Tepoztlán and Amatlán
February 4, 2015 § 1 Comment
To keep things balanced, it was time to follow up another packed weekend adventure with a week of being stationary- or, at least, of having the same base after sunset. In other words, a few nights in the small and cozy town of Tepoztlán, rumored birthplace of Quetzalcoatl (the feathered serpent god; kind of a big deal in ancient Mexico).
Very much a pueblo mágico, full of sunshine and all sorts of good vibes.
Actually, the first morning was probably the most terrifying awakening of my life because what sounded like a gunshot and bomb and some sort of horrible, deadly explosion shook the (already-broken) windows of my room at 6 o’clock in the morning and I had no idea what was going on, but remembered the demonstration at the zócalo the night before. I thought there was some sort of military siege and I was going to die. But, after a couple of hours of pacing the room, fully dressed and packed in case of required evacuation, the sun came out and people started selling bread in the streets, and I decided that it was safe to laugh at myself.
I learned that it was a firework. And I would get very used to them, as they exploded at 6 AM, on the dot, every single morning. And a few dozen other times throughout the day. Why? No reason.
On my first day, I hiked up to El Tepozteco, a pyramid build on top of a very long series of steep steps and dedicated to Tepotztecatl, god of pulque.
I wasn’t too impressed by the ruin itself, but did love the hike (and the view wasn’t too shabby).
Other than that, it was just a bunch of cortado‘s and jugo‘s in the courtyard of the convent:
When I got bored of wandering through the same streets, I jumped into a combi and headed to Amatlán, a collection of houses about fifteen minutes east of Tepoztlan. It was kind of abandoned, but not creepy at all.
The main plaza featured a happy man singing from the rooftop, and the church was definitely the happiest church that I have seen in Mexico so far.
I asked around for hiking opportunities and was pointed in a couple of potential directions. I settled for the closest one, and walked out of town following a small cobblestone road that turned into a dirt path that turned into flattened grass trails that turned into a dried creek bed that kind of withered away into nothing. So, by the end, I was just walking through bushes and scaling cliffs in the middle of the mountains, but the trail was great while it lasted. Definitely my cup of shady, rugged tea.
With only one encounter with some sort of big animal noises. And a few butterflies of all sorts of patterns.
Eventually, I somehow made it back to town and had one last stroll around the three streets.
Then, back home, for more pastries and grammar practice and fireworks. I did not manage to find the dance lessons that they advertised on random poles, but the week’s repose was otherwise satisfying. It was my first days of autonomy in Mexico, and, while completely different and a bit more intimidating, it was a good break for pacing around in circles and contemplating life.