La Cruz Church and Market

La Cruz is the name for a church up the hill from us and for a market down the hill from us. In 1531, when Qto. was conquered by the Spanish, the Fransicans, who accompanied the army, put up a stone cross on the top of the hill, which later became the site of a church and monastery and the headquarters for the Franciscan attempts to evangelize Arizona and New Mexico for the next couple hundred years. It was the prison for Maximillian in the 1860s, and it was from here that he was taken to the Hill of the Bells on the other side of Qto to his execution. The Hill of the Bells is now the site of the University of Querétaro with a fancy monument to the memory of Maximillian (must have been a love/hate relationship).

The La Cruz market is one of, if not the, largest in Qto; and from what people tell us, if you can’t find what you want at el Mercado de la Cruz, you can’t find it in Qto. Home Depot and Walmart might want to disagree with that, but it is true that La Cruz is big and has a wide variety of merchandise, from mangos to internet cafes, and hardware to shoes and dresses and exotic caged birds.

Sunday, as we were cleaning up the apartment, we heard mortar fire starting at 5:30 AM that continued all day. Mid-morning the drums started that could be heard all over the historic district. When we finished up around dusk, we went in the direction of the noise to have dinner and to see what was going on. In the plaza in front of the Church de la Cruz there were a couple of large terraces or plazuelas (little plazas) filled with indigenas (Indian) groups dressed in rather authentic looking Aztec outfits and spectacular feather headdresses. Each group had 4-6 drummers beating on 55 gallon metal barrels with stretched leather tops to make drums. The sound was deafening, and the movement mesmerizing. At first, we took some pictures (no flash, of course), and then noticed that there were no tourists, not even Mexican tourists. These were danzas Aztecas (Aztec dan es), which seem to have made their re-appearance in the 19th century after 300 years. I really don’t know how authentic they are, but I do remember seeing them on TV years ago at the Virgen de Guadalupe celebrations in Mexico City. It looks like they have become more popular since we left.

As with most things in town, audiences are usually made up of a few criollos (Mexicans of Spanish descent), mestizos (majority of Mexicans) and a few indigenas (indigenous folks). This time there were only a few mestizos and us. Everyone else was indigena. This was clearly intended as a participatory event that had great meaning for the people dancing and the somewhat fewer indigenas watching. Nearer the church there were food stalls, and at the doors of the church there were tables set up for a kermesse sort of event where people sat to eat and play bingo, etc. This area also had a group of young Franciscan friars eating and enjoying themselves with the locals.

Inside the packed main church there was a mass going on despite the constant beating of the drums, and in the chapel next to it (which has a large stone cross.) Some say this is the Cruz of 1531, and some it isn't. I prefer to think it is. The people were sitting quietly and motionless in dramatic contrast to what was going on outside. All of this made up the celebration of the Señor de Esquipulas, presumably part of the pre-lenten celebrations. March 1, is Ash Wednesday. How it all worked together is and will probably remain a mystery, at least to us. But it had more going on than newbies like us could absorb before dinner.

We did come away with a better understanding of why the Spanish were so frightened by Cholultecans and Mexicans that they massacred hundreds of dancing warriors in Cholula and Mexico City. The latter massacre caused the Noche Triste (Sad Night), when Cortes and his men had to escape the city via the causeways across Lake Texcoco. They were caught at the breaks in the causeways where they tried to use the temporary wooden bridges they had built. It became a rout as men and horses ended up abandoning the bridges and jumped into the lake to get across the breaches in the causeways. Many died, weighed down with the gold they had stolen. It was easy to imagine how similar dances under dim torch light only a few months after arriving in this new world might have made the Spanish edgy.

We had dinner at a restaurant across the street, and the waitress, who was clearly tired out by the relentless beating of the drums and the fireworks, said she just hoped it would be over soon. We heard from Carl and Francis the next morning that they had been there too, in the morning and later at night, and that the fireworks in front of the church (built on bamboo frameworks) were really something to see.

Tuesday, we got our refrigerator and decided to explore the Mercado de la Cruz to fill it up. It is a block and a half away. We headed out and noticed a rustico furniture place. Needing cushions for the furniture that had arrived the day before, we dropped in to see if they could make them. They could but it would cost $1,800 Mx. They could also make us some tables for the water bottle and the computer. We shall see.

Two or three stores down, we stopped at an internet café and checked e-mail. Then on to the market, past the clothes, the bird market with all kinds of birds (some for looks, some for talking and some for singing), and finally to the butcher area where the old familiar smell of Mexican markets wafted towards us.

We finally bought an avocado, lettuce (I know, I know), jitomates (which are our tomatoes, as their tomatoes are very different from what we call tomatoes), a mango, a papaya to make up for the house we did not get, little red potatoes, etc. etc. and then we saw the flower market and had to get some flowers for our new dining table. As we left the market, we stopped at the chicken roasting place across the street and picked up a chicken which the lady cut into pieces with a big pair of scissors. She also gave us half a dozen tortillas, some roasted potatoes, and roasted chiles. The bags were cutting through my hands as we started to walk back.

We were proud of ourselves and looking forward to lunch when we got to the apartment and realized that we had absolutely no water, not a drop, except for bottled drinking water. Since it was too late to call the landlord (siesta time) we waited until later. After some telephone tag with our new cell phone, we finally got through. They really must fix the pump on the reserve cistern to get water up to the tanks on the roof. Hopefully tomorrow. This evening we hope to meet up with Maria and Bob at Harry’s, a Cajun restaurant for Mardi Gras, laissez les bons temps rouler.

Afterword

There was a student band playing martial music in the square, all drums and trumpets at maximum loud. The restaurant jazz band tried to out do them! I only caught a fraction of the conversation, but did have a few mango margaritas.