Awakening to the Rhythm of Life in Mexico

I waken early. Once awake I linger in bed for a few minutes listening to our Coyoacán neighborhood as it wakes up to another day in the Valle de México, Valley of Mexico.

Song of the Cenzontle

First comes the song of the cenzontle (curve-billed thrasher, Taxostoma curvirostre), who begins to sing in the predawn minutes then continues singing pretty much all day long. A cenzontle lived in the trees and shrubs of our garden in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán. He also loved to perch on the ridge of the roof and sing, so we got a good look at him.

Curve-billed thrasher
Photo: Gerrit Vyn (Cornell Web Site)

The word cenzontle comes from the náhuatl word cenzon-tlahtol-e, formed from centzontli ("four hundred") and tlahtolli ("word" hence, "song"). Males have been known to have repertoires of fifty to two hundred songs. After numerous tries over almost a week, today I succeeded in getting a good recording of the centzontle's song at the Botanical Garden in Chapultepec Park.

The cultured and enlightened ruler of Texcoco, Nezahualcóyotl, wrote this poem about the beauty of the cenzontle's song:

I love the song of the cenzontle,
bird of four hundred voices;
I love the color of jade and the enervating perfume
of the flowers;
but I love more my brother
man.

Amo el canto del cenzontle,
pájaro de cuatrocientas voces;
amo el color del jade y el enervante perfume
de las flores;
pero amo más a mi hermano
el hombre.

According to the shamanic tradition out of which grew Mesoamerican religious thought and practices, each person has an animal spirit, called a nahua. The cenzontle is the traditional nahua of women blessed with beautiful singing voices.

Street Sweeper

Another early morning sound is the clatter of metal wheels as the street sweeper's cart bounces along the pavement, followed by a brief silence, then...the slow, steady, swish-swish strokes of the street sweeper's barrido manual.

Street Sweeper with his barrido manual on Paseo de la Reforma (Mexico City).
The natural fiber brooms are traditional and distinctive.

The tradition of sweeping predates the arrival of the Spanish. We saw nearly identical brooms in Michoacán, and we have seen them elsewhere in Mexico, which suggests that the tradition was widespread throughout Mesoamerica—and continues today. 

Until I went down to take this photo, I hadn't realized that our
street sweeper also sweeps the sidewalk. The woman in the coral dress has a
broom in her left hand. Housewives and household help throughout Mexico routinely sweep the walks in front of their homes. From our neighbor's house on the corner, her family runs a tiendita, neighborhood grocery and snack shop.  

Mesoamerican cultures had invented the wheel, but in the absence of animals that could be domesticated to pull vehicles with wheels, they had no incentive to invent the cart. Above all, Mexico's mountainous terrain made horse or ox-drawn carts impractical. On the mountain paths, humans carrying loads on their backs were most efficient. So, instead, they put wheels on animal figures in honor of the deities.

Jaguar carved in obsidian with wheels.

Recently, Reed came upon a list of activities associated with each month of the solar calendar. In essence, community life was organized to assure that the community produced what it needed not only to survive but to stay healthy: water festivals occurred in early spring to assure arrival of the life-giving rains, followed by planting rituals, etc., throughout the year. Sweeping and bathing rituals were practiced the same month as feasts for celebrating the harvests. It certainly makes sense to schedule cleanup of place and people after the annual harvest commotion!

Calzada de Tlalpan


We live a couple of blocks from the Calzada de Tlalpan, a busy six-lane expressway that follows the same route as the original causeway built by the Aztecs to provide access by land to their island capital at Tenochtitlán. During the night, traffic noise just about disappears, but it picks up by 4:30 AM and by 6:00 AM it is a dull roar.

Volcanoes

By the time I get up, the sun is rising behind the volcanoes visible from our living room windows.

Popocatéptl is at the right; Popo's beloved Iztaccíhuatl lies to the left on her
funeral bier with her head almost at the margin—the crater of an extinct volcano
forms her breast; her knees and feet extend along the mountain range to the right.

The Many Layers of Mexico's Culture

I haven't even made my coffee yet, but I've already experienced many layers of Mexican culture. The cenzontle and the volcanoes, of course, put me in direct contact with the natural forces that are a vital cultural component. The street sweeper's broom hearkens back to Mesoamerican times, but the wheeled cart is a Spanish innovation. It was the Spanish who brought with them the draft animals—horses, oxen, burros—needed to pull carts.

Earlier posts have discussed the Mesoamerican cosmovision, or view of the universe. They showed how early peoples conceived of time as cyclic rather than linear. The sun's diurnal cycle (day, night) is the most obvious. It was closely followed by others grounded in astronomical observations: the lunar month, the Venus cycle and, of course, the sun's annual cycle (north to the summer solstice; south to the winter solstice). BTW—yesterday was the summer solstice. Because we are so far south, it means that at high noon, we stand on our own shadows. Wild!

To Mesoamerican thinkers and theologians, the astronomical cycles merged with the annual cycle of the seasons and the organic cycle of plant growth, which combined to form an all-encompassing cosmic system. To their minds, this cosmic system was sustained by the spiritual energy of the ollín, or life-force.

Ollín, endless motion, the life-force itself, was conceived to be the essence of all existence. This representation from Tlatelolco is the most commonly seen symbol for ollín. Note the circle at the center, which becomes the column in the object that follows. 

During a recent visit to the Templo Mayor Museum of Tenochtitlán in the center of Mexico City, I was surprised to see a very different representation of ollín:

This column is said to represent the axis mundi (world axis that connects the earthly plane with the heavens above and the underworld below); the spirals represent ollín, endless motion (energy) or life-force, that is the essence of all existence. 

All of which brings to mind a memorable Spanish class—one of many at CELEP in Pátzcuaro. My teacher and I were discussing the Mesoamerican concept of time as cyclic and contrasting it with the Western concept of time as linear. As we chatted, it suddenly dawned on me that cyclic and linear concepts of time represent two extremes. What it would mean, I mused, if time were conceived as a spiral instead? Like a cycle, a spiral passes over the same points, but with each pass it moves over a slightly different point, either higher or lower.

According to the museum curator's note, the spiral represents the ascent and descent of ollín—movement of divine forces (energy)—between the three levels of existence: the heavens above, the earthly plane, and the underworld below. Thus, at the very center of the Mesoamerican cosmovision rests the spiraling cycle of energy, the ollín, the life-force that drives the universe.

Walking to the Tianguis de sábado, Saturday Open-Air Market,
we were struck to see this topiary in front of a sports gymnasium.
Appropriately, it is shaped into the form of ollín. 

So in the cenzontle's song, in the sun rising over the volcanoes, in the sounds of the street sweeper's cart wheels and the rhythmic swish of his broom, in the traffic noises from the Calzada de Tlalpan, each morning I experience anew the never-ending, always-changing rhythm of ollín. 

Still Curious?

If you'd like to listen to another of the cenzontle's songs, click on Cornell's web site for the curve-billed thrasher. Scroll down and click on "Sound". The second recording (Robert B. Angstadt, Texas, April 1961) captures the 'call and response' songs of two male cenzontles. The first male 'calls'; then, from a distance, a second male 'responds' with a song based on a descending scale. It is this song that captured our attention in Pátzcuaro. It also captivated a neighbor, who told us it is the song of the cenzontle.

Although my skills as a videographer are a tad challenged, I thought you might like to hear the distinctive swish of the street sweeper's barrido manual, which I finally managed to capture on this video (15 sec).

Here's my best street sweeper video (2:06) filmed today, where against all odds I managed to capture cart and worker. I enjoy it when the sweeper puts his barrido manual, broom, back on the cart—the 'flag' of his trade!  I still haven't figured out how to edit the video. I recommend you stop at 2:06! If I could figure out how to do it, I'd cut the rest.

Until I tried to video the street sweepers' activities, I hadn't understood their schedule. What I hear from bed is their 6:00 AM arrival down the main street that crosses our street. Then they make a loop and come back to our street, which is when I made this video (35 sec). This segment is also technically challenged but if you have patience, you will glimpse two men pushing their carts down the street.

Anecdote: There's a story behind why I'm filming the street sweepers from our balcony. The first morning, I went outside, greeted the street sweeper and asked if I could film him working. Although his facial expression remained genial (no 'mask'), he was adamant: "No se permite", it isn't allowed.   

He then explained that a friend of his had been photographed, and it had caused all kinds of problems for him at the 'bodega' (I assume he meant the staging area where they store their carts). I quickly assured him that I had no desire to cause him problems, and I asked if I could photograph him with his back to me: 

"I really want a picture of your barrido manual." 

He was agreeable to that, and I snapped the photo that appears above in the post. He also indicated that it would be okay for me to photograph him from our balcony, so that's why I filmed from above.  

Moving on...here's the original Spanish of the curator's note [Templo Mayor Museum, Mexico City]:

"La pieza cilíndrica con relieves espirales recuerda la forma en que los mexicas, de acuerdo con su cosmovisión, concebían el movimiento de las fuerzas divinas cuando se desplazaban entre los niveles celestes del universo, la superficie terrestre y el inframundo".

Jenny's Neighborhood: Making Friends Mexico City-Style

It's hard to believe, but we've lived in Coyoacán, a neighborhood in Mexico's capital city, for almost a year—ten months, to be exact. We know our way around. We've figured out where to buy most of what we need. For readers who don't live in Mexico, this is a much bigger deal than it seems. But that's another post,

We've done what we needed to do to make the apartment comfortable. We are content. We have all the space we need but not an inch more, which is—we're discovering with each passing year—a value not to be underestimated.

As foreigners, we find that our access to broader Mexican society is limited. Most of the Mexicans we meet are taxi drivers, shopkeepers and tradespeople. In Pátzcuaro, making friends at this level was remarkably easy. Although in 1533 the Spanish king designated Pátzcuaro a city, culturally it is a pueblo, a small town, with small-town values of 'neighborliness'.

One of the reasons we enjoy Coyoacán is because it resembles a pueblo in many ways. So we weren't surprised by the friendliness of Araceli, the young woman who works in the lavandería around the block that does our laundry. She and I became fast friends when first she, then three months later I, had our respective gall bladders removed.

Don Rigoberto is in the center; his nephew, Leonardo, is on the right; and the math teacher from the school next door completes the group. Tintorería is Dry Cleaning. 

It took a little longer for Reed, who usually delivers and picks up the laundry, to become acquainted with the owner, Don Rigoberto, and his middle-school nephew, Leonardo, who is learning the business.  But the guys have now become amigos and chat regularly. When I delivered the laundry the other day, el Señor immediately asked about Reed. Clearly, they've got a guy thing going!

Language Challenges

How Reed and I speak the language makes it difficult for some Mexicans to relate to us because we don't speak colloquial Spanish. I once asked Francisco, my Spanish teacher at CELEP in Pátzcuaro, why Mexicans get a 'funny' look on their faces when they speak with me. It was my perception that they don't look 'relaxed' the way they do when speaking among themselves.

He thought for a moment, then replied perceptively, "Even though you usually use correct grammar, you don't speak the way we do. They're trying to figure out what you're saying."

I chuckled. It wasn't the first time I've heard that comment. Twenty years ago I did a two-year project with Pemex, the Mexican oil company. I had two translators: Carlos, in his late 40's, was well versed in business; Yuri, in her early 20's at the time (we are still friends!), translated my written reports.

My work involved week-long workshops in Spanish with engineers in the oil company's various departments. After an introduction that I delivered in Spanish, I would work with them to diagram their work flows. Carlos's main job was to make sure the engineers understood me, and that I understood them.

One day after a session, Carlos approached me to explain: "I'm not interrupting you, because the engineers are paying very close attention to you. They're asking themselves, 'What is she saying?' Since you've got their attention, I'm staying quiet."

In the same vein, I've discovered that some people seem to have an aptitude for understanding my Spanish. Others don't. This is true of our building staff. Doña Carlota, the building administrator, seemed to understand us easily from the beginning. Our two guards, Victor and Ángel, have had to work to understand us. A few months back, I was pleased to notice that their faces have become more relaxed when we exchange pleasantries.

Toñia keeps the building spic'n span. Each Saturday, she scrubs the white stairs that rise from the sidewalk to our lobby. My Dutch mother would be impressed! At first, I could see reflected on Toñia's face her struggle to understand me, but we're making progress. Last weekend she was sitting at the desk when I came downstairs to go out. She greeted me with a big smile and said, "I was just thinking I haven't seen mi amiga all week!"

Cultural Challenges: Small Town in Mexico City

Coyoacán appears to be a small town, but it is urban nonetheless. As twenty-year veteran residents of New York City, we're accustomed to urban life and urban ways—and that's a good thing, because it's taken nearly a year for many people to become comfortable enough with us to 'drop their masks' and relate to us one-as-one as human beings. Don Eberardo is a great example.

Don Eberardo, Marcos el Convento (Don Eberhard, Convent Frames)

About six months ago, seeking to frame two beautiful bordados, embroidery pieces, we paid a visit to a frame shop in the neighborhood. I'd noted their sign, "Marcos Medidos" (Custom Frames) down the sidewalk as we walked by on our way to somewhere else.

The sign reads, Marcos el Convento (Convent Frames—sorry, the 'M' got cut off ). Don Eberardo stands to the left; his son José stands at the counter. Left Click to enlarge, which makes it easier to see the facial 'mask' that Mexicans seem to prefer for photos and the shop's interior.

The shop is small, unassuming. The counter is almost flush with the sidewalk. Most of the shop is behind the counter. But I figured it was worth a try. Since moving to Mexico I've learned that appearances can be deceiving. One of my best 'finds' in Pátzcuaro was a run-down shack that called itself an electrical repair shop—and it really was! The owner's ingenuity in repairing electrical appliances was nothing short of genius.

But let's face it, I'm Dutch. I'm fussy. Our friend Debby had emailed photos that showed how our bordados were to be framed. Not only is Debby an artist in crewel embroidery, but she was a professional framer at the Houston Art Museum, so she knows the best way to frame embroidery for maximum effect. She even sent photos so I could show the framer exactly what I wanted.

Debby's photo of a bordado tacked on, using tiny stitches, at perhaps three or four points along each side of the heavy manta (Mexican muslin) board on which it is mounted. The use of a spacer allows the glass to 'float' an eighth to quarter of an inch above the bordado. In the photo, the spacer is the lighter wood between frame and the manta backing. For a better view, Left Click to enlarge. The spacer allows the bordado to look like fabric rather than, say, paper, which would be framed flush against the glass. The shadow under the fringed edge shows the piece 'floating'. The space between bordado and glass also allows the bordado to breathe, which prevents moisture buildup and mold.

Armed with Debby's photos on my iPad, I introduced myself to don Eberardo.  I wish I had a photo. Not one facial muscle moved in his expressionless face. It was, in fact, mournful in the inimitable manner of a Basset hound. With the subtlest of expression, he managed to convey a mix of deep skepticism and mild disapproval.

The 'Mask'

In his seminal work, The Labyrinth of Solitude, Octavio Paz writes about the 'mask' that Mexicans can wear to protect themselves from those in authority — first, of course, against the threats implied by Spanish authority. Yet even today, Mexicans can pull up masks to protect themselves against strangers, foreigners, who pose a potential threat to one's dignity.

Their fear, I have come to realize, is of being unable to provide what is needed or wanted. The roots of this fear lie in a vulnerability to displeasure or criticism — itself, a serious affront to dignidad, dignity, in Mexican culture.

I would never have recognized the 'mask' as such, except that I happened to share with my Spanish teacher a remarkable event. Late one afternoon I was walking back to our house along the via, dirt lane, that runs in front of the house we rented in Pátzcuaro. Leaning against a neighbor's gate was a young campesino whose face was absolutely expressionless, even slightly hostile.

I hesitated as I approached, unsure, but I decided to greet him with a friendly "Buenas tardes" and an innocuous comment about the likelihood of rain.

At my smile and words, his face opened into the most beautiful, engaging smile. If I hadn't seen the transformation with my own eyes, I  wouldn't have believed it possible. When I described the incident to Francisco, he smiled knowingly and replied, "Sí, se cayó la máscara", "Yes, the mask dropped".

So I've become a student of the Mexican 'mask' which, to tell the truth, can be a bit daunting, even intimidating. I'm a California girl. My personal style is informal, friendly. I've taken up the challenge of finding ways to help Mexican acquaintances feel comfortable enough with me to drop their masks.

But I thought I'd found my match with don Eberardo. For starters, he's well into his eighties, which means he's pretty much seen it all. Next, my very explicit requirements clearly challenged, if not threatened, him. Fortunately, I had Debby's photo to show him exactly what I wanted. Later, he told me that the photo was invaluable in showing him how to frame the piece.

Here's the end result:

Tree of Life bordado from Tzintzúntzan, Michoacán.
Framed in Coyacán, Mexico City

When we came to pick up the finished pieces, I thought our pleasure would melt don Eberardo's distrust, but it wasn't to be. "Well," I reasoned philosophically, "you can't win them all."

Repeat Customers

Over the next couple of months, we sought don Eberardo's assistance with various other objects. We asked if they could varnish a wooden toy truck for our grandson, a small, carved wooden statue from Michoacán, and from our friend, Enedina, a string of four carved fish that, according to Purhépecha beliefs, protect the household. Each time, don Eberardo agreed to take on the project and the result was excellent. But the 'mask' remained firmly in place.

A Bordado From Zirahuén

Recently, I was fortunate to acquire a bordado stitched by one of the women in the Zirahuén Ladies Sewing Circle. So I made another trip to the frame shop. As before, don Eberardo's mask was firmly in place while we discussed details and chose a frame.

The day after I dropped off the bordado, I called to confirm that he would use a spacer—a detail I'd neglected to mention. He assured me that they would use a spacer, then adding confidently, "We will frame this piece precisely the way we framed the other."

I told him we'd be away for a few days, visiting our grandson in Chicago. He said he'd telephone when the piece was ready. As I was hanging up, I realized how reassuringly professional his voice had been. Was the 'mask' slipping even a tad?

When we got back, I called to see about the bordado. Don Eberardo's son, José, answered the phone and told me that they'd had to order the wood, but it had arrived so they'd make the frame and call when the piece was done. A few days later, I got the call: it's ready.

Claudia's Bordado, Ladies Sewing Circle of Zirahuén.
Left click to see detail, including the Sun's down-turned mouth, which is traditional throughout Mesoamerica.
Note also how Claudia used just a few stitches to depict the smallest bird.  

Don Eberardo kept his word. The framing is beautiful...exactly like the other two pieces. As we finished up, I chatted away...mentioning that before moving to Coyoacán we had lived in Pátzcuaro for three years. In response, cautiously, don Eberardo began to tell me that he was familiar with Michoacán and with Pátzcuaro. As he described places he had visited, I responded appreciatively.

My curiosity rose. Why was don Eberardo so familiar with the area? Before I could ask, out of the blue, he told me that his daughter had married a man from Michoacán and lived in a pueblo outside Morelia. Suddenly, unexpectedly..."se cayó la máscara", the mask dropped.

Don Eberardo's smile is gentle, his manner kind, even fatherly. We leaned against the counter, chatting and sharing experiences of our visits to Michoacán. He told me about the tiendita (neighborhood grocery store) his daughter runs in Michoacán, adding that he is nonplussed to understand why so many people come to shop at her store, which is in a tiny hamlet of three houses. But he answered his own question by adding that her customers tell his daughter that the employees in the large box stores aren't always nice, and the stores sometimes cheat. We commiserated along the lines of 'what has the world come to'.

Then he told me that from his tiny shop, they fill framing orders from areas around all around Mexico City—Puebla and Cuernavaca, each about an hour outside Mexico City in opposite directions—and the state of Mexico, which surrounds Mexico city like a horseshoe. Don Eberardo even joked with me of a mighty injustice: "the people come to my daughter's tiendita in the middle of nowhere, but no one comes to my tienda in Coyoacán!" Laughing at the irony, I replied, "Well, I come!"

As I write these words recalling a moment of unexpected pleasure derived from connecting with Mexico at such a human level, a gentle smile plays around my eyes and mouth. The words of our housekeeper in Pátzcuaro, Evangelina, come to mind, "Todos somos seres humanos", we are all human beings.

Yet Another Visit

Today Reed and I walked over to the framing shop to get pictures that I could use for this post. We're also discussing with don Eberardo how we might acquire an architectural piece—a hand-carved frame to hang picture-less above a credenza in the dining area.

As we walked up, don Eberardo was wearing his mask, but it fell quickly as we exchanged greetings. I explained that we wanted to take their photo to include in this post. At that point, he and the assistant became very busy getting out and dusting off a large oval frame, which they brought over to the counter for us to look at. The carving is done by machine, which leaves machine grooves. We like the style, but not the machine grooves.

To my astonishment, don Eberardo lifted the frame for the photo—all the while wisecracking that when we bring him a print of the photograph, we'll have to pay to have it framed!  Who would believe it?

Don Eberardo hamming it up for the camera when we asked him to smile.
Six months ago ...who would ever have guessed!

And so to those who ask, "But what do you do in Mexico?" — we reply, "Oh, we just walk out the front door and see what happens."

Still Curious?

Jenny's posts titled Art and Friendship in Zirahuén, Michoacán, and The Art of the Zirahuén Ladies Sewing Circle in Michoacán, México, describe the crewel embroidery art of Debby Breckeen and the Ladies Sewing Circle she stitches with.

A number of Jenny's posts discuss the 'mask' in a variety of bureaucratic settings:

• Bureaucracy: Power of the Written Word;
• Bureaucracy: Encountering Labyrinths of Power;
• Bureaucracy: Tips for Succeeding with Mexican Bureaucracy.

Jenny's Post Work in Mexico: "It's my job!" discusses the cultural importance of dignidad, dignity, and respeto, respect—cultural components closely linked to the 'mask'.

Several of Jenny's Posts describe our neighborhood in Coyoacán's Colonia Parque San Andrés:

• A Walk Around Jenny's Neighborhood: Parque San Andrés, Coyoacán (Federal District, or Mexico City);
• Mexico Traditions: Discovering Pueblo in Coyoacán;
• Chilly Day in Mexico City gives way to Cultural, Culinary and Human Warmth relates our explorations of nearby Colonia San Ángel; 
• Mexico Culture: Sunday in Mexico City describes our promenade up Reforma Boulevard, which is closed to traffic on Sundays, and visit to the Rufino Tamayo Museum in Chapultepec Park.

Jenny's Post Mexico Culture: Campesina Wisdom recalls chats with Angelina, as we leaned against the kitchen counter and drank our morning coffee.

In a similar vein but having absolutely nothing to do with 'masks', are two of my favorite posts of taxi drivers we met in Pátzcuaro:

• Afternoon in Pátzcuaro describes the delightful exchange with a taxi driver when I couldn't get home because of a citizen protest blocking the road;
• Humble Man, Big Soul describes an unanticipated early-morning spiritual gift from a taxi driver. 

Tlatelolco: Twin City of Aztec Capital

One of the reasons we enjoy visiting archaeological sites is that they are often located in out-of-the-way rural settings. As we approach an ancient site, our meander through a new countryside is an experience all its own. Inevitably, the ride prepares us to let go of today's world and create the imaginative and intellectual space needed to let the site speak to us...to tell us its story.

Tlatelolco presents a completely different experience. For starters, it is located in the northern part of Mexico City surrounded by modern apartment buildings and urban traffic. We might have taken the Metro to get there, but we chose a taxi ride instead, which reminded us that before the arrival of the Spanish, the entire Valley of Mexico was a thriving network of city-states under the domination of the Mexica-Aztec Empire.

Plaza de las Tres Culturas:
Aztec temple ruins in the foreground, Colonial Spanish Church 
Santiago Tlatelolco in the mid-ground, totally surrounded by
apartment buildings of modern Mexico in the background.

Next to Tenochtitlán (where Mexico City's Zócalo, National Palace and Cathedral now stand), Tlatelolco was probably the most important. Unlike many other sites, none of Tlatelolco's ruins are visible from the street. In fact, although we were within twenty-five feet of the ruins that lay on the other side of a fence, we saw absolutely nothing until we walked through the gate at the entrance.

The reason is simple: after the Spanish conquered the Aztecs, they razed to the ground all temples and pyramids. What is visible today has been painstakingly excavated over decades. Serious archaeological work began in 1944 and continues to the present day.

Archaeological investigation at Tlatelolco:
Worker cleaning an artifact—yes, he's using a Q-Tip!

Moreover, Tlatelolco's rich history predates the arrival of the Spanish, who not only tore down the temples but reused the temple stones to construct the colonial church Santiago Tlatelolco and the Franciscan convent.

Note: In Spanish the word 'convent' describes the residences of both friars (frailes) and nuns (monjas); originally, only friars—notably Franciscans and Dominicans—were sent to Nueva España by the Spanish king, in response to Cortés's explicit request.

As the Imperial College of the Holy Cross, the convent was a school run by the Franciscans to educate the sons of Aztec noblemen in the Spanish tradition and to train them for the priesthood. It is telling that when the Aztec students began surpassing their Spanish teachers, the Spanish king and Church hierarchy found ways to restrict the curriculum. Eventually, they closed the school entirely.

Interior garden court of the Franciscan convent,
Imperial College of the Holy Cross. 

The convent also became a center for the study of Mesoamerican cultures. It was here that the priest Bernardo de Sahagún wrote History of the Things of New Spain, the seminal work on Aztec culture that remains a highly regarded source text. As an aside: the Church took seriously its mission to convert  to Catholicism the original peoples of the Americas. In order to be able to explain Christian beliefs and practices effectively, priests and friars studied the indigenous cultures—in effect, becoming the first anthropologists in the Americas.

The plaza at Tlatelolco has been the setting of three tragic events in Mexican history:

• After their defeat at Tenochtitlán, the Aztecs fled to Tlatelolco where they again faced the Spanish, who had allied themselves with city-states determined to overthrow harsh Aztec rule; overrun, the Aztecs surrendered on August 13, 1521;

• In 1968, just before the opening of the Summer Olympics, the Mexican Army opened fire on a student gathering, killing hundreds of students;

• In September 1985, a major earthquake (7.8 Richter) shook Mexico City; Tlatelolco high-rise apartment buildings collapsed like accordions—the tragic consequence of builders who had lined their pockets by taking shortcuts with building materials and methods; the death toll was in the thousands.

In recent times Tlatelolco was renamed Plaza de las Tres Culturas (Plaza of Three Cultures). The site was given this name because the structures of Tlatelolco give living testimony to the cross-cultural process that created mestizaje in Mexico. Most Mexicans regard themselves as mestizo, as having both indigenous and Spanish ancestors.

In Tlatelolco, Aztec ruins are dwarfed by a modern tower that formerly housed the Ministry of Foreign Relations, but today is occupied by a campus of UNAM (National Autonomous University of Mexico). Between these two cultural extremes sits the Church and Convent of Santiago Tlatelolco, the colonial hinge between the country's Mexica-Aztec heritage and today's Republic of Mexico.

The sign reads:
"On August 15, 1521, heroically defended by Cuauhtémoc,
Tlateloloco fell  under the power of Hernán Cortés.
Neither a triumph nor defeat; it was the painful birth of the
mestizo people that is Mexico today."
Source: Eduardo Aguilar-Moreno, Aztec Architecture;
Photo: Fernando González y González.

On the ground floor of the tower building, a museum devoted to objects unearthed during archaeological excavation at Tlatelolco opened early in 2012. This extraordinary museum is described in the section Still Curious? at the end of this post.

A Short History of Tlatelolco

It bears recalling that Mexico City is built atop a series of shallow lakes that once filled the Valley of Mexico. Like many original settlements, Tlatelolco was built on a muddy island—some scholars assert that Tlatelolco derives from the word tlatelli, meaning 'built-up mound of earth'. In the middle of the 14th century CE, a group of Aztecs—unable to claim property on Tenochtitlán's island—split off from the main tribe of Tenochtecas who had founded Tenochtitlán some twelve years earlier.

The settlers didn't go far. They established their new community, which they named Tlatelolco, just over two kilometers (about a mile) from Tenochtitlán. And, after all, they were still Méxica-Aztec. So it's not surprising that their founding myth parallels Tenochtitlán's:

...a whirlwind had led them to an island with a sandy mound upon which rested a round shield, an arrow, and an eagle—strongly reminiscent of Tenochtitlán's cactus, eagle, and snake. 

Like the Tenochteca, they petitioned a local ruler—in their case, Tezozómoc in nearby Aztcapotzalco—for a king who would link them to the central Mexican dynasties. Tezozómoc gave them his son, Cuacuapitzáhuac, who was also kin to Tenochtitlán's dynastic clan. 

Andrew Coe, Archaeological Mexico, p. 86.

Under their new ruler, Tlatelolco became part of the Valley of Mexico's intricate network of tribute relationships, which bestowed both:

• Responsibility: To honor Tezozómoc through gifts of both staples and luxury goods; and

• Opportunity: Linked to the Tenochtecas through the kin ties of their new ruler, the Tlatelolcans served alongside Tenochtecas fighting for Tezozómoc against his rivals; however, by the mid-15th century A.D., the Tenochtecas had established their own tribute network in secondary towns in the Valley of Mexico.

Tlatelolco Finds Its Niche: Trade and Tribute

Tlatelolco's major rival was Tenochtitlán, whose warriors won bigger victories and whose priests controlled the all-important religious rites and practices. Fortunately, Cuacuapitzáhuac cannily identified an empty niche: trade. He established the first large-scale market and instituted what would become the Tlatelolcan tradition of pochtecas, or long-range merchants.

At first, the pochtecas confined their trips to the Valley of Mexico, but eventually they ranged to the very edges of Mesoamerica:

• East to the Gulf of Mexico (Veracruz);
• West to the Pacific Ocean;
• South to Oaxaca and Chiapas—even as far as present-day Guatemala and Honduras; and
• North as far as the deserts inhabited by the Chichimeca tribes, roughly north of the Tropic of Cancer.

Not only did the pochtecas learn the language and customs of foreign tribes, but they often acted as spies, collecting strategic information in advance of the Mexica-Aztec army.

Eventually, Tlatelolco's pochtecas controlled long-distance trade in the luxury goods (quetzal feathers, turquoise) deemed essential for Aztec political and religious life. After the Mexica-Aztecs defeated their principle rival, the Tepanecs, the Aztec empire spread throughout central Mexico spearheaded by Tenochtitlán warriors and Tlatelolco merchants, who established trade routes from newly conquered peoples back to the Valley of Mexico.

The Mesoamerican scholar Michael D. Coe recounts the trenchant observation of Fernando Horcasitas:

"...the Aztec empire was not so much an empire in the Roman or British sense as an economic empire based on the provision of tribute, paid in full and on a regular basis".

The sociologist in me sees similarities between the underlying economic assumptions of the Aztec empire and those of the Spanish king of a later time. But I don't want to get ahead of the story.....

Meanwhile, back in Tlatelolco, Cuacuapitzáhuac's son Tlacatéotl had moved the city market into spacious quarters near the main ceremonial center. At its new location, the market soon became the hub of an extensive trade network; quite probably, it was the largest market in the Americas prior to the arrival of the Spanish.

The level of activity in the market strains credulity. Every day, as many as 20,000 vendors and market-goers crowded into the market square. Every five days, it is estimated that closer to 50,000 or even 60,000 people passed through the market!

The stalls were similar to those seen on Mexican streets today—mats covered by fabric shades for protection against sun and rain. Vendors were of two types:

• Artesans bringing the labor of their own hands; and

• Merchants bringing wares from other regions. 

There was no money as such. Exchanges were arranged either by trueque (barter), or by using cacao seeds or salt as coins. The Tlaltelolco market also had a tecpan, or house of judges, that resolved disputes and dealt with robberies, or whatever other issues that might arise. Punishments were severe and swift. The punishment for robbery was mandatory death by stoning.

Tlatelolco Loses Its Independence

By 1473 A.D., Tlatelolco had completely lost out to Tenochtitlán. Annexed by the mighty Aztec empire, Tlatelolco was administered by a military governor. The new arrangement didn't affect the Tlatelolcan merchants, who continued to travel and bring back wares from throughout Mesoamerica.

But Tlatelolco did lose important rights as an independent city-state—most significantly, the right to collect tribute, which would have affected their standard of living; and the right to perform important religious rites. In war, Tlatelolco's proud warriors were demoted to porters.

Tlatelolco, however, continued to play an important role for the dominant Tenochtecas, rulers of the Mexica-Aztec empire. In fact, on Hernán Cortés's first visit to Tenochtitlán, the ruler Moctezuma took the Spaniards to visit the Tlatelolco market. Bernal Díaz, a soldier with Cortés, later wrote:

"...we were astounded at the great number of people and good quantities of merchandise, and at the orderliness and good arrangements that prevailed, for we had never seen such a thing before."

Taken to the top of Tlatelolco's great pyramid, the Spaniards enjoyed an excellent view of the entire city and the surrounding lake. Díaz wrote:

"We saw [pyramids] and shrines in these cities that looked like gleaming white towers and castles: a marvelous sight."

In spite of everything, Tlatelolco did not forget its relationship to Tenochtitlán. When in 1521 Hernán Cortés and his soldiers returned in the company of warriors from other city-states fed up with harsh Mexica-Aztec rule—including the provision of onerous tribute—Tlatelolco was clearly on the side of Tenochtitlán.

Tlatelolco: A Walk Through Space and Time

Like other Mesoamerican ceremonial centers, Tlatelolco was designed to reflect the Tlatelolcans'  cosmovision. The diagram shows the layout of Tlatelolco. The yellow line is the walkway that visitors follow through the site.

The site is oriented to the four cardinal directions:

visitors enter at the southwest corner; both the Great Temple and the altar of Santiago-Tlatelolco Church face East.

Site map of Tlatelolco ceremonial precinct (green) with
Santiago (St. James) church and Franciscan convent (red).
The modern tower rises on the south boundary (lower right).
Discussed in this post: (1) Temple of Ehécatl-Quetzalcóatl;
(3) Tzompantli Altar - south; (4) Temple of the Calendar;
(5) Priest's Palace; (7) Great Temple Pyramid; (8) Successive
pyramid walls constructed over time; (10) West Platform;
(11) The Great Base. The unnumbered blue rectangle in
front of the convent is the Sacred Well, discussed below. 

Temple Of Ehécatl-Quetzalcóatl (1)

This round temple was dedicated to Ehécatl, the wind deity, who was a manifestation of Quetzalcóatl, the feathered serpent. The temple consisted of a semicircular base that wound into a circular, cone-like roof, a staircase and a rectangular platform.

Its entrance is characterized by a snake’s mouth symbolizing Quetzalcóatl. Construction of this temple dates back to the early times of Tlatelolco. In later times, other structures were built over it.

Temple of Ehécatl-Quetzalcóatl
Ehécatl is the manifestation of Quetzalcóatl as the wind.

Temples dedicated to Ehécatl, god of wind, are generally of a circular shape so they don't block the trajectory of the wind, which could make whirlpools around the structure. Since winds come before the rains, Ehécatl-Quetzalcóatl and Tlaloc (god of water) often appeared together—as they did, for example, at the dual pyramid, Temple of the Feathered Serpent, at Teotihuacán. Here at Tlatelolco, deposed from his primal role at Tlaloc's side, Quezalcóatl was assigned his own, secondary temple space. 

Spiral from the back wall of Great Temple. Spirals 
symbolize the whirling winds of Ehécatl-Quetzalcóatl.

Tzompantli Altar - South (3)

This altar is one of two; the other is on the north side. 

Tzompantli, or wooden skullrack.
The columns in the background are of the tower building.
Some smaller temples were razed to build this tower.

According to Mary Miller and Karl Taube (The Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya, p. 176):

"One of the more striking structures of Mesoamerican public architecture was the tzompantli, or skullrack. This was a wooden scaffold containing human skulls pierced horizontally by crossbeams....  

"In the Quiché Maya popul vuh [story of the origins of the Maya, beginning with Creation], the severed head of the hun hunapu [father of the legendary twins] was placed in a gourd tree next to the ballcourt. This gourd tree is clearly a reference to the tzompantli filled with human skulls. In Nahuatl, the term for head is tzontecomatl, with tecomatl signifying gourd tree. It appears that like the Sumbanese skull trees of Indonesia, the tzompantli was considered as a tree laden with fruit".

Temple of the Calendar (4)

One of the first structures that greets the visitor is the Temple of the Calendar. The temple was a significant religious structure because one of the primary duties of the priests was establishing and maintaining the temporal structure.

The Temple of the Calendar is a unique edifice whose décor is unusual in that it is ornamented with elements of the Tonalpohualli (divinatory) calendar. The Mexica-Aztecs, as did all the peoples of Mesoamerica, used two calendars:

• The Xiuhpohualli was the Solar Calendar, which consisted of 360 days divided into eighteen, twenty-day "months"—each month presided over by a god, whose festival was celebrated that month. The Solar Calendar was also used to organize commerce and date the all-important tribute collections. 

• The Tonalpohualli was the Divinatory Calendar, which consisted of 260 days—possibly based on the human gestation period—created by combining twenty day-names with thirteen numbers in rotation. This calendar was used to foretell the fate of individuals based on their date of birth. Priests also consulted the Divinatory Calendar in advance of actions to be taken—to wage war, for example, or to celebrate a royal wedding—in order to determine the day's balance of favorable and unfavorable energy. When a date was characterized by unfavorable energy, the energy balance could be ritually addressed to assure a more favorable destiny.

Temple of the Calendar with staircases
ascending the front wall.

The Temple of the Calendar is a rectangular structure with representations of day-names on three walls painted in blues, reds and whites. Following are some of the Temple's number and day-name combinations. The number is indicated by circles at the margin.

One-Itzcuintli (One-Dog)

Two-Tochtli (Two-Rabbit)—Check the ears!

Four-Ollín (Four-Motion, or Life-Force). At the center of the symbol
for Ollín is a circle that represents the axis mundi, world axis,
which links the heavenly plane (above) with the earthly plane (horizontal 'bar')
and the underworld (below). Curious readers might enjoy comparing
this symbol to Jenny's post Aztec Stone of the Five Suns: the barely
visible visage on the center circle (axis mundi) is most likely the 'Fifth Sun',
the devouring god—additional evidence of Tlatelolco's cultural indebtedness to Tenochtitlán, where the Aztec Stone was carved. 

Cuauhtli (Eagle)

The temple base also has multi-colored (blues, reds, whites) paintings with drawn figures that correspond to early Tlatelolco. The paintings are intact on the front side of the temple. This temple is the only calendrical structure that has been found. 

Priests' Residential Complex (5)

Each deity in the ceremonial precinct had its own priests, who were housed within the ceremonial precinct. Priests were responsible for maintenance of the temples and shrines associated with the cult of the deity to which they belonged. 

The residential structure for the priests consisted of an altar and two sections adjoined by a central corridor with a chimney like area for burning wood.

Priests' Residential Complex

Although not given a number on the site diagram, the blue rectangle represents the sacred well identified by Aguilar-Moreno as located just behind the priests' residence:

"[It] resembles a ... swimming pool [with a staircase] that leads to the sacred well...approximately 3 meters [almost 10 feet] wide. Scholars believe it may have been used for ablution practices or as a sacred spring".  

Because of Mesoamericans' dependence on agriculture, water has been a primary concern from earliest times. Oceans, mountains and springs have often been worshiped as magical sources of water. 

Tlatelolco: Great Temple (7), (8)

Tlatelolco's ceremonial complex was dominated by a typical Aztec double pyramid similar to the Great Temple at Tenochtitlán (Templo Mayor):

Visitors walk along a paved walkway along the 'layers' of additions (8)
that were added by successive rulers to Tlatelolco's Great Temple.
All that remains of the Great Temple (7) is the large rectangular
platform at the back which once was the temple's base. 

Double Staircase of Great Temple.
This photo was taken from the ground-level walkway south of the
Great Temple, looking north. The near staircase (which itself is split)
ascends to the temple of Huitzilopochtli (sun god and god of war);
on the other side of the large divider is the split staircase ascending
to the temple of Tlaloc (water god). Both temples were destroyed
by the Spanish in 1521.

Since 1978, the prominent Mexican archaeologist Eduardo Matos Moctezuma has been in charge of excavation of Tenochtitlán's Templo Mayor. Writing in 1988, Matos observed that the pairing of Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli represents the essential duality fundamental to the Mesoamerican cosmovision in general and to the Mexica-Aztec cosmovision in particular. As a pair, Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli represent key dualities: water and war; life and death; food and tribute.  Put differently, 

• Tlaloc (Water God) = Water yields Life yields Food (maíz, corn).

• Huitzilopochtli (Sun God, God of War) = War yields Death yields Tribute.

My head snapped twice when when I came upon Matos's observation.  It snapped the first time when I  read Tlaloc's role in the causal chain, Water-Life-Food; it reminded me of the taxi driver in Pátzcuaro who told me,

"My aged father always says, 'Water is Life'."

It snapped the second time when I read that 'Tribute' is the final outcome of the causal chain driven by Huitzilopochtli:

one couldn't ask for stronger substantiation of Horcasitas's statement quoted earlier that the Mexica-Aztec empire was an economic empire.

Here is a tectonic shift of the Mesoamerican cosmovision. Before the late-arriving Mexica-Aztecs ascended to power, the Mesoamerican deities were forces of nature—Tlaloc, god of water; Quetzalcóatl-Ehécatl, god of wind, etc.

But the Mexica-Azteca god Huitzilopochtli is a political god, a god of war—hence, a god of power based on military conquest and, as noted earlier, a god of tribute grounded in economic power.

Once again, the parallels between the basic assumptions of the Mexica-Azteca empire and how the Spanish king would come to view Nueva España are striking. 

Double Staircase of Great Temple (photo was taken from north,
looking south). Note the short 'runs' and steep 'rises' of the stairs.
The design was intentional to remind climbers that they were
ascending to where they would encounter the gods. The modern
tower in the background formerly housed Mexico's Ministry of
Foreign Affairs; today it houses a campus of Mexico's
National Autonomous University (UNAM).

Back and side walls of Great Temple pyramid. 

Clambering down a metal staircase (think fire escape), visitors arrive at another walkway about twelve to fifteen feet below ground level. 

Still Curious?

The sections on history and trade have drawn on Andrew Coe's Archaeological Mexico: A Traveler's Guide to Ancient Cities and Sacred Sites (2nd edition, 2001). Son of Michael D. Coe, respected authority on Mesoamerican culture and history, Andrew's guide is first-rate on history and culture, but perhaps a trifle out-of-date on current travel conditions. For example, he writes that Bonampak (Chiapas) is accessible only by a dirt road followed by a hike, but when we visited last year (2011), we traveled a paved road directly to the site.

The section Tlatelolco: A Walk Through Space and Time draws on Eduardo Aguilar-Moreno's highly readable paper titled Aztec Architecture, which appears to be a wholly original analysis of the architecture of Mexica-Azteca ceremonial sites in the Valley of Mexico. Written originally in English (one suspects a doctoral dissertation), it has been translated into Spanish. Links are provided to both English and Spanish versions:

• Aztec Architecture (English) - Part 1 - Tenochtitlán.  
• Aztec Architecture (English) - Part 2 - other Valley of Mexico sites.  
• Arquitectura Azteca (español) - Part 1 - Tenochtitlán:  
• Arquitectura Azteca (español) - Part 2 - otros lugares en el valle de México.  

For more information on the Mesoamerican calendars, see Jenny's Page, "Aztec Stone of the Five Suns".

For other reference works, see Jenny's Best Reads: Mexico Traditions and Customs PLUS

Five-Star:  Lynda Martínez del Campo, self-described 'linguist, teacher, social scientist, journalist, history buff, tour guide'. We don't know Lynda Martínez personally, but greatly appreciate her introduction and review of the newly-opened University Cultural Center at Tlatelolco. She's a great photographer, and her photos of objects found at the site are first-rate. Lynda's verdict? "This is a new “must” on my list of basic sites for tourists and residents alike! Visit or re-visit Tlatelolco – you won’t be disappointed!"

Web site of University Cultural Center at Tlatelolco (Museum).

As I was finishing up this post, I came upon this history of Tlatelolco, which features a Diego Rivera mural and illustrations from 16th century codices developed by Spanish friars working with Mexica-Azteca informants. Even if it's more text than you can deal with, the images are definitely worth a click!

* * * * *

Finally, I just can't resist including the following map, which shows settlements and city-states in the Valley of Mexico, reproduced from Dr. Aguilar-Moreno's paper cited above: