Supposedly there have been UFO sightings here. Supposedly Tepotzlan is the home of some ‘force field’. This is why many hippies and new-age types come to this town. I wonder if any of these folks ever stop to just admire the beauty of the place, instead of watching the skies. To me, it is the simple beauty and the winding streets which appeal to me. Stand on any of the streets running up and down through town, and if you have a good vantage point, you can see the outlying mountains that surround you and the valley below. It is lush, green and beautiful. I also like Tepotzlan for its little surprises.
I had wanted my brother to see this place since the first time I visited. Now that he was here, we took a day trip so he could see what it was like. I may be speaking out of place, but I think it struck him too.
We tell him a bit about the place as we park and start to wind to the streets to the main square. It is holiday season and the place is packed with people…we thought it would be quieter. Still, from the moment we started down the long line of street vendors and stalls, the John Lennon ‘Power To the People” t-shirt and incense just helped to back up my earlier claims of hippie-dom. Damon commented on how much hotter it was as opposed to the city. This is true, it was very warm. The breakdown between seasons and temperatures always frustrates me. Nowhere should be this warm at the tail-end of December!
We have no plans but to amble around and let Damon see what there is to be seen. We make our way around the square, looking at and smelling all the various treats. For the most part, it is typical fare of any market in any Mexican town, complete with meat and guts hanging out in the sun (seriously, who buys this?). As we start twisting through the back of the market we turn into the church yard. In Mexico, if there is an old church around, you should always take a look to see what surprises may be inside.
It has a big yard, walled in on all sides. It is pretty non-eventful. The ground was brown and yellow, as the heat and sun had killed off the grass. There is not too much to see, so it is down the long main walkway to the chapel. Cameras in hand, we approach the main building and notice a few people dressed in formal attire sitting outside. Tonya also pointed out four old church bells, grouped in the dirt right outside the main entrance. I noticed the little girl in her gown talking with a few others who were dressed up. “There must be a wedding” Tonya said.
Weddings in churches here are a constant. I can’t tell you how many times we have walked up to an old church only to crash in on a couple exchanging vows. There is always a first though, like to day. As we stepped over the old wooden door frame, there was a small crowd inside, and yes, a couple in the middle of the aisle exchanging their vows. I suppose we stepped in right as they finished, because the new bride and groom both stood up and stood next to the priest. It was then that the magic happened. As part of the service, immediately after the couple became man and wife, a wonderful sound echoed through the chapel. A band, to the right of the chapel, started playing some wedding music. I was moved. Hearing this traditional music played in a big old church, with the brass echoing and flowing through the cathedral was breathtaking. It was a fantastic sight to see the young couple and their families and friends as they started to mingle. Yes, I think this was when my heart leapt. I was fixated, staring at the couple and letting the music envelope me. I had never heard anything like this, and it was nothing short of amazing. I was not the only one feeling this, as Damon and Tonya were both fixated with a smile on their face and glowing.
There is no way anyone could resist their true love and the ceremony of marriage seeing and hearing this. It was beautiful. This was the true romantic type of wedding one would think of, not some kind of Tommy and Pam wedding on the beach. No, this is not the typical Mexican wedding you hear of in the news. This was glorious. I did not want to leave. I want a wedding like this.
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| After the wedding. |
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| Church hallway |
As hard as it was to walk away from, we managed to pull ourselves away and to see what else was to be had. I peeked around the side of the main chapel and told Damon and Tonya to come with me and see what is down this way. It was another part of the church that you could tour, made into a small museum. As we started down the arched walkways, the sound of the horns playing could still be heard. Lovely. We walked though the hallways and up the stairs. On the big, empty landing, there sat one of those Mexicans who look Korean. This guy looked really Korean because he had two little sprouts of white whiskers coming out atop both sides of his mouth. Those kinds of crazy Asian style wise-man moustaches. He had a telescope set up and a small plastic Tupperware container with a piece of paper taped to it. For 3 pesos you could look through the telescope up into the mountains and see the famous ruins of Tepotzlan. Likewise, you can climb for an hour up the side of a mountain to see it as well. We pay the man, and he gives us three tickets and points to the eye piece.
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| You see this through the telescope (ruin small grey blip on upper right) |
This is it? This is where the UFOs flock too? This is what the seekers make their pilgrimage too? A small, stacked, concrete looking structure with a bunch of back packers sitting on it, swinging their feet. What a let down. It looked like the base of any sculpture in any big city park. Square, stacked up two or three layers, and looked like concrete. Further left of the ruin I could see a white crucifix jutting out among the steep cliff sides. This was more captivating that the rest stop on top of the mountain that I had just viewed via telescope. I stand up and shrug my shoulders. The Korean looking Mexican smiled at me. I smiled back and told him ‘Gracias’. He nodded his head with pleasure. Tonya laughed about the fact that we all stood there and looked into his telescope and he insisted on handing us three tickets.
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| Damon. |
We walked around and clowned around. I was leaning out a window looking onto the churchyard below, when Damon said, “Hey. I will go lean out the other window and you take a picture, ok?” Sounds good. The amusement we get from doing dumb things is priceless. After our idiot snaps, we walk into another room where I notice a giant mural, all made up of beans and rice. Awesome. I pull Damon aside and show him. No one ever thinks to take pictures of their beans and rice when they eat…but glue them all together and make a giant mural out of them and wow, it is art!
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| Mural of rice and beans |
There was a small hallway we walked by, and I thought it had yet to be ventured in to. I start down the dark hall and call for Tonya and Damon. It led to a sunny room. No big deal. I decide to walk down another hall form the sunny room. Pay day! Here was a simple room with real meaning. Against the back wall there were four stalls. A thick stone wall separated each compartment. The small stone bench in each stall had a hole in the middle. Ahhh! We had stumbled onto the toilets of the priests! These were old toilets and it was fantastic. Above each toilet was an old faded painted frame on the wall, with most of the words faded or worn away. Each of these painted frames had its own little poem about proper potty etiquette. The original poems were posted on small plaques, behind the ropes which kept you from inspecting the toilets up close.
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| Old toilets |
I find it comforting to know that even way back when, holy men had a sense of humor about what one does in the bathroom. Surely they too, laughed at farts.
It was another fantastic discovery poking around this church today. From the decorated arched hallways to the bean and rice mural, to the ancient toilets. Fantastic. As we started our way down from the upper story, you could hear the wedding party making their procession out of the chapel and through the yard. The lovely sounds of the horns floating around the church yard followed them as they left. Damon said we should hurry, in hopes of catching the sight.
By the time we got back outside, the wedding was over and the couple long gone. There were some flowers strewn over the main entry way, and several floral arrangements were outside the door. A woman and her son came and started to gather the arrangements and haul them away. I am assuming for the reception at some other place.
After all this excitement, we all had to pee. It was imperative to find some public restrooms before we could continue our fun. Three pesos grants you entry to pee. Typical though, no hand towels. I stand with dripping hands wondering what to do. It was at that moment I realized that the sweatshirt I had taken off earlier would now come in very handy as a hand towel. As Damon was washing his hands, I passed on this bit of advice to him too, “Use your sweatshirt…it makes a great towel”
Tonya wants to peep inside the market for a bite to eat. “Are you guys ok with this? Are you afraid to eat here?” she asks. We duck our heads and follow her under all the different colored tarps that act as a roof. She says she knows this one stall, and tells us that this is where we will grab a bite. There are two women standing by a portable flat grill. Food is spread out on their makeshift counter tops. The pork, rolled up, is already drying out. Flies bob from dish to dish and the two women stand with their hand behind their back, smiling. When they realize we are eyeing up food, they tell us to sit, and motion for us to squeeze into there designated area. It is tight. I sit with my legs akimbo, and feet pointed out. Looking over the bowls and plates laid out along the counter, my decision is simple. Nothing perishable please. No need to look at the menu really, just give me a bean one and a cheese one. Damon follows my lead, and we order a simple cheese quesadilla and a bean tlacoyo.
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| Tight fit. Thems my feets. |
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| Our cook preparing our food... |
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| Quesadillas on the grill (fridge not pictured) |
Tonya asks us again if we are afraid. I look to Damon. He frowns and says he isn’t. I let his remark stand for mine as well. I watch the women start to make our food. The quesadillas are easy enough. One lady cuts some cheese strips, wraps it in a tortilla then the other lady slaps them on the griddle. When the ‘chef’ makes the tlacoyo, it is a more labor intensive process. She takes a ball of the blue corn and places it in the press. She flattens out the tortilla, and begins to shape it. The other girl warms the beans. For that little extra something, they have to look in the fridge. The fridge is actually the shelves to the left, stacked with old yogurt containers. The younger girl bends over, reaches into the shelf and pulls out an old yogurt container. She takes the lid off, puts her nose to the container and sniffs. That’s the stuff! She stickers her hand in and adds some of the stuff to the beans. I look to Damon to see if he saw what I just saw. “Nice” We nervously laugh at the sight of the stored food. Hey! It is better than the food sitting out on the table for everyone to stare at, cough on and serving as landing strips for wayward flies.
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| Eye level of the selections on hand |
When the women laid our food in front of us, Damon quips at the specially made tlacoyos. “They look like old moccasins” he says matter-of-factly, staring down at his blue-ish flat plop on wax paper. Looks didn’t matter though, as both items were tasty and welcomed. We had a wonderful time. Now, with some food in our bellies we were ready to venture home. With no where else needed to go, we get up and amble back to where we parked the car. On the way back we pass a stall selling cosmetics and creams. Tonya grabs my arm and I hear “Gross!” We stop and look. She points and a handwritten note. “You want to buy some cream made from snail slime?” she asks. I think my brother and I had the same reply, “WHAT?” Somewhat excited, Tonya pointed at the scrawl and said, “Look! A cream made from snail slime. Isn’t that gross?” It is…but whoever wrote the note says it is great for wrinkles.
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