La Differencia

As our trip is winding down, we’ve had a chance to reflect on the past two months and ask ourselves what we really loved about Mexico, what we learned, and how different the Mexican ways of life that we saw and participated in were from our own.

Eric narrowly misses being bussed

 At first glance, Mexico shouldn’t “work” as a country at all.  The tap water isn’t typically drinkable. The air and noise pollution can be overwhelming. Many streets are paved with ankle-twisting cobblestone. Often, sidewalks are far too narrow and jammed with people trying to squeeze by each other while buses, cars, scooters whisk by just inches away… and on and on.

But Mexico does work. At least, that’s what we discovered, but we had to “bend” a little, duck and weave a little, learn to laugh at things that just seemed ridiculously crazy, to see how it all fits so beautifully together.

The linchpin, the thing that holds it all together, is the family, the pervasiveness of it, the fun of it, the comfort, safety and love that is there. From that strong base comes people who are kind, fun-loving, open, honest and curious.

The festival of the Virgin Dolores was a family affair, as was every other day in Mexico!

A little senorita shows off her pretty dress

Fathers snuggle with their kids after knocking confetti-filled eggs on each other's heads, Semana Santa tradition

 Of course, this is also the country of drug lords, corrupt politicians, criminal gangs, revolutionaries and petty thieves, so it’s not perfect by any means. But, as we found ourselves more immersed in the families that we met and lived with along the way, we could look past all the bad stuff and really enjoy the people. We really came to admire their resilience and patience, their willingness to meet us halfway if we made any kind of effort to use their language or crack a joke or join in the fun. They gave these little gifts, regalos, to us all of the time. 

Guadelupe, the Mercado's egg lady

Saying farewell to Guadelupe

Lynn gives flowers to an egg lady in the town Mercado, three gentlemen stop what they are doing to talk to us about the importance of certain holidays, they struggle with their English, we struggle with our Spanish and in the end, hearty handshakes and kisses on the cheek. A waitress poses for a picture and then gives us her email along with a goodbye hug. Cab drivers show us the beauty of whatever city we’ve arrived in. Everywhere, all the time, people greet you with a “buenos dias,” or  ‘tardes” or “noches”. Smiles, nods, interest, acceptance, humor.

And then the surprises. The sudden explosion of fireworks for no discernible reason, the eruption of music in the street, a clown performs on the steps of a building and then… Oh, look, a parade!

For what?  A saint, a special day, just because it seems like a good idea… any old reason at all. Flowers grace the feet of statues, or line church steps, or are carried by young men to be given to young women. Mariachi bands perform for patrons eating lunch, while still other bands wait their turn to play for tips (propinas).

Fruit, grains, flowers and all - a surprise for the festival of Dolores

The smell of delicious food circles around you.

Oaxaca Mercado

Always-smiling produce lady

In the historic districts the beautiful architecture stands out, the museums filled with old and new art. There are shops for every kind of trinket, blanket, painting, wood carving, t-shirt.

And more surprises and puzzles: In a crèche scene showing the birth of Jesus, not only are there the usual shepherds and wise men, but also figures of baseball players standing guard over the manger. Little offerings include full bottles of coke and bouquets of plastic flowers. What does it mean?

Baseball player creche

Hotel rooms with treacherous little steps in weird places. Clothing stores full of the tackiest American brands side by side with elegant clothing and native textiles.

Buses that are filled to groaning and yet with everyone managing to find room for huge bags of whatever while people hop on and off of the bus, sometimes while its still moving. Beautiful street art side by side with graffiti rendered by unknown hands. It sometimes feels a dreamy movie of some kind of post-apocalyptic yet heavenly cityscape.

And the people we met; our long suffering teacher and master cook Alfonso, our wonderful Oaxacan host family we mentioned in previous posts, Roberto and Blanca from Huatulco, Tom and Deb in San Cristobal, Karen and Ben in Oaxaca, and John and Marlee in Guanajuato, Mexicans and gringos, alike, who were in the swing of things and added much joy and laughter.

Marlee & John in Dolores Hidalgo

The Heart of Mexico, Part I

Despite all of its cultural attractions, the intensity of Mexico City finally got to us. Instead of staying the full week that we had originally planned, we decided to weigh anchor a few days ahead of our original itinerary and take a side trip to Morelia, about four hours north of the capitol. Boarding yet another excellent Mexican bus, we sank into our seats with a sigh of relief.

Morelia Cathedral

 Upon arrival, we knew we’d made the right decision. Morelia is a fairly small city with a much “slower” feel to it. Yet, it is also a place steeped in Mexican history. The town is, in fact, renamed (from Valladoliod) for Jose Maria Morelos y Pavon, a key figure in the Mexican Independence movement. It is also a World Heritage Site owing to the fact that the heart of the city is a very well preserved example of beautiful colonial architecture, and, additionally, contains a stunning cathedral in the main square.

Our hotel, the Meson de los Remedios, was a family-run place and was truly top drawer - even though our first sight of it was unpromising, to say the least. As we got out of our cab we discovered that the entire sidewalk in front of the hotel had been completely torn asunder as part of a block-long rebuilding project. The workmen, seeing us dismount with our bags, paused as the dilemma we all faced became apparent: We had to get “there” from “here” and there was no in between. A worker rapped on the hotel door and the manager answered with a look of horror on her face. Apparently she had not been in the loop when the work had begun earlier in the day. We looked at her, she looked at us, and the workers scratched their heads. Then, without so much as a word, 2x4s were knocked together and Lynn and I with bags in tow were assisted over the wet concrete on a tiny bridge with many smiles all around. Impossible not to love the people here!

 

Our room was nothing short of amazing: a colonial two-story affair with a sitting room below and a king-size bed arriba for a few bucks per day. Obviously this had been a residence complete with a beautiful mask-decorated courtyard and lots of garden sitting areas that had been very tastefully transformed into a hotel.  The main square of the town was just a few blocks away, so we took a late afternoon stroll to get our bearings. Immediately, we noted differences from Cuidad Mexico. Streets were swept clean, walls were graffiti-free, and the sky was a beautiful cobalt blue. More importantly, the people of this Michocan city welcomed us at every opportunity. The Helado (gelato) lady thanked us profusely for visiting and complimented us on our excellent Spanish: “pistachio”, “ chocolate”, and “vanilla”

As we began to explore Morelia, the first hints of the convoluted, complex, fascinating, baffling history of Mexican Independence became evident. This part of Mexico, more or less the central highlands, was the very heart of the independence movement that began around 1810 and continues yet today. Without going into a lengthy history lesson, suffice it to say that Morelia is one of the Mexican cities, including Guanajuato, San Miguel Allende, Dolores Hidalgo and others, that were important in the initial taming of the indigenous people by the church and later by the often bloody and chaotic struggle for independence.  

Hidalgo, strange gringos, & Allende prepare for battle

Juan Morelos, Miguel Hidalgo, and Ignacio Allende were the “Big Three” of the independence movement that eventually morphed into the Mexican Revolution about 100 years later. Each of these men, in unique ways, provided impetus to the movement, eventually at the cost of their own lives. They are revered throughout Mexico to this day. 

Santuario de Guadalupe, Morelia

Apart from its secular historical importance, Morelia was also a wealthy Catholic stronghold for many centuries, and that was made plain to us once we saw the stunning interior of the main cathedral. Wow! It is not hard at all to imagine the overwhelming power a place such as this would have had over poor compesino believers. Every nook and cranny is festooned with gold leaf and brilliantly painted wood sculptures on top of wood sculptures that soar upward for several stories. Worshippers might have easily felt transported to a kind of heavenly realm just standing inside such sumptuousness.

There were other sites in Morelia as well: for less than $1.00 US, we visited a fascinating candy museum that folded the history of candy making into the history of the city as told by costumed guides (all in Spanish, alas) We saw how their local quince candy is made by boiling the fruit and sugar together in big copper pans and then cooling it into sugary bricks. An interesting aqueduct provided water for the city’s many fountains that had once been the central water source for residents of the entire city. Beautiful plazas surprised us in each of the city’s neighborhoods.

Unfortunately, Eric was unable to complete the full roster of city sights due to an ugly bout of tourista that put him down for about a day and a half.  Lesson: don’t eat stuff that tastes “off” even if you are really, really hungry; it doesn’t work out well in the end, so to speak. Luckily, bed rest and miso soup did the trick and by the time we were ready to pull up stakes, he was vertical again.

Shopping is not all about pottery!

In the meantime, Lynn explored the city center and dined solo al fresco at a Nuevo Mexican restaurant overlooking Morelia’s busy zocolo. She also allowed her shopping gene to kick in with a trip to Morelia’s artisan’s market for a display of gorgeous local pottery, woodwork, and copper jewelry. Next stop: Guanajuato, our last Mexican city, where the independence movement under Father Hidalgo violently exploded into El Grito de Delores (don’t worry, we’ll explain in Part 2).

Eric never wants to travel any other way than by Mexican bus!!

Mexico City: The Bridge

Democracy Breaking Her Chains, David Siquieros

To leap, as we did, from the depths of the jungle and the silent majesty of Palenque directly into downtown Mexico City in less than two hours on a comfy Russian Interjet airplane was almost too much for us to handle. The pace, the international feel, the traffic and the noise, noise, NOISE, thoroughly rattled our nervous systems right from the moment we hopped into a cab at the airport until we were deposited in front of our somewhat centrally located hotel in the sort of seedy Zona Rosa.

After a 

night of spotty sleep in our less than perfect Hotel Principado (note: do not stay there!), Lynn, ever the navigator secured a decent map of the downtown portion of the city.  We located a great little spot, the Amour Caffé that specialized in great breakfasts, excellent coffee, and MTV videos. With map and guide book as our compass, we laid down a “Culture Trail” that we felt would give us a great sample of the history and art of Mexico writ large. We also resolved to ride the subway as much as possible, despite the generally unwarranted cautions about the dangers of doing so, as it was both cheap and very easy to use once we found our nearby Insurgentes station. We used the “your getting hotter/colder” method of asking many people for directions before locating it. Lynn recently learned that Mexican people always want to be helpful, so they will give directions even when they don’t quite know the actual location of your destination.  An important lesson learned!

First stop for us was the Museo Nacional Anthropologia This is truly a world-class cultural museum that spans a 6,000 year period documenting the civilizations that came and went in Meso-America according to the whims of climate, history, and location. Here, at last, was the big picture that placed (more or less) in order the rise and fall of the Zapotecs, the Olmecs, the Mayans, the Toltecs, and culminating with the fall of the Aztecs at the hands of disease, environmental devastation, and conquest by the Spanish. 

2300 year old Zapotec fertility figure 

The museum exhibits tell this story beautifully through the fantastic displays of pottery, sculpture, statuary, and everyday items from each of the cultural eras that celebrated fertility, life, humor, and beauty. Such fine work!  So much detail and care. It was obvious that the all-important cultivation of corn had given each of these civilizations the great gift of time. Time to build spectacular city-states as well as time to develop art that surpassed anything produced in early Europe. 

Mayan calendar

Also time to discover and employ mathematical rules that gave some element of predictability and control to an otherwise chaotic and terrifying world. The Mayans, for example, built amazingly accurate calendars tied to observed astronomical rhythms that stabilized crop production.  But these were not, by any means, entirely enlightened civilizations. 

Aztec Death Head

The museum also documented the brutality and cruelty that accompanied the rise of each group with the ever-present evidence of war, death, superstition, blood sacrifice, and slavery - all etched in every artifact. And all silent.

We couldn’t help but wonder how all of this distant, silent history informed the modern Mexico that we had been exploring. It took another visit to yet another part of the city to complete the “time bridge” we had been crossing.  We took a weekend day to visit the Palacio Nacional and the Palacio de Belle Artes where major works of the Mexican muralists, including Diego Rivera, are on display.

Emerging out of the subway into the heart of Mexico City, we were confronted with a truly staggering sight: an enormous plaza bounded on one side by the Palacio Nacional and the Catedral Metropolitana on the other. Because the entire plaza and buildings were constructed on spongy substrata, the buildings appear to be sinking, ever so slightly back into the ground. Sighting along one side of the Palacio Nacional, for example, you can see a pronounced curve where the central portion of the building is actually slightly higher than either end. It looks as though it might tear apart at any moment. Inside, we walked through beautiful courtyards and walkways, all showing evidence of being shored up, to our main destination: the famous Diego Rivera mural The Conquest of Mexico.

The History of Mexico, Diego Rivera

Even though the undermining of the Palacio is a product of poor civic planning on the part of the original Aztec builders, the emotional weight of the Rivera mural, the heaviness of it, seems to strain the building, as though it can barely hold up this monumental work. In one, jaw-dropping, sweeping, vast painting, Rivera ties the ancient past to the present. The mural is really a journey: beginning at the precise point where the Museo had left off.  At the bottom of the towering mural is the subjugation of the indigenous civilizations by a debauched, rabid Cortez. The battles leap out at you. As your eyes climb upwards, you can see and almost hear the suffering, the fascistic repression, the greed and corruption of corporate swine, with even more violence perpetrated against the common people…up and up, through the revolutions, the independence movements, French occupation, still more political upheavals,  and finally the culmination in the modern day  (circa 1930s) Mexican Republic. The term breathtaking, so often overused, is the exact word for this work.

The Great City of Tenochtitlan by Diego Rivera with Cortes' lover, La Malinche modeled after Frida Kahlo

Belle Artes

After a break to rest our eyes and brains, we set off for the Palacio de Bell Artes – yet another beautiful building filled with murals by other masterful painters, such as Orozco and Siqueiros, who continued the themes of exploitation and the struggle for liberation that we had seen in the Rivera work. Rivera and these muralists used their over-sized medium to educate Mexican campesinos about the heavy hand of the Spanish rulers and corruption that was rampant in the new government. All of these were placed in a gorgeous art-deco style building full of light and color. By the time we had finished our visits we were completely wiped out. We took the subway back to the hotel, had a quick bite and hit the sack.

After a few more days of Mexico City, we finally decided to give our nervous systems a rest and decided to head for Morelia, a much smaller town to the north that promised to be restful and, best of all, quiet! 

Living with the Locals

Life in Mexico has given us a major case of culture shock and a sense of connection and disconnection. How do we explain Donald Trump's bigotry to people who welcome us like members of their own family? Can we make sense out of anyone's belief that Mexican people would leave the beaches of Huatulco or the clean fresh air of San Cristobal del las Casas without a very good reason? 

We left Huatulco on a sweltering night and folded ourselves into an ADO bus for the 12 hour trip to San Cristobel.  Crowded bus and winding road notwithstanding, we both managed to get a little sleep by the time we rolled into gorgeous San Cristobal nestled in a high mountain valley.  Because of a small typo in the address of our hotel, we sent a poor cab driver into wild peregrinations around the city in the morning rush hour traffic. Each time we thought we were on the right track, we would wind up in front of some derelict building or other. Finally, we just asked him to please find us some kind of hotel, which he promptly did.

After a morning descanso y desayuno, we located a city map and began our orientation phase to downtown San Cristobel. Right from the start, it was very clear that this was not just another Oaxaca. The town is much smaller, much more diverse, and actually a bit tidier than Oaxaca appeared to be. 

Three walking streets connect you with most of the museums, churches, mercadores, restaurants and night spots along with other sights. The center of the city, for us, was the Templo De Santo Domingo (where El Papa had just stopped a few days before), and the nearby park, complete with bandstand, that was filled with tourists, vendadores, musicians all swirling about in an amazingly colorful dance. 

Our curiosity was piqued right away by the street vendors who were clearly from a very distinct community, which we later learned was Chemula – about an hour from San Cristobel.  Men, women, and children, primarily from that town, sold their wares day and night lugging huge bundles of flower-bedecked blouses, rugs, scarves, toys, bracelets, hats, candy, pastries and sundry items up and down the walking streets or from small stalls on the north side of town. “No Gracias” more or less became our greeting as we were bombarded by sales pitches of every kind. Oddly, it was not as bothersome as it might sound especially since the vendors did not persist and were very gracious to us despite our refusals. It was just part of the scene.

The second day, we managed to locate our actual hotel, Hotel Ganesha, a kind of yoga retreat/hostel that really proved to be an oasis from the city hubbub. Lynn tried a yoga class there and Eric, per usual, slept in.  

Later, with map in hand, we developed our plan to see as many of the sights as possible in the time we had for San Cristobel. The Centro De Textiles Del Mundo Maya, located in an old convent, was simply stunning. Rooms filled with ancient samples of Maya woven textiles, along with drawers full of more examples that underscore the beautifully detailed and distinctive designs still found in the small villages around San Cristobel. 

Not far from there was Na Bolom. Once a private residence of a anthroplogist and his photographer wife, it is a fascinating look at how the rest of the world came to learn of the still extant Mayan culture, through the efforts of these two people. It's quirky and dignified at the same time, with many photographs and objects of art from the couple’s collection. Other museums we discovered included the Museum of Amber and the  Museum of Bichos and Insectos, an old fashioned drawer-style museum with an astounding collection of the bugs and insects indigenous to Chiapas and the Mexican Isthmus area that included a bewildering variety of scarab beetles, butterflies, scorpions, spiders including a pet-able live tarantula.

By sheer luck, Lynn managed to locate an outstanding guide, Juan Hernandez from Nichim Ecotours, who not only arranged our next planned stop at Palenque, but agreed to take us out to Chemula on his day off, to show us the secrets of his home village, and to offer us a very unique look at the life of these indigenous people. They not only have distinctive and richly colored clothing that they offer for sale in San Cristobel, they have an entirely self sufficient culture, complete with religious beliefs that preceded the Catholic incursions. Thanks to Juan, we learned that what appears to be a small Catholic church in the middle of the village is, in fact, nothing like a Catholic church at all! 

Stepping inside, you find yourself transported as you see a spiritual community that honors the Christian saints in a unique and very personal manner. No Catholic priests, or priests of any kind, are permitted to preach within the walls of the church. Evangelism has been entirely and somewhat forcefully rejected. Instead, families come to sit in front of their particular saint to chant, usually in a Mayan dialect, or to light row upon row of candles that are placed on the floor, or to spread pine boughs to show reverence for spirits of the natural world. There are no pews. Everyone sits on the floor.  From the ceiling there are long, diagonal drapes that symbolize the mountains – an ancient symbol of faith. The altar, as such, is decorated with flowers and draped with special orchids that symbolize life and regeneration. The main figure depicted in the altar space is John the Baptist, who is considered to be much more important that Jesus Christ. In fact, Christ is only depicted in one painting being baptized by John. 

San Juan Chemula

Outside, on the church door colorful symbols of life and appreciation of nature, along with ubiquitous orchids replace the usual hagiography one finds in other churches. The cross, standing in the square before the church, is not, in fact, a Christian cross at all, but yet another much older symbol that predates the arrival of the Catholics in the 16^th century. We felt truly blessed to have Juan with us. Otherwise, we might never have had the deeper appreciation of a different kind of spiritual life.

Afterwards, we visited another nearby village with Juan where we were invited into a home and textile market to see the fabrics and designs similar to those on display at the textile museum while several women prepared native tortilla dishes for us to enjoy. We also sampled something called Puj (push) which is like a very smooth and potent tequila.

We topped the night of with a viewing of a dance/play called Palenque Rojo which was a fascinating retelling of the Mayan story of King Palanque’s life and death. Dance, drums, and chants replaced dialog. We followed that with a visit to Café Revolucion where we drank mescal and tequila while listening to a foot stomping band from Vera Cruz who took us through a medley of fandango music that had everyone in the café dancing, thumping on tables and/or clapping hands.

Our last full day in San Cristobel was highlighted by a walk through the cavernous municipal Mercado which is an indescribable explosion of smells, food, sights, sounds, and people. Want a nice fresh pollo for supper?

or maybe some delicious marzipan perros?

The Road to Huatulco

Art by Eric!

We were close to heartbroken last Tuesday as we packed to leave Oaxaca. There were hugs all around on the morning of our departure - even little Severa, our cook looked a little misty as she hugged us good-bye.

Amelia, our wonderful host

But our sadness was short lived once we arrived at the bus station where our next adventure was just beginning. After frightening night bus rides in Peru, we decided to take a day bus, assuming the 8+ hour ride would give us a chance to see more scenery, meet more people, and have more fun. The comfy ADP premium bus lived up fully to our expectations, and we had the foresight to reserve front seats where we could watch our driver give his special "papal" wave to each bus, truck, and other large vehicle that passed. He only took hands off the wheel to light a cigarette or straighten his tie, but he did so with such flare and self possession, we were never concerned that we might be bundled off into eternity in the mountains of Oaxaca.


Our arrival in Huatulco was suave - very smooth.


We waved down a cab and, within minutes, found ourselves at the gate of Hotel Delphinus, which was to become our base of operations for our exploration of beach life on the warm Pacific coast. We found this particular hotel on Trip Advisor and it looked like it had all the amenities we would need (AC) and it fit our budget nicely. Basically, in other words, it was a shot in the dark. Little did we know that we had stumbled onto one of the very best experiences, and some of the most interesting and simpatico people we have yet encountered on our Mexican recorrida.

Hotel Delphinus gate

The hotel owners, Roberto, and his wife Blanca, are incredibly gracious, helpful and knowledgeable when it comes to getting around the many playas of Huatulco. Several mornings, Roberto became our impromptu guide and go between. Unasked, he arranged beach outings for us and delivered us to beautiful places we would NEVER have found on our own. Roberto and Blanca are deeply committed to dog rescue in this area and always have a few dogs around that are being nursed back to health by a committed team of volunteers- including several veterinarians - who also help with spay and neutering projects and adoption programs. Currently we have two mama dogs here with 16 tiny puppies!

What do you do in a sleepy little beach town that is off the beaten path for most gringos? You eat and drink, swim and snorkel in bright blue water, surrounded by colorful fish of every shape and size.

Huatulco borders on a national aquatic preserve which includes 36 beaches (playas) - many of which, by federal law, are completely undeveloped. Other playas have some development, usually small beach front restaurants where you can order food and drink, rent snorkeling equipment and basically "plant yourself" for the day along with vacationing Mexican families.

We're getting pretty good at this by now- even venturing out on our own to find secret beaches, recommended by Roberto, to swim and sun or getting up before dawn to see the sunrise. Swim...dive with the fish...siesta...eat...drink cerveza..swim to a cormorant roost...siesta. Are we fluid yet or is it just the mezcal?