What the Zacatecas???

It Seemed Like a Good Idea...

It also seems that a lot of our blogs start that way.  So, one day I was lolling about just reading random things when I stumbled upon this festival called The Morismas de Bracho in Zacatecas.  As I read articles about it in badly translated English or several Spanish versions I became more and more confused.  The gist appeared to be that this festival was: 1) four days long with 13,000 participants and 70,000 observers; 2) Reenacted the naval Battle of Lepento of 1571  between Christians and Ottomans (something about Crete in there somewhere); 3) featured the beheading of St. John the Baptist (huh? wasn't that way before 1571?); and  4) utilizes over one ton of gunpowder every year. Given the facts that the Ottomans never had anything to do with Mexico, that a naval battle would be recreated in mountainous, arid Zacatecas and that somehow St. John the Baptist insinuated himself into this situation, I turned to Michael and said:  "We must witness this."  He agreed.

Hoofing it to the Hacienda

In order to rest up and prepare ourselves for the spectacle to come, I booked us a room for a night in The Hacienda Aguagordita in the little state of Aguascalientes.  Booking was difficult, paying was difficult, directions were non existent but I knew it would be great -- and it was!  I had my misgivings as we approached through a poverty stricken, dirt/mud roaded pueblo but then -- so Mexico-- we turned a corner and there was this amazing hacienda.  So, we pull up to the gate.  No one.  I open the gate. No one.  We drive in.  No one except an enormous Old English Sheepdog -- I love the place already!  The pictures will give you an idea of what it is like.  Finally folks appear and they seem anxious and worried.  In my (still) hideous Spanish I attempt to reassure and calm them.  They are upset because they know we are Gringos and "THE ENGLISH SPEAKER" is still on the road.  We wander around and, it becomes apparent, we are the only guests.  I mean ONLY guests.  This is both great and, initially, a little creepy.  But we rapidly adjust to our roles as Don and Doña Searles Fowler, masters of the hacienda and, without whipping anyone, we take control. Shortly thereafter "THE ENGLISH SPEAKER" arrives.  She is the seventeen year old daughter of the owners of the hacienda.  While Michael is getting his massage (yes, life is good) I chat her up and discover that the hacienda is a labor of love (vs. something that makes money) for their family.  They have owned it for six years and are restoring it from a partial ruin.  It is still in the somewhat shabby chic stage but is charming.  I also find out that she is dating a Cuban horse trainer who lives in Miami and is significantly older and her parents aren't that happy.....well, you don't care about all that. Ah, to be seventeen....

As Michael and I gazed from our balcony across the lawns we saw it.  The PERFECT croquet course. Beautiful, lush, level fuzzy green lawn begging for people to whack balls through wickets.  We are committed to assembling a cadre of players and decamping to the hacienda for a couple of days of genteel sport.  Let us know if you want to sign up.

Views of the hacienda and the grounds, including the Old English Sheepdog and the horse.

On to the Spectacle!

We don't really want to leave the hacienda (maybe ever) but we know that 13,000 Mexicans dressed up like Moors (scimitars and all) and Christians (however they dress) await in Zacatecas.  As we enter the town, I say to Michael that it seems pretty calm for a place that is hosting 70,000 spectators. The hotel seems pretty empty too.  As we sit at the registration desk I try to explain in Spanish that we are here for the Morismas de Bracho and the clerk looks baffled.  I don't regard this as a good sign.  More attempts to communicate.  More failure.  Finally, a woman at the next desk who speaks English, but has failed to intervene up to this point says: "Oh, yes.  I think I know what your are talking about.  That is NEXT weekend."

This festival has been held for over 200 years and it has ALWAYS been held on the last weekend in August. ALWAYS.  Except this year.  I inquire as to why it is not being held the last weekend in August.  The woman deadpans:  "They changed it."  Ahhhhh, so that's it.  As we wander the town we are amazed that people seem to have no idea about this colossal spectacle.  I mean it DOES happen every year.  But no.  Restaurants seem unaware that 70,000 people will deluge them in a number of days.  No posters.  No banners.  Nada.  As my mother used to say when I complained of boredom: "Well, little lady, I think you are just going to have to make your own fun."  And so we did -- kind of.

What Could Be More Fun...

Then the Museum of the Inquisition?  Yes, right there in downtown Zecatecas we could feast our eyes eyes on an astounding array of instruments of torture and death.  The tour was entirely in Spanish but that was fine because you really didn't need words to understand what these "instruments" were about and our guide seemed to relish all of it a bit too much in any language.  We had a marvelous time and learned absolutely nothing about the Inquisition in Mexico so I looked it up upon our return and will give you the bare bones.  It lasted from 1571-1820 which seems an inordinate amount of time for rounding up heretics.  When all is said and done only about 50 people were killed.  Based on the amount of torture mechanisms we saw this number seems artificially low but who knows.  Those killed were the usual suspects -- Jews, Blacks and Mulattos.  Having systematically tortured, sickened and killed the indigenous people for 100 years already they gave them a pass, by and large, on the Inquisition.

Some photos from the Inquisition Museum.

A Visit to the Brothers Coronel

There once were two talented artistic brothers in Zacatecas and each now has his own museum each of which is housed in a former convent.  There are many empty convents in Mexico which is great for the B&B and art businesses.  In any case,  Rafael Coronel was the son in law of Diego Rivera and his museum has the most amazing masks ever.  Five THOUSAND of them.  The ones from Guerrero and Michoacan are the creepiest.  Michael will pick out some wonderful specimens.  He also collected marionettes (very elaborate) and pottery and architectural drawings and....well, he liked to collect things.  So that's him.

The ruins of some of the convent buildings.

One section of the museum had a hindu theme.

There were these sculptures throughout the grounds of these wizard looking characters, with no explanation as to why, where or how they ended up here.

Was this the original inspiration for the Wookie?

The masks ranged from the primitive to very sophisticated carvings.

The materials used in the masks also ran the gamut.

This is designed to be worn by a person.

A very cleverly designed instrument with a face.

Some of the marionettes were very elaborately staged...

while others were quite simple.

More wizards in the gardens.

This is titled Jarabe Tapatio, referring to the Mexican hat dance. Tapatio is also the term used for Guadalajarans.

And even more wizards!

Then, across town, is brother Pedro's museum.  It has an amazing collection of Miro, Dali, Picasso et al.  So, I assumed that these brothers had buckets of bucks and that the family was probably heavy into the mining business that made Zacatecas rich.  But no.  They started out poor.  How poor?  When Pedro entered his first art competition he had to do the submitted drawing in crayon because it was all he could afford.  He still won.  Pretty good.  In any case, they must have sold boodles of paintings for healthy sums to afford all these collections.  Not being an art maven I had never heard of them but maybe you have.  Probably not.

The outside corridors had sculptures.

Inside the angel guards the sarcophagus.

Inside were artists such as Chagall, Dali, Miro, Picasso & Vasarely.

There were also pieces collected from around the world.

An interesting side by side comparison of an Aztec from Mexico and a Buddhist from the far East.

And Now, for the Kicker...

Still seeking amusement, Michael and I were wandering the streets when we happened upon a sign that said: Museo de Planchados.  I looked at Michael and said "That can't be right.  That means The Museum of Ironing."  Hmmm.  I walked up to the ticket counter and said "Planchado?  Verdad?". They were SO excited to see us!  We were SO excited to have found a venue that even the Atlas Obscura had overlooked.  We forked over the entrance fee and the owner himself gave us an exhaustive tour of the museum -- all in Spanish but, you know, ironing is ironing in any language.  So this guy had dedicated his whole life (well 40 years) to collecting irons from around the world.  I was so stunned by this quirky vocation that I failed to ask him the obvious question of why the hell had started this in the first place.  But he clearly loved his irons.  And they were very interesting.  For instance, in most countries before electricity you heated your iron on a stove or over a fire.  Not the Chinese or Indians (Asian -- I don't think Native Americans ironed).  They heated stones and then threw the stones into a container on top of the iron.  Then I noticed that the Dutch did that.  But only after they had been to the Indian side of the world.  The benefits of colonization.  They had irons dedicated to ironing pleats, mangles, Hello Kitty irons, mini irons, mega irons.  Stunning.  So, it's up there with the Froggy Museum for strange dudes founding strange museums.

Most of the captions speak for themselves.

For all the Catholics, this requires no caption.

Why not a wine rack made from irons.

Deirdre had to try out the largest iron (and the heaviest).

Faux Marismos de Bracho

We were nursing our disappointment at missing the Marismos de Bracho as we strolled through the lobby of the Zacatecas theatre.  And THERE was a huge display of photos of the actual event held last year ON THE LAST WEEKEND IN AUGUST.  The photos were terrific.  So I said to Michael:  "Hey, just take pictures of the pictures and we'll just tell everybody we saw it."  Michael, who as you all know, is far more principled than I am refused to take part in my deception.  However, he did agree to  include the photos.  So here you go.

The theater dates from 1891...

and had some interesting stain glass windows.

Photos of what we missed by coming a week earlier.

Now, I thought and thought and said, "They can't possibly pull this 13,000 person spectacle off without any practice.  Let's just haul out to the Lomas de Bracho and see what's going on."  So, we drove on out and, sure enough, there were people arriving to watch...well, something.  We only saw two guys with Scimitars, a couple of little girls dressed as Moors and carnival rides being erected. After seeing the site we were actually sort of pleased that it would be the following weekend.  One would have to walk uphill at least a mile and still be 1/4 mile away from the action.  It would make the Palio in Sienna look like a book club meeting.  It was a week away and people were setting up campsites and cooking facilities. We decided to move on to El Cerro de la Bufa.  It's Sunday afternoon which means that every Mexican family that is not setting up tents for Los Marismos de Bracho is at El Cerro de la Bufa -- a giant hill in the middle of giant mountains with giant views and really giant statues.  Kids are riding zip lines, there are horsey rides, mountains of ice cream and corn (not together) are being sold.  We stroll around soaking up the scenery and the friendliness and civility of the Mexican people.  Then it rains and we go back to the hotel which is very dark and has no English TV.

This is the Moorish castle facade used in the battle.

Even though we missed the Morismas de Bracho, we did not miss the matachines dancers.

These are ritual dances performed by indigenous people and is explained by oral tradition as "The Dance of the Moors and Christians"and is the first masked dance introduced by the Spanish.

The jump-suited masked individual with the whip added a modern twist to the dance, and symbolizes the devil.

Practicing for the Morismas de Bracho.

The zip line at El Cerro de la Bufa.

No fear here as these people scramble around la Bufa.

Statues of Pancho Villa and his cohorts were on la Bufa.

From la Bufa one can gain an appreciation for the size of the Don Miguel hotel complex (in the back of the photo), which consists of 447 rooms, along with numerous ballrooms and conference rooms.

All of Zacatecas spreads out below la Bufa.

If you are an illustrious person of Zacatecas, you are interred in this mausoleum on the top of la Bufa.

With the various colors of lichen, the rocks of la Bufa can take on a very sinister aspect.

Running Out of Things to Do?  Not Quite Yet

The weather continues to be subpar but we decide to strike out for a Pueblo Magico called Jerez.  We are assured by the tourist guide that it is indeed magical.  Ha!  Not so!  It is just a village--in my mind like any number of others we have passed through.  We become indignant.  For years there has been talk of Ajijic gaining this esteemed moniker but there is always something..... "You can't have street vendors.  You can't have (fill in endless number of things you can't/must have).  Well, Jerez is cluttered with street vendors, is quite monochromatic, and the people don't smile.  In a huff we leave. Luckily we stumble upon La Quemada which is extremely interesting, if inaccessible, ancient site. Nobody really knows who built it but the Aztecs definitely passed through it at some point.  The construction, as seen in the photos, is quite different than most early native settlements.  It was by all accounts a major trading location due to its very central location.  Oh, I'm boring even me.  I'll stop.

The Jerez tourist office (such as it was) was not even open in all the time we were there.

The plaza has some nice fountains and the requisite band stand.

A lot of mystery surrounds La Quemada, also known as Chicomóztoc. It was developed between 300 and 1200 AD.

The Salón de Columnas had columns that reached height of more than 5 meters and supported the roof.  

Bottle of Wine, Fruit of the Vine....

We're running out of things to do.  So at dinner, we snag Myra -- our sweet English speaking waitress-- and enlist her to find something interesting we might do the next day.  She huddles with the staff and they come up with a winery.  They provide a phone number.  Our hotel calls the next morning and alerts them that the Gringos want to visit.  We arrive and see by the sign that they are not open that day.  But, and this is SO Mexico, a guard comes out and says that of course we are welcome.  Once again, we are the ONLY tourists/visitors at a place.  But it is great and we drink and eat cheese and oogle vines.  And now the trip can conclude.

Before heading to the winery we went in search of the Zacatecas aqueduct...

and stumbled across this statue to the indigenous...

in addition to the aqueduct constructed by the Spanish in the last years of the colonization and was completed in the beginning years of Mexican Independence.

We also found this park with the ZAC fountain and lovely flowers throughout.

Deirdre relaxing at the winery awaiting our wine & cheese.

Lavender edged the rows of grapes we viewed from our vantage point.

Colorful cupolas decorated the house of the owners.

The winery was also set up to be an "eventos" for entertaining large gatherings.

Off to Voyage Again

We've been a bit tardy in getting this one out.  So tardy that we are about to take off again.  On  Sunday we leave on a trip that will take us to Panama, Brazil, Iguazu Falls, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Easter Island, Mendoza and Patagonia.  We'll be back on Halloween.  We're taking the laptop so we may try to post from the road but...well, you know.  In the interim have a sweet fall -- we'll be having spring.  I'm really looking forward to finding out if the toilets flush in reverse.