.

Mexican Bureaucracy Live!

My friend writes:  "And now I need to say yet another THANK YOU...this one for two of your blogs...one about gestoras and the other about how to deal with bureaucratic nightmares.

"I think I told you that we had failed to look at our tourist visa stamps for two weeks, and they had been stamped Oct 11 rather than Nov 11, which was our actual arrival date. Fortunately, we still had our airline tickets and boarding passes to prove the true arrival date, but still....

"We hired Samantha to help us as our gestora and...long story short, we have freshly altered visas all stamped up with official seals and signatures, etc.

"Without dear Sam we would not have gotten past the cleaning lady at the airport. Sam was a marvel of competent, intelligent, calm, respectful, assertive energy. She charmed the cleaning lady who got us to the young woman behind the door of International Arrivals...who reluctantly let us speak to the ultra-official, ultra-responsible older man who most definitely would have sent us packing...but our dear Sam then pulled her Sr. Rodriquez card (long-time family friend, high up in Migración).

"The ultra-responsible man then scurried us up the stairs to the bright, sunny, corner office of Sr. Ochoa...a gorgeous young man who loves Canadians, lived in Vancouver, and speaks perfect English. We parted as friends with the required stamps on the visas.

"It did take over an hour in his office as he engaged in some creative problem-solving and dealt with senior officials on the phone...sooo...quite literally, we would still be dealing with the cleaning lady, or at most the first young lady in immigration. Bless your heart, bless Sam's heart...all is well!!"

Lessons Re-Learned

1. Having documents that conform to the formal bureaucratic requirement is essential!
2. Showing courtesy, patience and respect accomplishes far more than any alternative you might consider.
3. Enlisting the personal assistance of everyone (cleaning lady, receptionist, guard) with the power to keep you moving toward your goal is essential—without it, you may well find yourself standing outside on the sidewalk wondering what happened.  
4. Tapping into a personal network—who you know (friend, gestor) able and willing to ask their contacts to help—is more often than not the decisive factor for achieving bureaucratic success. 

Cuicuilco, Volcanoes and the Fragility of Life in Mesoamerica

This morning, as I often do, I stood before our front window and watched the sun rise behind Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl. This morning brought something new. Shining from below the horizon behind Iztacc, the sun's angle was such that sun's rays bathed the slope of Popo facing us. A few minutes later, the sun peeked over Iztacc and the volcanoes began to fade from view.

My experience of visiting Cuicuilco, the first monumental civic-ceremonial center in the Valley of Mexico, is similar. When I think of early peoples in Mexico City, the Aztecs come immediately to mind. But in point of fact, the so-called Aztecs were late arrivals.

Note: 'Aztec' is a word coined by anthropologists; it probably derives from the mythic origin of the peoples in Aztlán, located in today's northwest Mexico or the Southwestern United States.

To my surprise, Cuicuilco was first settled about 1200 BCE. By 800 BCE it was a thriving civic-ceremonial center—a realization as improbable to me as the sun's predawn rays shining across Popo's slope!

The association is particularly apt because sometime around 150-200 CE Cuicuilco was utterly destroyed by ash and lava flow from Xitle, a small cone volcano nearby. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Volcanic Axis Runs through Mexico City's 'South Side'

Living in Michoacán, we had become acquainted with the Volcanic Axis running East-West across Mexico. So many volcanic craters are visible that 'flying' over Michoacán via GoogleEarth, Reed exclaimed, "is like viewing a moonscape."

Volcanic Axis (red) cinches Mexico's midsection; four black triangles represent the largest volcanoes: (West to East) Colima (active); Popocatéptl (active), linked by a mountain ridge to Iztaccíhuatl (dormant); La Malinche (dormant 3,100 years); and Pico de Orizaba (active).

Lake Texcoco; red lines indicate Volcanic Axis; Cuicuilco is on West Side (left, triangle just below top red line); Cerro Xitle (Extinct Volcano) is Southwest of Cuicuilco; North of Cuicuilco is Ciudad de México (today's Mexico City Historic Center).

"If you would understand a man, walk a mile in his sandals..."

I've taken liberties with this traditional saying, because it is a useful reminder as I try to understand the circumstances of Mexico's earliest peoples—specifically, how they coped with natural forces that periodically threatened to destroy them.

In an earlier post, I described the geology of Mexico and the threat it has long posed to the people who inhabit these lands. Today our focus is on volcanic activity.

Mexico's volcanoes are of two types:

• Large, violently erupting volcanoes characterized by long repose periods between eruptions (Popocatépetl); and
• Smaller volcanoes that tend to form and erupt where there has been no previous volcanic activity; once eruption occurs, the activity shifts to a new locality where an eruption occurs at a later time (Paricutin, Michoacán ... and Xitle).

Xitle, in fact, formed on the flank of Ajusco, a larger volcano in the same area. When Xitle erupted, lava flows poured into the Basin of Mexico, covering the area of what is now known as the Pedregal de San Ángel, upon which has been built the campus of the National Autonomous University of Mexico [UNAM].

Cuicuilco's First Settlers

Cuicuilco provides a rare snapshot of life in these early periods. The first peoples to settle Cuicuilco about 1200 BCE were small, family groups making the transition from hunter-foragers to village-based farmers. Their agriculture was based on cultivation of maís (corn).

During this period, the central and southern regions of the Basin of Mexico (modern-day Mexico City) enjoyed greater rainfall, which fostered settlement of tribal farming villages. The well-watered valley floors were green with maís (corn), and irrigation techniques enhanced crop yields. People continued to hunt and trap and collect important (often medicinal) plants. The landscape was clearly divided between cultivated land and the wilderness—forested mountainsides that served as watersheds for the valley and were dotted with natural springs.

In the eyes of these early settlers, their farming villages and milpas (farm plots in Nahuatl) represented the point of connection between heaven and earth—a fruitful union of water, earth and mountains.

The earth was viewed as the milpa of the gods. Outside the milpa, chaos reigned. In this worldview, prosperity sprang from proper regulation of the agricultural (solar) year, and from effective mediation with controlling natural forces, which were viewed as spiritual in nature.

At Cuicuilco, Cerro Xitle (Xitle Hill) would have been an active presence, spewing smokey plumes as Popocatéptl does today, providing a daily reminder of the people's vulnerability before la naturaleza (natural forces). The natural follow-up question is: How might these early settlers have sought to 'mediate' let alone 'regulate' these natural forces?

Cuicuilco: Monumental Civic-Ceremonial Center

Perhaps the best answer to that question is found in the words of renowned art historian George Kubler (1984):

"[The people engaged in] collective endeavors to guarantee the continuity of the creation of the universe against catastrophic dissolution in an unstable world." (Emphasis added)

In this context, Cuicuilco presents a good example of how Mesoamerica culture attempted to control the vital forces of the natural world by replicating them in ritual practices. The deity most associated with Cuicuilco, for example, was Huehuetéotl (Old Old God of Fire).

Huehuetéotl (Old Old God of Fire),
Museo Nacional de Antropología

Huehuetéotl is depicted as an old man with wrinkled face (symbol of wisdom), sitting cross-legged, with his hands on his knees. On his hat—a brazier for burning coals or incense—is carved the fire symbol.

Also evident at Cuicuilco is evidence of a cult to the fertility of the earth is found in the numerous clay sculptures of fecund women (Cuicuilco Museum) uncovered in private homes. This cult demonstrates the community’s recognition of their dependency on natural forces to assure ample harvests.

 

The elaborate peinado (hairstyle) of this female figure
—dubbed 'Pretty Woman'—
is undoubtedly an early symbol of fertility.

Generally understood to be a god of the family hearth rather than a focus of civic ritual practice, Huehuetéotl nonetheless appears on a 13 ft. (4 m.) stele (stone-carved column) outside Cuicuilco's pyramid—a truncated stepped cone with ramps on its East and West sides. (Left click to enlarge. Back arrow to return.)

Cuicuilco's pyramid; its summit was crowned by an altar
where the smoke of burning incense and sacrifices rose to the heavens.

The pyramid was constructed in several stages, beginning in 800-600 BCE and hence contemporaneous with one of Popocatépetl's violent eruptions. By 100 BCE, Cuicuilco's population was about 20,000—large enough to support the pyramid construction that continued across generations until about 200 BCE.

Retaining walls of pyramid at Cuicuilco

Both the hearth god and the monumental conical pyramid are earthly replications of Xitle, the conical smoking mountain whose presence posed a constant threat to Cuicuilco's inhabitants.

Cuicuilco Museum offers this explanation of how a tribal farming village underwent the transition to become a monumental, regional civic-ceremonial center (my translation):

"A more elaborate religious cult gradually developed at Cuicuilco where an incipient elite performed not only religious rites, but political and administrative functions as well. Over time, this elite solidified its control over the entire population and, by so doing, initiated a process that ultimately defined theocratic government."

It is not known exactly when Xitle erupted, but it likely occurred sometime between 200 BCE and 200 CE.

It is known that Popcatépetl's eruptions from 250 BCE to 50 CE severely disrupted southern Basin communities. It is also known that Xitle first spewed ash falls, followed shortly thereafter by lava flows. By the time Xitle erupted, with spectacular and frightening displays of fire and smoke, its effects would have caused Cuicuilcans and others to flee for their lives.

Cuicuilco was buried by Xitle's eruptions:

lava flows reached a depth of about 10 m. (33 ft.) and extended over about 80 sq. km. (32 sq. miles). 

The archaeological context was sealed so thoroughly that excavation at the site has proceeded with jackhammers—not ideal for preserving detail!

Aftermath of Volcanic Eruptions

It is difficult to overstate the psychological impact on early peoples of natural phenomena associated with Mexico's volcanic eruptions. But given the people’s proximity to these natural events, it is equally difficult to dismiss the idea that volcanic activity had a profound impact on how Mexico's early peoples came to view their world. Perhaps the most vivid example is found in the Aztec Creation Myth.

In a nutshell:

The Third Sun (World, or Era) was destroyed by fire—'Rain of Fire' may be volcanic eruption. Seeking to create a new era after the Fourth Sun was, in turn, destroyed by water (drought, flood), the gods created the earth, but still there was no light. Meeting in darkness around a great fire, two gods threw themselves into the pyre in order to create the Fifth Sun.

In a profound expression of the duality that marks Mesoamerican thought, it is fire in the form of the sun that gives life to the earth through maíz, and it is fire in its various forms, including volcanic activity, that just as easily takes life.

We're going to revisit this theme soon. This weekend Reed and I plan to visit Cerro de La Estrella (Hill of the Star)—visible from our balcony. The village of Huizachtécatl, related to Cuicuilco culture, was established in this area. It is thought that when the Cuicuilcanos fled the ash falls and lava flows, some sought refuge at Huizachtécatl.

Others fled to Teotihuacán, which is on our winter travel schedule.  Stay tuned.

Méxica (Aztec) Dancers at the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe

Sometimes we foolishly think, "After three years, we're reasonably comfortable with Mexican culture." But then something happens that sets us back on our cultural heels. Which brings me to our visit last Sunday to the Basílica de la Virgen de Guadalupe.

We rode three Metros to get there, then walked several blocks to the Basílica's grounds. The closer we got, the more congested the foot-traffic became. Echoing my unspoken thought, Reed was heard to mutter, "Next time let's visit on a weekday."

Turning into the entrance, we were squeezed with way-too-many other people into a walkway lined with puestos selling absolutely everything from religious objects to shoes.

Then still crowded together, we climbed what felt like interminable stairs, but the path eventually opened out onto a gigantic plaza in front of the Basilica.  As we made our way toward more open space, we became aware of a relentless drumbeat | What on earth...?

Basílica de la Virgin de Guadalupe,
Sunday, November 13, 2011

The gold dome of the original Basilica can be seen in the background (left).  The towers to the right are castillos (fireworks towers) under construction for celebration of the Pirotécnica de la República Mexicana (Fireworks of the Mexican Republic) in honor of the Virgin of Guadalupe, whose Feast Day is observed on December 12.

To sample the sights and sounds that swept over us as we made our way across the Plaza, click here for Jenny's first-ever YouTube (18 sec.). 

What's missing from both photo and video is the unforgettable fragrance of burning copal—the traditional incense throughout Mexico. But don't let me get ahead of myself.

Appearance of the Lady to Juan Diego

In an earlier post, I wrote at length about the appearance on the Hill of Tepeyac of the Brown-skinned Lady who spoke in Nahuatl to the baptized indigenous peasant Juan Diego. In that post, I also introduced Tonantzin, believed to be a manifestation of the Earth Goddess Coatlicue, who both gave life and decided its length.

Tonantzin is important because the Spanish destroyed her temple on Tepeyac Hill—at precisely the same place where the Virgen Morena (brown-skinned Virgin) first appeared to Juan Diego.

According to Friar Bernardino de Sahagún, 16th century Catholic missionary and anthropologist, the indigenous peoples continued to call the Lady Tonantzín until around 1560, when the Spaniards baptized her with the sole Spanish name of Guadalupe. 

The appearance of the Virgen Morena, who spoke Náhuatl and vowed to protect the Mexican people, persuaded many reluctant indigenous to convert to Catholicism. Embraced over time by Mestizos (Spanish-Indigenous) and by criollos (Spanish born in Mexico), the Virgin of Guadalupe has become 'the' quintessential  symbol of an ever-evolving Mexican identity (mexicanidad, or Mexican-ness) that includes all the peoples who belong to this land.

The power of her symbol is such that social and political change has been initiated in her name. In 1810 Father Miguel Hidalgo led a group of peasants in a revolt against the dominant criollos under the banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Although unsuccessful, this revolt is recognized as the beginning of the War of Independence from Spain.

The Basílica's official web site posts the following, remarkable statement (my translation):

"The people presented the Virgin to their children as the mother of the creator and protector of the entire universe, who comes to the people because she wants to embrace them all—Indian and Spanish—with the same mother's love. The miraculous image imprinted on the sisal—a plant whose strong fibers were used by indigenous weavers to make tilmas (cloaks)—signaled the dawn of a new world, which was the Sixth Sun awaited by the Mexicas (Aztecs)." (See Jenny's post, Aztec Stone of the Five Suns)

Over time, the Virgin of Guadalupe has come to be recognized as protector of all the Americas. The square in front of the Basílica Antigua is appropriately named Atrio de las Americas.

A year ago in Chicago, I met a young woman from Guatemala. When I mentioned that I live in Mexico, her eyes widened and she exclaimed with awe in her voice, "Oh, México—México is very special." At the time, I didn't understand her response—only now am I beginning to understand.

Virgin of Guadalupe
The Virgin of Guadalupe, surrounded by the Sun's Rays, symbols of the
Holy Spirit, stands on Half-Moon, which represents the female principle
not only in Mesoamerican cosmology, but in many world cosmologies; the
Cherub below the moon is widely believed to be Saint Michael,
patron saint of Mexico.

Mexico's Historical Layers Replayed at the Basilica

Our visit to the Basilica was almost overwhelming. Evident in ways we have never before experienced simultaneously in one place were the many and diverse layers of Mexico's cultural heritage: 

• Contemporary Global Mexico that began in the 1980's with the economic opening forced by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and solidified with NAFTA (1994);

• National Mexico that came into being following Mexico's Independence from Spain (1817);

• Colonial Mexico that encompassed the three hundred years (1521-1817) of Spanish rule; and the

• Indigenous (Mesoamerican) history and culture that began a full 3,000 years ago.   

The satellite photo below shows the major buildings on the Basilica's grounds. To enlarge the photo, left click.  

Satellite Photo: Entering the grounds through a gate at the bottom
of the photo, we threaded a path between dancers and spectators
across the Plaza in front of the New Basilica to the Antigua Basílica.
Later, Reed walked in the direction of the Capilla del Cerrito (upper right). 

The following descriptions are excerpted from a Wikipedia article on the Basilica.

Capilla del Cerrito (Chapel of the Little Hill, photo top) marks the place where Juan Diego encountered the brown-skinned Lady for the second time and, at her command, gathered up roses blooming in the middle of winter. The chapel is the first constructed at Tepeyac (1526). 

Antigua Basilica (photo middle) is the site's first church and dates from 1536. Its construction was ordered by the  Archbishop to comply with the Virgin's command to build a church on that site and was enlarged over time into the 18th c.

The following buildings are located more or less next to each other,
starting at the Antigua Basilica and moving left to right: 

Parroquia Capuchinas (Franciscan Parish Church), whose formal name is Templo y exconvento de las Capuchinas (Capuchinas refers to the Franciscan Order, whose vows include wearing only sandals, or going barefoot; Franciscans were missionaries to the Indigenous in New Spain). Built in 1797, the convent housed Franciscan nuns. 

Parroquia de Indios (Temple of the Indians): According to tradition, this temple housed the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe for many years until it was relocated to the Templo Artesonado in the 16th century. In keeping with Spanish construction practice, the current temple is built atop the foundation for the ancient Méxicas (Aztec) Temple of Tonantzin.   

Capilla del Pocito. The people considered this to be the exact place where the Virgin of Guadalupe appeared for the first time and spoke with Juan Diego.

New Básilica: Circular structure with its irregularly-shaped, greenish dome (left). Completed in 1976, Juan Diego's tilma with its  image of the Virgin of Guadalupe is visible above and behind the altar.

Atrio de las Américas: When we entered the Basílica grounds, we entered here where we encountered the Mixteca dancers and young men busy constructing castillos.

Atrio de las Américas on a quiet day.
The New Basílica is to the left; the gold dome of the
Basílica Antigua is center right; red dome of the
Parroquia Capuchinas is at the right. 

Continuing our Tour

We would have liked to visit the Capilla del Cerrito, but it is a long stair climb so I took a break while Reed explored and captured these images.

The Capilla del Cerrito marks the spot where the Virgin
commanded Juan Diego to gather roses in the middle of winter. 

Water from a spring flows over a rock at the lower third of the photo. 
Mesoamerican peoples associated water—springs and wells—with the
dark, moist energy of the Earth Goddess, so it stands to reason that the
people came to believe that the springs on Tepeyac Hill had healing powers. 

Next we visited the 16th century Basílica Antigua. Across the intervening centuries, the floors have settled such that we walked entirely uphill as we made our way slowly toward the front of the church—a disconcerting, disorienting experience.

Entrance to the Basílica Antigua

 Basílica Antigua
Detail above the entrance

Basílica Antigua
The Virgin appears in one panel of paintings with
gold backgrounds on dome interior

Meanwhile the incessant, insistent drumbeat demanded our attention. So we returned to the Atrio to try to make sense of this sensual assault:

sights, sounds, smells and even touch as we jostle and are jostled in turn by the crowds.

A video cameraman kind enough to respond to Reed's question, replied, "This celebration is to give thanks to the Virgin for a good year"—an explanation corroborated by this banner:

The text reads: "Thank you, Little Virgin, for one more year."
Mexicans are famous for using the diminutive form [-ito, -ita]
of nouns and names—here, the linguistic tradition extends
even to the Mother of Mexico. 

But we've learned in Mexico never to accept a single explanation as complete, so while Reed was off exploring, I asked a group of young (late teen) Mexica dancers to explain what was going on. I didn't think to ask if I could take their picture, but if I had, you would have seen traditional dress on young people whose body language, facial expressions, and interpersonal style convey Global Mexico—connected via cellphone and social media.

Members of the Society of Mexicas and descendants of the original Mexicas (Aztecs) from Tlatelolco, they make an annual pilgrimage to the Basilica on the second Sunday in November to honor the day the Virgin appeared to Juan Diego. I wish I could communicate the tone of voice, the respect bordering on awe, when Juan Diego's name was spoken.

We saw Mexicans—men and women—from a broad cross-section of society, wearing traditional Mexica dress and dancing traditional dances. Memorably, one traditionally dressed man was also wearing a very expensive pair of aviator dark glasses as he took a break.

Pictures Worth Far More Than Words

Reed's images convey what cannot be set down in just a few words. [Click to enlarge photos]

Conch shell, banner, purposeful pilgrims....Mexico City is almost
200 miles from Veracruz (Gulf of Mexico) and Acapulco (Pacific Ocean),
yet Aztec nobles imported Conch and other seashells through trade and
tribute. The Conch Shell is associated with Tlaloc, god of rain, and hence with Coatlicue, goddess of the earth, and Tonantzin, one of her manifestations.

A cacaphony of sights and sounds....

Banners, feathers, men, women, children....

Elaborate headdress with two tiers of bird-heads; club has animal head. 
Remember: To enlarge, left click.  

Youth wearing rosary around his neck in living syncretism—
creative fusion of two religious traditions

Proud, composed young man

Young woman blowing Conch Shell—she was one of a
line of four women blowing Conch Shells

This headdress features a deer head—deer are
associated with gods of the hunt.

Smoke arising from incense burner (center) holding copal

The kneeling woman (right) is a curandera (healer) or shaman;
in her hand she holds a chalice containing burning copal with which she
blesses the man (kneeling left); in his right hand, he holds a conch shell;
in his left hand he is holding what looks like a bastón de mando—in the shape
of an ear of corn, the bastón de mando is an ancient symbol of authority.
Early settlers of the Balsas River Valley domesticated corn from the teosinte
plant more than 5,000 years ago.

Copal burning in three-legged pots

Mexica dancer playing stringed instrument, introduced by the
Spanish during the Colonial period—another example of cultural fusion.
Reed noticed that the back of the instrument is an armadillo shell. 

Mexica drummer; note the look as he spots Reed's camera. 
Our theory is that drums were replaced by cohetes (firecrackers,  rockets) and pirotécnica (fireworks shows displayed on castillos, or towers), which the Spanish brought from China to Mexico. Black face paint is associated with Tlaloc,
God of Rain; its appearance here reinforces the relationship between the God
of Rain and the Earth Goddess—the Earth receives and stores the seasonal rains.  

Tired niño (boy) taking a rest; ankle bracelets
become rhythm instruments when he walks or dances. 

Short Dance Video

Reed shot this short (26 sec.) video to capture the dances. Watch the feet of the dancer slightly to the left of center wearing a loin cloth and red cummerbund.  He has what dancers call ballon—a French word meaning the ability to jump easily and lightly into the air.

To me, these dances seem similar to Native American dances north of the Rio Grande.  I'd be interested in the impressions of anyone who has attended a Pow-Wow.

Mass in the Nueva Basílica

Finally, we ventured into the Nueva Basílica completed in 1976. The circular building looks more like an auditorium than a church, but it assures maximum visibility from anywhere in the sanctuary of Juan Diego's tilma imprinted with the image of the Virgin.

The Basilica can seat 10,000 people. Temporary seats are often placed in the Atrio outside, which allows an additional 40,000 people to take part in Mass and other ritual celebrations.

Mass is celebrated on the spacious, multi-level altar. Image of the
Virgin is located at the lower right side of the Cross.
With all the drumming, there was no need for the organ music,
but the pipes suggest that the sound is magnificent. 

Based on the number of pilgrims it hosts per year, the Basilica is considered to be the second most important sanctuary of Catholicism, just after Vatican City in Rome.

Juan Diego's tilma with its image of the Virgin; framed and
protected with bullet-proof glass, hangs above and behind the altar.
In 1921 an anticlerical activist planted a bomb in a flower vase near the
altar; when it exploded it caused great damage to the building's interior but—miraculously, say some—the cloak survived the bombing mostly undamaged. 

A bi-directional moving sidewalk transports people past the image of the Virgin. Those who want to see the image again can take the walkway in the opposite direction. There is no limit on the number of times a person can pass in front of the image, but the moving walkway prevents anyone from lingering—for prayer or mischief—in front of the image, thus creating a people-jam or worse.  The moving sidewalk employs modern technology to resolve issues not only of faith but of security as well. 

The Basilica's own web site features a narrated video using cartoon drawings to tell Juan Diego's story—another technical solution to a traditional challenge: how to convey a message to non-readers (illiteracy aside, the majority of Mexicans are not readers).  

Juan Diego was canonized in 2002, thus becoming the first indigenous American saint—adding yet another cultural layer.     

We hadn't been in the Basilica long when we became aware of something happening.  From where we sat, all we could see was the slow progress of feathered headdresses and banners moving up a side aisle toward the altar. Entering the spacious, multi-level altar area, banner-carriers set the banners in holders placed on the altar to receive them. 

The dancers retired to a section of reserved pews. The priest announced that the mass was in honor of the dancers. It is worth noting that the Catholic missionaries pursued an intentional strategy of building on existing spiritual beliefs—somewhat along the lines of, "Your beliefs are on the right path, but fall short. Our message is the true path."

This led to a distinct syncretism—overlaying traditional beliefs and customs with Catholic ritual and beliefs. This syncretism is strikingly evident today in the traditional dress and dances and in the custom of setting off pyrotechnics arranged in the castillos.

Our Departure

We left the Basilica grounds the way we had come, retracing our steps back through the puesto-lined walkway.  But the crowds had thinned considerably, and our departure was far easier than had been our arrival.

Puesto-lined walkway with far fewer people as we departed

As we left, Reed found more images of the Virgin carved in stone.

Stone-carved Street Monument

Detail of Virgin on stone monument. 

I don't mind admitting it. We were tired, over-stimulated and completely, yet—as the Mexican saying goes, contentos y satisfechos—content and satisfied with a memorable journey into the rich, multi-dimensional layers of Mexican culture.

Alebrijes: Where the Wild Things Are

Alebrijes are brightly-colored folk sculptures depicting monsters, dragons and other fantastical creatures.

Alebrije: Many-headed Magical Monster in Papier Maché

Although alebrijes are imbued with a primitive quality, they are actually a twentieth-century invention of the papier-maché artist Pedro Linares. Born in 1906 in México City (Distrito Federal), Linares began his career as an artisan specializing in piñatas, carnival masks and 'Judas' figures, which he sold in the markets.

Hallucinatory Vision 

When he was thirty years old, Linares fell ill with a high fever and hallucinations. Accounts of this episode differ in the specifics, but all agree that Pedro Linares's vision of alebrijes was occasioned by his fevered dreams.

One account characterizes the dreams as depicting Lenares's death and rebirth in a mountainous setting inhabited by fierce creatures. While he was in bed, unconscious, Linares dreamed of a strange place resembling a forest with many trees, animals, clouds, sky, and rocks. He felt no pain, and he was very happy as he walked along. 

But suddenly, the rocks, clouds and animals were transformed before his eyes into strange creatures—animals, yes, but wild, unnaturally colored animals. He saw a donkey with butterfly wings, a rooster with bull horns, a lion with an eagle head. The creatures were all shouting a single, nonsensical word: "Alebrijes".

In a raucous chorus, all the monstrous animals cried louder and louder, "Alebrijes! Alebrijes! Alebrijes!" until the sound grew intolerable and Linares could no longer stand it.

Suffering a terrible headache, he ran along a stone road until he found a man walking. Linares asked the man to help him escape.

The man told Linares that he should not be there yet. Then he told Linares to continue walking along the road to the exit, which was just a few meters ahead.

Linares ran until he found himself in front of a narrow window. He passed through the window, then wakened, regaining consciousness.

What might be the Meaning of the 'Nonsense' Word Alebrije?

According to our resident psychoanalyst, seemingly nonsensical words often convey an underlying meaning. Playing with the word alebrije, Reed realized its affinity with the word Alleluia. Even the rhythm is the same:  Al-le-LU-ia...A-le-BRI-je — pronounced ah-lay-BREE-hay.

In Pedro’s fevered dream, the fantastical creatures cry out in a cacophonous ‘Alleluia Chorus’—Alebrijes! Alebrijes! Alebrijes! 

So Reed asked, what might be the meaning of brije? My instantaneous association was to the Spanish word, bruja—witch. Perhaps, then, alebrijes urge us to pay attention to the dark or even the evil side of human existence.

In the account related to me by my Spanish teacher, God appeared to Linares in his dream and told him that if he wanted to regain his health, he must make these creatures. Following his recovery, Linares began fashioning papier-mâché creatures as they had come to him in his dream, thus fulfilling his dream's command.

Alebrijes Incorporate Features from Diverse Cultures

Although these creatures came to Pedro Linares in hallucinatory dreams, his vision did not occur in a vacuum. Parallels can be drawn between alebrijes and various supernatural creatures deriving not only from Mexico’s Mesoamerican and Spanish past, but from Chinese culture as well. (During the 1880s Chinese were imported to build Mexican railroads; Chinese immigration continued through the 1940s and 1950s.)

Fire-Breathing, Horned, Wood-Carved Dragon from Oaxaca
Gotta love the colors! 
Reed's Collection

Before the arrival of the Spanish, a feature of Mesoamerican cultures were brightly colored, fantastic, even macabre images.

Oaxaca god

Another god from Oaxaca—with rodent-like face and ears

From Mexico City’s Chinatown came other images, most notably, dragons. From the Spanish came Gothic images such as the gargoyles on Catholic Churches—grotesque figures designed to convey to illiterate populations vivid messages about evil.

Gargoyle in Casa de las Conchas, Salamanca, Spain
Note the bulging eyes on this winged feline creature

Still another important influence came from the red papier-maché demons called judas, which Linares had made prior to his illness. These demon figures are constructed and burned in Mexico today as part of purification rituals performed during Holy Week. In Pátzcuaro, a ritual 'Burning of Judas' is held at nightfall following 6:00 PM Mass celebrated on Easter Sunday evening.

The Art World Takes Notice

Pedro Linares's fantastical creatures first attracted the attention of a gallery owner in Coyoacán and subsequently the patronage of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo. Alebrijes constructed by Don Pedro for Diego Rivera are now in the Diego Rivera Museum Anahuacalli, located not far from us in Coyoacán. Unfortunately, the exhibits are rotating, so the alebrijes of Pedro Lenares are not always on display. We have yet to see them.

In 1988, the Mexican government awarded Pedro Linares the National Arts and Science Award in the Popular and Traditional Arts category, the highest decoration granted to artisans. In 1990, two years after receiving this coveted prize, Pedro Linares, who had become a legend in his own time, died at the age of 86.

Mexican Artisans Take Notice

Consistent with the maxim that imitation is the highest form of compliment, folk artists throughout Mexico began making alebrijes. Artisans in the southern state of Oaxaca—already proficient in carving animals from wood—were the first to begin producing their own alebrijes. 

In Ocumichu, Michoacán, artisans make alebrijes of clay for sale in Pátzcuaro during Semana Santa Tianguis (Holy Week Open Air Market) and Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead Artisans' Fair). Alebrijes are also exported to private collectors and shops selling Mexican folk art in the United States and Europe.

Fearsome Ocumichu Dragon
Reed's Collection

Little Ocumichu Dragon
Reed's Collection

Three-headed Ocumichu Dragon
Casa de las Artesanías, Morelia, Michoacán

Museum of Popular Arts: Annual Alebrije Parade and Competition 

In Mexico City for Day of the Dead, the Museo de Arte Popular sponsors a competition in which artists create gigantic alebrije monsters of papier maché and install them on flatbed pushcarts.

The competition begins with a parade of alebrijes that proceeds up Reforma Boulevard and ends at the Zócalo, the huge, central plaza in front of the National Palace and the Cathedral, which is where Reed and I encountered these wonderful, fantastical creatures—over a hundred of them!   

Anyone familiar with Maurice Sendak's children's book, 'Where the Wild Things Are,' is certain to cherish alebrijes of all sizes and materials—as will anyone who recognizes the artistic ingenuity and aesthetic sensibility that is an integral part of Mexican culture.

Following is Reed's own Parade of Alebrijes—photos taken the day we visited the Zócalo.  Do you believe the cerulean blue of the sky?  Enjoy!

¡Bienvenido!  

More fantastic than monstrous—fish with wings and legs!

Playtime anyone?

Fantastic Grasshopper!

Dragon—Mexico City style!

For originality and colors, this one is my favorite

Note the Cathedral in the background—
What a cultural juxtaposition!

Adios!