Postcard from Cholula, Puebla, Mexico: Catholic churches cover up ancient pyramids

Some say Chiconauhquiauhitl (goddess of nine rains) struck Nuestra Senora de los Remedios church perched above Cholula in Puebla, Mexico, with lightening multiple times in retribution for usurping her site in 1594. The church, as were many in Mexico, was built atop the goddess’ pyramid, Tlachihualtepetl (artificial mountain), reputedly the largest known pyramid in the Western Hemisphere.

The town below is filled with churches, including the ochre-and-peach-colored active monastery of San Gabriel constructed in the 1530s atop the ruins of another pyramid, this one dedicated to Quetzalcoatl. The newer Dreamsicle-colored parish church of San Pedro, dating from the 1600s, fronts the town’s main plaza.

Photos from two of the most colorful churches of Cholula are ahead.

Postcard from Puebla, Mexico: Talavera tiles accent glittering gold

Gilded to the hilt, the Capilla del Rosario provides a Cinderella-like setting for destination weddings in downtown Puebla. The chapel is dedicated to Our Lady of the Rosary, who appeared to Saint Dominic (1170-1221) and presented him with a rosary to aid his efforts to combat heresy and recruit converts to Catholicism.

The chapel is “new,” added in the second half of the 17th century to the much older Templo de Santo Domingo, dating from the late 16th century. Templo de Santo Domingo boldly combines ornate gilded Baroque embellishment with seemingly incongruous folk-art-like, colorful talavera tile.

Most of these images are from the interior of the temple Santo Domingo, but the same is true in many of the city’s churches. Somehow the contrasting styles work together, the tiles conveying a comforting hominess preventing the opulence from overwhelming the faithful flocking to kneel in the pews.

But back to the rosary. Among the many things nuns never taught me was what to do with the beads of a rosary. About the only thing I understood about the rosary given to me by my godmother on the occasion of my first communion at age 6 was that I was not to wear it as a necklace when playing dress-up.

Even in the late 1950s, rosaries seemed to be used only by white-haired widows, mysteriously muttering over each bead for long periods of time. Now I know why; it’s complicated. According to one website:

A rosary is a string of beads with a crucifix. A short string of five beads is attached to the crucifix which leads to a large circular strip of beads made of five sets of one large bead and ten smaller beads, called decades. You begin on the crucifix with a Sign of the Cross and an Apostles’ Creed. Say an Our Father on the large bead and one Hail Mary for each of the next three smaller beads. On the next large bead, say a Glory Be to the Father, announce and meditate on the first mystery and say an Our Father. Say a Hail Mary for each of the following smaller beads, and end the decade with the Glory Be. Begin the cycle again with an Our Father, meditate the second mystery according to the same schema and so on for the third, fourth and fifth mysteries. You end with the Prayer After the Rosary and a Sign of the Cross.

Phew! But those are only part of the instructions, omitted from gift boxes containing rosaries. The five mysteries to be contemplated on each decade change according to the days of the week, meaning there are a lot more than five with which one must be familiar. The Joyful Mysteries are recited on Mondays and Saturdays and are counter-balanced by the Sorrowful Mysteries on Tuesdays and Fridays. The redeeming Glorious Mysteries are the focus on Wednesdays and Sundays, and then, there are my favorites, the Luminous Mysteries celebrated on Thursdays. Thursday rosaries probably are most popular with those footing the bills for the destination weddings as well; for the second Luminous Mystery relates to the miraculous conversion of water into wine for the guests attending the wedding feast at Cana.

For exterior views of some of Puebla’s churches, visit an earlier post, Almost a church on every corner in the “City of Angels,” and to see saintly shrines housed within, visit Saints to answer any prayer.

Postcard from Tlaxcala, Mexico: Daytripping through Mexico’s smallest state

A birdman caged underground for more than 1,000 years, Cacaxtla’s powerful priest of Quetzalcoatl now can be viewed in an archaeological site outside the town of San Miguel del Milagro, Tlaxcala, Mexico’s smallest state. Dressed in the guise of an eagle and surfing atop a feathered serpent, the priest was not uncovered until the 1970s.

The pyramid containing the best-preserved pre-Columbian murals recovered to date in this hemisphere is still undergoing restoration. The beehive of archaeological activity involves backbreaking labor seemingly not much different from that involved in the original construction. Yes, wheelbarrows are used, but they only cart the workers’ heavy loads to the bottom of the first step. Close to 100 men and women were scurrying on site in what must be a major public works boon to the small town’s economy.

The peaceful, hilly town of Tlaxcala City itself is a refuge for those from Mexico City, meaning tony shops and restaurants are tucked behind some of the humble-seeming facades.

But we pressed on, a lunch destination in mind. We headed to Apizaco to find Chef Francisco Molina’s Evoka, a restaurant many hail as among the most outstanding in all of Mexico. The chef is known for elevating regional ingredients and traditional dishes of Tlaxcala to new heights, and he did not let us down.

Pleased by a trio of amuse-bouche and emboldened by a mysterious mezcal margarita and a mojito de toronjil (melon liqueur, ancho reyes and lemon balm), we decided this was the place to experience one of those insect dishes we had yet to try. Yes, we’ve consumed grasshoppers and chicatanas numerous times, but never escamoles. The caviar-like delicacies prized since the time of Quetzalcoatl are eggs stolen from venomous giant ants inhabiting the root systems of agave plants. The volcan de escamoles emerging from the kitchen is a chaulpa layering the large eggs with beans, wild mushrooms harvested from the slopes of the nearby Malinche volcano, artisanal cheese and avocado. Quite a refreshingly tasty combination.

Our main courses were chicken with cilantro pesto and robalo with adobo sauce steamed in mixotes, packages of agave skin, with an assortment of vegetables harvested from the restaurant’s garden. We finished the feast with a quartet of nieves, scoops of house-made lemon balm and strawberry sorbets and hoja santa and dried corn ice cream.

Definitely worth a detour.