International Dance Day: Ballet Folklorico in Coyoacán

Sunday afternoon, Reed and I took a little vacation. The good news is that it's no more than a ten-minute taxi ride to the plazas at the Center of Coyoacán. Something interesting always seems to be happening there. It's a little like Sunday afternoon in Central Park, but somehow more 'animated'.

Last weekend was International Dance Day. Next to the Church, a large tent open on four sides had been erected. This tent was at least fifty yards long—yes, half a football field! At one end, a good-size stage had been set up.

Let me get this over with. Shamefully, we had not brought a camera. The day before, Reed had been at the plaza with his photography workshop. The light was difficult, so we didn't bring the cameras—not even my little one! The photos here are a combination of Reed's older pictures that show traditional dress and what I could find on the Internet.

We arrived just in time for the procession and ritual of a Mexica (Meh-SHE-kuh) or Aztec group. The men wore elaborate feather headdresses which either really are, or are intended to simulate, the long tail feathers of the Quétzal bird were worn ceremonially by Mesoamerican priests and rulers.

Quetzal bird, sacred to the Aztecs and Mayas

During mating season, the male grows blue and green twin tail feathers three feet (1 meter) long.

Accompanied by a conch shell, drums, a windpipe and copal incense, the danzantes (dancers) began by paying homage to the six directions—North, South, East, West plus the Sky above and the Underworld below. For each direction, a narrator chanted first in Nahua, language of the Aztecs, then repeated the chant in Spanish.

Each chant invoked the specific character associated with each of the directions and was accompanied by a ritual 'dance' that ended with an upraised offering of copal incense, whose rising smoke evokes the ineffable nature of the spiritual. The effect was mesmerizing.

Mexica (Aztec) Dancers at the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe 2011
(Photo: Reed)

Next the group danced to the Wind. I'm struggling for words to describe it. The dance began slowly, even lyrically, perhaps representing a gentle breeze. As the dance progressed, it gathered strength more typical of a proper wind. But suddenly, the drumbeat quickened noticeably. The dance became more harsh—the danzantes became whirling, swirling dervishes, representing what could only be hurricane winds.

The dance left me breathless...with goose pimples. It is sobering to realize that dance rituals similar to these have been performed on these lands for thousands of years—for two thousand years, at least. Without asking, it's impossible to know what is in the hearts and minds of Mexican people as they watch these dances, whether they view them distantly—as we might watch re-enactments of Revolutionary War battles, for example—or whether they feel some kind of kinship with the dances, or perhaps their experience is a combination of both.

What is undeniable is that the performance received the audience's rapt attention. No one moved. When it was over, the applause began slowly...as if we were all waking from a dream...but then the volume built steadily.

The enthusiasm of the audience suggested that I wasn't alone in my reaction. As I looked around, I was struck by the sheer size of the audience. Chairs for about 500 people filled half the tented area, but an equal number of people were standing at the back and on both sides. There must have been at least 1,000 people there on a Sunday afternoon watching these traditional dances.

* * * * * 

We'd arrived intending to have lunch at one of our favorite restaurants on the plaza. Starving, reluctantly we left, only to return a short time later considerably refreshed...just in time for a performance by a troupe from Guerrero performing 'traditional' dances of their region.

Guerrero Couple Wearing Traditional Dress (Photo: Internet)

I was struck to see that the women wore 'character shoes' with a one-inch heel, like those worn by Spanish dancers. Also like the Spanish, the Guerrero dancers used their shoes to create percussive effects.

The Guerrero dances were highly ritualized, somewhat like medieval European court dances. The music was played on a variety of stringed, guitar-like instruments brought by the Spanish and endlessly modified by Mexico's musicians—yet another reminder of Spain's profound cultural influence.

Many of Mexico's traditional dances (Balet Foklórico) are actually social dances performed by couples. But traditional dances are more than mere reminders of Spanish influence, they are also important examples of the creativity and ingenuity employed by Mexico's original peoples as they tirelessly adapted Spanish customs of dress, musical instruments and dances to reflect their own cultures.

* * * * *

The next group was arguably the best of all. Women from the local Centro de la Tercera Edad (Center of the Third Age, Senior Citizens!) performed dances from Veracruz State—the long, narrow state that hugs the Gulf of Mexico. Veracruz music is Caribbean in style. Its irrepressible joy at the simple pleasure being alive is contagious.

Elegant 'Senior' Wearing Guerrero Traditional Dress
(Photo: Reed)  

The women obviously enjoyed dancing. What a kick seeing them enthusiastically shakin' it—shoulders and hips—as they performed what are, after all, Caribbean mating dances! Their joy is contagious. They have not forgotten—and neither should we!

Travel Journal: Pátzcuaro Revisited

Setting out on a journey means venturing forth into the unknown. The traveler prepares to encounter the unexpected—sometimes bitter, often sweet. But I have to admit, we were completely unprepared for what—or rather who—greeted us on the bus to Pátzcuaro.

We were just getting settled, when a lovely head popped up over the seat in front of us to inquire, in colloquial English, "Are you American? Can I discuss international relations with you? I have an assignment."

Encountering the Unexpected

My immediate reaction was, "Of course, but let's trade places, so you can talk with Reed, then later you and I can chat." So this remarkable young Mexican girl, who turned out to be a mere fourteen years old, but whose thought processes, political awareness and language facility were more like those of an eighteen-year old, chatted away first with Reed, then with me.

She represents Germany in her school's—what we would call Model United Nations—and dreams of  getting an internship at the U.N. in New York City.

The daughter of Ph.D. Chemical Engineers, she lived in Pennsylvania between the ages of four and eight, while her father earned his Ph.D.  But her vocabulary and English usage are quite sophisticated, so I asked how she'd continued developing her English past an eight-year-old's. She told me she and her mother speak English at home, but she is also a voracious reader—all in English.  Bingo, I thought, so that's how she does it.

We felt uplifted by our chat—rejuvenated and encouraged—confident that when the time comes, the baton can be passed with considerable confidence to a generation represented by young people such as this talented, caring, insightful and committed young woman.

Pátzcuaro's Natural World

It's always a strange feeling to return to a place once called home. It is jarring when familiarity collides unexpectedly with 'otherness'. So it was for our weekend visit to Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

The trip allowed us to enjoy our cherished cerros, hills, of Michoacán—especially Reed's old friend, the dramatic peak called Tzirate. In Pátzcuaro, we walked familiar streets, greeted old friends and bought two kilos of Café de Uruapán to take back with us to Coyoacán, Mexico City.

Tzirate

We stayed at the Mesón de San Antonio near the Básilica and reveled in the hotel's hacienda-style architecture, which features four wings with rooms opening onto covered passageways that, in turn, give way to a beautifully planted garden in the center.

Open passageway outside our room with comfortable chairs for enjoying the sun's warmth and the garden's tranquility. The orange flowers in the pot at the end of the passageway are orchids! 

Same passageway viewed from the garden.

Imagine our surprise when Reed discovered the gangly, orchid-like plant called the Nightblooming Cereus (Epiphyllum oxypetalum) growing happily planted in the ground in the hotel's garden.

Nightblooming Cereus,
'Seymour' is alive and well in Mexico!

The flowers of this strange-looking plant open at about 10:00 PM and are gone by 8:00 AM the next morning. But the fragrance...ay-yai-yai, once enjoyed, is never to be forgotten! Aficionados hold wine parties to celebrate the flowering of this otherwise unsightly plant!

Probably twenty years ago a friend in the U.S. gave us a leaf, which we potted. After several years, 'Seymour' (yes, we named him) rewarded us with flowers like these. Seymour now lives in the Conservatory of the Sonnenberg Gardens, Canandaigua, New York.

Nightblooming Cereus, Seymour's fragrant flowers
Photo: Barbara and Frank Miller

We chuckled comfortably to hear roosters greet the dawn and marveled at the chirping of birds in the bushes. Birds in Coyoacán are mostly loners; only the grackles flock and, well, grackles are ... grackles!

We also heard the first zinzontle (curved-bill thrasher) of the season. The zinzontle sings mostly at dawn and dusk, but we've also heard them sing at mid-day. Their 'calliope' song is sheer delight! I've read that the zinzontle is believed to be the nahua (animal spirit) of women blessed with beautiful singing voices. It could very well be....

Greedily, lustily, we inhaled the crisp, fresh air and marveled at the clarity of the colors everywhere we looked.

Early morning light yields an almost unreal
intensity of color, but the sky really was this blue!

Arriving Friday afternoon before Palm Sunday, we enjoyed strolling through the Plaza Grande watching as artisans set up their stalls in preparation for the annual Semana Santa Tianguis, or Open-Air Artisans Fair.

Friday: Mujeres de Arena

We attended a theater work titled Mujeres de Arena, Women of Sand. The work protests the violence against women perpetrated in the City of Juarez from 1993 to the present day. The protest takes the form of testimonials given by four women (mother, daughter, cousin, victim) interspersed with poems by several poets. Taken together, the work is a powerful cry not only against the violence but against the inaction of the Mexican government to stop, or even to prosecute and hence possibly curtail, these crimes.

Mujeres de Arena has been performed more than ninety times not only in Mexico, but in other Central and South American countries and in the United States.

Before the performance, Reed and I had doubts that our Spanish would be adequate for full understanding. To our shocked amazement, we understood way too much...way too well...of this other facet of Mexico. Sadly, regrettably, we also recognize the role of our homeland, the United States, in promulgating policies that are exacerbating the violence.

Saturday: Shopping, Friends and Ballet Folklórico

During the day, we visited our friend, Ruth, owner with her husband, Sabino Aguilar, of El Jorongo, a shop famous for its unique hand-loomed wool products (rugs, sweaters, vests, sarapes, caps, shawls and more).

We ordered a custom-woven wool rug to be delivered to our daughter in Chicago. Ruth helped us pick out the wool from her hand-dyed skeins hanging in the shop. She also helped us to design a small woven mat to go under one of Reed's more dynamic Ocumichu alebrijes.  It just doesn't get more personal than this!

Sabino and Ruth launched their hand-loomed wool business in 1970 after Sabino had already scoured the countryside for the best Merino wool, which Ruth hand-dyes and supplies to their weavers.

Custom rug from El Jorongo

Over the years, Sabino and Ruth have built a family-centered enterprise, international in scope. A knitting team of over thirty women, including Sabino's aunts, cousins, nieces and their families take home Ruth's hand-dyed Merino wool to create the most beautiful wool products, including our grandson's beloved Merino wool cap and sweater!

After our visit with Ruth, we walked past the Básilica de la Virgen de Salud, Basilica of the Virgin of Health, where a row of Purhépecha women were weaving palm fronds to sell on el Domingo de Ramos, Palm Sunday.

Preparing palms to sell

Late in the afternoon we sat at a sidewalk cafe on the Plaza Grande sipping coffee with old friends, catching up as old friends do, chatting with much affection, much laughter, much good will.

Saturday evening we enjoyed a traditional ballet folklórico performance presented at Pátzcuaro's Teatro Emperador by the dance troupe from a local high school. The quality of dancing is exceptional and reflects the dancers' intense commitment to their art. The dances themselves can be static, even somewhat repetitive. They are, perhaps, best understood as ritual, rather than 'dance' in the Western European sense.

A Mexican friend who danced when he was in high school still goes 'over the moon' when he talks about what dance means to him. He took us to a dance competition in Zacán, up on the Purhépecha Meseta. A friend from Michoacán has a blog with a community and dance focus.  He reflects on dance as ritual. His informed impressions strike me as being 'spot on'.

Domingo de Ramos, Palm Sunday

We spent Sunday with a good friend in the nearby pueblo of Zirahuén, but that's a tale for another post!

Still Curious?

Here's the Wikipedia description of Mujeres de Arena (Spanish).

From PBS Point of View documentary film series: Interview (English) with documentary filmmakers, including a link to Maquilapolis (City of Factories), a community film project undertaken in Tijuana with women working in maquiladoras (factories) and being trained as activists.