Thursday, November 10, 2005

(Part One)

After a false start yesterday, when someone decided it was too cloudy and we should sleep in, we were determined to make it to Teotihuacan today. We set an alarm for six, but after a mosquito brawl at 3:00 am we couldn't face getting up when it went off. So we reset it for 7:00 am and then snoozed for forty-five minutes. Then we had breakfast. We finally got to the bus station just in time to jump onto the 10:30 bus to Teotihuacan/Los Piramedes.

Sometimes when I'm traveling, things happen to make me like or dislike a place, things that are not fair or logical but mold my opinion anyway. These things usually sound like nothing when spoken aloud. (You fell in love with Calcutta because you took a cab in the rain? What?) But they affect me anyway. Today's event was nothing more than some old guy who got on the bus with his guitar to try to earn a few pesos.

As soon as he strummed the first chords, I suspected I would like him. When he started to sing, I immediately fished out $5 pesos. Halfway through his first song, about love and life and a woman named Isabel (thats really all I understood), I added another $5 peso coin to the first. He sang three songs, and I loved it. It sounds like nothing, but it made me feel special about Mexico City and the country in general.

So I was extra excited to go to Teotihuacan because I was in such a warm and fuzzy mood about Mexico. And it was great. It was a gorgeous warm, soft day sprinkled with fluffy clouds. The main attractions, or at least, the biggest attractions, are the Piramides del Sol y de la Luna (Pyramids of the Sun and Moon). We worked our way along the Calzada de Los Muertos (Avenue of the Dead) which involved climbing up and down a lot of stone stairs, until we got to the Pyramid of the Sun. This was less pretty than it was impressive, but it was easily impressive enough to make up for any lack of prettiness. To be fair, it was probably much prettier back in the day when it was painted bright red.

The stairs were so steep that my fear of slopes kicked in and I had a bad few moments trying to climb the pyramid, but I calmed down after a while. The climb was no joke. At least, it was no joke for me, but seemed to be very much a joke for the hordes of kids in school uniforms that went scrambling past me, sometimes not even bothering to use the stairs.

Some girl at the top was overcome by the climb and was being fanned and shaded and wet-compressed by her groupmates ("Darama," Michael said.) and it was really funny to see all the other tourists sneaking up for a quick peek and then going back to their companions. I mean, help her or leave her alone. Anyway, she recovered fine; we saw her taking group photos later.

We stayed at the top of the Pyramide Del Sol for over an hour, looking at the amazing view and watching the tourists. Sometimes when you're feeling overwhelmed by a foreign country, going to a 100% tourist spot is the next best thing to going home. Like, there's no need to try to blend in, we're all tourists here, man, even the Mexicans. We're just trying to learn about the Aztecs, it's cool to have on goofy clothes and a dorky hat and take dozens of photos of each other standing in front of things and smiling. Anyway, the view was astonishing. We could see 360 degrees around us, all the way to the curving horizon. It was like sitting in the middle of a giant coin, under thick, fluffy, white clouds. We didn't really want to climb back down, but there was more to see.

One drawback to the site is that it's crammed with vendors wandering about selling obsidian carvings, blankets, jewelry, wooden flutes, and other souvenirs, and they are very persistant. I can't be mad at them for trying to make a living, but I can't say I enjoyed their presence either. They were literally everywhere except on top of the structures. The stuff was cheap though, so if you want an obsidian turtle for not too many pesos, that's the spot to look.

We decided to take a quick lunch break, but accidentally ended up eating at a fancy restaurant in a cave. It was a bit pricy, but not overpriced, considering that that food was very good and we were in a real, live cave made of actual rocks. (La Gruta, where Porfirio Diaz ate in 1906. Try the red mole. They also have all that exotic pre-Colombian insecty food, like fried maguey worms, if you're into that. Which I'm not. And if that makes me closed-minded, well, so be it.)

The only bad part about lunch is that when I went to the otherwise spotless damas' room I managed to choose the only stall that had a giant spider living above it. Unfortunately I didn't spot it until I was pretty much committed to that stall. I almost cried when I realized its web was attached to the door, so that when I wanted to open it and leave, I was stretching the web and disturbing the spider, who might decide to swing down and attack, or flee, it doesn't matter, its all scary moving legs to me. Well, I got away. But why can't I ever go to the bathroom in peace?

And then there's Michael, who tries to comfort me by putting his arm around me, but subtly making his hand seem like a spider sitting on my shoulder, just to make me scream. He never gets tired of that one. Oh and now that I picked up a copy of The Stand from the book exchange, his new favorite thing is to fake cough and sneeze while I'm reading it.

 

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Aztecesque tablecloth for sale.

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Piramide del Sol.

Climbing Piramide del Sol.

On top of Piramide del Sol, in 3-inch white patent-leather heels. Indomitable Mexican femininity, or did she not know where her date was taking her?

View of Piramide de la Luna, from Piramide del Sol.

Kicking back on top of Piramide del Sol.

They did this on all four sides of the pyramid.

Michael on top of Piramide del Sol, with Piramide de la Luna in the background.

More climbers, Piramide del Sol.

View from Piramide del Sol. Michael loves his Keens.

Me climbing down the pyramid.