Mexico 2022 - The Round Pyramids of Teuchitlan - The Trip There

 Researching things to do in Jalisco that I hadn't done before I came across an article on the ancient round pyramids of the Teuchitlan culture which flourished from 300 B.C. to 300 A.D. I was picked up at 9 by my driver and tour guide and we were off to pick up the others I would be sharing the trip with that day. 

We drove deeper into the Colonia Americana district with it's grand homes lining both sides of the avenues. In one intersection, during rush hour, a man was performing hula hoop stunts in the middle of the street. One of the homes had been transformed into a shop specializing, as did several shops in the city, in evening dresses with extraordinarily wide tulle skirts. Resembling bells, I wondered how a woman might use the restroom while wearing one of these fantastic creations. They also seemed as if they might double as effective birth control as no one would be able to get close enough to reproduce. Even an innocent peck on the cheek would prove challenging. We drove past soaring monuments in the middle of traffic circles that seem ubiquitous in the city.

As we moved further away from the metropolis of Guadalajara we passed hillsides of the distinctly blue green of blue agave waiting to mature and be turned into tequila as well as sugar cane fields. Eventually we reached the town of Teuchitlan, population approximately 1000, founded in the 16th century. The town's name in the indigenous language translates to "place of all gods". Its sign depicts one of the pyramids we would be visiting. 

The tour guide quipped that the town was too small for a man to have both a wife and a girlfriend on the side. Apparently the women of the town gather together to do laundry and are not adverse to engaging in gossip.

Mexico 2022 - Orozco

 One thing this trip gave me was a fuller understanding and appreciation for the Mexican artist Orozco. I had some familiarity with him. I had seen his mesmerizing mural work in the Hospicio Cabanas on a previous visit and had discovered a small work of his in the collection of Chicago's Art Institute.

I was somewhat disappointed that the galleries surrounding the courtyards of the Cabanas I had spent time exploring on my previous visit were closed, perhaps because Tuesday is a free day at the museum. As I was leaving I spotted a doorway to an open gallery and entered. What I discovered was a sizable exhibition of Orozco's sketches and studies for his murals, including several studies for the murals at the Cabanas. It is always interesting to me to see a single artist's work grouped together. It gives me a deeper and clearer understanding of their overall vision and creative process. 

He was an excellent draftsman, many of his mural studies were sketched over grids and perspective lines. He experimented with how best to locate and create his frescos, a time consuming and laborious process. In his work he was able to suggest raw emotion and muscular power with a great economy of strokes.

For the first time I was able to see his mural at the University Art Museum. 2 young, quite adorable college kids greeted me at the entrance desk. One, small, cute, the 3 top buttons of his shirt undone to display 5 of what were probably a total of 15 chest hairs, addressed me in Spanish. I guess he saw something in my face because he said "oh" and switched to English, explaining to me I would have to remove my, ubiquitous on this trip to save the skin on my balding head, baseball cap and check my messenger bag. I dutifully handed them over to his companion behind the desk, a muscular student in skin tight white pants and an equally tight tee shirt which emphasized his impressive chest and biceps. Both of them were obviously keenly aware of the image they were presenting. 

The mural was overwhelming and left me stunned. It is an explosion of anger, difficult to look at yet impossible to turn away from. Were I to see a speaker in the lecture hall where it is located I would probably have no recollection of what they said because the image is so consuming and powerful.

I went through the other galleries in the small museum. One contained works and objects dating back to the 15th century. Others held works by contemporary artists. 

I returned to the mural one last time before I left. The cute student at the reception desk spoke with me of how powerful the work was as the second seemed to consciously make his muscles ripple inside his tight clothing as he retrieved my bag.

As I was walking down an avenue back to my hotel I passed two structures on either side of the boulevard. One had been a convent, partially demolished in the late 1800/s  to lengthen the street. On the other side, in a lovely parklike setting with a fountain in it's center, was a church some regard as the most beautiful in the city, in a city full of beautiful churches. As I briefly stepped inside a single bird was fluttering around it's dome.

Mexico 2022 - Hotel Morales

 I had tried, on my first visit to Guadalajara, to stay at the historic Hotel Morales, but, as it was a trip planned at the last minute, wasn't able to get a reservation I opted for another venerable hotel a block away. 

Hotel Morales, first built in the late 1800's as a private hacienda, was changed to a hotel due to it's proximity to the train station and bullring once located in the area. It was later expanded and 2 floors added. Today it is a lovely and graceful oasis of old world elegance and charm. Small wrought iron balconies grace some of the rooms, including mine. It is a place of lush courtyards, well appointed public spaces and beautiful stonework. Yet it contains modern amenities such as a rooftop pool, small fitness room and a second rooftop terrace that over looks the city. 

I was spoiled by the excellent restaurant with its expansive breakfast buffet. The concierge that went to the arena box office to get my tickets for the Tuesday night Mexican wrestling show, which sucked by the way, but such is life, to keep me from having to pay Ticketmaster's outrageous fees. He also arranged for a masseuse to come to the hotel resulting in a stress relieving hour of bliss. I returned to the room early on a couple of occasions to find the house keeping staff doing her daily mopping of the floor, the room sparkling. I enjoyed bringing a cocktail to my room from the bar each night to end my day.

It is an easy walk to the cathedral and the historic treats nearby. If I return to Guadalajara it will be my first choice place to stay, Provided, of course, that I can get a reservation. 

Mexico 2022 - Guadalajara's Historic Center

 It's been awhile since I was last in Guadalajara. The memory of the beauty and romance of it's historic center had faded during that time. It is a place of centuries old buildings set among plazas and a multitude of fountains, both large and small. My personal favorite, Fuente de los Ninos, roughly translated, as far as I have been able to figure, Fountain of Boys Pissing, pretty much sums it up. 4 boys face each other. One holds a turtle, water spurting out of it's mouth, another a frog, water spouting water from the amphibians mouth as well, one of the boys spits water out of his own mouth and the 4th, well peeing. The innocence of the young boys, one engaged in a basic biological function, always makes me smile. After posting photos of it on Facebook one old friend remarked that it looked like an after party, I could not argue otherwise. 

I sat in the plaza of the Hospicio Cabanas watching a group of small school children, in their green and white uniforms, line up to enter the museum containing the murals of Orozco. It was the 2nd time I viewed the murals. I marveled at the artistry, draftsmanship and raw emotion of the work. Looking up at the painted dome I imagined the artist, like Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel, day after day, ascending to the dizzying heights to create the images there. By good fortune I discovered an exhibition of Orozco's sketches and studies for both those murals and others. 

I shopped the exhaustive array of goods at the jewelry district along the plaza outside the Cabanas then had lunch at an outdoor restaurant I had enjoyed on a previous visit. As I ate lunch I people watched, the handsome, heavily muscled young Mexican in a tank top and tight jeans sitting at the table next to me in particular. I strolled past the stalls filled with colorful crafts, and gazed at the majestic cathedral and the historic buildings that surround the square where it stands. I ducked into a church and considered the amount of faith, devotion and money required to construct the elaborate interior of that one, and the thousands across the world, then wandered down the arcaded streets with the population of the city to my hotel.  

Mexico 2022 - Colonia Americana and a Breathtaking Church

 Late 19th century Mexican architecture is a curious mix of styles. Colonial influences, arches and thick stucco walls, perhaps a reaction to the climate, are wed to Baroque ornamentation that would not be uncommon in any number of European cities. My now Facebook friend with a real life face told me that a historic preservation movement had begun in 1980 when many citizens became concerned that the city was losing much of what made it unique. During my last visit I stayed in a hacienda dating from around 1880 that had been converted into a guesthouse. The owner told me that, before he did the renovations, the preservation committee showed up with original blueprints for the structure in hand. They eventually did approve, but did express concern, about a staircase in the back of the building that was not original to it. He found himself patiently explaining to them that it was there when he bought the place, he had not added it on. These preservation people are some serious folks. As we walked through the Colonia Americana neighborhood admiring the beautiful homes there my friend said that you would occasionally see a historic building in a sad state of disrepair. Whoever owned the property was not allowed to tear the structure down, but, if it collapsed, the ground underneath became fair game. Throughout the city a historic building abuts a more modern, faceless one. Some European cities, heavily bombed during World War II, have the same juxtaposition. My own home town of Chicago also bears a few architectural missteps, despite it's wealth of 19th and 20th century facades and interiors. 

We came to a plaza. At one end stood a 19th century cathedral designed in the gothic revival style. He pointed out the the steeple which, from the outside, looks as if it were carved stone. We entered. The steeple was not stone but stained glass. It was breathtaking. The interior space soared supported by thick, heavy hand carved stone columns. I found myself awed by the engineering needed to construct this place. Along the sides were a few more modern windows depicting religious figures that had been killed during the Mexican socialist revolution. On the outside, although we were not there at a time when we could witness it, when the hour strikes two small doors open on the bell tower and  religious figures parade out around a track that runs between them. 

Our last stop, before we parted ways, was the art museum of the University of Guadalajara, the Museo de las Artes. It is also housed in a late 19th century building. It has more of a Baroque influence, as opposed to the Gothic influence of the cathedral. Alas, the museum was closed as it was a Monday, but there was an exhibition of bold, muscular metal sculpture outside, some of which seemed to almost defy gravity. My new found friend told me there was an Orozco mural inside which was a must see. I made plans in my head to return on Wednesday. It, and the church, I would have been completely unaware of had it not been for his reconnaissance work prior to meeting up with him. We parted ways, he off to his daily Spanish class, I to walk back through the city to my hotel.

Mexico 2022 - Meeting Facebook Friends Face to Face

 I had met a man through Facebook about my age, who, by chance, was going to be in Guadalajara with his partner at the same time as I. I suggested we meet for lunch or dinner while we both were there. We settled on breakfast.  We met at a coffee shop he was familiar with. From there we would walk to a breakfast place he knew of. His partner was working remotely during their stay, he was retired, so he had his days free.  

A waifish young Mexican served us cappuccino. With his painted fingernails and tiny nose ring he looked as if he could have been walking down a Chicago street instead of serving coffee in Guadalajara. Many people, particularly  younger ones, are today becoming increasingly homogenized due, among other things, to the proliferation of mass media. I remember a discussion, decades ago, with a British couple in Europe bemoaning the creation of the common market because of this very thing. I remember them saying "You used to be able to tell the French child from the English child from the German one. Not anymore." This was in 1973, this has been going on for some time. The influence from the U.S. seems to be the strongest. Not sure that is necessarily a positive thing. 

We met in an area called the Colonia Americana, which I had intended to visit as I had not had an opportunity to do so, or the knowledge it existed, on my previous trips. He had done some research so was able to point out things of interest and cultural and historical factoids. The area is home to a number of mansions dating from the end of the 19th century. They had been built on what was, at the time, cropland outside the city center. 

We enjoyed a generous breakfast on the porch of one of the grand, old, repurposed homes. We shared our life stories and experiences, quite different from one another and discussed common interests. I thrive on conversation and he was easily my match in that regard. 

We spoke of age, travel and art as well as the changes we had witnessed in the world over our lifetimes as we walked and shared a meal before bidding each other adieu as he left for his daily afternoon Spanish class. 

Mexico 2022 - An International Flight, Immigration and Customs, or, A Descent Into Hell

 Apparently the runways at O'Hare were overbooked, which would explain why we were sitting on board a plane for almost an hour before getting off the ground and airborne. Imagine a bumper to bumper traffic jam, only with planes. As the video screen choices were uninspiring and since all required headphones, which I didn't have, I amused my self as best I could writing, playing crossword games on my phone, being disconnected from the internet they were the only ones that worked and taking short, intermittent naps. At one point the screen said we were 45 minutes from our destination, a few minutes later it said 50 minutes from our destination. Was time moving backwards? 

We landed. As usual the people nearer the front of the plane gathered their carry ons and stood in the aisle to disembark. They stood in the aisle and stood in the aisle, it soon became apparent to us all, both those standing and those of us still in our seats, that nothing was happening.  Over the loudspeaker the flight crew announced that they were opening the back exit of the plane as well. A rushing river of passengers began to leave through the rear., There in lay a small problem for me. I was seated near the rear of the plane. Upon first getting on I discovered that all the overhead bins above my seat were already closed. I stowed my bag a few rows ahead of me figuring as we disembarked through the front of the plane upon landing I would easily be able to retrieve it. Now I was like a salmon swimming upstream against a horde of humanity. Because I was one of the last to disembark I was in the last shuttle to leave the tarmac. Because I was in the last shuttle to leave the tarmac I was almost the last person in the long immigration line. 

Then came customs. As it would happen, since fate at this point did not seem to favor me, mine was one of the last bags unloaded. To make matters worse, the airline had thoughtfully run a zipline through my suitcase zipper to keep it from opening in flight. Since we can no longer travel with scissors, or for that matter any sharp objects, I had no way to get it off. Fortunately the front desk at the hotel had scissors and I was able to dispense with it there. Eventually I got through customs and got a cab. 

At that point things began to improve. A beautiful sunset graced the western sky as I taxied into the city. A scent of charcoal mixed with something sweet I couldn't identify wafted through the open window.

I arrived at my hotel and got into my room about 8, almost 12 hours after leaving home, only to find Verizon had screwed up our international calling plan and I couldn't call home. After an international struggle the next day the problem was fixed but at that point, that night, I was beyond annoyed. 

I ate at the restaurant at the hotel that evening, chicken tacos with an outstanding guacamole on the side. I also ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks, I felt I deserved it. Had I not been so exhausted I would have made it a double.  

Mexico 2022 - A Few Thoughts on Age

 In idle moments, for instance on a 4 hour plane trip, well 5 actually as we were on the tarmac for almost an hour before taking off, my mind wanders.  As I stated in my earlier post I recently turned 65. Several months ago waiting for one of the free summer symphonies in the park to begin, I mentioned to my friend, my roommate in San Francisco during our younger years, that I never thought of myself, in those days of yore, about myself at this age. I still don't quite know what to make of it. I recognize there has been a certain physical decline,. The sagging of my once firm chin is these days camouflaged with a beard. I take longer to get over illness of recover from a particularly brutal gym workout. 

He and I discussed once, after seeing an elderly person painfully board a bus, how much physical decline I will be willing to accept. I take reasonably good care of myself, eat fairly well, don't drink to excess, my drug days are long over. My gym and summer biking are important parts of my routine. 

I'm told I don't look my age, although I am at a loss as to what my age looks like. Unfortunately the plague of the gay community  that was AIDS has pretty well wiped out the drug tripping, dance floor pounding club kids the were my cohorts in my 20's. There are few I can compare myself to. 

Through happenstance and frugality I have managed to semi retire, working only three days of the week. I have spent most of my working life in retail, much of it in management, which necessitated more than my share of 50 and 60 hour weeks. I feel I have earned the privilege of being able to ease off my work schedule and enjoy time. I attend the aforementioned free symphonies in the park during the summer and member lectures at the Art Institute. I actually enjoy running errands, doing them at a leisurely pace, taking in the sights and sounds of the world around me as I do. 

I have always stated that, as long as I have mobility and my mental marbles, I don't mind age. With age comes a certain wisdom, if one is willing to accept it, that can only be gained through time. 

One last point, if I don't like something, a piece of art or music, a performance or political viewpoint, someone's fashion sense I may consider misguided, I no longer feel that I have to explain why. I'm 65, I just don't like it, so there!

 

Mexico 2022 - Leaving Fall Color Behind

 As I looked out from the rear seat of the cab on the way to O'hare the fall colors were at their peak. When we drove through the forest preserve which abutted the road on each side both the driver and I were dazzled by the bright yellows and oranges and russet reds of the trees the blazing crimson fire bushes at their base. Nature shamelessly flaunted its autumn beauty.

I am enroute to Guadalajara. It is my third visit to the historic city, the second largest in Mexico. I had turned 65 recently. I wanted to celebrate this milestone birthday. Guadalajara is somewhat familiar to me, will give me a nice fair weather break before the onslaught of a Midwest winter, and is, by U.S. standards, extremely affordable

The security line winds around the stretchy black stantions resembling, as airport security lines do, a slithering snake composed of humanity. I hear crying children, I hope they are not on my flight. I see morbidly obese people pass by, I pray they are not seated next to me. 

They tell you to get to the airport three hours before an international flight. Sometimes I feel that this  advise is the result of a back room deal between the airport concessions and the airline industry. 

As I cleared security a sense of freedom and a slight euphoria came over me. Perhaps the same primal feeling a caged animal or bird feels once it is released. 

Three sailors in Cracker Jack uniforms passed by. Tiny birds, trapped in the terminal, hoped across the floor, orthodox Jews faced the of wall of windows of the terminal, which looks out over the airfield, saying their prayers.

I wait, trying to time my airport meal so that I am not famished by the time I reach my destination. As I wandered through the terminal  I discovered that some of the restrooms are designated as severe weather areas. I was oddly comforted by the thought that if a tornado came through I would still have a place to pee.