How I loved the Mexican boys once — Meandering through central Mexico
Mexico. A country I have always been fascinated with. My earliest memory of anything remotely “Mexico” can be traced back to the days I was growing up in India — the FIFA World Cup that used to get us all belligerent once in four years.
I still remember the way all four of us (my parents and sister and I) ganged up to root for the Mexican boys. We never whined even when the matches rolled well past midnight. In fact, decibels soared in the event of a penalty shoot out. Fiery, frantic, flamboyant.
That was then; and now, a couple of decades later, thanks to a travel-happy husband, Mexico cast the most bewitching glance as soon as our flight hit the tarmac.
Soaking in the heritage
Mayan ruins, Aztec art, Spanish cathedrals — magical, colorful, breathtaking. The present day Mexico is a rich cultural potpourri of heritage, history, and traditions, with a bold dash of modernism. Glowing seductively, exciting travelers to explore a country beyond the notorious headlines it is so infamous for.
We first set our eyes on the Three Cultures Square, a confluence of Mayan, Aztec, and Spanish architectural evidence. Frank, our tour advisor, knew his territory and its history too. He gave us a run-through of how this square is so pivotal to understanding Mexico as it is today. Frank tickled us to look back into history. And we did.
The Shrine of Guadalupe falls en route to Teotihuacán. We were excited to climb up the stairway to the shrine. The atmosphere was festive, colorful — thrumming with Mariachi, a signature sound of the land.
Hundreds of people teemed around the modern Basilica. The ground boomed with the sound of music, and the bright sun mirrored on the shining red, the men wore for the occasion. We took photos galore. Frank told us a story about the Day of the Virgin of the Guadalupe. Legend has it that:
A man named Juan Diego encountered the Virgin Mary twice in Mexico City, on December 9 and December 12 in 1531. Mary told Juan to ask a bishop to build a church on Tepeyac Hill. However, the bishop needed proof of Juan’s encounter with Mary and asked for a miracle.
Juan returned to the hill and found roses in a spot where there were previously cacti. He returned with the roses and showed them to the archbishop and also revealed an image on his cloak of the Lady of Guadalupe. The bishop was convinced of the miracle and built a church in honor of the event.
Every year a Catholic Feast is held from December 9 to December 12 to celebrate this belief — thousands of Catholics partake in this fiesta from all over the world in traditional costumes and finery, making it a prominent religious festival.
The image of Mary, believed to be authentic, is mounted high on the church wall, a haven for the pilgrims. Virgen Morena they call her.
Land of the ancient gods
We got into the car afterward, whizzing past suburban stretches; scenes of Indian rural patches came to mind. Soon we were going to see the mysterious pyramids — Las Pirámides del Sol y la Luna (the Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon) located in the spectacular pre-Hispanic ruins of Teotihuacán, 50 km northeast of Mexico City.
We were pretty excited. An aging but raring Russian couple joined us in the trip. Free-spirited, they mostly lived life on the roads; we traded travel tales. After a while hunger took over, and we checked in at a boutique styled restaurant. We were quite amused at first when Frank left us in the hands of “Miss America.”
Lying around were some indigenous sculptures and artifacts from the factory. Miss America, in her heavy accent, gave a running commentary, explaining the origins of the cactus and its extracts. She seemed like a funky host, entertaining us with tequila shots.
Post lunch we were in the middle of a city, which was built around the 1st century. It was ancient, drilled with history and rumblings of the past. In about 1300 A.D., the Aztecs discovered the abandoned city. They named the place Teotihuacán, or “the place where gods were born.”
Walking around a place so enormous in its span and legacy felt strangely nostalgic. It was as if we were put on a time machine, one that was built on the premise of surviving through the odds and challenges of subsequent generations.
These pyramids are unlike the ones in Egypt. There are no chambers. Just solid structures, some coming alive with wall paintings. One could still climb to the top of the pyramids, as they did thousands of years ago, to appease the masters of the universe!
The Russian couple did that in style. They strode up the pyramid steadily, holding hands. They came down the same way, only this time the woman flashed a glittering stone on her ring finger. The man, she said, proposed to her at the top!
Down on the road people were selling handicrafts. We bought a bow and an arrow with a few Pesos. I was desperately looking for a white sombrero. There were a variety of other colors, but none that I would fancy on our living room wall. I finally picked up a black.
The line of shops on both sides of the entrance looked like an exhibit, a fair of sorts. We walked for miles, and only stopped when our limbs gave in.
Music and worship
The following morning we started off for Puebla — a two-hour drive from the capital. The blazing sun was on top of us when we got down at the Great Pyramid of Cholula.
A fascinating pole flying dance caught our attention as soon as we arrived. Danza de los Voladores — a Mesoamerican ritual, performed as a tribute to the rain gods. Five men climb a tall pole attached with ropes — sitting on top they play flutes and drums, lending a mystical tone to the whole surrounding. Slowly they swirl around and make a dancing descent to the ground. Lovely, photogenic.
From there on, we stepped up to the Lady of Remedies, a beautiful church atop a mountain with stunning views. It is perched on the greatest archaelogical site in the world, popularly known as the Great Pyramid of Cholula.
The pilgrims take a cobblestone path to the shrine, often pausing for breath. The spirtual and the natural merge once you are on top as you see Popocatépetl — the smoking mountain looming in the background. Looking at the distant horizon it seemed that it was probably not a good day to see the volcanic fumes, though we went in with much anticipation.
Finding God in the details — Gorgeous baroque
Cholula is truly a city of churches, colonial cathedrals showcasing dazzling baroque. We stepped into a few of them, and found ourselves staring at the resplendent designs, elegant sculptures, and magnificent wall paintings. What a way to conceive art as religion. Beautiful, thought provoking.
The city of Puebla couldn’t have been more familiar. It had all the buzz any Indian town would generate. A busy, bustling city with pretty alleys.
My eyes searched for the men I grew up watching from our first television set. They were everywhere, getting past you with a swag, thronging the restaurants, cramming the bus stops, whistling away with a carelessness that immediately strikes a chord. Men and women rejoicing in sheer abandon — they kissed and loved, under the neon glow of street lights.
I fell in love with Talavera pottery — a hugely prominent feature in Puebla. There were heavily ornate churches around with overwhelming baroque art; we stepped into a few and were dazzled by the designs. The church of Santo Domingo in particular, was considered in its time to be the eighth wonder of the world.
Love has no fears
There is so much to discover about Mexico that a trip again in the future is only hauntingly compulsive.
Strolling around the Zócalo, we discovered an easy-going lifestyle; we forgot all our fears as we watched people buying, selling, haggling, laughing, and making conversations in a language we didn’t quite understand.
But, we sure did feel the vibes. Vibes that told us so much about the people and the place. Vibrant, stylish, artistic, earthy. No surprise, Frida Kahlo was born here. One of the most beautiful artists of all times.
My husband Amitabha Ghosh and I visited Mexico in 2014, during the Thanksgiving holidays. It has been our best vacation so far.
