Mexico Culture: Convents, Legends and Moles!

Reed and I leave tomorrow morning for a weekend in Pátzcuaro, but I want to publish a new post before we depart. This week I had the pleasure of responding to an inquiry from a friend in Australia about the preparation of mole—Oaxaca's acclaimed moles and the incomparable mole poblano from nearby Puebla (poblano is the adjectival form of Puebla; e.g., a person from Puebla is a poblano).

I dug around a bit and found a delightful account in Wikipedia of the legendary origins of mole...in convents! That got me thinking. Recently, Reed and I spent a magical four days in Puebla. We stayed, where else, but in a meticulously restored sixteenth century convent.

Interior patio, one of several, at the exConvento that is now Camino Real Hotel in Puebla.  Photo: Reed

In Spanish, the word convento describes the place where a community of religious live together, whether monjas (sisters, or nuns), frailes (brothers, in monastic orders), or retired priests. It seems that convents are among the best examples of colonial architecture. The architecture at our ex-convent/hotel was no exception.

This outdoor foyer retains a remarkable example of the frescoes that once covered these walls. Left click to enlarge the photo—it's worth it to see fresco details and the tile work on the vaulted ceiling!  Photo: Reed

Camino Real Hotel / A Convent's Legends

One morning I went exploring. In my wandering, I came upon a man who, from his behavior and official 'tag', might have been the hotel's manager. When I told him how beautiful we found the hotel, he brightened before responding,

"It has been lovingly, painstakingly restored. You know," he added, "when they began the early restoration, they found a tunnel to the Cathedral." 

"A tunnel?" I asked, puzzled, "do you mean for the monjas to get to the Cathedral?"   

 "No," he replied, with a mischievous grin, "it was for the priests to get to the convent. They also found a room filled with things for babies and children."  

We shared a chuckle before this busy man returned to his official duties. Is it true?  Who knows! I do know that legends such as this one abound in Mexico, often the result of the delightful Mexican sense of 'play'.

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

Octavio Paz's sensitively insightful biography of the brilliant seventeenth century nun—whose poetry continues to move contemporary readers—is also a powerful introduction to the Spanish colonial period. Sor Juana was a talented theologian who clashed with religious authority. She is widely recognized as the first feminist in the Western Hemisphere. Born out of wedlock to Spanish parents, she was without the resources needed to maintain the intellectual life she craved. Early on, she ruled out marriage and children, so her best option was to enter a convent.

Now I don't know about you, but I've always assumed that being in a convent meant an austere lifestyle lived from a barren cell. But that is apparently not exactly how it worked. Paz describes Sor Juana's two-story house, her servant, her extensive library, and the tertulias she presided over in the convent's public salon. Regular informal social gatherings where issues of common interest are discussed, Sor Juana's tertulias were attended by the intellectual elite of Nueva España.

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651-1695), in her Library.

But don't get me wrong. As a monastic, Sor Juana was also obligated to observe the Liturgy of the Hours—prayers conducted roughly every three hours around the clock, including 9:00 PM, midnight, 3:00 AM and 6:00 AM. She also served more than once as the convent's treasurer.

As Paz points out, along with the universities of Nueva España, the convents were the gathering place for the society's religious, intellectual and academic elites.

Legendary Mole

So now we arrive at mole, sauce or even 'concoction'. A couple of years ago, I read that the world's connoisseurs rate the world's cuisines as follows:  first place is held by Szechuan Province of China, for the subtlety and sophistication of its sauces; second place goes to Oaxaca, Mexico, for the variety, subtlety and sophistication of its famed seven moles (black, red, yellow, colorado/golden, green, almendrado/almond, and pipián/pumpkin seed); third place is occupied by France. So much for the prowess of Western European culinary arts on the world stage!

Mole poblano is served with red rice, tortillas, or even white bread—the latter reflects Spanish influence; Mexico's original people did not have wheat, only maíz (corn)!

Mole enjoys a storied history. For their noble lords, the Aztecs prepared a complex dish called mulli, meaning stew or mixture in Nahuatl. Early moles featured chocolate and  turkey meat (turkey mole). The true origins of mole are probably lost to time, but the following charming account is worth repeating (Source: Wikipedia).

One version puts the invention of mole poblano in the Convent of Santa Rosa in Puebla, capital of the state of Puebla (Mexico). Legend has it that a nun ground together different chiles and other seasonings in a metate, mortar, and used this herb mix for her mole.  It is worth mentioning that the original recipe for mole called for about a hundred ingredients!  

Mexican metate, mortar, still used today!
Photo: Reed 

Another version says that mole poblano was created in Puebla de los Angeles by Mother Andrea de la Asunción, Dominican nun of the convent of Santa Rosa, as part of a seventeenth century celebration. 

A third legend has it that, when notified of an impending visit to their diocese by Juan de Palafox, Viceroy of New Spain and Archbishop of Puebla, a poblano monastery invited the Viceroy/Archbishop to a banquet, to be prepared in his honor by chefs of the religious community. The head chef was Brother Pascual.  

On the day of the banquet, Brother Pascal was exceedingly nervous. In his anxiety, he began berating his helpers for the disorder that reigned in the kitchen. Seeking to safeguard the prepared ingredients in the pantry, Brother Pascual piled them on a tray. In his haste, he tripped right in front of the pot where succulent turkeys were nearly ready. Into the pot tumbled the cut-up chilies, chopped chocolate and the most varied spices, 'spoiling' the food to be offered to the Viceroy. 

Such was the anguish of Fray Pascual that he began to pray "with all his faith" when he was informed that the guests were seated at the table. Later he could not believe his ears when everyone praised his "rough" dish.  

What is certain, however, is that mole is not a product of chance, but instead the result of a  longstanding culinary and cultural process that originated in prehispanic times and was perfected in Nueva España, when the rich indigenous cuisine came into contact with Asian and European ingredients and cooking techniques.

I've written a lot about religious synchretism, but the history of mole opens up a whole new level of investigation for the culturally curious!

Still Curious?

Here's the web site for the Camino Real Hotel in Centro Puebla.

Here's the English Wikipedia entry for Mole (sauce).

Here's an exceptional description of the history of mole, which includes versions of the legends recounted above (whew!) and ends up by quoting the renowned expert, Michael D. Coe.

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, o las trampas de la fé (English: Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, or the Traps of Faith) by Octavio Paz. An insightful introduction to the life and times of a brilliant, amazing woman.

Earthquake Update: "Ométepec's Longest Night"

Introduction: A news team from Mexico's MILENIO Televisión spent the first night of the March 20, 2012, earthquake at its epicenter in Ométepec. The following first-person reporter's account relates a night lived with fear. 

We have published several posts about the impact of natural events on the people of Mexico:

- Geography: Ground of Mexico's Culture and History  

- Mexico's Volcanoes and Mesoamerican Mythology 

- Cuicuilco, Volcanoes and the Fragility of Life in Mesoamerica 

Up to now, our focus has been on volcanoes, not on earthquakes. Yet according to Mexico's National Seismological Service (SSN): 

- 59% of Mexico's population inhabits land subject to earthquakes; 

- Today (Monday, March 26) at 4:46 AM an aftershock of 4.7 Richter occurred in Oaxaca state, 79 kilometers (50 miles) southeast of Pinotepa Nacional Park; 

- Up to March 25th at 9:15 AM, 184 aftershocks greater than 3.5 Richter have been recorded in Mexico City and the states of Guerrero and Oaxaca; 30 aftershocks have measured greater than 4.0 Richter. 

The account related here thus has deep roots reaching down into Mexico's geography and history that span across more than three thousand years.

Improvised shelter in Ométepec, Guerrero. Photo: Jorge Carballo

Milenio: Epétepec, Guerrero • This fear is not only felt: it is heard. It is as if something gigantic would approach and scare us by its sheer weight. Like a giant. The aftershocks felt about every half hour are  heard first as a murmur in the distance, way back in the underbrush at the top of the mountain.

A moment only for the murmur to spread before its thunder voice fills all the streets and corners of Ométepec.

The eyes open from more than fright, the hair on our arms stands on end, the heart pounds at full gallop, the sweat, the breath. The shock.

The sweet voice of a woman answers the question that we fail to ask:

- Yes, it was an aftershock. One of the mildest. 

It is 11:00 PM here in Ométepec, the epicenter of the 7.4 Richter earthquake that hit [Mexico's Guerrero state] here today at 12:03 PM, March 20, 2012. It will be a long night.

**********

If one day you become educated, return with all homing instinct to your people... the homeland has the flavor of fruits ... all the stars fall on your chest... pave your roads with open affection... the fragrance of almonds runs through the streets, and even in the silence, filled with fireflies, all the woes have their guitars....

Thus the poet Juan García Jiménez spoke of his homeland, this town between two hills, Ométepec.

This municipality of the Costa Chica (Pacific coast) of Guerrero is famous as the birthplace of poets who carried the name of the people to the national level and even more, to the jealous world of letters.

Along with Garcia, Francisco Reguera and Rodrigo Torres Hernandez excelled in the field of Mexican poetry, but the latter also became a revolutionary.  These passionate rebels were not strangers to this place. The Cathedral of the Assumption of Mary is where Jose María Morelos y Pavón chose to proclaim The Sentiments of the Nation—now it is the name of Ométepec's main street. 

Hours after the earthquake, federal and state officials, arriving in their late-model vehicles, moved along Ométepec's main street to help those affected.

This was no small matter. The governor of Guerrero, Angel Aguirre, was born in the municipality located on the road to the mountains, on the road to Azoyu.

**********

It is ten o'clock at night. The road leading to Ométepec is surrounded by about eight villages where  inhabitants took chairs and tables to eat outdoors. They do not want to be inside their adobe houses with laminated or tile roofs. The creaking of the earth jangles our nerves.

- We shake for the earthquake, they say—chatting with reporters who arrive at the epicenter—and they caution us, Go with care.

The Marquelia-National Pinotepa road meanders through darkness that obscures the murmur of mosquitoes. Only the glow of fires on both sides of the road are visible.

Suddenly we drive into fog. Then we come upon piles of rock and earth on the road, a sign of landslides that occurred this evening.

The mountain is showing its wounds. Fifteen miles up, driving towards Azoyu, the welcome sign at the head of Costa Chica, with its more than 40,000 inhabitants, reads "Ométepec."

*******

- Bring the gauze, there's none here!

So you listen to the voice of a nurse, which is the first sign of the earthquake. A makeshift hospital has been set up in the parking lot of the Ometepec Regional Hospital. Seventeen patients were evacuated from the hospital when the quake damaged the hospital building. They are now resting in two tents made of tubes and covered with yellow tarps.

In the afternoon, the team of 200 nurses, doctors and assistants felt pounding on the roof of the two-story hospital that had been remodeled only a year ago. Next, on the second floor, the glass door leading to the administrative offices burst, seven lamps fell from the ceilings in the bathrooms, and walls broke. There was shouting, nurses running, patients frightened. We had to leave. 

- There was no fear. Our priority was to evacuate patients as a precaution, even though we saw that the damage was minimal, said Manuel Campos, director of the hospital.

At least there were sighs of relief: two babies born before noon were already at home, away from the new makeshift hospital, the size of two bedrooms.

On stretchers, installed a mere 30 centimeters (about 12 inches) apart, the seventeen patients are being treated for broken bones, stomach infections, sprains. Nothing serious. Only a six-month-old with a lung infection requires special care. He is in a lot of pain, so he cries all the time.

Those needing more attention—like Sr. Eustace, aged 70+ years, who needs to be fed through tubes—are in another, smaller tent. Over the next few hours, ten patients will be transferred to hospitals in San Luis Zacatlán, Xochistlahuaca Copala, Chilpancingo and Taxco. 

Our cameraman, Vicente Gonzalez,  video-recorded the set-up—the faces, serum containers, nurses checking charts, the catheters. Then once again, the underground thud. Water in the bottles moves like a small sea. Patients are no longer are frightened: they only wait to see what happens. 

*********

- The earthquakes have not stopped coming. We were very scared to stay because of the cracks in our house.

Alcantara Cleopas speaks from a corner of the camp where eight families are assembled in the patio of a communal dwelling [Note: Poor families live in a single room, sharing kitchen and bathroom].  Twenty-five people, including seven children, are now on mattresses under sheets and blankets converted into a new collective bedroom. They put up a tarp for protection from the wind, although they know that their fear comes from below the ground.

- Right now we want the little ones to rest their legs and get some sleep. Clearly we are not going to sleep: we are here keeping watch if the earthquake comes, added Cleopas.

The youngest child is just a year and a half. Cleopas's mother-in-law, Matilde, was rocking him in her arms when the earthquake struck, leaving a trail of broken glass, broken dishes, and cracked walls. Matilda fainted, says Cleopas.

- You have to realize that the houses shook instantly. I had never felt an earthquake like this one. From what I remember, the one in 1995 was strong [8.0 Richter, epicenter in Jalisco and Colima states (Pacific Coast)], and the one in 1985 [8.1 Richter, epicenter in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Michoacán] was even stronger, but neither were like this one, of this magnitude. 

His neighbor, Leyda Martinez, also set up a camp in the garden of her house. Her outdoor 'bedroom' is complete with the bases of the beds, five chairs and a small table for the TV.

- You cannot sleep here because of the loud rumbles. It is something I have never felt in my life," says the teacher.

- I fear that an even stronger aftershock may come. They are constant. Yes, we await the next one and we are anxious. Another even stronger may come, so we're all together. 

One detail: in both houses, wax figures of San Nicolas, the patron of the town, and the Virgin of Guadalupe, with their candles, remained intact with no damage, no crashes. 

- We can only pray and ask God that the other does not come so hard, concludes Leyda.

Vincent continues to record videos. Photographer Jorge Carballo takes some snapshots.  Suddenly, the blow that feels like the tread of a giant. Again, the shock. 

- Leyda smiles: That's nothing. We have felt worse. 

********

It is early morning here in Ométepec. We have felt at least forty aftershocks. Nobody walks in the streets. Patrolling the town are two State Police cars and more than a dozen white vans marked with the slogan 'Guerrero nos Une' (Guerrero brings us together) painted on their doors.

Ométepec is silent. Quiet but waiting.

Every half hour, the footsteps feel closer...murmurs that something stronger is coming...that something lurks. And at 5:03 AM, the aftershock of 5.0 Richter scale assaults us.

- What's going on, what's happening? we ask each other upon jumping up from the chair, from the seat of the car, or from anywhere else. The aftershock rocked the walls, windows, doors, stairs. Everything moved. Everything.

Once again the eyes open from more than fright, the hair on our arms stands on end, the heart pounds at full gallop, the sweat, the breath. The shock. 

Ométepec did not sleep the night of March 20.  Spanish original

Still Curious?

Here's my own account of last Tuesday's (March 20, 2012) Earthquake 2012: Mexico's Vulnerability to the Forces of Nature.

Here's another first-person account of the March 20, 2012, earthquake, translated from the Mexican press and titled, Earthquake Update: "Ruins, fear, strong aftershocks...but no help arrives".

Here's a description of Mexico's Geography: Ground of Mexico's Culture and History.

Earthquake Update: "Ruins, fears, strong aftershocks ... but no help arrives"

Introduction: Many in the U.S. have written to ask how we are--we're fine!  But they also ask about the impact of Tuesday's earthquake. The following article relates a reporter's visit to the its epicenter near indigenous communities in Ométepec, Guerrero State.  

What strikes me is the resilience of the villagers, their fatalism, their patience with unresponsive government officials, but also their abiding confidence in the essential dualism of the natural world.  Yes, Tuesday's earthquake has brought disorden (disorder), but it will yield to a new order:  "May this misfortune pass!"  

My translation from the Mexican newspaper, La Jornada. 

Red Cross Volunteers deliver supplies to the people of Huixtepec, Guerrero State, one of the places most damaged by the 7.4 Richter earthquake that hit March 20, 2012. Photo: Pedro Pardo 

La Jornada, March 24: Elida Rodriguez Carmona recalls that at noon on Tuesday, her chickens would not let her nap, so she decided to get up and feed them. She got out of her hammock and went outside seconds before the terrace roof came down on her hammock. The chickens saved her life.

Elida has been a widow for 12 years, but there are dozens of women like her on the Costa Chica ['Little Coast' along the Pacific], the area most affected by earthquakes. Their men have gone north in search of a better life, so now the women are left to face disasters like this alone.

Seventy-six years old, dressed in black, Elida walks barefoot in the backyard of her house, which she will not enter for fear it will collapse. She lives with her granddaughter in a house of adobe and wood in the community of La Guadalupe, municipality of Ométepec, but for now they sleep in a storeroom.

She has some income from the sale of pots that she makes by hand, but since the earthquake last Tuesday, no one is buying or selling anything because the people fear additional damage from the continuing aftershocks.

- Nobody wants to work, schools are closed, the men go to the fields to check the livestock but return promptly because they are afraid, reflected Elida, trembling and wringing her hands.

Sitting under a mango tree, she says that during the earthquake of March 20, the only thing that fell  from her altar of saints arranged before the Virgin of Guadalupe was the figure of Baby Jesus.

- To whom do you pray? [asked the reporter] 

- To the Virgin of Guadalupe every night, maybe that's why she wanted to help me.

Nine years ago, Galvez Cyril, husband of Martina Felipa Perez Torres, left Huixtepec to seek work in the United States. He has not been heard from since. His wife inherited an unpayable debt of 20,000 pesos [about US$1,500] that he borrowed to migrate. Their son, now eleven years old, has not seen or heard from his father since he was two.

Unable to hold back her tears, Martina Felipa prepares tortillas on the grill, 'we want their support to replace the dirt floors in our homes—broken pieces of brick and cement are now scattered all over the furniture'.

[Note: Martina is describing the mess the earthquake has made of her house. She is also referring to President Calderón's promise—as yet unfulfilled—to replace the dirt floors of all houses in the republic.]

The same uncertainty grips Alfonsina Ceballos Chavez, 48, who lost her husband to diabetes two years ago. She sells tamales on the main street of Guadalupe in order to support four children.

- I was making corn tamales when everything started to shake. The quake broke my pots and all the tamales I had to sell. Now they are giving me food, she said, holding back tears. 

God's punishment

Daily activity has come to a halt in the localities of  Huixtepec, Huajintepec, La Conception, Guadalupe, Cuadrilla Nueva and Tierras Blancas. The children are not going to school and, although the aftershocks have diminished, men do not want to leave their families.

- The situation here is very critical, people are not working, all are waiting, says Municipal Commissioner of Huajintepec, Manuel Bautista Morales.

At night people sleep on the streets and terraces covered by tarps. It is 10:15 PM, when the sheriff tours Independencia—the town's main street, which is now lined with rubble and broken walls.

The hoot of an owl is heard—a reminder of the traditional saying, When the owl hoots, the Indian dies.

- What do people think of these tremors? [asked the reporter] 

- People here are very religious. It is thought to be punishment from God, but we do not deserve what has happened here.

May this misfortune pass!

Faced with government inaction, villagers have taken the initiative to assess their damaged property. Now they are the ones who possess the cold, hard facts of suffering in their communities. Alberto Santiago de los Santos, a 23-year old farmer from Cuadrilla Nueva, has collected the facts for the settlement of twenty-five families, where twenty wood and adobe houses were damaged.

Data-filled notebook under his arm, Alberto walks back and forth in Huixtepec looking for the official who never arrives.

The same is true in Guadalupe, where residents have counted more than two hundred damaged houses. They formed two guards who waited for hours for an official van that never arrived.  

The village of Huixtepec counted five hundred fifty-nine affected households—thirty-nine are total losses. Friday's aftershocks brought down ten more houses. 

In Concepción thirty affected structures are reported. Huajintepec reports five hundred twenty-five damaged structures, and over a hundred are damaged in Tierras Blancas. In total, an estimated 1,400 houses were damaged in this area alone.

A television reporter broadcast the rumor that 'Laura' would give her support. Yet no one ever knew whether it was the governor's wife, Laura del Rocío Herrera, or the blonde, loud-mouthed TV host Laura Bozzo, who is wildly popular with both men and women in the [indigenous] communities.

May this misfortune pass! the people smilingly repeated over and over as we made our way to Guadalupe, while hopefully asking this reporter if he knows what day 'Laura' might arrive.
Spanish original

Still Curious?

Here's my account of last Tuesday's (March 20, 2012) Earthquake 2012: Mexico's Vulnerability to the Forces of Nature.

Here's another first-person account translated from the Mexican press titled Earthquake Update: Ométepec's Longest Night.

Several of Jenny's earlier posts deal with the impact of natural events on the people of Mexico:

• Geography: Ground of Mexico's Culture and History 
• Mexico's Volcanoes and Mesoamerican Mythology 
• Cuicuilco, Volcanoes and the Fragility of Life in Mesoamerica 

Sunday in Xochimilco: Museo Dolores Olmedo

Every once in awhile, a visit to a new museum just plain knocks our socks off! It happened to us recently. The occasion was our daughter's visit from Chicago, but the museum had long been on our list of Places to Visit.

Similar to our experience at the Frida Kahlo Museum in Coyoacán, stepping through the gate took us into another world. The gardens are magnificent.

Driveway up to the house. The iron gates are usually open.
(Photo: Museo Dolores Olmedo) 

In 1962 the Mexican philanthropist, art collector and businesswoman, Dolores Olmedo, bought the rundown, sixteenth century, 8-acre property in Xochimilco known as Hacienda La Noria. She immediately set out to restore its buildings and gardens—an undertaking uniquely suited to Dolores' capabilities as businesswoman, art connoiseur and collector.

House from across the gardens
(Photo: Museo Dolores Olmedo) 

Upon her death in 2002, the estate of Dolores Olmedo was dedicated to making her collections available to the public:

• Precolumbian art (600 pieces certified by the National Institute of Anthropology and History), 
• Frida Kahlo paintings (25), 
• Diego Rivera works (45), 
• Popular art and 
• Library (4,000 volumes). 

Approaching Chapel and Museum 
(Photo: Museo Dolores Olmedo)

The gardens feature more than twenty-five varieties of Mexican plants and trees. Ducks and turkeys roam large, attractive pens landscaped with plants and ponds. A flock of splendid peacocks parade through the gardens. When a male displays—or, as happened, when three males in a row simultaneously all decide to display—onlookers gasp with excitement and delight.

In a large, comfortable pen, about a dozen of the nearly extinct breed of Mexican hairless hunting dogs called xoloitzuintles make their home. They move across well-worn paths. When they catch sight of something, they stand stock still...at attention.

Xoloitzuintles (Mexican Hairless Hunting Dog).
Notice stance of dog in background...standing stock still.
(Photo: Kyla's iPhone)

A bronze statue of one proud male adorns their pen. Until one moved, I thought they were all statues. I doubt I'm the only one who has made this mistake! Their color is similar to the bronze statue, and when they stand still...not a magnificent muscle moves. Remarkable!

More Xoloitzuintles

The Museum also sponsors cultural events, including Sunday afternoon concerts held outside. We heard an excellent band of young people playing Mexican music. In addition to marimba and mandolin, the band also had four psalteries—a stringed instrument held on the lap.

Four Psalteries gave the music a sound that we in the U.S. might describe as 'mountain' music. The  result was absolutely delightful! The audience sang along with many songs.   

Dolores Olmedo (1908-2002)

Born two years before the onset of the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920), Dolores Olmedo was a real personaje (character)—businesswoman, philanthropist, art collector. Her mother, widowed by the untimely death of Dolores' father, supported her family as an elementary school teacher. Like many others, the family suffered through food shortages as the Revolution ground on and on—an experience that undoubtedly marked Dolores for life.

After the Revolution, the arts in Mexico enjoyed a renaissance with a distinctly foreign flavor  reflective of new ideas arriving from the United States and the capitals of Europe. These foreign influences also had a profound effect on Mexico's cultural and scientific mentality, giving rise to a new generation espousing new values focused on social injustice, strategies for building a society based on a nascent nationalism, and conceptualized in terms of progress and development.

Dolores studied art at the Academy of San Carlos—the same school attended by the 'Big Three' of Mexican Muralists: Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros. She also studied music at the National Conservatory.

Mexico's Artistic Elite

About 1924, Dolores met Diego Rivera while he was working on his murals at the Secretaría de Educación Pública. It was primarily a friendship based on their shared artistic interests, but Rivera also asked Dolores' mother for permission to have Dolores pose for him. Permission granted, she posed more than a hundred times for the artist, whom she held in the highest esteem.

Portrait of Dolores Olmedo (Oil on canvas)
Diego Rivera (1955)
Collection, Museo Dolores Olmedo
Source:  http://www.diegorivera.com/gallery/dolores.html

As with most of Rivera's friendships, theirs was to have its highs and lows. At one point, Dolores distanced herself from Rivera for several years, but in 1955 she and Rivera renewed their ties and were practically inseparable until his death two years later. Aware that he would soon die, during this time the great muralist named Dolores trustee of his estate. 

During this time, Rivera, himself a renowned collector of precolombian art, guided Dolores through several important acquisitions. Her collection of 600 objects is on exhibition at the Dolores Olmedo Museum in Xochimilco. Rivera also guided Dolores in the purchase of several paintings both by Frida Kahlo and by himself. These paintings are important exhibits at her museum.

Meanwhile, in 1930 Dolores had met the Englishman Howard S. Phillips, founder and editor of Mexican Life, a magazine focused on the arts and  tourism. They were married in 1935. Although they eventually divorced amicably, during their marriage Howard and Dolores moved in Mexico's elite circles of the arts and culture.

Business Woman

In order to support her family, Dolores turned her talents to the business world. Her business instincts were superb. She identified and turned to her advantage the construction boom that accompanied the country's post-Revolution development agenda.

With great difficulty, she borrowed money to purchase a brick factory. In a canny move, she formed a partnership with the owner of the brick factory next-door to hers, the German Heriberto Pagelson. Together they purchased additional brick factories, which became enormously profitable.

Similarly, Dolores allied with an adobe maker, again capitalizing on the country's construction boom. Needless to say, her success was extraordinary at a time when few Mexican women participated in entrepreneurial activity, let alone achieve such success in the male-dominated construction industry!

Still Curious?

The Museum's web site is excellent, including a description in English.  For the best photos, go to the Spanish site where, below the GoogleMap, is a series of photos. Click to access, then Scroll Down one row—voilá!—superb photos of the Museum grounds. Here's the link:  Dolores Olmedo Museum.

Excellent description in English with link to Spanish: http://www.myhero.com/go/hero.asp?hero=Dolores_Olmedo_Patino

Link to Wikipedia entry (Spanish):  http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolores_Olmedo

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Earthquake 2012: Mexico's Vulnerability to the Forces of Nature

Today we got quite a shaking. Shortly after noon, I was in the kitchen fixing a torta (Mexican sandwich) for Reed when I heard unfamiliar sirens. Then I heard Reed exclaim, "It's an earthquake!"

Epicenter of Today's Earthquake (USGS, March 20, 2012)

The excited, shrill voices of schoolchildren from the nearby elementary school floated up to us. The building swayed—giving rise to wild oscillations of the hummingbird feeder on our balcony. Our vertical blinds moved rhythmically to and fro, noisily.

Reed came to stand next to me in the doorway between kitchen and dining room. Our apartment is on the fifth floor. By the time we walk down the stairs, the earthquake will be over, and we'll just have to walk back up because it's unlikely we'd be able to use the elevator. Whatever is going to happen will have happened.

Fortunately, our building came through the 1985 Mexico City Earthquake just fine, and Coyoacán is built on pedregal, stony ground, which is stable.

The last quake occurred just before Christmas. It lasted in Coyoacán for about 45 seconds, but in downtown Mexico City—constructed on fill atop Lake Texcoco—the ground shook for a good three minutes.  So we believe our situation is good.

We stood together in the doorway—waiting, alert, watchful. We both became aware of feeling slightly seasick, even dizzy—a vertigo induced by the movement of the earth under our feet.

Our eyes sought stability, yet found nothing stable to focus on. The overwhelming feeling was the unanswerable question, "Is it over yet?"  The shaking seemed to go on forever, but it probably lasted only a little over a minute.

We lost power. I checked the phone. No dial tone. But it wasn't long before the modem began to reboot. It felt good to be back online.

I checked Facebook. A good Mexican friend now lives outside Denver with her husband and children, but her parents are still in Mexico City. My friend had tried multiple times to call her mother, but couldn't get through.

I wrote that we were okay in Coyoacán. We had power, but no dial tone. Since my friend's parents live in the same general area, the likelihood is that they are okay. A second friend wrote to tell her that the phone lines are all jammed with family attempting to contact other family members. She urged my friend to be patient.

My U.S. friends began inquiring, "R U OK?"  Meanwhile, my geeky husband was scrolling for information about the quake.

A Facebook friend complained that he didn't know where the earthquake was, adding, "Mexico is a large country with 31 states. Where was the earthquake?"

I responded in a straightforward manner, giving the preliminary facts,

Guerrero State, roughly midway between Oaxaca City and Acapulco. Richter 7.6 at a depth of nearly 11 miles.

A friend near Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, wrote, "We felt it here!"

I replied, "We're starting to get strong aftershocks."

These proved to be the first of nine or ten aftershocks that were to occur over the next several hours—their intensity ranged from Richter 4.6 to 5.3, with three aftershocks measuring 5.1.

Aftershocks are disquieting. The physical feeling of being not-quite-right lingers. My mind wanders. I am comforted by Internet contact with family and friends.

Our initial uncertainty is being dispelled by objective information we get from the United States Geological Survey (USGS) and delivered via the Internet.

I can't help wondering, what would Mexico's original peoples have felt as they experienced a natural event such as this earthquake? How would they have tried to understand it—to make some kind of sense out of it? How did they deal with the unknown?

Then from Facebook, I read this from another Mexican friend:

Todos bien! Con todo y alerta sísmica, no cabe duda de que ante la naturaleza, somos muy pequeños.... 

We are all well!  With all this seismic alert, there's no doubt that when confronted by the powers of nature, we are all very small.... 

I take a very deep breath, exhaling slowly. Here is expression of exactly the sensibility I have been attempting to describe in several recent posts. 

In a nutshell, Mexico's geography has consistently threatened its inhabitants with the issue of physical survival in the face of powerful natural forces—earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes off the Gulf of Mexico, cyclones from the Pacific, floods and drought. It comes to mind that Mexico is currently suffering its most severe drought in eighty years.  

In large measure, Mesoamerican culture, including its religious thought, developed as the human response to natural threats such as today's earthquake. As Reed puts it, myths arise where humans encounter the forces of nature.

Once again I have the powerful sense that Mexico's past is not dead. It lives. I know, because it confronted me today—reminding me of my finiteness before the forces of nature.

Still Curious?

Here's the link to the USGS Summary, which gives an excellent description of Mexico's earthquake history and today's event.  Click on 'Detail' tabs at top of page for specific information on today's earthquake.  

Tips for Navigating in New Template

Jenny's Journal is testing the Beta version of a new Blogspot dynamic template available in Google+. We're excited by the 'look' and potential usefulness for both Readers and us as Bloggers!

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Bureaucracy: Two Ordinary Tales

When I lost my wallet a few months ago, I also lost my U.S. Driver's License, which upset me no end. I've had a Driver's License since I turned sixteen—more or less a hundred years ago. I don't drive in Mexico, but I do rent cars in the U.S. Being unable to do so would be really difficult.

Driver's License

As it turns out, we have a friend who is well-connected in Mexico's legal bureaucracy. When I told her how upsetting it was to be unable to drive a car, she offered to help me get a Mexican Driver's License.

Don't ask me how, but she assembled all the required documentation (medical certificate, written test), thus complying with the formality of the law. My role was to show up, get my picture taken, sign some documents and pay for the license.

I later asked if there's a term for the service she'd performed. Yes, was the answer, she had acted as my gestora.

So, naturally, I had to look up gestor in the dictionary: "...the person who carries out dealings with public bodies (bureaucracies) on behalf of private customers or companies, in a manner that combines the roles of attorney and accountant."

Later, my friend told me that the physician who signed the medical certificate had asked, "Does she know how to drive?" Fortunately, the answer is yes, with a clean record spanning five decades.

In relating this anecdote to me, my friend added reflectively, "You know, I'd never do this for anyone who wasn't qualified." Her remark underscores another trait of Mexican culture: its intense personalization, where it isn't what, but who you know—who knows who to get things done.

I asked my friend to take a look at this description of her work before I posted it. My concern was that publication might cause trouble for her. Her response is revealing, "No, once the documents are formalized, everything is fine—the matter is successfully concluded. Even many Mexicans don't understand this about trámites—the paperwork is everything."

Laundry: Ticket Trumps Reality

Still have doubts? Let me relate an anecdote about Reed, two loads of laundry, and two laundry tickets. On two separate days Reed takes our laundry to the nearby lavandería. Day 1, the load is sheets and towels; our clothes go on Day 2. It takes 24 hours for a load to be washed, line-dried and folded.

Recently, Reed stopped by to pick up the first load—sheets and towels. The young woman who usually does the laundry wasn't there. In her place were two older men sitting and chatting. One man was clearly tending the shop. Later we found out that he is the owner, who has since formed quite a friendship with Reed.

As Reed picked up the bundle of sheets and towels, he noticed some of our folded clothes lying on the folding table. So innocently he asked if the rest of our clothes were ready—at which point, he fell down the cultural rabbit hole.

"Oh, no, señor," assured the older man, "your ticket says that they will be ready tomorrow—not today." 

"But some of the clothes from tomorrow's load are right here," replied Reed pointing to the folded clothes resting on the folding table. 

"Oh," the man confidently assured Reed, "those clothes are for tomorrow's delivery."
Reed responded, "If our clothes are ready now, may I take them now?  It'll save me a trip."

A considerable back and forth ensued—pretty much along the lines of the famous Abbot and Costello routine, "Who's on First?"

Eventually, the second man chimed in, "Yes, some of the clothes dried faster; they're the ones you see." 

But the owner was adamant:  If the ticket says delivery tomorrow, then delivery tomorrow is what it will be.

Culture Lesson: The Paperwork is Everything!

When Reed got back home, he was sputtering.

Laughing, he noted, "This is a perfect example of the bureaucratic attitude: the document determines reality! The clothes may be dry, but reality is what the ticket says it is." 

He continued spluttering:  "Facts—objective facts? When a piece of paper is involved, paper trumps reality!"

Yet more evidence that formalism (conformity to the rule—in this case, nothing more than a laundry ticket) is a consistent feature of daily life in Mexico and a defining trait of Mexican culture.

Still Curious?

Our friend, Gary, maintains a terrific Blog, Gary's Impressions of Michoacán, Mexico. When he and his wife recently sold their property in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, the post describing the experience illustrates yet again the dictum, The Paperwork is Everything!

Teotihuacán V: Palace Murals

Introduction: This post is the fifth and final post in our series on Teotihuacán. Other posts  in the series are: I. 'Where the Gods are Made', II. The Shape of Space and Time, III. Seat of Political-Religious Power, IV. Temple of Quetzalcóatl. 

Jaguar, Tetitla Palace (see below)

When we began our day of exploring the palacios of Teotihuacán, we had no idea what was in store for us, but we were soon to find out. Resting under modest, low-to-the-ground corrugated metal roofs are the stony ruins of residential complexes called palacios.

The residential complexes were large separate stone buildings with complex interior arrangements of rooms, patios, platforms and passageways. Compounds were usually subdivided into units that appear to be self-contained units of rooms with enclosed patio—each unit likely to have housed a family. Each compound also seemed to have had at least one temple in a prominent courtyard for ritual activities.

Tetitla Palace

I have to admit that I didn't think much of the site as I navigated the first stone-paved passageway of Tetitla.

Inside Tetitla Palace, showing mural fragments on the facing wall near the floor, stone walls and corrugated metal roof.
(Richard Seaman photo)

We picked our way through the passageways, stopping to view fragments of frescos—murals painted on stucco spread over the stone walls. I'm not a specialist, so I found the fragments interesting, but not show-stopping.

Jaguar god, Tetitla Palace

At the rear of the compound, we came upon a stairway with nine steps up a wall. Reed climbed while we debated whether it was worth the effort for me to do the same. Reed descended out of sight into a sunken patio All was still in the early-morning country air, then I heard Reed's excited,

"Oh, my god! Jenny, you've got to see this."

So I climbed the stairs—like all Mesoamerican stairways, their narrow steps and steep rise give me pause—then descended into the sunken patio. I walked to the middle, still not getting it. Then Reed turned me to my right and said,

"Look."

Fertility Goddess, Tetitla Palace

I could scarcely believe my eyes. An entire wall of this two-thousand year old structure has survived with its floor-to-ceiling, perhaps 3 m (15 ft) wide fresco nearly intact. The impact is stunning. To my untutored eye, the surviving mural is a masterpiece.

This video clip (15 sec) doesn't do justice to this mural, but it gives a flavor of the setting.

Slowly, it began to dawn on me:

this temple space was a miniature replica of the axis mundi (world axis, or center) at The Citadel. Its patio had been lowered to represent the Underworld, this temple rose up toward the Heavens. Could it be that all these stairs serve to remind us of the Teotihuacano's Cosmovision of three planes: Earthly, Celestial, Infernal [Underworld]?

The visual experience kindled my imagination:

What must it have been like to live in this city? Every wall, every surface, was alive with vivid images of the Teotihuacanos' gods. These images suffused the daily life of Teotihuacán's inhabitants—and most likely filled their dream lives as well.

Those mural fragments on the walls of the family apartments?  Alive with vivid images of their gods. The massive walls that line the Avenue of the Dead? Alive with images of their gods.

Suddenly, the mural fragments came to life, and I was reminded—yet again—of David Carrasco's trenchant observation:

"[Teotihuacán] was not only a container of religious symbolism, it was itself a religious symbol." [Emphasis added]

Atetelco Palace

We visited another complex nearby. Again, we climbed up and down stairways as we entered the complex, whose high point was another sunken patio, but this patio gave way to temples on three sides.

The Red Temple, Atetelco Palace

Here's a video (30 sec) introduction to the three temples, and here's a close-up of the mural at one temple.

I should mention that we have yet to visit three other residential complexes with their mural art, most notably Tepantla Palace, with its mural of the paradise of Tlaloc.

The Fall of Teotihuacán and Its Lasting Influence

Teotihuacán's highly developed mural art is powerful evidence that the city truly was, as the later Aztecs believed, the 'City Where the Gods are Made'. A highly complex, stratified city, the major classes included a ruling elite comprised of political-religious and military nobles; traders and merchants; craftsmen, farmers, and laborers.

Initial agrarian settlement of the Valley of Teotihuacán had begun about 100 B.C.E.-100 C.E. Teotihuacán flourished from 300 to 700 C.E. During this time, the Teotihuacan Empire had important trade relations with far-flung areas of Mesoamerica, such as Monte Albán (Oaxaca) and Tikal (Guatemala).

About 750 C.E., Teotihuacán declined precipitously. The decline is attributed to a combination of forces—first and foremost, crop failures arising from climate changes. These changes would have called into question the efficacy of the priestly elite—whose responsibility it was to assure harmonious relations with natural forces, above all, the life-sustaining rain.

Disillusionment fomented internal rebellions that created political instability. In the light of this disorden (disorder)—taken by the people to be a sign of the displeasure of their gods—a majority of the population abandoned Teotihuacán and migrated to other parts of the Valley of Mexico, just as the people of Cuicuilco had done earlier (150-200 C.E.) when the nearby volcano, Xitle, erupted and buried their city in ash and lava flow.

Teotihuacán's artistic and cultural influence, however, spread far and wide over the Mesoamerican region. When the Mixteca (Aztecs) finally gained dominance over the settlements around Lake Texcoco, they sought to legitimize their authority by rewriting their history to place it in the legacy of Teotihuacán, whose influence is felt to this day.

Still Curious?

Here's Reed's Photo Album of the palace murals with captions.

Here's the link to the Lonely Planet's description of Teotihuacán.

If you are planning a visit to Teotihuacán, be sure to include in your tour the Museum of Teotihuacán Murals at Gate 3, which gives a remarkable overview to these fascinating murals.

I also found Richard Seaman, professional travel photographer from New Zealand ("The Flying Kiwi") now living in the U.S. Here's the link to the post of his visit to Teotihuacán.

If you're curious about Mexico, Richard also wrote a longer piece about his trip to the Mexican Highlands around Mexico City, including visits to the colonial cities of Puebla and Cholula.

Teotihuacán IV: Temple of Quetzalcóatl

Introduction: This post is fourth in our series on Teotihuacán: I. 'City Where the Gods are Made', II. The Shape of Space and Time, III. Seat of Political-Religious Power and V. Palace Murals. 

I confess. To the delight of some readers and the consternation of others, I've been immersed in Mesoamerican mythic and spiritual traditions for some weeks now. Coming up for air, I'm tempted to observe, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” 

The assumptions underlying the Mesoamerican worldview are radically different from those of Western Europe. To try to understand them requires more or less a leap of faith into the unknown. Is it worth it? 

The renowned myth scholar Joseph Campbell thought so. Reflecting on Mesoamerican spiritual thought, he wrote: “For myths, by their very nature, function to reveal the inner in terms of the outer.” Campbell then quotes Novalis, “The seat of the soul is there, where the outer and inner worlds meet.” 

This post is heavily indebted to the beautifully written, insightful analysis of Roberta H. and Peter T. Markman in their seminal work, “Masks of the Spirit: Image and Metaphor in Mesoamerica.” 

Previous posts discuss how Teotihuacán was laid out to replicate on the earthly plane the culture’s vision of the cosmos symbolized by the quincunx—an arrangement of five points in a square or rectangle with one point at each corner and one at the center.

By locating the Citadel at the intersection of Teotihuacán’s two major thoroughfares—the Avenue of the Dead, representing the realm of the spirit, and the East-West Avenue, representing the world of humans—the city’s planners established the symbolic center of the universe. By this act, they defined the Citadel as the “sacralized political center” of the vast Teotihuacán Empire.

Temple of Quetzalcóatl

With the pyramid-temple placed at the back of the plaza of the Citadel, the city’s planners faced the challenge of consecrating this edifice where spirit and matter were to meet in the person of the priest-king who manifested the divine on the earthly plane.  The physical arrangement represented this sacred meeting place, or threshold.

Facing the Citadel's plaza, the positive upward thrust of the pyramid-temple balances the negative "sunken" space of the plaza itself—a repeat of the earlier design of the Pyramid of the Moon and its sunken plaza. These arrangements are surely the symbolic equivalent of the combination of cave and pyramid seen at the Pyramid of the Sun located between the Pyramid of the Moon and the Citadel.  

In each case, the emphasis on penetration of the upper (Heavens) and lower (Underworld) realms of the spirit defines man's place in the world of nature.

The architectural masks that adorn this pyramid-temple serve to designate it as sacred. Masks symbolize the point of priestly passage between states of being—Underworld, Earthly Plane, Celestial World.  

Sculptured facade of the Temple of Quetzalcóatl

Originally, the Temple of Quetzalcóatl was literally covered with masks. The reconstruction (below), housed in the National Museum of Archaeology and History in Mexico City, shows the undulating bodies of serpents on the narrow bands between each row of masks.

Reconstruction of the west facade of the Temple of Quetzalcóatl at the Museum of Anthropology and History, Mexico City. The paint that originally covered the facade is long gone. The reconstruction hints at how the pyramid once appeared to Teotihuacanos. Notice the undulating serpent bodies on two levels: between the masks, but also as wavy lines on the level that separates the masks.  (Click image to enlarge)

Transformations Natural and Divine

Central to the Mesoamerican cosmovision was the process of transformation, by which the world of spirit entered into the contingent world of man, creating and sustaining life as we know it. The solar path provides the impetus by which the natural world moves through the annual agricultural cycles of generation, life and death. Over a longer timeframe, humans are born, live and die. Observation of these natural phenomena led Mesoamerican spiritual thinkers to conclude that life itself is cyclic.

As we consider the masks that adorned the Temple of Quetzalcóatl, it is essential to keep in mind that Mesoamerican gods are not like the pantheon of Greek gods. They are more like Hindu gods, who can exist simultaneously in more than one state.

Given the multidimensionalality of these gods, it’s helpful to keep in mind these concepts:

·         Duality—light/dark, life/death, creation/destruction, fire/water, order/disorder;

·         Reciprocity—mutual obligation.

Temple Masks: Tlaloc and Quetzalcóatl

The masks covering the Temple of Quetzalcóatl alternate in their representation of two gods: Tlaloc and Quetzalcóatl. Tlaloc is the god of rain. Quetzalcóatl is the plumed serpent, miraculous synthesis of serpent and bird. The Markmans suggest that these separate gods are best thought of as part of a continuum.

On the temple frieze, naturalistic masks of the feathered serpent (Quetzalcóatl) with ruffed collars alternate with abstract, geometric, “flat” masks of the rain god (Tlaloc). Dominance of the feathered serpent is evidenced by his masks that line the staircase ascending to the temple atop the pyramid.

Mythic Transformations

As the Markmans explain, the masks on this temple represent the story of the relationship between man/matter and nature/spirit. In sum, the gods transform spirit, that is, themselves, into matter (rain). In turn, man reciprocates by transforming matter into spirit.

The ritual burning of incense sends clouds of smoke into the air, thus reenacting the coming of the rain clouds needed to begin another cycle of the endless process in which life [or the life-force, symbolized by ollín] was constantly poised between creation and destruction. Incensarios found at Teotihuacán depict Huehuetéotl, the old fire god who was also prominent at Cuiculco.

Heuheutéotl, Old Fire God.
His hat is a brazier for burning incense.

These two seemingly separate gods—Tlaloc and Quetzalcóatl—are best seen as parts of a continuum, a union of opposites that points to a larger spiritual reality.

Union of Opposed Elemental Forces

At one level, the temple’s theme appears to be fertility. The unusual texture of the Tlaloc mask may suggest corn. The circular mouth on the feathered serpent suggests an aspect of Quetzalcóatl—Ehécatle, who blew winds to clear the way for the coming rains. Tlaloc (rain) and Ehécatle (wind) hence work together to provide man’s sustenance, corn.

But the temple masks may also suggest another unity born of the merging of opposites. The Markmans note that the serpent is the “quintessential symbol for sacrificial blood,” which leads them to conclude that Tlaloc as metaphor for rain and the plumed serpent as metaphor in this instance for sacrificial blood suggest the cyclical process by which life itself is maintained: in return for rain provided by the gods, man is called upon to provide the sacrificial blood that metaphorically nourishes the gods.

Tlaloc

Both the Olmec culture, the ‘mother’ Mesoamerican culture (that is, a community organized at political/religious levels) and the Zapotec culture (Monte Albán in Oaxaca was roughly contemporaneous with Teotihuacán) related Tlaloc to rulership. 

These cultures recognized in this deity the ability to provide the divine force from which earthly rulers drew their mandate. For these early cultures, Tlaloc provided not only man’s sustenance but the community’s divinely ordained rulers.

In sum, agricultural fertility (abundant crops and the resulting surplus) gave rise to civilized life—that is, to civil order. This order was by and inherent in the ruler as priest-king. 

Tlaloc. His goggle-eyed face is combined with an animal figure, likely a crocodile, symbol of the subterranean waters of primal chaos. Tlaloc is the source of all forms of water from the heavens above (rain, hail, snow) to the earth below (lakes, rivers, springs).

But Tlaloc had another aspect. As Lord of Times, he also provided for the annual cycle that nourishes vegetation and hence life. The widely held expert view is that the Temple of Quetzalcóal originally displayed from 360 to 366 composite masks. In this it is similar to the Pyramid of Niches constructed at El Tajín on the Gulf Coast in Veracruz state. El Tajín was built as Teotihuacán declined (600 CE). 

Quetzalcóatl

The serpent was used to define the meeting place of spirit and matter. The use of the serpent to flank the stairway at the Temple of Quetzalcóatl prefigured the symbolic use of serpents to flank temple doorways and pyramid stairways elsewhere at Teotihuacán. 

Quetzalcóatl: This multi-dimensional deity combines not only the bird, who ascends to the Heavens, and the serpent, who comes from the Earth, but the jaguar as well. The jaguar represents the night sun that travels through the Underworld. 

The Markmans:

This use of the serpent to define the liminal meeting place of spirit and matter coincides with the serpent symbolism associated with blood sacrifice since it was up these pyramid stairways, after all, that the sacrificial victim made his way to the temple where his spirit was freed by the act of sacrifice to return to its home [in the essential life-force] and his body, now merely matter, was released to tumble back down that same stairway to be reunited with the earth (Markmans, p. 45).

Over time, the serpent symbol would come to be used by later cultures in the Valley of Mexico.

Some Final Thoughts

The masks that cover the frieze of the Temple of Quetzalcóatl represent the relationship between the realm of the spirit and the world of man. The message of the images that cover the Temple suggest that for Teotihuacanos, life is made possible in the visible, tangible world of man through the continuous intervention of the invisible, intangible realm of the spirit.

Let me give the scholars the last word:

These [masks] can only be called graphic symbols…[full of meaning] for those who beheld them. In this sense [these images were] the expression of a sacerdotal body, the reflection of a caste of learned clerics concerned with elaborating the concepts of a pantheon in which the forces of the universe are personified [emphasis added].

Henry Stierlin, 1982

Teotihuacán was a highly developed society, which

...was unquestionably the preeminent ritual center of its time in Mesoamerica. It seems to have been the most important center of trade and to have had the most important marketplace. It was the largest and most highly differentiated craft center. In size, numbers, and density, it was the greatest urban center and perhaps the most complexly stratified society of its time in Mesoamerica. It was the seat of an increasingly powerful state that appears to have extended its domination over wider and wider areas…. Indeed, it appears to have been the most highly urbanized center of its time in the New World (emphasis added).

René Millon, 1976

Still Curious?

The archaeological excavation continues. This article (Aug 2010) describes initial exploration of a tunnel found under the Temple of Quetzalcóatl.

UTube Video (1:59 sec), produced by the National Institute of Anthropology and History, features excellent close-up views of the temples plumed serpent (ruffed collar) and Tlaloc (goggle-eyes) masks.

UTube video (36 sec), shot from a viewing platform atop the second facade, has a good view of the plumed serpent masks lining the staircase of the Temple of Quetzalcóatl.

UTube (1:09 sec), shot from a viewing platform atop the temple's second west facade, gives excellent views of the entire Citadel complex from the stairway lined with plumed serpent masks, across a long view of the temple masks,  panning the area of the residential complex that surrounded the temple on three sides. A view is also given of the sunken plaza in front of the temple with the great altar and temples ranging the plaza's massive exterior walls.

Here's the link to Reed's Picassa photo album, From the Monumental to the Miniature, of Teotihuacán and artifacts found in its site museums.  The "miniatures"—small sculptures—are an unexpected delight!

Jenny's Post Quetzalcóatl at Xochicalco (Morelos state) describes the Temple of Quetzalcóatl built by the ruling elite of Xochicalco, which rose to power in the vacuum created by the decline and fall of Teotihuacán.