 |
| A Rose is a Rose ... in Mexico! |
Every once in awhile, something happens that reminds me all over again why I enjoy Mexico. I do our big weekly grocery shopping at Superama, a ten-minute taxi ride from our apartment. After three years, I know most of the drivers from the taxi stand in front of Superama, and many of them know me.
Yesterday when I arrived with my cartful of groceries all the taxis were out on trips, so I had to wait about ten minutes for one to return. One couple was ahead of me, but within a couple of minutes after their departure another car rolled in. While the grocery bags were being loaded into the trunk, I had time to notice that I didn't recognize the driver, who struck me as being quite tall. Plus the car was relatively new, which is not all that common.
As we exchanged pleasantries, he seemed open, friendly. I told him where we were going, and we headed out.
There are two ways to leave Superama. One way is to turn right onto Calle Pacífico, Pacific Street, then right again to go around the block, which involves bumping along on cobblestones since the streets in Coyoacán maintain the colonial tradition. These streets were recently 'restored', but restoration doesn't mean that the stones were replaced with asphalt, only that the cobblestones were relaid. After a couple of bumpy blocks, it's an easy left turn onto Calle América (America Street).
The other way to leave Superama is to make a U-turn after the initial right onto Pacífico, followed by a left turn onto América. This way takes longer because the traffic light at the busy intersection of a main thoroughfare is a long one, but the paved street is easier on cars. Waiting for the light to change, cars sit for at least a couple of minutes. This wait time attracts street vendors who sell to people waiting for the traffic light to change.
One of the vendors was selling bunches of roses. The driver engaged the vendor in an extended conversation that I couldn't hear, then I saw the vendor reach in and pull out a single red rose, which he handed to the driver who gave it to me.
I was astonished, delighted and touched! His spontaneous gift initiated an animated conversation about his philosophy of life, which seemed to boil down to:
Later, Reed reminded me that the boundary between Veracruz, a long, north-south state along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, and Puebla, a state mostly on the Altiplano [High Plain in Central Mexico; Mexico City is on the Altiplano], isn't at the crest of the mountain range that separates the two states, but farther east along the Gulf's Coastal Plain. The driver's pueblo may be formally in the state of Puebla, but culturally it belongs to Veracruz and the Caribbean.
Tradition of the Rose in Mexico
Yesterday in the course of chatting with a young Mexican friend, I told her about my 'gift rose'. I also mused that roses have a long tradition in Mexico. Instantly, she offered, "Sí, la Guadalupana."
Then I remembered. According to tradition, after Juan Diego's first vision of a young woman while he was on the hill of Tepeyac near Mexico City, he went to the Archbishop, Fray Juan de Zumárraga, to relate his vision. The archbishop asked for miraculous proof.
Three days later Juan Diego returned to the hill. Again the Virgin appeared and, speaking in Nahua, told Juan Diego to gather some flowers from the top of Tepeyac Hill. It was winter when no flowers bloomed, but on the hilltop Diego found flowers (by tradition, they are roses), and the Virgin herself arranged them in his tilma, or peasant cloak.
When Juan Diego opened the cloak before the Archbishop on December 12, the flowers fell to the floor, and in their place was the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, miraculously imprinted on the fabric.
In an earlier post, I gave this account of the miraculous appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe, her incarnation of the earlier Mesoamerican Mother Earth, Tonantzin, and her subsequent adoption by all Mexicans as Mother of Mexico and Latin America. Juan Diego's vision occurred in 1531, ten years after Hernán Cortés felled the Aztec king.
Yesterday when I arrived with my cartful of groceries all the taxis were out on trips, so I had to wait about ten minutes for one to return. One couple was ahead of me, but within a couple of minutes after their departure another car rolled in. While the grocery bags were being loaded into the trunk, I had time to notice that I didn't recognize the driver, who struck me as being quite tall. Plus the car was relatively new, which is not all that common.
As we exchanged pleasantries, he seemed open, friendly. I told him where we were going, and we headed out.
There are two ways to leave Superama. One way is to turn right onto Calle Pacífico, Pacific Street, then right again to go around the block, which involves bumping along on cobblestones since the streets in Coyoacán maintain the colonial tradition. These streets were recently 'restored', but restoration doesn't mean that the stones were replaced with asphalt, only that the cobblestones were relaid. After a couple of bumpy blocks, it's an easy left turn onto Calle América (America Street).
The other way to leave Superama is to make a U-turn after the initial right onto Pacífico, followed by a left turn onto América. This way takes longer because the traffic light at the busy intersection of a main thoroughfare is a long one, but the paved street is easier on cars. Waiting for the light to change, cars sit for at least a couple of minutes. This wait time attracts street vendors who sell to people waiting for the traffic light to change.
One of the vendors was selling bunches of roses. The driver engaged the vendor in an extended conversation that I couldn't hear, then I saw the vendor reach in and pull out a single red rose, which he handed to the driver who gave it to me.
I was astonished, delighted and touched! His spontaneous gift initiated an animated conversation about his philosophy of life, which seemed to boil down to:
"Enjoy life ... and don't worry."My response was something to the effect that
"It's one thing to know with your head, but unfortunately the heart doesn't always follow."His instantaneous response was, essentially, a derisive snort followed by saying something to the effect of
"It's up to your head to tell your heart what to do."His entire style was so distinctively non-Mexico City that, out of curiosity, I asked,
"Were you born here in Mexico City?"With evident pride, he replied,
"No, I was born in Puebla."Reflectively, I added,
"Hmm, I would have guessed that you're from Veracruz. Your style and attitude are very much from the Caribbean."He reacted to my words with sheer delight! Clearly, I could not have given him a greater gift had I tried. With a warm, generous smile stretching from ear to ear, he replied,
"Well, my pueblo is very close to Veracruz."Then he leaned forward and turned up the volume to the music he was playing: cumbia! We laughed companionably as together we enjoyed this lively, joyful music from the Caribbean.
Later, Reed reminded me that the boundary between Veracruz, a long, north-south state along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, and Puebla, a state mostly on the Altiplano [High Plain in Central Mexico; Mexico City is on the Altiplano], isn't at the crest of the mountain range that separates the two states, but farther east along the Gulf's Coastal Plain. The driver's pueblo may be formally in the state of Puebla, but culturally it belongs to Veracruz and the Caribbean.
Tradition of the Rose in Mexico
Yesterday in the course of chatting with a young Mexican friend, I told her about my 'gift rose'. I also mused that roses have a long tradition in Mexico. Instantly, she offered, "Sí, la Guadalupana."
Then I remembered. According to tradition, after Juan Diego's first vision of a young woman while he was on the hill of Tepeyac near Mexico City, he went to the Archbishop, Fray Juan de Zumárraga, to relate his vision. The archbishop asked for miraculous proof.
Three days later Juan Diego returned to the hill. Again the Virgin appeared and, speaking in Nahua, told Juan Diego to gather some flowers from the top of Tepeyac Hill. It was winter when no flowers bloomed, but on the hilltop Diego found flowers (by tradition, they are roses), and the Virgin herself arranged them in his tilma, or peasant cloak.
When Juan Diego opened the cloak before the Archbishop on December 12, the flowers fell to the floor, and in their place was the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, miraculously imprinted on the fabric.
In an earlier post, I gave this account of the miraculous appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe, her incarnation of the earlier Mesoamerican Mother Earth, Tonantzin, and her subsequent adoption by all Mexicans as Mother of Mexico and Latin America. Juan Diego's vision occurred in 1531, ten years after Hernán Cortés felled the Aztec king.
Our friend also reminded me that roses appear on the banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe carried by Father Miguel Hidalgo at the start of Mexico's War of Independence from Spain.
 |
| Banner Carried by Father Miguel Hidalgo Virgin of Guadalupe (center) and Roses at Lower Corners (Photo: Internet) |
The Mesoamerican tradition of flowers long predates the Spanish. The revered poet-king Nezahualcóyotl (1402-1472; his name means "Fasting Coyote" in Nahua) wrote this poem to flowers:
Apparently, distinct rose species evolved in different parts of the world: China, India, Asia, North Africa, Burma, Europe and North America. The Carolinae species, which displays white, pink and bright pink flowers, is native to North America. The Rosa Cinnamoneae species, with its white, pink, lilac, mulberry and red flowers, evolved everywhere but in North Africa.
On the highway to visit the archaeological site at Xochicalco, we passed at least twenty vendors' stalls on both sides of the highway with counters stacked a couple of feet high with beautiful bouquets of roses. We were told that growing and selling roses is the tradition and backbone of the economy of the original people in that area.
Medieval Christians in Europe identified the five petals of the rose with the five wounds of Christ. Later, roses came to be associated with the Virgin Mary. The red rose was eventually adopted as a symbol of the blood of the Christian martyrs. Although I haven't been able to find direct evidence, this symbolism strongly suggests to me that the Religious Brothers sent by the Spanish king at the specific request of Hernán Cortés into Mexico to evangelize the indigenous peoples, brought both this species of roses and their attendant symbolism to Mexico.
They will not die, my flowers,
They will not cease, my songs.
I, the singer, proclaim them,
shared and scattered.
Even when the flowers
are yellowed and withered,
they will be carried there,
to the interior of the house
of the bird with feathers of gold.
- Nezahualcóyotl
No acabarán mis flores,
No cesarán mis cantos.
Yo cantor los elevo,
Se reparten, se esparcen.
Aun cuando las flores
Se marchitan y amarillecen,
Serán llevadas allá,
Al interior de la casa
Del ave de plumas de oro.
- Nezahualcóyotl
Apparently, distinct rose species evolved in different parts of the world: China, India, Asia, North Africa, Burma, Europe and North America. The Carolinae species, which displays white, pink and bright pink flowers, is native to North America. The Rosa Cinnamoneae species, with its white, pink, lilac, mulberry and red flowers, evolved everywhere but in North Africa.
On the highway to visit the archaeological site at Xochicalco, we passed at least twenty vendors' stalls on both sides of the highway with counters stacked a couple of feet high with beautiful bouquets of roses. We were told that growing and selling roses is the tradition and backbone of the economy of the original people in that area.
Medieval Christians in Europe identified the five petals of the rose with the five wounds of Christ. Later, roses came to be associated with the Virgin Mary. The red rose was eventually adopted as a symbol of the blood of the Christian martyrs. Although I haven't been able to find direct evidence, this symbolism strongly suggests to me that the Religious Brothers sent by the Spanish king at the specific request of Hernán Cortés into Mexico to evangelize the indigenous peoples, brought both this species of roses and their attendant symbolism to Mexico.
So my reply to the question—Why do we like Mexico?—is deceptively simple: Where else exists even the possibility that an anonymous taxi driver might give a passenger, and a foreigner, a single red rose? And where else would reflections on that rose revolve around Spanish colonial and Mesoamerican cultural traditions more than five hundred years in the making? My vote is ... only in Mexico!
Still Curious?
Still Curious?
- Mexico Culture: Virgin of Guadalupe, Mother of Mexico;
- Wikipedia/Rose;
- Wikipedia/Symbolism associated with the rose.
This Comment came in via email. It's delightful to learn of other, similar experiences!
ReplyDelete"Lovely story. Thanks so much. My story of surprise flowers comes when my Mexican boyfriend and I were driving in separate cars, one behind the other. We stopped at a red light and a flower seller with 10 or 12 bouquets of gardenias stepped up to his car. Then he came back to mine and when I rolled down the window he poured all the flowers into my lap. Le grand geste--don't know how to say it in Spanish."