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April 17, 2004
Exchange rate: $1 = about 11 pesos
Hola amigos y familia:
If you're not already aware of it, the days leading up to Easter Sunday are called Semana Santa - Holy Week. In
any Catholic dominated culture this qualifies as a Really Big Deal! As is true in most of Latin America, Mexico
is heavily Catholic, at least in the same way that Indonesia is Muslim, Thailand is Buddhist and India is predominately
Hindu. This is to say that a particular religion dominates virtually aspect of the culture and that even if the
people in these countries have no clue whatsoever why, certain traditions and rituals are deeply rooted in their
daily lives. And at certain times of the year this is even more the case, like Semana Santa for instance. Many
of the actual ceremonies I saw were in a lovely small former mining town called Taxco, which I'll get to in my
next story.
Holy week was the first of two week's holiday for me since all the schools were closed down. I eagerly leaped on
to a bus headed for Mexico City…a six-hour journey, more or less…usually more. The cost of a first class ticket,
which is the only option for any sane person who can afford it: 322 pesos. Prior to departing you're given a ham
and cheese sandwich, two cookies and a beverage of your choice (excluding beer). Then your carry on bag is checked
and you're frisked.
On the journey you're treated (?) to three movies, usually of either the action or disaster genre. Big favorites
are Jean Claude Van Damme, Bruce Willis, Chuck Norris and that new guy, Vin Diesel is it? At least one will be
in English with Spanish sub-titles - otherwise they're dubbed into Spanish. Along the way there will be one significant,
unexplainable delay, but all in all it's a pretty comfy ride.
Once at Terminal del Norte in Mexico City (which from now on I'll refer to as DF, which stands for Distrito Federal
- what it's often called), I quickly found the local bus that went to the heart of the city: Centro Historico and
its Zocalo (town square). This is where most travelers go and it's a sound choice since it's where you'll find
the best selection of reasonable accommodation and plenty to keep you busy. Plus it's good base for exploring this
massive metropolis. And just how massive is it, you ask? Common consensus agrees that DF is the biggest city in
the world, with a population exceeding 20,000,000! Big enough for you?
Frankly, I'd had mixed feelings about going to DF since I frequently find huge cities to be overwhelming, the stress
of being there usually a poor tradeoff for all the benefits they offer. Too much concrete, glass, dirty air and
hustle and bustle and not enough nature and soothing serenity. I coped fine for nearly nineteen years in Phoenix
since I could and did get to the neighboring desert and not too far away mountains quickly and often. But I hated
with a passion having to be in or even drive through endlessly sprawling Los Angeles. New York City (the city so
nice they named it twice: N.Y., N.Y.) would be manageable for a week or maybe two… that was it for me. Living in
Berlin was at times a challenge, even though there's no more interesting city anywhere on the planet. And these
are modern Western cities, significantly smaller, cleaner and better organized than those in less "developed"
countries.
While in Bangkok for four days in 1992 I detested the traffic and pollution and Calcutta instantly depressed me,
despite meeting Mother Teresa there. In Africa two years ago I got in and out of Nairobi and Dar es Salaam as quickly
as I could…. several times. Last year I found it convenient to avoid Jakarta, aside from flying in and out of its
airport, which by the way, is all I've ever seen of Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and Taipei. I made a point of finding
a job in a small city in both Indonesia and Mexico. While considering my future employer in Latin America I'm ignoring
San Jose, Lima, Quito, etc., in favor of the cozier, more provincial locales. I guess I'm still a small town farm
boy at heart!
But having said all this I generally enjoyed DF, though the fact that many of its residents had abandoned it for
Holy Week surely made it more pleasurable. I was told that it was far less crowded than usual. DF has a dynamic
vibrancy, a magnificent art and cultural scene, and its rich history comes alive out of its many museums and stunning
architecture. Strangely, I was continually reminded of New York City as I walked around, sat in small restaurants,
rode on the metro and buses, passed by news stands, and was accosted by beggars. Both cities have a clearly identifiable
pulse, a rhythm. In N.Y., the residents are friendly but insist on getting to the point…same in DF. Both cities
have a reputation for crime, but in each case I felt as though I'd be fine if I just used my head a little. You
hear Spanish a lot in each. Ok… in DF everyone speaks Spanish and they don't have the Yankees… maybe I was stretching
the comparison a bit.
Once I reached the Zocalo (which is actually Plaza de la Constitucion), I checked into the Hostel Catedral on Guatemala
Street, directly behind…you guessed it, Catedral Metropolitana. 130 pesos/night will get you a bed in a four-person
dorm room and an adequate breakfast. The hostel was extremely clean and well tended to (I could have been in Bavaria!),
though noisy, plus many additional optional expenses were outrageous. The same 940 ml bottle of Corona I pay 15
pesos for in Zamora costs 40 pesos there! Ouch! But it's well located, huge (209 beds), and a great place to meet
fellow travelers from around the world.
Avoiding the warnings in the Lonely Planet guidebook to not walk around the Zocalo area alone at night, I explored
the area that evening, stuffing most of my money in my shoe and turning up the volume on my gangster shuffle! But
I didn't stay out too late and early the next day, after discovering to my dismay that the bullfight season was
over, I headed for a neighborhood I highly endorse: Coyoacan. To get there I utilized the metro for the first of
many times. It's a breeze, and at only 2 pesos (same as the bus), a bargain as well. With color-coded maps and
signs everywhere, only a half-sleeping, drug stupefied moron could fail to figure out how to get around.
About 10 km south of the Zocalo (this a BIG city), Coyoacan was a big hit with me…I loved it there! With its colonial-era
ambiance, narrow tree-lined streets, lush plazas, hip cafes, gorgeous architecture, fantastic local mercado (market),
and bohemian atmosphere it was a perfect place to spend a day, especially since that day was Sunday when musicians,
mimes and craft markets give it an extra element of excitement and entertainment. Another plus were two museums
there I was intent on seeing.
The first was Museo Leon Trotsky (30 pesos) where the controversial Russian revolutionary lived and was murdered.
I've never really been a fan of Trotsky but was none-the-less very keen on seeing this museum. His life and death
were of great interest to me since thirty years ago I was totally absorbed with the history and politics of late
19th and early 20th century Russia. In addition to this, Trotsky's time in Mexico was intertwined with that of
Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, a pair of artists whose art and lives I'm completely fascinated with. In fact, they
were the primary reason I'd warmed up the gangster shuffle and come to Mexico City!
In 1929, Trotsky fled what soon became the Soviet Union after Stalin condemned him to death in absentia, and in
1937 arrived in DF, thanks to the support of Rivera and Kahlo - dedicated and by then very famous communists. At
first Trotsky (with his wife) lived in Frida's Blue House, then managed to work in an affair with her (though she
was married to Rivera at the time and living in another house), and later had a falling out with both of them and
moved a few blocks away in 1939. This was to become the beginning of Leon's end.
In early 1940 attackers led by famous muralist David Siqueiros (a Stalinist who'd been a commander in the Spanish
Civil War) launched an attack on the house and you can still see a couple of hundred bullet holes in the walls.
Having survived the assault by hiding under the bed (that old trick again!), he then lived within a virtual fortress
with a watchtower, high walls and armed guards, tending to his chickens and carrying on with his Fourth International
preoccupations until a Catalan who'd gained his trust buried an ice ax in his head a few months later. The house
is much the same as it was the day he died.
A short walk away is the aforementioned Blue House, or Museo Frida Kahlo (20 pesos), where she was born in 1907,
died in 1954, and lived from time to time. It was brilliant; I could so clearly get a sense of her difficult, painful
life with its furniture, artwork, mementoes, decorations, artifacts and a luscious outer garden. Here she hosted
wild parties for her political and artistic cohorts while creating deeply personal paintings that vividly portray
her physical suffering, insecurities, bi-sexuality and radical politics. She was an immense talent, an outrageous
but revered personality, Mexico's most internationally famous artist, and for those who share my fascination with
her I can't recommend the Blue House enough.
After returning from Taxco a week later I also went to Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo (10 pesos)
where the two of them lived from 1934 to 1940, when they divorced…for a year before remarrying again. This is the
famous avant-garde abode with separate houses connected via elevated walkway. It has some of their art and lots
of memorabilia and, although it didn't captivate me to the degree that the Blue House did, is well worth visiting.
It's located in the nearby, exceedingly posh area of DF called San Angel.
 On most of this trip I was joined by a close friend of mine Tina who was born in Hamburg, but who's
lived most of her life in California. We taught English at the same time in Stuttgart, Germany and did some traveling
together while there. Does anyone recall the Great Escape from the metro cops in Budapest? She was my partner in
crime! She's now in Santa Cruz and flew down so we could hang out, bring each other up to date, and see what kind
of trouble we could get into this time. One day after I got to DF she arrived and the following Monday morning
we took the metro to Terminal Norte, then paid 25 pesos each for a ticket to Teotihuacan - a journey north by bus
of about an hour.
 Teotihuacan
is an archeological zone that once was Mexico's largest ancient city and grandest pre-Hispanic empire. It was pre-Aztec
as well and flourished from about 150 AD to the mid 7th century when it collapsed, primarily due to environmental
degradation. It's one of those "must see attractions" so consequently expect sizable crowds. Admittance
is 38 pesos. Get there early, wear a hat, strong sunscreen and sturdy walking shoes, and I also suggest bringing
along all the drinking water and tasty snacks you can carry, unless you're especially fond of being grossly overcharged.
Teotihuacan was and is big; consequently the best mindset is to be up for a hefty walk. It's a good idea to pull
out your map and develop a strategy for Teotihuacan, appraising your levels of both energy and interest in antiquity.
And don't let the hawkers get into your head! Geez, there must be an ever-expanding market for dumb stuff, because
there sure is a lot of it there and I presume that all of them are selling enough of it to stay in business. If
you're stationary for very long then you make an easier target, but then again it gives you yet another opportunity
to practice your Spanish.
Fast Eddie Travel Tip: ease up to a pre-existing group standing around for some no-charge ease-dropping
- a few minutes of helpful explanation by a tour guide always adds a little perspective to it all. Then you can
be really cheeky like Tina and, despite not paying for the guide, ask them a bunch of questions! Also, the Museo
Mauel Gamio is worth stopping at.
At its peak the city included as many as 200,000 residents spread out over 156 square kilometers and extending
control as far south as Honduras. Most of the major structures had a pyramid-like style, adorned with what were
bright polychrome murals, now substantially faded in most cases. Just past the entrance you're likely to quickly
find yourself on Calle de los Muertos (Street of the Dead), named as such since it was lined with vast tombs of
the city's first rulers. Much catchier than Main Street, don't you think? And here is Templo de Quetzalcoatl, an
elaborate structure with carvings, sculptures and paintings that reveal these people's preoccupation with animistic
gods. In this case, Quetzalcoatl was a sharp-fanged, feathered, serpent deity, a symbol of fertility and life.
He's pretty cool looking.
Both the detail and the scale seen all over Teotihuacan are impressive. The Piramide del Sol (Pyramid of the Sun)
is  especially
remarkable, the second largest ancient building in Mexico and almost exactly the same size as the great Pyramid
of Cheops in Egypt. It is massive! And similar to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza on the Yucatan, there is a geometric
alignment to the calendar that's unerringly accurate. Twice a year the sun is directly overhead at noon and the
west facade exactly faces the point where the sun sets on both of those nights.
Equally remarkable is how the millions of tons of stone and earth used to build it were moved without the benefit
of the wheel or any beast of burden, and it was all shaped without use of a metal tool. Of course there were wars
and slavery and their steady stream of both free labor and subjects for human sacrifices, a favorite past time
back then. My, but did the blood ever flow! It wasn't just the periodic virgin - sometimes parades of victims were
sacrificed, their hearts ripped out and offered as an appeasement. This was typical in all the pre-Hispanic cultures.
 After we'd ascended
to the top of Piramide del Sol Tina scampered off to check out a few other structures since there are many to view
and climb on, including the similar but somewhat smaller Piramide de la Luna farther down Calle de los Muertos.
While she did this I settled down to do what I often do at places like this: sit back, check for belly button lint,
and try to take it all in. I understand that the historical Buddha and modern quantum physicists have all insisted
that time and space are illusions and don't even exist, except in our distorted perceptions. But in my delusional
world of observations and conclusions I was scrambling to make sense of it all… to try and grasp the phenomenon
of Teotihuacan.
That's why history interests me so - real people lived there, and despite the fact it was nearly 2000 years ago,
presumably shared much of what we know today as the human experience. What was day-to-day life actually like for
them then? What was different and what was the same as today? What were they thinking and feeling? What were their
aspirations, fears and visions? Did they eat tamales? I needed time and space to contemplate all this. By the end
of the day I'd gotten no new self-realizations, but was glad I'd gone there.
Back in DF, the area around the Zocalo abounded with activity and options. One of my goals/obsessions was to visit
various locations displaying the extraordinary murals Mexico City so richly possesses, thanks mainly to a trio
of extraordinary artists: David Siqueiros, Jose Clemente Orozco and Diego Rivera. All fervently revolutionary minded
men of immense talent, they left a tapestry of Mexico's history draped along the walls of many buildings in this
city. Our first stop was among the best for us: Secretaria de Educacion Publica (free on Tuesdays), a large complex
of buildings for the Public Education Ministry. Contained there is primarily the monumental work of Diego Rivera,
the central figure in this triumvirate of impassioned men.
120 frescos cover 1,500 square meters of walls on three flours, surrounding two breathtaking courtyards, each centered
with lilac trees in full bloom, magnificently purple and richly aromatic. Just the building and presence of nature
were well worth the visit; peaceful and nurturing. But then add in the murals - brilliant displays of Mexico's
history: people's lives, dreams, struggles, conquests, and sufferings woven into many scenes of social life, all
consolidated into a movement of deep social injustice.
 The walls
come alive and tell the stories of industry, agriculture, class struggle and its heroes of various eras, like Aztec
kings, or early independence days' patriots, or 20th century figures like Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata, or
very often the masses of people themselves. The main theme is brotherhood and strong women who tirelessly resist
the evil rich, the greedy capitalists. There was no danger of confusing who're the good guys and who are the bad
guys. This is a black-white world being portrayed with a passion, swept up in the leftist political optimism of
the1920s, when the Bolsheviks controlled the newly created Soviet Union and when communist movements thrived around
the world.
Despite the over the top propaganda, the effect is stunning! Both Tina and I relished the impact of these murals
and the whole setting, lingering and savoring all three levels and commenting on what a delight it'd be to come
to work there. "I'd bring a lunch and sit in a different spot each day to eat it!" she chirped optimistically.
It's Rivera's earlier work, somewhat simple in style but clear in intent: to raise the consciousness of the largely
illiterate population. I'd been to his birthplace (now a museum) in Guanajuato last fall and was thrilled to finally
see his frescoes.
With a big smile on our faces we then took the short walk to Museo de San Ildefonso (also free on Tuesdays, are
you seeing a pattern here?), originally a 16th century Jesuit college. It contains much less output and more heavily
represents Orozco, though there are frescos by Siqueiros and Rivera, including a large one off to the side in the
amphitheatre… easy to overlook.
Also not to miss is the Palacio de Bella Artes, but it would be hard to miss this white-marble palace that dominates
the eastern end of the Alameda, a sizable, pleasant downtown park, complete with many fountains, trees, benches
and vendors readily available for your various needs. Some of Mexico's finest murals are on the second and third
floors there, each of the celebrated three being well represented. My favorite was Rivera's El Hombre, Contralor
del Universo which was completed in 1934. The original had been done in Rockefeller Center in New York, but was
destroyed by the family due to its anti-capitalist theme. "Gee fellas, what did you think you were going get
from this guy? An American flag? Hello!" It's supposed to be free on Sundays, but yet we paid nothing on that
particular Tuesday either.
I also went to Museo Mural Diego Rivera (15 pesos), which exists only to display one fresco: Sueno de una Tarde
Dominical en al Alameda (Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in the Alameda). Painted in 1947 in the Hotel del Prado it
was, with immense and painstaking difficulty, relocated after the hotel was wrecked in the horrific earthquake
of 1985 that killed more than 10,000 people. The fifteen by five meter mural is filled with images of 2000 years
of Mexican history, with both he and Frida positioned directly in the middle. No self-esteem issues here! This
is a Rivera classic, for sure. The accompanying explanations are great and there're plenty of photos and other
material on his life that make this a must stop.
Here and there around the city the architecture is impressive, some of it stately and elegant. I was honestly
surprised at just how pretty DF was in some areas and there's enough there to see you could easily spend a couple
of weeks exploring the city. If I'd wanted to look at more Rivera murals, the Palacio Nacional would have been
the choice as it has plenty and is free. It's also home to the offices of both the federal treasury and President
Fox, so you might want to bring some ID, while at the same time leaving any large pointed objects back in your
hotel room.
If you're not burned out on churches then the Catedral Metropolitana directly on the Zocalo is worth stepping into….
and there are others, of course. And quality museums are in high supply. One afternoon Tina zoomed off to Chapultepic
Park to see the magnificent Museo Nacional de Antropologia, considered to be the finest in Latin America and among
the best in the world (free on Sundays). All reports from Tina and everyone else I've known who've gone there is
that it's amazing. I just wasn't in the mood for it and have no remorse about not going. What I am sorry I missed
is a performance in front of the museum of indigenous Totonac people "flying" from a 20-meter high pole.
It's their spectacular "voladores" rite and is done several times a day. Tina raved about it.
Sooner or later you'll get around to eating in DF and I've got a couple of tips for you. Several times Tina and
I ate at the appropriately named El Popular on 5 de Mayo, a block and a half off the Zocalo. It's especially good
for breakfast and the lines are worth it! Up the street is Café La Blanca that's also a good value, though
devoid in charm. I found food to be quite expensive in DF, especially since cheap food stalls were limited in some
areas and sit down meals would then be the only option. In general this is an expensive place to visit. An Argentina/Uruguay
couple in DF for a weeklong symposium said it was twice as expensive as where they were from! One amazing but outrageously
expensive restaurant we went to was at Teotihuacan. It was called La Gruta and was within a vast cavern. Tina was
so eager to eat there that she picked up the tab for lunch, thereby ensuring my full support.
After two nights at the hostel we changed to the nearby Hotel San Antonio, which is down an alley off La Palma.
It was 200 pesos total for a double and we loved it there…. stayed three nights in total. Both the room and the
people were terrific. Turn by the Pizza Hut. For a great view of the Zocalo at any time, go to the Majestic Hotel
and take an elevator to the top floor for a drink… or more if you can afford it.
After Wednesday, Thursday and Friday days/nights of Semana Santa in Taxco, which I'll write about next time, we
were back in DF on the eve of Easter and there was a huge rally in the Zocalo: big stages, raucous bands, frenzied
speakers and thousands of people waving their hands, shouting and totally into the excitement. The music was hip-hop,
the atmosphere was charged with religious fervor, and Jesus was very popular that night! Blankets were thrown down
on the pavement and families huddled together, eating and talking when they weren't on their feet cheering. Some
of those there looked desperately poor, but the mood was ultimately festive. Tomorrow would be the Big Day!
The next morning Tina headed for the airport and home. Since I was also on my way out of town that day I took the
metro out to Basilica de Guadalupe, since it's not far from Terminal Norte where all buses heading north depart
from. Legend has it that back in 1531 a Christian convert named Juan had a vision of the Virgin Mary. Not once
but twice, and the second time an image of her became miraculously emblazoned on his cloak. So as often happens
in these situations there just had to be a church built.
Over the centuries Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, or Our Lady of Guadalupe, has received credit for numerous miracles
and has evolved into the Patrona Principle of Nueva Espana. Today her image is everywhere all over Mexico, with
outdoor shrines particularly evident leading up to and on her feast day of December 12. So the Basilica is a major
pilgrimage site, is still being used and has been remodeled a few times over the centuries. But based on demand,
next to it is another newer, bigger (10,000 seats) version to handle the hordes who come to see the famous cloak
hanging above the altar. Up the hill takes you to the Capilla del Cerrito, a smaller chapel with an excellent view
over the city and the distant snow-covered volcanoes.
It was easy to find the Basilica as all I needed to do was follow the mass of devotees from the metro… past another
mass of people selling religious articles and food. It clearly had a theme park feeling and I reckon Mickey Mouse
would have been more in place than out of place! It was Easter Sunday, one of the holiest days of the year for
the faithful, but I could get only a glimpse of what I perceived to be spiritual authenticity. Ok, there were a
few folks on their knees in penance or devotion, but for most of those there it resembled a festival and shopping
spree.
I was raised a Catholic and I recall dressing up for church - my mom even made me wear a tie and sport coat! Common
day to day fashion in Mexico is teenage girls wearing skintight jeans and tops that threaten to spill out their
bouncing boobs - what might be referred to as jailbait. Well, going to church had no affect on the attire of these
young ladies! On one of the teenager's t-shirts was written, "Hot Stuff!". Another's said, "Sexy!!!".
One guy's shirt said, "Nazi Scum - Fuck Off!". There were also a few colorful Che Guevara shirts, as
he's hugely popular in Mexico. But of course Che was an ardent communist and subsequently a hardcore atheist. I
wonder if the guys wearing Che's image on their shirts really knew at all what he actually stood for, any more
than they'd given a moment's thought as to why they'd come to the Basilica on Easter Sunday.
On the way out I stopped at a food stand that had some tempting-looking tamales. Sitting down at a plastic picnic
table to eat them, I found myself chatting with a brother and sister who spoke English quite well. They'd come
with other family members and were quick to both make me feel welcome and to find out what my story was. After
exchanging the normal pleasantries and satisfying their curiosity, I went directly for the jugular, "You're
Catholic, correct? Ok, what do you think about all the commercialism here? Doesn't it bother you at least a little?"
The woman shrugged it off, "Times are hard here and everyone deserves a chance to make an honest living, however
they can. Some people who come here want to buy something for their families, so what's the harm? Me, I'm no…what
do you call it, a fanatic? Sure I believe in God, but it's not the show we put on for others but what's in our
heart that's important, right? What does it matter what religion you have? They all teach the same thing - to love
one another and to forgive - that's what Jesus and the others all said. Religions just divide people and most people
who follow them, no matter what their religion is, never think about what they believe anyway. And for some of
these people, it's all the hope they have. So, how're your tamales?"
I was really glad I'd met them!
Next stop… former silver mining town Taxco,
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Peace,