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| Come fly with us! |
The first morning in Puebla, Mexico, we are groggy and
spacey from the “tube to tube” process (airport, plane, connecting flight, airport,
taxi, hotel) of leaving home and arriving somewhere else.
But now we are here in Puebla and we have a plan. First day,
we’ll take a tour to get the lay of the land, see a few local attractions and
based on what we find, we’ll flesh things out. Perfecto. We launch ourselves toward the zocalo
in search of tour buses. Instead, we fall into a Mexican pinball experience. It
happens like this: before we take the tour, we decide we should have some
coffee to clear our heads. We find a sunny place facing the zocalo and dazzling
cathedral. As it happens, sitting next to us is a klatch of cigar puffing,
espresso sipping city fathers. Lynn tells them they are a “guapo” group of
guys, and asks to take a photo. They respond by inviting us to join them.
Instantly we are peppered with questions, requests, and advice. A lawyer
sitting beside Lynn asks if we could help him get in touch with his girlfriend
from 35 years ago who now lives in Portland, another gentleman across the table
declares that we will be perfectly safe in Veracruz despite some recent
violence, the man to Eric’s right, a former police officer and karate black
belt discusses the health virtues of corn silk and offers a recipe. Still
another gentleman invites us to his restaurant that is just a few blocks away.
None of these men speak English, but don’t seem to mind as we chop our way
through basic Spanish. Somehow information is exchanged, new acquaintances
made. And then, they disburse just like the cigar smoke that circled us for the
last hour with kisses on the cheek.
We notice a small, beautiful church, the Capilla Del Rosario
a block or so away, so we decide to check it out. As church interiors go, it is
one of the most stunning we have ever seen in Mexico. Gold leaf covers the main
part of the church from floor to ceiling; we spend some time watching the light
from high stained glass windows travel across the grand murals that cover the
walls.
Eventually, we remember the tour bus plan from this morning
but we decide it’s a little too late for that. Instead we spot a small museum
of religious statutes. The museum, covered in spectacular tiles, houses two floors of beautifully rendered
paint-on-clay tesoros of saints and other holy figures that are stunningly
lifelike. 
We finish the tour just as music strikes up below us. From the second
floor we look down on an orchestra that has been rehearsing for a cultural
event later in the week. We watch and listen for a few moments and turn to
leave. Out of nowhere, a line of teenage ballerinas suddenly appears. They are
warming up down a hallway, waiting for their turn to present dance routines
under the watchful eye of their teacher. After they oblige us with a few
photos, we follow them down to the main floor and watch their performances. By
day’s end, we manage to find a helpful Tourist Information office and construct
a new plan for the next morning.
The new day dawns and we sally forth with our
straightforward new plan: we will head out to Cholula, a small suburb just
outside of Puebla to see the Pyramid Tepanapa – said to be the largest in
Mexico. We plan to take a collectivo from downtown Puebla station, head out of
town about 10 miles or so, see the sights and come back home. What could be
simpler.? Except, we cannot find the collectivos, anywhere. Plan B: we take a
cab to the bus station, take a bus to Cholula, etc, etc. What could be simpler?
Except, Eric directs the taxi driver to the wrong bus station, kilometers out
of the way, where the only available bus is a local milk run that stops at
Every. Single. Neighborhood between Puebla and Cholula. Now the simple morning
plan of a nice two or three hour sightseeing journey has become a grinding
slog.
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| This is our reality? |
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| We are inside! |
Finally, tired, thirsty and thoroughly rattled by the stop
and go bus, we arrive near the pyramid. Thinking we should pause to regroup at
a highly touted restaurant with a Frieda Kahlo theme, we order drinks. Eric
thinks he asks for a beer, but instead receives some strange concoction, which
appears to be two shrimp climbing out of a pool of Clamato juice with an
inverted beer bottle at the other end. What the hell? Eric fearing for what else might be swimming in the Clamato,
sets the drink aside. Oh well, at least we’re here, right? Soon we’re off to
see the archeological museum and the pyramid. Except, the museum near the
pyramid isn’t the right one. Instead, we find ourselves herded deep into the
bowels of the ancient Olmec/Totonac structure without a clue as to what we are
seeing. Single file we wriggle up and down through a labyrinth of barely lit
short-person sized tunnels. From time to time the passages open up to reveal
the astonishing number of levels below and above. At one such place, we can see
down a hundred foot shaft of stone upon stone, and above us another 100 feet of
levels all of which were placed by hand over the centuries as the pyramid was
rebuilt and added to time after time. One recurring thought, in spite of the
fascinating historical significance, was what if an earthquake hit about now.
Would anyone even know to look for us…answer, no, they would not. Oh well, what
did we expect for our 80 pesos, to live forever?
Finally we do emerge from the spooky depths and discover
that we have actually climbed about 2/3 of the way up the pyramid only inside,
not outside as we have done in the past. Below us is Cholula and above us is a
church. There is something strangely symbolic about a church built on top of a
pyramid – almost the whole story of the Spanish conquest of Mexico in one
visual statement. As we complete the last steps up to the temple, a wedding
party emerges all done up in traditional Mexican garb, complete with mounted
caballeros who somehow managed to get their horses up the steep path to the
top. It looks more interesting to us to follow the wedding party down the road
to a huge zocalo than to spend time looking at vistas of Puebla, so we fall in
line with the dazzlingly dressed bride and groom and their mounted retinue. We
wind down the mountain among people and horses to the zocalo. 
As we do, we see
tiny figures whirling in mid air around a 100-foot pole in the center of the
square. These are the Voladores of Papantla who just happen to be there right
at the moment we arrive with the wedding party. No one could have planned this better, yet we simply stumbled
into the show. Turns out these folks climb up the unbelievably high pole and
launch themselves into space with nothing but a rope wrapped around their legs
and ankles. It is a mystic ritual whose actual meaning seems to be lost in
time, but there is no doubt about the breathtaking quality of the performance.
Eric reflects that the mere thought of climbing up to a platform that high off
the ground, let alone plunging backwards into thin air is enough to set loose
the contents of every orifice - accompanied by inhuman screams of terror.
Suffice it to say that the performance would be an entirely different affair
for those below! Apparently, the main reason they do this is to sell the
vanilla extract that comes from their native farms. We buy a bottle. It seems the least we could do.
