Many of our travels over the last twenty-five years have
been pilgrimages, trips to sacred sites that have had deep meaning for us.
For me, our recent trip to Mexico was not one
of these; it was a vacation (Barry saw it differently, as you can see if you check
out his
blog).
We did visit many ancient sites such as Teotihuacan and Monte Alban, and fabulous museums
(Mexican museums are fantastic) full of ancient artifacts. I was impressed with
the number of goddess figures, and I loved seeing all of it, but I didn’t
experience a personal connection to pieces or to ruins the way I have, say, in
Greece or Malta.
What remains with me most clearly, though, are impressions,
colors, and the depth of culture (or more accurately cultures). People have told me that they wouldn’t travel
to Mexico because they wouldn’t feel safe.
I have to say that where we went I felt perfectly safe. Even in Mexico City (staying in the Condesa
neighborhood was great). Where I felt
most connected and was touched profoundly was the village of Teotitlan del
Valle, where we spent the final days of our trip. I am so grateful that we didn’t go to the
coast, which is what we had intended.
Not that we wouldn’t have loved some time by the ocean. But being in the village was special. Our timing was great. We arrived on the 20 November holiday, and
that evening there was a big village fiesta full of good food and folk dancing
performances. There were several hundred
people, and I only saw two other anglos in the crowd. It was not a tourist affair. The Zapotec people are tiny, and many still
dress in traditional garb, especially the older women. We definitely stood out, but never felt
unwelcome.
Teotitlan is the Zapotec weavers’ village. It seems as though every family weaves, if
not every member of every family. Some
still card and dye their own wool. We
stayed at a B&B an American ex-pat helped two widows open in order to earn
money to feed their children after their husbands died. It felt good to support them. Of course, we had to purchase several of
their small weavings.
From the rooftop
patio outside our 2nd floor room we had views of the surrounding mountains
and of other nearby family compounds - yards with turkeys, chickens and goats,
and stables of burros that woke us up each morning. The area is lovely, with streams running
through town and brightly painted buildings.
One nearby mountain peak stood out.
I had the feeling it must be a sacred mountain. I asked our host and it turned out to be
true, and still the site of annual rituals.
Elders here are treated with respect (imagine that!). Barry witnessed a young man walking down our
street who purposely crossed over to the other side to greet and take both
hands of an old woman walking the other way.
No one walks around here without being wished a good
day. Barry went out for a walk one
evening and wound up at the church at the end of a mass. People came up to him as they left and wished
him peace, many hugging him. He came
back glowing. We miss this, don’t
we? The simple courtesies and
neighborliness that I imagine used to be the norm, not the exception.
I don’t want to paint life in the village as idyllic. I’m sure there are plenty of problems, and
it’s not realistic to think I could “get” the place in a few days. But it was a wonderful few days that I will
remember.
I’ve been writing and thinking about the importance of place
ever since the workshop with Deena Metzger.
Teotitlan del Valle gave me a glimpse of something we’ve lost – a place
where people have lived and worked and made art for many generations, where
traditions run deep and the ancestral is very much present.
It didn't hurt that the B&B is called Las Granadas, or The Pomegranates, which of course are sacred to me!
