Teotihuacan is definitely one of the most impressive sites one can visit in a lifetime. The problem with Teotihuacan is that it’s a complete mystery. It’s such a mystery that it has frequently been fodder for UFO conspiracy theorists such as Erik Von Daniken (whom I admit reading as a kid and thinking he was on to something) suggesting that alien visitors built the place.

It is otherwordly, but undoubtledy human, and built in the first century, just about the same time Octavian was busy converting Rome from a republic to a dictatorship. The Aztecs, who moved to the neighborhood over a millenium later drew great inspiration from it, and did their own archeological studies — concluding that among other things, the sun was created here, and that Gods lived in those there houses, before being destroyed.

What stymies me about this site so much is that I want to know everything about it, and there’s so little to go on. Experts disagree utterly on which civilization even created it. What is known about the place is that it was burned to the ground in roughly the 7th century, a time where the lights were going out all over mesoamerica. Why the 7th century is such a critical time for the deaths of so many great civilizations is another mystery, but a sudden climate shift is pointed to as a major culprit. Central mexico, a region with a reputation for being dry and dusty, once had great swaths of coniferous forest, much like the pacific northwest of the United States. And when Teotihuacan was a living city, it’s principal building material was pine. All that remains is what didn’t burn on some mysterious day 1300 years ago. Agriculture surely collapsed as the water supply dried out, and trade with it. And when civilizations can no longer trade resources, they frequently fight over control for them.

Teotihuacan is an hour drive from Mexico City through some amazingly vast unincorporated and unplanned slums — some that rival the size of San Francisco. I took a tour bus there operated by a competing hotel. Since I already speak Spanish, I opted for the spanish tour, but there were a few other Americans who hitched a ride, so the tour was bilingual. I mention this only because an interesting situation arised once we were on the site. Which was that our tour guide (an extremely nice guy) took only us spanish speakers aside, and in hushed conspiratorial tones, gave us the super sekrit down-low:

Listen to me. The jewelery sellers on site will give you glass instead of the real obsidian, and the silver isn’t that pure. If you want the real stuff, there’s a place in Taxco that will give you a good deal. But don’t tell the tour operators or they’ll kill me.

Here’s hoping the tour operators don’t read this blog.

Among other highlights of the tour were, I drank some amazing shots of tequila distilled on site, a bit of pulque (a mescal beer), and was pleasantly hammered by the time I finally got near the pyramids.

Among my American companions (the ones blissfully unaware that the on-site jewelery might be slightly fugazi) was a plucky senior with a walker who was accompanying her daughter who was in town for a conference. Although it was clear that she was not going to climb any pyramids, she proudly informed me that she had last been on the site 40 years ago, and climbed at the early dawn and sat on the top watching the sunrise before tourists arrived. It’s for this reason I climbed the Pyramid of the Sun twice. Just in case the next time I get back here, I too am in a walker. The second time, I jogged up the steps to see how far I could go before getting exhausted — the answer: halfway up. After nearly puking, I took a few deep breaths and meekly walked up the rest, completing the journey in just under 4 minutes.

We left Teotihuacan and the jewelery hawkers for the last stop of the tour: A visit to the Cathedral of the Virgin of Guadalupe. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Virgin of Guadalupe, she is the most Mexican thing about Mexico, and the only miracle within the Americas recognized by the Vatican. You may never have learned a thing about Mexico besides Salsa dip, but in your lifetime you’ve no doubt seen this broad — on the tinted rear window of the late model Toyota Tercel that cut you off in the highway, or on the muscled arm of a tough guy bouncer in front of the club. More than just an icon, the Virgin of Guadalupe is practically a brand. The biggest brand you’ve never heard of, and the one responsible for making Mexico a Catholic nation, and well, Mexico.

Cuauhtlatoatzin saw Cortes destroy his native Mexico City when he was already a 47 year old grandfather. His wife died several years later due to illness. Both of them had been converted to Catholicism in their 50s, his taking the name Juan Diego. He was despondent over his wife’s death, over the devastation of his homeland, and would console himself with long silent walks around town, clearly a broken man.

During one of these walks, a mysterious nahuatl-speaking apparition of a lady suddenly came and implored Juan Diego to ask the Bishop of Mexico to build a cathedral for her. Who this mysterious lady was is — well a mystery — but some say Juan Diego actually saw Tonantzin, none other than the Aztec moon goddess — now homeless and frightened — returning to her people after the wholesale destruction of their temples, their gods, and their cities to beg for help in restoring her worship by building her a new place to live.

The Bishop of Mexico was naturally a tough sell, and told Juan Diego he needed a sign. Juan Diego promptly forgot the matter and went to tend to his dying uncle. On the way to his uncle’s house, this rather pushy apparation stopped him again, and assured him his uncle would not die if he could only convince the Bishop. She told him to go to a certain “hill” (actually a ruined Aztec temple) and collect some flowers and place them in his shawl as a bindle, but ONLY to unravel it to the Bishop.

These flowers were noneother than cardinal red roses, something unheard of and unknown in the new world at that time. Juan Diego unfurled his shawl to the Bishop, revealing these roses, and a bonus: a miracle apparation of the Virgin in the very cloth. The Bishop was so taken, that he fell to his knees and ordered the construction of the cathedral two weeks later. The lady also kept her word, and Juan Diego’s uncle was cured. The worship of Tonantzin would return again, this time reborn as the Lady of Guadalupe, patron saint to the downtrodden indigenous people everywhere. For the dispossessed Aztecs looking to cling to anything to believe, the virgin of Guadalupe was a powerful symbol, and in a seven year period conversion to Catholicism happened en-masse, largely around worship of Guadalupe.

The actual shawl (made out of maguey cactus fiber) is in the very Cathedral which the Bishop of Mexico ordered to be constructed upon witnessing the “miracle”. I have taken a photo of it so you can see here:

And the cathedral here:

Like many old buildings in Mexico city this one has a foundation problem and you can see it listing northward.

As you can see, today’s entry was mostly about yesterday. As for today — today was a day for me to rest, amble around town (I revisted the Zona Rosa and Centro Historico and took more photos) and buy some trinkets and eat tons of street food — delicious tamales for one thing.

Tomorrow is my flight back. I am ready to go back after a hectic week here, and loving the time I spent here. What I’ve come to love so much about Mexico City are the layers. This is not a place that could be willed into existence with a single theory. Mexico City is just a complex place built upon an awful past, made beautiful by improvisation and the slapdash fixing of things constantly being rebroken, and by pockets of high culture that grow like moss between the cracks. It’s sometimes a medley, sometimes a dirge, of different influences, circumstances, happenstances, people, economics, hellishness, highmindedness, fantastic art, cheap thrills, carny barking, tubas and killer traffic circles with monuments on top of them. And living among all this are 19.2 million souls who keep the place humming and keep mending breaks with the epoxy of hope. Can’t tell you how much this place has made me think.

Wallet-wise, I couldn’t have asked for a cheaper trip too. I think I have just discovered a new second home city. Next time, however, I’ll go in the winter months when it’s -17 outside in Minnesota and not gorgeous as it is now.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 16th, 2007 at 11:57 pm and is filed under Main. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.