The 'Mansion' on the Hill

It appears as if the rainy season may be over.  Like magic, all of a sudden the skies are clear blue and there is a nice crisp breeze.  It is exactly a day like this that makes one realize they have been seeking shelter indoors too much lately.  The immediate reaction is to get out and stay out!  Tonya feels this too, and suggests we take a drive to the old abandoned monastery that lies hidden in the hills above the city.

An old tour book says that it is less than 15 miles form the place to our local plaza.  We have tried to reach it taking the back roads, a long twisty drive up the Desierto de los Leones, but called it off after we thought we were going the wrong way.  We soon found out we were actually closer to reaching our goal than we thought.  I like this drive.  When you fly in to Mexico City or stand at a good vantage point, you see it goes on and on forever.  The sprawl is horrendous.  Yes, truly horrendous, not a figure of speech.  Most of the blight spreads out and up the mountains surrounding the city.  Talk about ghettos, it looks like miles and miles of dumpsters as far as the eye can see.  well, dumpsters and shredded clothes flailing in the wind.  One would never imagine anything but garbage up in these hills.  Take a closer look and you may be surprised. I was.

This old monastery is high up in the hills.  Yes, going up you look down on the blight and pass through several neighborhoods, or perhaps one-time Pueblas.  Some of it is gritty and gross, some just a bit forgotten, but there is loads of charm and color.  You twist and turn through all the mess and traffic and then you find yourself getting your vision obscured by ore and more pine trees.  The higher you go, you seem to immediately notice a change in the scent that is around you.  No longer is it exhaust and rotting garbage, but now it is cleaner, crisp and the faintness of pine can be detected.  This is one of those unexpected surprises, in no time at all, you look over the mountains and all you see are trees.  In this case, you can't see the city because of the trees.  The blight is gone, the smell is strong and now all one can hear are those odd and soothing 'forest echoes'.

You make a turn and there it is, this abandoned monastery in the middle of a forest, over looking the city.  It is so odd and yet such a relief.  It was wonderful and cool up here.  The sun shining and the sounds of birds in the air.  Of course, as soon as the people who work at the food stands see you, voices explode and echo all around you.  All these women yelling at you to come and have food from their stall.  You would think you had just walked into the middle of a bad neighborhood in the Gaza strip with all the commotion and yelling.  It dies down almost immediately when they realize you are here for the old ruins, not the food. "they do have good quesadillas", Tonya says.  We will definitely keep that in mind.

As we get to the entrance of the monastery, one notices quiet music playing.  Yes, this place is piping in stuff like Gregorian chants.  For a moment I think this is going to be a distraction and a bit silly.  However, as you start down the long, cold barren halls, it starts to just become part of your surroundings.  neither of us know what is here, as there is no literature to tell you anything and there are no guides.  We just wander and see what there is to see.  Somewhere, someone is burning wood.  It smells great in this place, the pine, the burning wood, the fresh air, the old wood in the monastery.  What a bouquet.

Side view of Monastery

The hallway leads to a large open courtyard.  Shrubs and assorted trimmed and shaped plants line the walkways and paths.  There aren't many people here, so it seems very quiet.  The music drifting overhead and the distant echoes of  the forest make for its own brand of serene silence.  We wander into another large yard.  At the end of a long narrow path is an obviously abused old building.  It looks like a small shrine, a large arched opening and 3 walls.  You can tell it was adorned at one time, now it is just old and defaced.  We walk up and look inside. Nothing.  As we turn to walk away a guy with a shorn head comes up to us.  he's got something on his forehead.  I can't tell if it is a tattoo or a scab.  he is wearing sandals and some eastern/Chinese style shirt (camo-green).  He tells us what this place is, and what to do.  He instructs us to go stand facing the wall, in opposite corners.  Tonya walks to the far end of the little shrine, and the bald guys girl steps into the place nearest us.  This is one of those whispering rooms.  The guys tells us it has something to do with the monks, their silence, their chants...and I suppose there one outlet where they could can stand in a corner and look like they are deep in thought, but actually whispering to their buddy on the other side of the room.  I try it out.  It is an acoustic wonder.  Seriously, why do they build things like this?  Why is it necessary to go and stand in opposite corners of the room, with your backs to one another, only to whisper? Old-timey people did strange things.

After our fun whispering, Tonya talks a minute with the bald guy.  He says he's been coming here for years, his grandfather used to bring him all the time.  All he knows is that this place was ransacked, but when and by whom, that is anyone's guess.  I am sure we could find out, but in typical Mexican tourist minded fashion, there is no literature and no info of any sort. Nice.

The yards are huge, and pretty.  We enjoy walking around breathing deep, taking it all in. We walk around the side of the old place and sit down on the edge of what was a platform of some type.  I lean my head back and close my eyes as turn my head upwards as if I was staring straight into the sun.  The light and heat feel great on my eyes.  Everything goes bright red.  It is nice to just sit in quiet for a bit and let the sun warm my face.

The side where I warmed my eyes.

We get up and wander through some more long hallways.  There are several doors with small plaques, but they are all locked shut.  Odd how there seems to be nothing to do here unless you come on the weekend.  We find ourselves back in the main courtyard.  I am a bit confused at the lack of info., and spot the ticket girl sitting in the courtyard.  As we near her, I ask Tonya to ask her about any books, pamphlets or any info.  The girl looks up at us and tells us that the monastery opened sometime in 1606.  Tonya forgot the exact date which the girl told her.  I thought this was odd too, no more and no less information divulged, just the opening date, and that's it. Have a nice day!

We head back up the small hill to where we parked, and are greeted by what could be the Palestinian grieving party. Wailing, yelling and waving of arms.  We stand and look at one another, "You want to get a quesadilla or something?" Tonya asks. Yes, I do. I am always up for food, especially if it is good and tasty.  We turn and head towards the group of ladies acting as the combination yelling/greeting committee.  We are met with a smile and a wave of the hand to show us we could sit anywhere.

Soup and butt cheeks not pictured.

I like it.  It is a simple shed like place with brightly colored chairs and ornaments hanging form the ceiling.  It looks like three main cooking areas along the back.  One in the center, and one in each corner.  An old lady sits at the table nearest the middle station, and she picks her food slowly and looks at the rest of the room.  From the looks of it, no one is working the center station, all the action is on the sides.  A lady sets a pad and pen down and tells us she will take our orders, but first do we want anything to drink?  She brings back our drinks and sets a menu down.  Tonya and look and choose two quesadillas each.  I am going for the cheese one and a potato one.  Tonya gets a cheese and a huitlacoche (the corn fungus).  She gets excited because she says you can only eat the fungus during the rainy season, then it is all dried up (so to speak) until the next rains start. So be it.

Soup seems to be popular, as the tables around us all have bowls of assorted soups.  As we wait for the food, I look to our corner cooking station.  Tons of clay pots of all shapes and sizes hang above the workers heads.  It is all white tiles, somewhat sterile looking.  There is a line of pots resting on the counter, and behind them you can see the women doing what they do best.  One lady stands alone, aside form the main counter and stares into the distance.  She has crazy eyes.  One is looking straight, the other...I don't know where.  Like a robot she just stares and her hands are fluid as they shred a huge mound of stringy cheese.  That is all she does, stands and pulls this cheese into tiny strands.   I see our waitress go to an empty industrial white plastic pale and put a ladle in.  Out it comes, full of salsa, and straight into a one of the small clay bowls which was hanging overhead.  She brings a red and a green one to the table.  She comes back almost immediately with our quesadillas.  Wow!  They look great.  This is my first time to eat blue corn too. 

Yes, the quesadillas are very tasty indeed.  As the table of crusty hippy types get up next to us, Tonya says they are all talking about how good the soup was.  The main hippy stands and his trousers are slung real low, and his shirt rests on his belly.  We get the full view of  two rounded brown butt cheeks falling out of some crappy old camouflage pants.  As he walks away, the two brown spheres rub back and forth, almost as if waving goodbye to us. "Nice" Tonya says. 

We both agree on what a great idea Tonya had to come here today.  the scenery was great, the air nice and clean, and the food was the perfect touch for a nice lunch out.  It was a good day to get away. This is definitely a place to keep in mind when you need an escape.