While the drive is not exactly the Mexico of my childhood imagination, Puebla is certainly more in line with that vision. Passing through fields of horse drawn carts and hand-hoed fields (and there are no Amish here I'm aware of), we finally arrived in the historic center of Puebla. A stopover between the old port city of Vera Cruz and the capital, Puebla was the only one of the colonial cities of any size not founded around an indeginous precedent. Such a tabula rasa condition explains why it is perhaps the most perfect execution of the Law of the Indies around. Here is a grid, a perfect matrix, that unlike the more utilitarian New York example is both more humanly accessible and more sure of it's center: the well shaded, highly activated Zocalo. Smaller in scale than it's neighbor in the DF, it is nevertheless more tranquil and accessible, full of trees and monuments. That there is a massive old Cathedral goes without saying, although it faces west, giving it's flank to the Zocalo and providing a somber backdrop to any one of three shows given by the many many clowns in the city.
The Zocalo is, like it's big city cousin, surrounded by arcaded passages. And there is one passage glued to the audacious 19th beaux arts municipal palace. And unfortunately, because my battery died immediately after I took this picture, and it is one of the rechargable lithium types that are supposed to last longer than the double AAs, this is the last of the pics you'll get from this whole trip. So, if you want to read further, you'll just have to put up with a few thousand words.
There are several other great 19th century buildings in the city, and also many markets, both for food, artesan crafts, and mass produced everyday goods, each with its own home in its own quarter of the city. And there are some great churches, much better than the rather monotonous, disappointing lot in the center of the DF. The Cappella del Rosario in the Templo de Santo Domingo is covered top to bottom with gold on an undulating textured surface that you can easily fool yourself into believing is moving like the pit of snakes in Raiders of the Lost Ark. In the words of a good friend, it is Bernini on Acid. And in an act of the surreal and the profane, while I was standing outside admiring the chapel and the wedding going on inside, I caught sight of a small, red spot on the otherwise glimmering gold surface(s) and recognized it immediately as helium filled Spiderman head, out of reach to all but the angels.I had some great Pechuga con Mole in a place called La Fonda de Santa Cruz (which is nowhere near the ex-Convento de Santa Cruz and the myriad of candy stores bearing the name Santa Cruz). Pechuga con Mole on the English menu is translated as 'Breast with Mole', not exactly the most appetizing of images, but if you like the almost chocolatey taste of Mole, then it does justice to the reputation of the city as the best for the dish.
As I was wandering in the northern quarter of the city I saw a light on at the end of a block and thought to myself, well here's a bar, perhaps I'll check it out. As I got closer, however, I saw a few patrons but no drinks and no bar, but only coffins. And then I saw another place across the street, also filled top to bottom with homes for the dead. And above these stores I saw the sign '24 hrs'. I suppose that historically in such a warm climate it has been imperative to take care of the dead with speed. Ironically enough, I just finished 'As I Lay Dying' in which a similar situation is not attended to with much speed and I can see why there might be a market for such things in the wee hours of the morning.
Well, I hightailed it out of there to another quarter where I did find a nice bar, sans coffins, and with something even more fun: live music. I took in a few chelas and a set and as I made my way out to get back to the hotel I saw something that is straight out of my childhood dreams of Mexico. Now, I had a few drinks, but I swear I saw two horsemen replete with big sombreros riding down the street and one had an open bottle of Chivas Regal. The only thing missing were some pistol shots in a cantina.
One cannot escape the feeling of the abstract in Puebla, as the grid is so overwhelming, both as a physcial atmosphere and in the nomenclature of the quarters. The numbered, directional names of the streets '3 West', '4 North', for example, are pulled straight from my Pre-Calculus class. If I threw a few parabolic curves on an inverted map there and talked about what could happen in the interstices left by such a superimposition, especially with regard to the various aforementioned markets, I could do quite well in some upper level design studios of a few years ago in my university.
And lest I forget, I also got over to Cholula, that for all the sprawl is like suburban anywhere USA, is essentially the same city as Puebla. Unlike Puebla, Cholula was a pre-Columbian site before the Spaniards arrived to spoil the party. Although only a town today, in 1519 it was second only to Tenotchtitlan in population in the whole of central Mexico. But not to be outdone, the Cholulans boasted not only the largest pyramid in Mexico, but the largest by volume in the entire world. This is still highly visible today, although as it had fallen out of use even by the time the Spaniards arrived, nature has largely reclaimed it and it looks more like a pimple of a hill today with a quaint orangish-yellow church on top. From that church there is a great view of the entire landscape: the Cathedral of Puebla in the near distance, the ominous doom foretold by Popo's bad habit, the various, colorful churches of Cholula (supposedly one for each day of the year, though from my observations, I find that unlikely), and the Zocalo. The Zocalo here is also well shaded, and is arcaded on one side by shops and restaurants (one of which serves an amazing churro relleno con zarzamora). Opposite los portales are two churches which are so old you can see in them the traits typical of the transition from medieval to classical dispositions which are usually only to found in those parts of Europe which weren't detroyed not so long ago. And speaking of senseless death and destruction, the Zocalo in Cholula was also the witness to a massacre of the locals by Cortes and his Tlaxcalan allies. Official histories typically cite this as a battle, but let's not forget that winners write those and power has always, even to this day, used lies and deceit to further it's aims.
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