The two major volcanoes near Mexico City that you drive past on the way to Puebla.
Category: Mexico (Page 3 of 3)
A mellower sun
It was their last morning in Mexico City and Cheryl was determined to sit outside on the rooftop patio for her breakfast. She gingerly walked out and looked up. The sky was grey with a haze that kept the sunshine at bay: it would not be her enemy today. A mellower sun hung in the east like a round yolk just to the right side of the cathedral. It was sweet to see it rise above the square Zocalo.
They left Mexico City for Puebla that morning and spread out on their full size bus. There were only fifteen travelers, including Daniel and Jose the driver, so they each had their own seat. This initially looked like a good arrangement, but it kept the travelers from getting to know each other. It kept Cheryl lonely.
Cheryl sat a few rows from the front of the bus where Daniel sat. She watched happily out the window when a restaurant with a large sign came into view. The yellow sign said Vips. “Daniel,” she yelled, “is this what you meant when you said Beeps?”
He looked where she pointed, “yes.”
“Okay, thanks.” Cheryl popped back down.
Daniel thought it was a weird question. She was full of weird questions. After a few kilometers he stood up and held the microphone to his lips.
“Just letting you know that we are driving past two very important volcanoes. Iztaccíhuatl, that means white woman, and Popocatepetl, or smoking hill. You can begin to see them on this side, and we will pull off the road at a better location. Hopefully there won’t be clouds or pollution and we’ll be able to see them clearly.”
Cheryl took shaky photos through the window of snow covered mountains that evolved into volcanoes. Iztaccihuatl was visible first; a series of snow covered peaks that resembled a woman lying down. Popocatepetl appeared next and was the quintessential volcano shape: a round peak with snow on the top and puffs of white smoke. Their bus pulled off the road and they unloaded into a field. There they both were, both volcanoes smoking, and both so much a part of the lore, myth, and history of the Mexican people who trace their ancestry from mountains. The travelers took pictures of themselves and each other. Debbie insisted they take one of her and Cheryl, so she could look at it later and remember that “crazy Aussie lady.”
Back on the bus Cheryl noticed that Daniel was not pronouncing the ancient Mexica sound of “tl” correctly. It was a tull sound you made by holding your tongue against your teeth. This sound did not add another syllable as it was a consonant, and not a syllable. The word tepetl, which meant hill in Nahuatl, was only two syllables: te-petl, but when Daniel said it he made it three syllables: te-pet-tul. Cheryl remembered the pronunciation from university.
The word Zocalo means the base of a statue or column. In the main square in Mexico City, in Colonial times, they planned on erecting a column, but it was never completed. People would say: “meet you at the zocalo.” The name stuck and this square became known as the Zocalo. This has transferred to other Mexican cities where they refer to their main square as the Zocalo.
Cheryl travels to Mexico a day before her tour so she can visit the Templo Mayor Museum. This museum was created to house this monolith and now is full of Aztec artifacts. The Coyolxauhqui is a stone sculpture three meters wide and would have originally been placed at the bottom of the Main Temple, or Templo Mayor, of the Aztec Empire. The Spanish built what is now Mexico City directly on top of this temple using destroyed remnants of the Temple and the city Tenochtitlan.
Coyolxauhqui means ‘bells in her cheeks” and after her dismemberment by her bother Huitzilopochtli, her head was thrown into the sky and turned into the moon.
When Cheryl stands in the Zocalo of Mexico City she is standing in the heart of the Aztec Empire.
In Mexico, Cheryl triggers the magic that follows her home.
After I came home from my trip to Mexico in May of 2012, I knew I wanted to write about it, but there are many books written by women who travel and find themselves. What a drag! I didn’t find myself at all, I just had a wonderful collection of experiences and gained a bunch of really good stories.
I decided I wouldn’t write about my trip unless I had an interesting story for a novel, and I could tailor the trip to fit inside it.
That December 22, 2012, the time of the Winter Solstice and the supposed end of the world: I got an idea! A flash of an idea. I was so fascinated by this idea I wrote an entire novel to pull off the idea.
Entering the West is that novel.
I felt like I was living in a movie; the words of my professors came to life in front of my eyes.
In University I took a beginner Archaeology course and I was hooked. After more courses I found my true passion was the Mesoamerican area. I studied the Aztecs and the Maya.
Since University I’ve continued my studies to include the Natives of North America and specifically Canada. Indigenous peoples from the entire world are also an interest, but the truth is we all have traveled to get to where our people were born.
In 2010 I traveled to Vancouver to visit museums and study the Natives of the Pacific Northwest coast. These practice trips were to prepare me for the Big Trip: the one to Mexico in April of 2012.
I travelled alone. I flew to Mexico City and then joined a cultural tour that began in Mexico City, drove on through Puebla, and down to Oaxaca. Zigzagging through mountains in Chiapas, we visited San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapa de Corzo and came to a stop in Palenque. Finally, we drove up the coastline of the Yucatan from Campeche to Merida, and across to end in Cancun.
Connecting to modern Mexicans and seeing the archaeological sites of the past was like living in a movie to me. My life felt like a movie, with the words of my professors coming to life in front of my eyes.
I am a Mexican and Maya enthusiast to this day. I never get tired of learning and reading and studying about any aspect of this culture from food, to language, the syncretism of pagan ways to Catholicism and those ancient cities of stone. I’ve climbed a lot of pyramids and plan to climb many more.
Decipherment is particularly exciting as I identify with all scribes. There are many people alive now who can read the language written on these stone buildings. Too bad I’m not skilled at math, otherwise I’d learn their calendar and learn to decipher myself. I look forward to new discoveries.
In Entering the West, Cheryl travels this route and feels like her life is a movie.
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