Mexico Traditions: Discovering Pueblo in Coyoacán, Mexico City

The process of settling into our new home in the upscale neighborhood of Coyoacán has led to a delightful discovery. The pueblo is thriving in Mexico City! Tucked within the cosmopolitan urban environment, we are happy to report that in our experience traditional customs are alive and well.

To 'set the stage' for the discoveries of pueblo described below, you might want to tour our neighborhood, Parque San Andrés, Coyoacán.

In Mexico, the word pueblo is has two meanings. It is used to refer to a small town situated in a specific place, but it is also used to refer to the people who live in that small town. At the national level, Mexican politicians sometimes speak of el pueblo; in English we'd say 'the people'.

In Parque San Andrés we've been startled to discover that traditional customs rooted in the pueblo co-exist inside the upper middle class block that is our focus. The photos below capture this coexistence.

This upscale restaurant is about a block and a half from our apartment. We enjoyed a delicious, interesting comida here.  A traditional dish was prepared with unusual ingredients to bring satisfied smiles of gastronomic pleasure!

Directly across the street from the lovely upscale restaurant is this traditional tiendita (little store).  La tiendita is a window (often barred) with direct access to the street.  Typically, junk food is sold here--Coca Cola!

Directly across the highway from us in Pátzcuaro, our neighbor Victoria ran a tiendita de abarrotes (convenience store) very much like this one. Truck drivers were typical customers.  But Victoria also sold bread, milk and eggs, so housewives in the neighborhood shopped there in an emergency.

An intrinsic part of Mexican culture is the mercado. The roots of the mercado tradition reach down into the Mesoamerican subculture. As this abarrote suggests, the market tradition remains strong in today's highly urbanized Mexico City.

Yesterday Reed and I walked over to the mercadito (little market) a block and a half from our house. We felt as if we'd stepped into the mercado in Pátzcuaro! We bought first quality fruits and vegetables and what proved to be incredibly tender chicken breasts. Most of all, we enjoyed the walk and strolling through the market getting acquainted.

Fruits, Vegetables and Flowers displayed in our local mercado

Then, of course, there are the street vendors! I swear that where there are three Mexicans, at least one--maybe two--is selling something to the others.


Puestos (stalls) are set up daily outside the Metro (subway) stations. It's a lot of work: poles hold tarps in place to provide cover over tables on which wares are displayed.  Much of this economic activity falls into the 43% of the Mexican economy that economists categorize as informal--that is, outside the tax structure.

This puesto is just outside the mercado near our apartment.

We had to go to Immigration to report our change of address. Outside Migración, vendors were hawking visa and passport photos.

On Sundays in our neighborhood the organ grinders appear, and guitar player-singers stroll through the restaurants. During the week, indigenous women go house to house selling home-made products (tortillas, eggs, etc.) to families who clearly expect their visits.  One man comes by hawking 'Rico Tamales' from his pedi-cart.

The tamales vendor came by as we were on our way
to dinner, so Reed snapped his photo. 

Here's our local Abarrotes (neighborhood convenience store; in New York it's a bodega), where I buy the tastiest tomatoes. The three-wheeled vehicles (left) are used for deliveries. The pan dulces (sweet breads) have just arrived; the driver is unloading them from cabinets on the back of his vehicle. Note the taxi's open door! This driver is taking a break.   

Oh, and speaking of the taxistas!  Reed and I have been dragging our feet about buying a car.  Frankly, we were nervous about riding in Mexico City taxis.  One of our first drivers told us exactly what to look for:  make sure that the number printed on the taxi is identical to the number on the license plate, that the driver's photo is posted in the car window, and that the driver's face and name match the photo.  If not, said the driver, tell him--¡No, gracias. Adios!


We've been pleasantly surprised to have the same kinds of chats with Mexico City drivers that we had with our drivers in Pátzcuaro. We talk about the city's history and traditions, where we are from, where the drivers are from and, quite often, we learn about their family members living in the United States.

One driver asked us if we aren't afraid to talk to him.  When we answered, "No, not really," he replied, "I've driven people from all over the world; usually, people don't talk to me at all." We then explained that it is precisely our intent to speak with as many Mexicans as we can...from all different walks of life. Our openness and directness, and our respect for all we meet, nine times out of ten leads to a conversation similar to this one.

Last week a driver invited us to his pueblo ("Twenty minutes from the Olympic Stadium") to attend their upcoming fiesta. We smiled in recognition, because our drivers in Pátzcuaro also invited us to their pueblo's fiestas.  We thanked him, then explained that we're still focused on getting settled, but next year....

And the cohetes! Cohetes are an essential feature of life in Pátzcuaro, but we wondered if they were used here in Mexico City.  We were about to find out--big time!

It turns out that last Sunday (August 14) was the Fiesta of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. We'd been hearing the cohetes (rocket firecrackers) since Friday evening and wondered what they were all about. In retrospect, this is the fiesta the taxi driver mentioned to us.

Then Sunday evening at about 9 PM Reed thought he heard pirotécnica--fireworks displays in the sky. He was right!

What a show! From our balcony we saw at least three separate fireworks displays at varying distances:  close (maybe in downtown Coyoacán), middle distance (a second pueblo nearby), and a third way up in the cerritos (lower mountains that are called 'hills').

Everyday Mexican culture is absolutely delightful! I'll say this: We are never bored!

So I guess the best answer to the question our friends al otro lado (in the U.S.) sometimes ask us--"But what do you do in Mexico?"--is, "We walk out the front door and see what happens!"

Mexico Fiesta: Cruz Verde in Pátzcuaro

We wakened at 6:30 AM to the now-familiar sound of cohetes (rockets, large firecrackers) announcing 7:00 AM Mass.

Today, May 3, is celebration of the Fiesta de la Cruz Verde (Green Cross)—patron saint of Cruz Verde Church located just a couple of blocks from the central plazas in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán. In the Catholic Liturgical Calendar, May 3 is the Feast Day of the Holy Cross (Santa Cruz), of which Cruz Verde is a variant.

Watching today's parade to the Plaza Grande, it became clear that whatever its meaning within Catholic tradition, Cruz Verde is, in fact, a May Day festival of renewal celebrating the mid-point of spring—falling, as it does, midway between the Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice.


Green, of course, symbolizes resurrection and regeneration, thus strengthening the link to the season of planting, which begins when the rains arrive sometime after Cruz Verde. In Mesoamerican culture, green represented Life as symbolized by quetzal feathers (which are green) and jade.

The origin of the Feast of Santa Cruz—Cruz Verde—is shrouded in legend.  Polydoro Virgilio, a sixteenth century Italian writer, relates the Fiesta of the Holy Cross to Roman fiestas honoring Flora, the goddess who represents the eternal rebirth of vegetation in the spring.

Today's parade was led by señoras carrying arcs of paper flowers, which symbolize Life

In Greek mythology, Cibeles (goddess of the Earth and Fertility) selected Attis, a beautiful youth, to guard her temple, on the condition that he remain virgin. Attis succumbed to the charms of a nymph. Enraged by Attis' betrayal, Cibeles struck down the Tree on which Attis' eternal life depended. Repentant, Attis castrated himself.

Upon learning of Attis' action, Cibeles admitted him once again to her temple. The ancient Greeks celebrated this myth of death and resurrection involving the Tree of Life at the time of the Spring Equinox.

Another legend involves the Roman Emperor Constantine. Vastly outnumbered by an enemy army, Constantine had a dream in which he was told to construct and place the Holy Cross at the head of his army in order to assure victory. He did so and, as foretold, easily routed the enemy in the ensuing battle.

With this victory, Constantine sent his mother, Elena, to the Holy Land to find the Cross on which Jesus had been crucified. Under torture, three priests showed Elena where the three crosses lay hidden. A young man, recently dead, was laid in turn on the three crosses. When he was laid on top of the Third Cross, he regained his life—clearly, indicating that this was the Santa Cruz de Jesús.

Faithful señora carrying the Cruz Verde decorated with 

flowers fashioned from  pink and white crepe paper. 

As part of the Holy Roman Empire, Spain was heir to these Greco-Roman traditions and legends, which are relevant here because clearly the Santa Cruz celebration was brought to Nueva España (México) from Spain by Catholic missionaries charged with evangelizing the indigenous peoples.

Intent on eliminating ancient practices and superstitions, the missionaries sought to transform ancient practices into Christian symbols. In this case, the ancient May Pole (Tree of Life, or Ceiba Tree, which is also a symbol in Mesoamerican culture) was transformed into the Santa Cruz, while conserving nearly intact the cultural elements of the ancient celebration.

 Señora celebrating Cruz Verde by decorating her sombrero with paper flowers. Her silver earrings are traditional Purhépecha design.

 Handsome jovén (young man) wearing traditional sombrero and 

 a black and gray sarape folded over his right shoulder.

The Fiesta of Cruz Verde is all about color and life, animals that support the agrarian lifestyle and a fair amount of mescal, which—to my surprise!—is shared with all who watch the parade.

Teams of oxen (bueys) are still seen in the fields around Pátzcuaro.  This pair look askance at Reed pointing his camera at them. Notice the crepe paper festoons.

Burros are not an uncommon sight on Pátzcuaro's streets carrying loads of leña (firewood) for the pueblo's many fireplaces.

I love this burro. He was groomed to beat the band...and his dramatic coloring caught my eye. Check the eye shadow around his eyes!

Speaking of bands!  Every Mexican fiesta has to have a band, and the Fiesta of Cruz Verde is no exception!

The towel around the head of the tuba player is to protect against the sun, which on May 3 is very high in the sky.  But nothing can filter out the twinkle in the player's eye as he realizes that Reed is taking his picture!

This joven (young man) is wearing the traditional Purhépecha sombrero and carrying the distinctive 'Butterfly'  fish nets used by Lake Pátzcuaro's fishermen.

Dancer holding aloft the Pescado (Fish)

The parade ends in front of the Ayuntamiento (City Hall), where the Dance of the Pescadores (fishermen) is performed. Even thirty years ago, fishing in Lake Pátzcuaro was not only an important source of food, but an integral and important part of the culture as well.  As the water level in Lake Pátzcuaro has dropped, this aspect of the culture has perhaps diminished, but by no means has it disappeared. 

Next came the Dance of the Torito (Little Bull), which celebrates Fertility, Life, and the omnipresent possibility of Death. Bulls were brought to Nueva España by the Spaniards. Today bulls, bull-fighting (in the larger cities) and bull-riding (jaripéos in the countryside) remain important parts of Mexican culture.

The Torito Dance is a standard feature of many Mexican Fiestas. The head of the Torito is constructed from hand-woven natural fiber mats (petates).

When painted and with bulls' horns attached,
they become the Torito in this traditional dance.  

We were enchanted by this muchacho performing the Torito with a small bulls' head. It's never too early to begin learning the traditional dances!











For the past ten days, we've had a team of albañiles (construction workers specializing in bricks and tiles)—a family team of father and two sons—cleaning and resetting Casa Mariposa's red tiles (tejas) so rainwater will flow easily when the rains arrive. Cruz Verde is the patron saint of albañiles. Cruz Verdes festooned with crepe paper flowers and streamers are erected to protect albañiles working on often-dangerous construction sites across México.

The Fiesta de Cruz Verde, coming just after Easter Sunday, celebrates the Natural Cycle by saluting the arrival of Spring, the beginning of a new agricultural cycle and concludes with thanksgiving to nature for the harvest to come.

In line with this general celebration of fertility, the Fiesta de Cruz Verde exalts human love and all its spontaneous expressions—hence the mescal, which harks back to ancient traditions.  In this way, the Fiesta de Santa Cruz is a joyous, colorful example of syncretism—Catholic symbols superimposed on ancient beliefs.

Postscript:  I had just finished writing this blog and was ready to post it when I heard the first raindrops of the season.  I didn't quite believe my ears or my eyes because the sun had shone brightly all day long with no indication of impending rain. I kind of held my breath because we've had ever-so-light suggestions of a rain shower with the drops not really hitting the ground, just the leaves of the trees.

But this time, I heard the distinct patter of raindrops falling on our newly cleaned and arranged roof tiles. Then it started to rain even harder.  It can't really be, I thought, but it really was!  I glanced at the clock—6:00 PM. Then I heard the season's first roll of thunder (trueno).  It is now 6:58 PM and the rain god Tlaloc has not yet finished announcing his seasonal arrival!

Earlier today when I wrote, the Fiesta de Cruz Verde announces "...the season of planting that begins when the rains arrive sometime after Cruz Verde." Well, today they arrived right smack on schedule!

The thunder is growing fainter...moving up toward the Meseta (highlands).  Murmuro yo, ¡Bienvenido a las primeras lluvias de la primavera!  [I whisper, Welcome to the first Spring Rains!]


Oh...and did I remind you of the sweet, sweet smell of wet earth, trees and leaves....  Hmm, it's starting to rain even harder now.  Happy Spring!

Mexico Culture: Semana Santa Tianguis

This is the week of  Semana Santa, including the Tianguis (Open-Air Market). Today Reed and I visited this artisans' fair set up in the Plaza Grande in Pátzcuaro. Tianguis features crafts brought by artisans from the surrounding pueblos—some  from quite a good distance away.

Like many traditions, the roots of Pátzcuaro's annual Semana Santa Tianguis reach deep  into the soil of Mesoamerican, including Purhépecha, culture, which was based on subsistence farming.

The culture practiced self-sufficiency supported by values of mutual obligation and mutual responsibility that served to bind members of the community to one another.

But subsistence farming and self-sufficiency didn't mean a lack of specialization.  In fact, quite the opposite was true. The geography of Mexico is such that entirely different ecosystems often lie only a few miles apart.

The availability of different natural resources naturally fostered the development of specialized crafts and wares in different indigenous communities. These crafts and wares were traded or, more accurately, bartered (trueque) at annual fairs held precisely for that purpose.

The system of trueque practiced at the tianguis (open-air market) was simply another facet of the value of mutual obligation—each community provided specialty items that enriched life in the broader regional Mesoamerican community.

It's a real challenge for me to try to describe the diversity of crafts:  pottery of all sizes and shapes—bowls, vases and trays glazed with aesthetic designs and color.

There are large, black and brown glazed floor pots, some a meter high, which are beautiful when they grace Mexican patios and courtyards.

There are wood products: wood-carved masks, sculptures of crocodiles and dragons large enough to sit on the floor; salad bowls, serving forks and children's toys made of wood.  The trucks are truly special! There are the pottery devils and dragons of the pueblo of Ocumicho, which Reed collects.

There are cotton handwoven and embroidered blouses, huipiles (single-piece dresses).

Huipiles

There are wool sweaters woven from the softest merino lambswool, and rebozos, children's cotton shirts and pants; men's shirts, and sombreros woven from natural fibers. And embroidered scenes of pueblo life.

Embroidered traditional scene

There is lacquer ware of all kinds (hair combs, boxes, earrings, large trays and bowls), hand-crafted silver jewelry, woven baskets, and did I mention children's wooden toys, including coordination-challenging tops!

But yesterday as Reed and I strolled gazing at the stalls, I was struck by the differences in traditional dress of indigenous women who, clearly, come from different pueblos. Their dress reminded me yet again of the cultural blending that occurred with the arrival of the Spaniards.

It's obvious that the early Church Orders (brothers charged with converting the indigenous and teaching  them Spanish culture) mandated that the indigenous peoples adopt minimal Spanish dress:  shirt and simple pants for the men; blouse and skirt for the women.

Purepecha senora

It is equally obvious that the inherent Mesoamerican aesthetic kicked in as indigenous women transformed the basic mandate into graceful, aesthetically pleasing styles of dress.

Zapotec dress, Oaxaca

My indigenous friend Alicia reminded me the other day that each pueblo has its own distinctive clothing style, a point driven home by her sister's experience as a teacher in a distant pueblo.

Intent on fitting in with the families of her students, her sister bought the pueblo's traditional dress. When she returns to Pátzcuaro, she wears the same clothing because it's too expensive to maintain two sets.

Purepecha women at a fiesta

But to her consternation, she finds that people in Pátzcuaro think that, because of her dress, she's from the far-away pueblo rather than her nearby home pueblo of Nocutzepo, which is about 20 minutes away on the west side of Lake Pátzcuaro. To say the least, it is slightly unnerving to be taken as fuereña (outsider) in your own hometown!

I also want to write about rebozos, which is a separate post all in itself!

Rebozos

Alternative & Organic Fair in Arócutin - First Sunday Monthly

Last Sunday Reed and I visited the pueblo of Arócutin, which is about half an hour out on the west side of Lake Pátzcuaro. Our destination was an "organic fair" held on the first Sunday of each month.  What an incredible cultural fusion it turned out to be!  

My interest was piqued when my Spanish teacher  told me that he visited the fair last month with his wife and two young children, who had a terrific time. 

We walked down the driveway of a property dotted with several quirky Mexican buildings—including a dry fish pond!  The first thing that caught our attention were the plantings, which were quite remarkable—herbs of all kinds, unusual trees and bushes.  

We walked around a bend in what was by now a single-file footpath and—voilá—we had arrived! But where on earth were we?  

Flute music wafted gently on the breeze. In front of us were tables shaded by grasses woven to form shade roofs.  Dappled sunlight fell through the lightly-scented grasses on goods of all kinds—cheeses, blouses, tablecloths and napkins, herbs and plants, and fresh, organically grown garden vegetables—spinach, Swiss Chard, carrots, radishes, and more.

I have to add that the taste of vegetables grown here is quite remarkable. The Swiss Chard, spinach and carrots are truly sweet, not at all bitter, and even the largest radishes are full-flavored, hot.  A recent vegetarian guest commented, "Michoacán is a vegetarian's delight!" 

Set out on still more tables were still more offerings—herbal medicines and natural creams, goat cheese....  One woman was selling tiny succulents planted in blown-out egg shells that rested on tiny egg dishes. I was struck yet again by the originality of the Mexican aesthetic. 

Suddenly Reed exclaimed, "This is an orchard—look at this peach tree."  In his hand, he was tenderly holding a very young peach growing on its branch. As I continued to gaze around, I became aware of a pink rope-cloth secured to a tree limb about 20 feet up.  A little girl was learning to climb the rope under the competent supervision of a lithe Mexican señorita.

There were craft workshops of all kinds—weaving with wool, etc.  Oh -- and have I mentioned the fragrance of burning incense?

And the food!  An elderly indigenous woman knelt on a mat in front of a metate rolling masa for the delicious blue corn tortillas. There was ceviche, tostadas, empanadas...the variety was impressive.  By now I wasn't even surprised to meet my extremely professional physical therapist from Morelia helping out her husband, who, as it turns out, brews superb microbeers! 

Clearly baffled, Pablo, our driver and friend, whispered to Reed, "What is this?"  The truth is, we were asking the same question. It felt like a happening that might have been organized by a hippy community from the 1960s in Northern California or New Hampshire. But there the similarity ends, because if this was a hippy happening, it carried a distinctly Mexican flavor. 

Gradually I became aware of not just the variety of offerings, but of who was offering them.  Most striking was how many Mexican campesinos and artesanos were offering their wares, but there were also American hippy-types selling their hand-crafted jewelry and US-style baked goods. To my ear, their Spanish was fluent, even colloquial. Clearly, they've been here a long time, as evidenced by several blue-eyed, blond children happily running around barefoot. 

But it became equally clear that some of the 'hippies' were indeed Mexicans, which suggests to us that the counterculture has reached down into Mexico. We also encountered Mexican hippies on our recent visit to San Cristóbol (Chiapas). When we left, Reed spotted the ever-faithful VW bus in the parking lot. Diagnosis confirmed!

What was equally amazing was that as gringos we were a distinct minority among the customers.  I asked a vendor about the history of the property, and she told me that it had once been a 'community'—my hunch is that it may have been a commune—but now it is owned by one couple, and each month they host this fair. 

What an unexpected fusion of cultures we encountered on a warm, spring day in Arócutin! Needless to say, we will return!

Directions:  Follow the road to Erongarícuaro about 10 km.  Turn Right toward Jarácuaro.  The driveway to the property is on the Right, about 100' from the corner. You'll see cars parked along the road.  

Travel Journal: Oaxaca, Chiapas, Tabasco

Reed and I returned recently from a trip to southern Mexico. We had a wonderful time, traveling by bus over a two-week period from Oaxaca City through the Sierra Madre del Sur (South) mountains to the Isthmus of Tehuántepec at sea level, then up into the mountains of the state of Chiapas to visit the colonial city of San Cristóbal and the ancient Maya cities of Toniná, Palenque, Yaxchilán and Bonampak. We ended the trip in Villahermosa, Tabasco, where we visited Comalcalco, another Maya city,  and saw a display of the statues from the earliest Mesoamerican civilization, the Olmecs.

Itinerary: from Oaxaca - in the west - through the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to Chiapas, in the east

To begin, we flew from Morelia, Michoacán, via Mexico City, to Oaxaca City for a stay at Las Golundrinas (The Swallows) a lovely, small, family-owned hotel we've stayed at before. It seems to attract folks like us—people who are culturally curious and striving to understand Mexico. True to form, we met really nice people from New Mexico and Utah—he's a professional photographer; we exchanged email addresses.

Reed and I enjoyed memorable meals in Oaxaca, such that Reed was moved to suggest, "We may have to make regular trips to Oaxaca...to eat!" I've read that of the world's cuisines, Chinese is #1 (because of the complexity of the seasonings); Mexican-Oaxacan is #2; and French is bumped to #3!

Next day we made a return visit to  the important Zapotec archaeological site, Monte Albán. I ambled around the plaza while Reed climbed pyramids. The Zapotecs leveled a strategic mountaintop to create this space, which commands valleys on either side. The plaza is accessed by climbing down into the plaza. The plaza itself is oriented north-south, and its pyramids and temples define the space. Anyone standing in the plaza knows exactly where he/she is located.

Monte Albán photo album

From Oaxaca we traveled by bus from about 6,000 feet down to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec at sea level. The road was incredible: switchback after switchback with high valleys of maybe .5 to 1 mile across. (Dramamine recommended for carsick-prone travelers.)

From Tehuántepec we were able to look north (the Isthmus runs east-west) to an absolute wall of mountains rising precipitously from the plain. Thanks to an excellent topographic map, we were able to see where the tectonic plates (Caribbean plate and Cocos plate) come together to mark the boundary of the North American plate (continent). Equally amazing were mile after mile of wind farms—on both sides of the highway.

Sierra Madre del Sur

Next day we traveled by bus up to the Spanish colonial city of San Cristóbal, which was interesting but, in our opinion, poses no competition for Pátzcuaro. Its architecture is Spanish colonial, in part, but also 19th century French. Plus it is overrun by tourists from Europe! This was a phenomenon we were to see later in Chiapas. Many French tourists.

Groping for words to describe the scene, Reed came up with "it's like an outdoor mall"—and, honestly, he's not far off. We're used to Pátzcuaro, which is a working city even when there are tourists around—and, of course, Pátzcuaro’s Centro (downtown area) is 100% Spanish colonial architecture protected by the Municipality. Wandering away from the city center, we were more comfortable in San Cristóbol’s neighborhoods—each with its own small plaza. It was a pleasant stay, but after three days we were ready to leave.

I.

We traveled by bus down through the Chiapas mountains, to the small city of Ocosingo, where we stayed overnight so we could visit the Maya ruins at Toniná. It has to be said: the countryside on this trip was spectacular.

Keep in mind that we were at 7,000 ft in San Cristóbol. Now consider that the highway climbs out of San Cristóbol before descending into another valley that probably took us an hour to cross—perhaps 50 miles across? For one thing, the landscape is green, even though it's near the end of the dry season (rains come in May). We're talking about cattle ranches, horses grazing, fields of corn growing their tassels, orchards of palm oil trees, banana and other fruit plants. Our little noses were pressed against the window.

From the valley, the highway again climbs before descending to cross yet another valley—this pattern was repeated four or five times. We really couldn't believe the grandeur of the countryside—big 'western' skies, long horizons, stark mountain ridges. At times the highway followed along a ridge top; small pueblos with access to the mountain slopes on both sides for corn fields and palm oil orchards are spaced about every five miles.

I can't imagine what it would be like to work these fields—everything is up or down—nothing is flat. The word that comes to mind is the Spanish noun aguante (forbearance), or the verb aguantarse (to put up with). My Spanish teacher commented that aguante is the very heart of Mexican culture. When children are whining, complaining or resisting what has to be done, a mother will say, "Aguántese!" (Pull yourself together).

Another example: last winter Reed and I were in the airport at Morelia at 1 AM, waiting to board the plane for a red-eye flight to Chicago, when coincidentally we met our Mexican friend, Norma. A grandmother, Norma has seen it all, so when we complained about the hour and our tiredness, Norma replied, "We Mexicans are like the burro—we just keep working." I'd bet any amount of money that it was aguante she had in mind. Were we her children or grandchildren, she would have replied, "Aguántese!"

This is Zapatista country—remember Subcomandante Marcos? I was impressed by the appearance of schools and health centers in the pueblos, which are about 5 miles apart. This reminds me of New England, where the villages are about five miles apart—that’s about an hour and a half walk between! Later our driver told us that the Zapatistas' activism has become a recognized political movement and "things are much better now; there are schools and health services where there were none before."

We got to Ocosingo at about noon. After a quick lunch, we went by taxi out to the ruins. Again, we were awed by the sheer lush beauty of the countryside—lots of grazing beef cattle, but they're not like our white-face Herefords; they're the taupe color of Brahma bulls.

At the ruins we walked about a half-mile down a stone-paved track to the entrance of the ruins, but it was the end of the road for me. No way was I able to climb down the stairs of a steep gulley and up the other side. Plus the guide told us that was just the beginning—the temples themselves are cut into the hillside, so it's up-up-up, then down-down-down.

Toniná photo album

For me, the 'cross' formed by the 'mirror-image' pyramids representing the Milky Way (broad vertical stones) and the Sun's path across the sky (East-West horizontal) is the most meaningful, because this symbol is core to Mesoamerican beliefs.

So, I decided to enjoy the peace, quiet and incredible view by having a Cappuchino at the snack shack built Maya-style with a thatched roof and open sides. As I sat down at a table, I noticed that a bull was grazing away on the track about 50' from me. Hmm. No rope. No nothing. Then I was joined by a rooster who—positioning himself more or less at my feet—loudly and repeatedly demanded his share. It was a first: never have I shared my Cappuchino with a bull and a rooster!

After a bit more chomping, the bull gave me a studied look—I didn't move, and found somewhere else to look—before he ambled quietly away. I asked the woman behind the counter about the bull. She looked amused as she replied that he's okay—he just got out of the field. Gulp. Then I discovered she lives in the house next door and her husband works on the ranch. We had a lovely chat. Today I mentioned to my (male) Spanish teacher about differences between bulls here in Mexico and those in the United States. As a youngster he helped out on the rancho of one of his uncles; there, from the beginning, bulls are treated more like pets than like wild animals. So it stands to reason that they are really quite calm.

Next day we left for Palenque, said to be the crown jewel of Maya sites. Palenque did not disappoint. I had visited Palenque almost 20 years ago when I worked for Pemex, and I could hardly believe the work that has been done since then—a lot more archaeological excavation and the construction of tourist facilities, including a small but superb museum housing artifacts uncovered at the site.

Palenque photo album

The Kings and Gods of Palenque

II.

A couple of experiences captured a lot of how I feel about Mexico. Reed and I have a tough time being treated like American tourists (which, of course, we are). But nonetheless, we bridle at being answered in English when we speak in Spanish, but most of all we find it difficult to be treated more like a commodity than like a human being. At our hotel in Palenque, the waiters—who attend to tourists from all over the world—at first treated us like rather stupid objects. But we persisted speaking Spanish and treating them with respect. After a couple of days, they responded and began to treat us as persons. One waiter name Iván (!) asked if we'd like to visit his pueblo, which is now a colonia (neighborhood) of Palenque about 5 minutes taxi ride from the hotel.

So the next morning we rode with Iván to his neighborhood. After meeting his lovely wife and three children (6, 4, 2), all seven of us set off  on a walking tour. The houses are humble, cinder-block construction about 15’ x 30’ (I’m guessing). Iván rents his house for 700 pesos a month (about $60). I’m also guessing that the dirt road that passes in front of their house sees more foot than vehicular traffic.

Next door we visited his mother and the chickens and ducks that live in her yard. Iván’s pride in his mother’s culinary and marketing talents were in clear evidence. His mother’s quiet confidence and clear-eyed, intelligent gaze impressed me. It turns out that most of Iván’s family lives on this road. 

His six-year old son was eager to tell us the names of the various trees we passed. He was also intent on picking a flower from every bush and giving it to us to make a bouquet.

Chatting and laughing, we made our way across the railroad tracks to the Plaza, where we sat on a stone wall under the deep shade of a well-placed tree while our host introduced us to passersby.

I was impressed by the gentle care the six-year old took of his younger sisters. There is a gentleness to children’s play throughout Mexico that is deeply touching—no fighting, no hitting, no complaining—okay, mostly no complaining or crying, but truly no hitting or fighting. It’s not uncommon to see twelve, thirteen, fourteen-year old boys gently caring for babies six-months-old and up. The very way they carry the babies on their hips tells me they have a lot of experience! Same with the fathers—their body language communicates their involvement with their infants and children.

As we sat, Iván told us about the pueblo’s fiestas—when the Plaza is full of people, and there are puestos (vendors’ stalls) all around the outside perimeter, and the fireworks, and the music and dancing, and carnival rides for the kids. As Iván spoke, his pleasure in and commitment to his pueblo was clear. In Spanish, the word pueblo has two meanings: it refers not only to the place, but also to the people who inhabit the place. Iván's description was a striking reminder of how central fiestas are to Mexicans' sense of themselves—who they belong to and who belongs to them.

III.

The next experience happened at Palenque’s archaeological site itself. You know Reed’s photographic portraits. Well, there were several groups of young people (junior-senior high school) visiting the ruins that day. One young woman came to stand quietly next to me...then I realized her friend had taken our picture. When I asked if she wanted her picture taken with me, she nodded yes, so I asked why. Shy, she hesitated to reply, so I asked, "Is it because I'm so güera (paleface)?" She smiled and said, "Yes." So I said, "Well, it's okay to have your picture taken with me"—at which point, the entire group of about 15 girls crowded around me for a group picture!

At that point, I think my young friend asked where I'm from. I replied, "I'm from the United States, but I hope now we're friends"—she gave my elbow a quick, lovely squeeze accompanied by a warm, even grateful, smile. I'm still not sure why the girls wanted their picture taken with me, but I'm absolutely sure of the goodwill that accompanied it. If any of you have any inclination to learn Spanish, follow up on it! Knowing the language opens a window on this diverse and endlessly fascinating culture.

The next day we traveled to two waterfalls, one called Agua Azul, Blue Water.

The following day, Reed took an all-day tour to two Mayan sites. Yaxchilán is in the jungle, on the Mexican side of the Usumacinta River which forms the boundary with Guatemala. Bonampak, famous for having the only surviving Mayan murals, is nearby.

Yaxchilán photo album

Bonampak photo album

IV.

From Palenque we traveled by bus down to the city of Villahermosa on the coastal plain (Gulf of Mexico). From there we went by taxi out to Comalcalco, the most westerly Maya site. Comalcalco was really different. For one thing, the site is on the coastal plains—nary a mountain to be seen. For another, the coastal plain lacks stone for building, so the Maya constructed the pyramids by first piling earth then covering the dirt with stucco. They also baked tiles similar to the curved, red tiles we have on our roofs here in Pátzucaro (and throughout California and the Southwest), and stacked them like bricks to build the temples on top of the pyramids. Reed observed that although all the Maya sites share common elements, each site is also unique.

Again, a small but tasteful museum displayed artifacts uncovered at the site. What impressed us was the humanity of the faces carved on the statues; they felt like real people—character was evident in the faces. Plus they were carved front-on, facing us. At Palenque, they are carved in profile—similar to those of Egyptian pharaohs. The frontal view communicates much more immediately and directly.

But the vegetation on the coastal plain is truly something else. Some years ago Olmec relics were discovered at the site of what was to become the oil field named La Venta. A Mexican poet supported the excavation and removal of the artifacts (large Olmec heads, thrones and other objects) to a jungle park in Villahermosa.

Olmec  photo album

We walked a deeply shaded path through the jungle where these artifacts are now displayed about 30' apart. It was a remarkable 2-hour walk. We noticed that several of the pieces are currently [March, 2011] on loan to the DeYoung Museum in San Francisco, California. Even the copies are impressive, but those of you in the Bay Area might enjoy seeing the originals!

Equally remarkable was the jungle vegetation! We were grateful for signage giving botanical names of the plants. Are you ready for this? Having lived in the Eastern United States, we were used to growing the humble Pothos as a low-light houseplant. But when Pothos is planted in the ground in the tropics, it gets a little more sunlight and (I suspect) more humidity, the leaves are about 10" across (dinner plate size!) with stems a good 1/2-3/4 inch in diameter! I kid you not. We saw Pothos this large in the courtyard at the hotel in Palenque and again on the jungle walk. A little disconcerting, but fascinating!

Sunday we flew home. I can't tell you how good the mountain air felt when we got off the plane in Morelia. Cool, dry air—we're home!

So that's our big adventure. We're already planning a return trip to Chiapas next winter. Our trip across Chiapas this time was basically southwest to northeast—next time we'll focus more on the southeast and include a trip to Tikal (with Palenque, two of the most important Maya cities) in Guatemala. Stay tuned!