Mexico …behind the walls
Mexico behind the walls
Mexico behind the walls
The taxi driver wound us through major thoroughfares, near hospitals which appeared untouched from the 1950's, around dusty vehicles and in front of structures that hadn't seen paint in some time. We were headed to the place that would be our home away from home' in Tlaquapaque, Mexico, a colonial town now ringed by Guadalajara.
Hesitantly, in broken Spanish, I gave the driver the address of the bed and breakfast inn. Eventually, he pulled into a narrow streetmore like two straight lines of concrete walls, punctuated by doorways and garage doors. No grassy yards, no landscaping or "curb appeal" as TV decorators would have us believe are essential to modern urbanites everywhere. I could sense that my husband was wondering, "What have you gotten us into?" and frankly, I began doubting my expertise as an internet savvy travel planner. The online photos were definitely not taken from the street, or were of some property unassociated with the one we now stood before. Along the street stood a shoe factory, an old paint store and numerous parked cars, allowing only one car to pass at a time. Most of the doorways were plain, marked only with a number. Iron gates barricaded several entries. Finally the taxi came to a haltdogs barked wildly as we exited the taxi and made our way down crumbling sidewalks. Be adventurous was our credo, perhaps this would be a new level of adventure!
Being near sunset, we were weary from a five hour bus ride, extremely hungry and already committed to a B&B that so far wasn't screaming "paradise lies within!" However, as promised on it's web site, it was identifiableby the giant black and green iron gate, two prominent white flags and the cobalt blue paint that covered nearly three hundred yards of concrete walls. We stood, backpacks in hand, in front of the gates as our taxi driver kindly waited to see if we would be allowed to enter. Sensing our bewilderment, he pointed to a small button above the doorway. We pushed it. Footsteps on the other side let us know someone was rushing to open the imposing gate.
When opened, we found ourselves standing in the midst of a beautiful and most welcoming courtyard. From the front entry we could see beyond to buildings that seemed to raise and lower in a show of color. There were multiple levels of stairways, each with ornate iron railings, red tile steps which were lined with brightly colored pots filled with an array of flowering plants. Maria, our greeter, checked us in, and then offered to tour us through the inn. Each turn showed more charm and color than the last. The inn had four levels, each painted in vibrant oranges, yellows and blues, water fountains created a pleasant, relaxing sound, and flowers, along with canaries singing from wicker cages brought even more life to this place behind the walls. The floor was covered with rusty red clay tile. Walls both inside and out were decorated in vivid hanging pots and hand painted tiles. Arched doorways and windows were embellished with ornamental iron shutters. Wrought iron furniture with colorful cushions on each level invited us to sit, relax and soak in the character of this magical find.
By now we were sold on this place and could care less about our actual room. I could have slept on the wicker couch in the dining alcove and been perfectly happy.
And then it hit me. This place was a perfect metaphor for Mexico.
In Mexico, if we only look to the exterior a sometimes gritty, heart wrenching country filled with signs or customs we don't understand, we'll miss what is "behind the wall". And for those who are afraid of what they will find, because of current cautionary news stories about Mexico, they opt to avoid the country entirely. It is truly their loss. They will miss out on the colorful soul that is Mexico.
However, if we open the gate and truly go inside not to the sanitized, americanized version of Mexico shown by elaborate resorts or posh hotels, but to the real Mexico we have a chance to witness a warm and wonderful place and people. We have a chance to watch families as they gather in the town squares each evening, not relying on strollers to hold their small children, but instead keeping their children tightly in their arms. We can steel a peek as they hold their children and observe how they touch them with love in their hands and their eyes. We can see the vivacious color of the landscape, the mountains, seas and valleys. We can notice the way that art in the tile work, pottery and even street signs- is used as a constant reminder that life is more than cell phones, schedules and getting ahead. If we are willing to open our senses, we will experience a place where the people are as welcoming as the land they inhabit. But first, we must be willing to expose ourselves to what is truly behind the wall.
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