Hostal Moneda, we were surprised to discover, offers ready-made tours of most of the places we wanted to see (with English speaking guides, which is key!). At first we were wary of being herded from one site to another like gaping cattle; we like to envision ourselves as nonconformists. But the groups were small and fun, and allowed us to get to know our fellow world-traveler hostelers, most of whom were on extended vacations and thus asked us where we were "going next" after Mexico City. Um...back to work? Not to Guatemala or the Yucatan instead, like some people...Hmph.
The first whirl-wind day tour took us from the hostel to Tlatelolco, another site of excavated Aztec ruins, and the 17th century Templo de Santiago (Santiago Church), built using the Aztec-hewn volcanic rock. Some Aztec symbols are discernable in the stones on the Cathedral. I love the irony.
The site is also unfortunately infamous for the Tlatelolco Massacre of 1968, when police and military shot student demonstrators ... and their families and passers-by ... only ten days before the Summer Olympics in Mexico City. Anywhere from 200 to 1000 people were killed, but official police report is still apparently "4 dead, 20 wounded " (Wikipedia). Apparently, the "incident" is still under investigation.
The site of the Tlatelolco Massacre of 1968.
After that cheery start, we continued north towards the site of Juan Diego's vision of the Virgin Mary, which also happens to be a hill once used for the worship of the Aztec female deity, Tonantzin. Coincidence?
Juan Diego was an indigenous Mexican who converted to Catholicism. He received the vision of the Virgin in December of 1531, when on his way to church: "The Lady asked Juan Diego to tell the bishop of Mexico, a Franciscan named Juan de Zumárraga, that she wanted a 'teocalli,' a sacred little house, to be built on the spot where she stood" (Wiki.) When the Bishop refused to believe Diego's tale, Diego returned to the hill and received a second vision, in which the dark-skinned Virgin was surrounded by roses. He gathered some of the roses (a plant not native to Mexico) in his humble cloak and brought them to the Bishop. As he let the roses fall on the floor at the Bishop's feet, his cloak revealed a painted an image of the Virgin, surrounded by roses and a golden glow. The Virgen de Guadalupe has been Mexican Catholics' savior ever since. Her image is certainly hard to escape.
Juan Diego was an indigenous Mexican who converted to Catholicism. He received the vision of the Virgin in December of 1531, when on his way to church: "The Lady asked Juan Diego to tell the bishop of Mexico, a Franciscan named Juan de Zumárraga, that she wanted a 'teocalli,' a sacred little house, to be built on the spot where she stood" (Wiki.) When the Bishop refused to believe Diego's tale, Diego returned to the hill and received a second vision, in which the dark-skinned Virgin was surrounded by roses. He gathered some of the roses (a plant not native to Mexico) in his humble cloak and brought them to the Bishop. As he let the roses fall on the floor at the Bishop's feet, his cloak revealed a painted an image of the Virgin, surrounded by roses and a golden glow. The Virgen de Guadalupe has been Mexican Catholics' savior ever since. Her image is certainly hard to escape.
The Cloak on High
Excuse the blurriness of the above photo, but we were on airport-style moving walkways intended to enhance our religious experience. (The walkways were put in to keep bystanders from camping out underneath the relic.)
Two of the Virgin of Guadalupe churches, New and Old
In late afternoon, after it had gotten nice and toasty outside, we drove 45 minutes northeast of the city to Teotihuacan, the Aztec name for the abandoned pyramid city (or Tee-o-ti-rock-on, as my friends at the hostel--Raj and Steve--termed it). We know very little about the people who built the city--at least, Wikipedia and my tour guide knew very little, so I can't fill you in here. We do know that "earliest buildings at Teotihuacan date to about 200 BCE" and that the city was abandoned "sometime during the 7th or 8th centuries," also for unknown reasons (Wikipedia, my friend). The city would have been painted and decorated, and what we see now is only a skeleton.
At Teotihuacan, looking down the Avenue of the Deadtoward the Temple of the Sun
On the Temple of the Sun, facing north to the Temple of the Moon
Miša was a little nervous about climbing the pyramids at first, but they proved quite manageable. Please note that there is NO SHADE ANYWHERE, however! We looked a little lobsterish the next day, when we got in the tour van again and headed south to Coyoacan, Frida Kahlo's neighborhood.
Our hyperactive tour guide, Gerson, kept us hopping and bobbing along with self-interrupted stories of the criminals of Mexico's past. He once stopped a man praying in church to ask him whether Benito Juarez--former president of Mexico--was "bueno o malo" (good or bad). The man responded, "Bueno, claro que si!" (Good, of course!) Gerson immediately turned to us and said, "See what I mean! They've all been brainwashed!" Unfortunately, the man understood English.
I've been in love with Frida ever since I saw the Salma Hayek movie version of her life--Miša too. And of course, as feminists, we HAD to visit the "blue house," which belonged to her parents and is where she spent a considerable amount of time recuperating from back surgeries. She and her husband, the famous Diego Rivera, spent some time there before moving to a house they'd built on their own. It was here that she had an affair with Leon Trotsky.
Frida Kahlo's House
For lunch, we headed over to Xochimilco, a borough of Mexico City that contains canals; it serves as reminder that the city was once surrounded by water. Now, of course, it is the tourist spot of tourist spots, and the canals are overrun with boats carrying drunk college students, gaping tourists, and fun-lovin' mariachi bands.
The Boats of Xochimilco
Dancing to the tune of Mariachi music.
(Please note that our van driver had decided to give Miša a "hand" with the hip movements.)
(Please note that our van driver had decided to give Miša a "hand" with the hip movements.)
Our last full day in "the City" was spent tracking down every last Diego Rivera mural we could find and nosily wandering into guarded courtyards, smiling cheerfully at the befuddled guards. The best murals were at the offices of the Secretary of Public Education, and comprised the walls of three stories of the complex.
part of the Diego Rivera Mural in the Secretaria de Educacion Publica,
'Death of a Capitalist'
'Death of a Capitalist'
We dragged along a man we'd picked up at Hostal Moneda: Ofer, who was making a leisurely trip through Latin America, starting in Costa Rica and ending...well, that remains to be seen. He's currently stretched upon my couch, contemplating a U.S. tour.
Ofer patiently translated for us, shared his Jugos Canada smoothies, and posed for our goofy shots in good humor. He also manages to get the best fortune cookie fortunes ever: "You have had a long term stimulation relative to business."
Sculptura de Ofer
And so our blissful whirlwind tour of Mexico City drew to a close. I'll leave you with a picture of the dancers and drummers who gathered outside the Cathedrale every afternoon and evening to shake their booties on the sidewalk. Hasta la vista, baby!
The "Aztec" dancers outside the Catedrale
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