Category: Mexico 2019

January 6, 2019

We left Mexico City yesterday to come 150 miles north to San Miguel de Allende, birthplace of one of the four heroes of Mexican independence.  Mexico City of 9-25 million was much more modern than I expected.  I should know better; the capitals of major countries tend to be ponderous and pretentious, designed to impress.  The Avenue of the Reforma, near Chapultapec Hill, is a wide boulevard with skyscrapers and Starbucks (signs in Spanish), with the Coyacoan neighborhood (home of Trotsky and friends) retaining some local charm including a few 16 century colonial buildings.  Despite heavy traffic, we were able to move around the city  fairly easily.

The road here, for much of the way, was modern expressway.  It goes up to the US border (Laredo) and partly as a consequence has helped propel Quetaranos into one of the fastest growing cities in the northern hemisphere.  It’s the location of macquadillories, the kind of special economic zones for the production of a variety of goods; one of the signs was in Japanese if that tells you anything.  I didn’t read the Lonely Planet guidebook until we got here, so I learned to my regret that the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed here, ending the Mexican-American war; and I hope to be able to stop on our way to the airport to visit the site where Emperor Maximillian met his end.

When we left the interstate to come the remaining 30 kilometers, we were on the two-lane highway I had fancied more typical of transportation here.

When we got to San Miguel De Allende, I saw what our hotelier in Mexico City called the “real Mexico.” It got Unesco’s World Heritage status about 20 years ago, got discovered by rich foreigners (over 12,000 foreigners call SMDA home), in addition to beatniks and artists, and got pricey.  Several of the restored colonial homes are listed with Sotheby’s and Christie’s, which makes them expensive, indeed..

T he Rosewood, where we are staying, is a case in point.  When we got here, we thought, “Aha, an old monastery, restored, like the five-star hotel we stayed in in Cartagena.”  It had the wondrous courtyard so typical of the Spanish colonial architecture, wide verandas like cloisters, beautiful landscaping.  Bad guess, though; not 1670, not even 1970, but 2011.   And the area, at the edge of the old colonial district, was cleared of trees to build condos which have access to all the amenities of the Rosewood.

On our tour of the city, I could easily see the attractions—weather and ambience, the latter partly a function of a history that goes back to the 1540s, when some Franciscans who had settled in the valley discovered a spring, and moved the mission up on the hillside, building a chapel there that has a cross that’s over 300 years old.  The move might also have been due to attacks from indigenous tribes.

The city really prospered from its proximity to Guanajuato (later), where silver and other minerals were discovered.  The town square, typical in the Spanish settlements, was where the church was built, and the prominent local families, who serviced Guanajuato with produce, meat, leather, etc. built houses that were enviable for size and grace.  One such was the property of the Allende family.  It’s now a museum, and the upper floor recreates the life style of the late 18^th century.  The lower floor discusses the quest for independence, which was spearheaded by Ignacio Allende, a Creole (Spanish, born in the new world) who was the military leader of the Independence movement. 

As in Colombia, the immediate trigger was Napoleon’s invasion of Spain and his removal of the king in favor of his brother, Joseph.  Joseph appointed new officials, and the question was whether to support the deposed Ferdinand, accept French/Spanish rule—or seek independence.  The long simmering resentment of the Creoles against first Spanish mercantilism (all local industry existed at sufferance of the mother country; the vineyards here were burned, and locally grown wine did not make its reappearance in this state until about 15 years ago), then “regalism”, the Enlightened despotism that centralized control under Spain (including banishing the popular Jesuits) exploded.

A regional junta was planning a revolt in October 1810, but it was a hard secret to keep; conspirators moved the date to September 1810, when a priest in nearby Delores, Miguel Hidalgo (who knew 7 languages—3 European, three Indian, and Latin) gave an impassioned speech, the Grito (Cry) Independence, in which he urged Creoles not to be cowards.  That ignited a 11-year battle, by which time Hidalgo and Allende were dead (both by 1811), and why the two towns have new last names.

One of the most notable features of San Miguel is the big church, which in the late 19^th century got an addition—a new façade based on what he’d seen apparently on a postcard from Cologne.  I knew I’d seen that style before!

That leaves our third town in this area—Guanajuato—is a city of 760000 people on a fairly steep hillside that is the reason for the settlement; those dormant volcanoes have helped Mexico provide something like 20% of the world’s supply of silver.  Even today, the city’s economy is primarily dominated by mining, but tourism is a close second, and education is a third. In addition to the usual splendid baroque churches (Jesuit, Dominican and Franciscan), plazas and squares, the seat of the state’s government (some meeting in what had been a mine baron’s hacienda, that’s how big they were), there’s a major university.

Several of the most unusual features were the product of one of Guanajuato’s most famous son—Porfirio Diaz.  Elected president, he enjoyed the role so much he did not give it up until the Revolution (of 1910).  Supported by the wealthy miners (you should see and compare the Franciscan church in Guanajuato, sponsored by the wealthy, with the Jesuit one, a relatively somber but restful spare Gothic church), Diaz graced his city with a Teatro for all the world looking like something in Paris (our guide said Diaz leaned toward Europe since he and the Americans did not always see eye to eye), and an a covered market ala Les Halles in Paris.  The other feature that struck me was that the city builders used tunnels to connect the parts of the city—the early ones with hammer and chisel (and dynamite), the same tools used in silver mining.  They also had to build up the city, which flooded several times.  The original floor of the big church is about ten feet below the current level.

Well, tomorrow we go back to Mexico City on our way home. From 20 degrees (Centigrade) to 20 degrees (Fahrenheit).

January 5, 2019

The recent discovery of a new temple complex nearby (dedicated to the “Flayed” Aztec god—you wore the skins of the sacrificed humans) is a reminder of the rich Meso-American cultures waiting to be discovered, unearthed, and understood.

What so far has been unearthed is spectacular, as we discovered at Teotihuacan, about 30 miles from Mexico City.  A flourishing city of some 200,000 people, what distinguished it were two pyramids, one dedicated to the Sun, the other to the moon—separated and joined by the Avenue of the Dead.  Some of the  buildings still have the rich murals and sculptures we had seen in the National Archeological Museum.

Teotihuacan, built originally about 2000 years ago is apparently similar to some of the other sites—such as Chichen Itza, Palenque, and Monte Alban.  The scale and scope are impressive.  The pyramids of the Sun is the 3^rd largest in the world—built as so much of Meso-America without metal tools or wheels). Temples once stood at the top, and like its distant cousin, the much smaller mounds at Cahokia (without stone!), left only artefacts with which to construct the use in the past.  The site was occupied for over a thousand years, and the Aztecs apparently rediscovered and reused it. 

The main avenue (Avenue of the Dead; there’s a real preoccupation with death here—I saw an altar of skulls in the history museum) was once five kilometers long.  What’s been excavated is 2 kilometers, symmetrically balanced with temple-platforms on each side. 

There are obviously other mounds nearby, awaiting rescue from the scrub and cactus landscaping.  A nearby volcano reminds one that perhaps a reason for the abandonment of Tenochtitlan is a volcanic explosion.  The volcano also explains the obsidian, and the use of volcanic stone in the building.

The other “religious shrine” we visited was the churches built to celebrate the miraculous appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe in 1531.  The Spanish (Franciscans were prominent here) had had trouble converting the Meso-Americans.  One compromise, our guide suggested, was to use a cross without Jesus outside the churches.  The padres could hardly condemn human sacrifices if Christ appeared on a Cross. The other miracle was the appearance of the Virgin, in the body of a Meso-American, promising to protect Mexico if they were to convert.  On the site of the vision, there is a church built around 1750 (interestingly, it had to be restabilized after a recent earthquake, while a companion is leaning to the left from the quake), and a much more modern building erected in 1976, where the shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe is housed today.  In the churches we have seen since, there is a prominent place given to the Virgin of Guadalupe—and Mexico is at least 85% Catholic today.

2000 years, at least two religious messages near Mexico City.

January 2, 2019

I’m breathless in Mexico City, and that’s only partly because I’m at 7200 feet, 19 degrees north of the equator, and about 1600 miles from Bloomington.

My physical state is partly due to what we’ve seen and done the last day and a half. Carolyn has had a long fascination with pre-Columbian art, and our library has a nice sprinkling of coffee table books accumulated over the years from exhibits at the Art Institute, but they pale before what we saw today at the National Archeological Museum of Mexico, and the remnants of the pre-Conquest ruins in Mexico City.

David Hoyt thought the museum was equivalent to the Louvre of the Western Hemisphere (he’s a Francophile), but that’s not quite accurate.  The Louvre not only has treasurers of French painting (Liberty storming the Barricades), but European as well (Mona Lisa anyone), as well as Nike and other European paintings and sculptures—at a minimum. 

The National Archeological Museum of Mexico is primarily Meso-American in focus, and that almost is exclusively what is now Mexico.  And what treasurers it has! A 20 ton head from the Olmec period  (bear in mind Meso-America awaited Europeans to introduce metal tools. Southern Mexico had gold, but most of the area used obsidian for all purposes, including knives to kill and extract hearts for sacrifices), huge pyramids and temples and tombs (we saw the excavations of one in Zocalo, the central historic district of Mexico City), and huge stone monoliths celebrating or pacifying the gods—water, war, corn, and maize.  The latter really struck home for me—the region seems to have had abundant crops, far different than Europe.  It was the New World the contributed squash and beans and corn (flour and tortillas), and maguey (the Century plant, good for everything from soap to booze), and chilis—can you imagine Thai food before the European discovery of the New World?   Perhaps the two most stunning rooms in the museum were dedicated to the Aztec (Mexica) and the Mayans.  The Mayans whose crowning achievements are in the Yucatan were a little earlier than the Aztecs.  Interesting to me were some of the similarities with Cahokia Mounds, our Illinois counterparts, which indicated to me that the culture and trade stretch through the Americas.

The Spanish, of course, led by Cortes and an army that our guide insists were dregs from the prisons, arrived in 1521 determined to find gold and treasures, and dethroned (and decapitated) Montezuma and two successors, a period known as the Conquest, which initiated almost 300 years of “Nuevo Espana”, Spain’s prized possession in the new world, to which Spain brought “civilization”—the Inquisition, the Catholic Church, and the Spanish language, among other legacies.

The rest of our day was in the Historic Center, which had been the Aztec capital, destroyed by the Spanish, who erected their colonial capital on the site.  That included a monstrous cathedral (of course), the largest in Latin America.  Built in the 18^th century, it’s in the baroque style I greatly enjoy, with an addition in a local style named for the architects that is even more over the top. Our guide said that every time there’s an excavation, something new is found.  The famous Aztec calendar (did you know it’s about 6 feet in diameter?) being one item, and Temple Mayor, the chief Aztec temple, being another now under excavation.  Indeed, looking at the map of what’s known, less that 5%s of the historic sites have been excavated.

  We also visited the 18^th century Palace Nacional, now the president’s palace, that had been the home of the 60 or so Spanish Viceroys.  The building houses spectacular murals by Diego Rivera, encapsulating his (mostly socialist/Marxist) view of history—when Rockefeller commissioned him to draw a mural in the Rockefeller center it had likenesses of Karl Marx; the Standard Oil baron paid his friend Rivera, but tore the mural down.  The sketches included Mr.Polk’s war (1846-7) and the bizarre interlude when the Archduke Maximillian of Austria was offered the Mexican throne in 1864 and lasted three years before he was deposed and executed, leaving behind the furniture in Chapultepec Castle that I’ll tell more about tomorrow.

January 3, 2019

Mr. Polk’s War, which could really be called “The war of Yankee aggression”—though “Southern aggression” to expand slavery might be more appropriate.

We’re staying near Chapultepec Hill, which means “Grasshopper Hill”—and yes, grasshopper snacks are available.  They’re not bad with lemon and salt.  Read that as not necessarily good.  Or maybe an acquired taste.  Chapultepec was one of the major battle sites in the Mexican-American War, one which the Mexicans have naturally a different spin on than we do.  About a third of Mexican territory was wrested away—including California, Texas (which had declared itself independent of Mexico, that being one of the casus belli) and much of the American Southwest, for something like 15 million pesos—and a short war.  I remember reading something about it in the new biography of Grant, who was one of the many Civil War participants who cut his military teeth on the battles here, including Chapultepec Hill.  It was one of the major battles because it is a hill above the city (the city itself is 7200 feet high, with 10-12000 foot mountains, some volcanic, nearby. The city, once an island in a lake, has twin problems—earthquake activity (an 8.1 quake 33 years ago severely damaged the cathedral) and the marshy bottom means that parts of the historic center are sinking.

Roughly, the story we were told is that Chapultepec housed the military academy, and General Santa Ana told his army to stand and  fight, then fled with their bullets.  The 100 academy cadets though, stood their ground and perished.  The last 9 became hero-martyrs with a large monument to los nueve ninos in the park.

The castle served duty for the Archduke, who was invited to assume a Mexican throne and put an end to chaos, supported by a French army. Maximilian brought over his own furniture from Europe at the cost of bankrupting the Mexican treasury, which, in part, led to his downfall and execution.  The sumptuous furniture remains as a major attraction of what is now the National Museum of History.  Among the other items I saw were the banner of Cortes (the Virgin Mary) and the banner of one of the founders of independent Mexico, a priest who rallied the troops with the banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe, an apparition of the Virgin that is one of the pillars of Mexican Catholicism.

We spent most of the day in the 20^th century, in the artistic, political, and intimate triangle of artists Diego Rivera, his sometime wife Frida Kahlo, and the political refugee (friend of Diego, lover of Frida) Leon Trotsky. Rivera went to Russia to study, flirted with Communism, and the circles in which he and Frida traveled steered from socialism to communism.  Frida’s bedroom, where she died in the early 1950s had portraits of Mao, Lenin, and Stalin.  Trotsky got Rivera to get him admitted to Mexico (he and Stalin broke after 1924; Trotsky spent time in Kazakstan, Turkey, France, and Norway before living in Mexico.  Rivera asked him to leave the house when he had an affair with Frida (though they stayed friends) but built a house that was an armed camp with live in guards (some of them Mexican police).  He survived one gang attack, but a Catalan Stalinist got access to Trotsky and stabbed him with a pick axe.  He is buried in the compound.

Frida’s house was mobbed—known as the casa azul, the blue house, it (and Trotsky and Rivera’s house/studio are all in an area of town called Coyote, which had been a small colonial village until overrun by the growth of Mexico City.  Before we left, I was reading Howard Kline’s, The United States and Mexico, a 1940s classic; at the time, the population of Mexico was 25 million.  Today that’s yje population of Mexico City. The neighborhood is still pretty quaint, with some homes including the “Casa Cortes” dating from the conquest.  Artists—and tourists—hang out there.