Tapalpa

  I am a bale of prejudices. I don't warm up to tourist towns, especially most Pueblos Magicos so aggravation usually precedes understanding. The climb by car up to Talapa reminded me of the road to San Jose Chalmita, a mountain town that is part of Tenancingo. It was friday so there were clusters of cars on the narrow road beating a path to rest and relaxation. We arrived on a thursday towards evening and checked into the hotel Viva Tapalpa. The hotel had a rustic quality framed in logs much like the rest of Tapalpa which is a combination of adobe and wood. You could see that the woodworking in the Viva Tapalpa, on Calle Hidalgo was a little hurried. The sky was visible through the cracks where the wood encountered the walls. The front desk was a slab of wood poorly chosen and  clumsily placed on its pedastal and the steps to the upstairs were too steep,,, yet it was comfortable. These are revelations,, points a hotel owner notices automatically. You see already I am edgey.
     We ate at Doña Piña's, a quick choice because of nagging hunger. It wasn't memorable. After the meal we marched about, my mother-in-law leaning on me as she always does. She's diabetic and blind in one eye so every uneven surface or shadow is treacherous for her. We ambled towards the town center about three blocks from the hotel. I needed a notebook so we searched for a papeleria and found one just off the town square.The lady keeping the store was definitely not the owner. She was cold and not very helpful and never rose from her seat. When I asked about a notebook she lackadaisically pointed up. I had trouble locating exactly where the up was because the shelves were floor to ceiling and piled high with papeleria items. She did not speak or stand up as I rummaged eventually  locating the notebooks by myself. This business model kept repeating itself during our visit, not in all stores but in too many. I began to form a theory based on short term experience and prejudice. Talapa is one of those magic pueblos with lots of absentee owners who live in Guadalajara. I imagine before it was annointed a magic pueblo in 2002 a hoard of carpet baggers from Guadalajara, the nearest big city, started buying up the prime real estate in the small center of this sleepy stone and wood town, or some may have already had second homes here and decided to cash in on the magic status. Before the the crowning of Tapalpa it was probably like many small charming places, used up and forgotten. Being forgotten means a weak or disappeared economy which consequently this leads to heritage preservation. The economy in Tapalpa was based on wood. When the money flow was impeded there was no incentive to change the town physically. Often cities that are hopping economically find conservation gets in the way of growth. There are exceptions where cultural heritage is preserved in the downtown area as in Puebla or Xica. In these places the center is reserved like and island for humanity to remember how it was accomplished and for tourism. Then the  immediate periphery is relegated to the wrecking ball to make way for the future.Tenancingo, my city,has preserved very little physically yet the intangible culture still persists. Always gotta scratch the surface, something my prejejudices weren't allowing in Tapalpa. 

     In forgotten Tapalpa I am sure businesses appeared to serve the vistors encouraged by the mountains, cool climate, and physical charm. So perhaps after a long sour economic hiatus these new businesses hired any workers they could find left in a discarded town. Unfortunately with many of these places the population had seen their town metamorphose from a despair stage of near evacuation in the aftermath of the revolution to a takeover by those from away who would turn Tapalpa into a "second home" and recreational playground for those with means. The town's people most likely harbored a rancor for the sudden appearing of outsiders as they witnessed the new boom in which they now held only bit parts. 
     Perhaps they have a long history as outsiders. First there were the Otomis who were cowed by the Aztecs who were euthanized by the Spanish, then swept clean by the French on their way to conquer Colima, and finally replaced by a herd of landlords from Guadalajara. It takes your breath away.

                      
                                                       New Recreational Home 
                         
                         

                                      Older Home In Front Of What Resembled A Prison




                                                              A Peek At Downtown

 

The bellied posts of oak.

 

I love this hour of the day, before the hangovers wear off from the night before.

 

 

 

 

Virgin in the Market decorated in blue led.

     The morning after arrival I awoke early and went for a walk unencumbered by family in order to take my usual round of fotos of buildings without people or their acoutrements. I think it is a psychological thing for me to receive more consolation from bricks and stone than flesh and blood.  In the early morning before the parade of cars and 4 wheelers begins one can "see" Tapalpa as it was. A town of meandering streets that follow the contours of the land, dos aguas topped by clay tile, hard stone, and warm wood. During this time of day the heart of the town is unovered and caresses you. It has that "look" of yesteryear, B.C. (before cars)  like you could ride in on your pony with the rising sun and tie 'er up to one of the countless oaken posts that support the roofs over sidewalks and there enter the general store to sell your firewood and buy corn,sugar, and a new sharpening stone for your machete. 
     That same day by late morning there was a steady parade of late model luxury vehicles and screaming 4 wheelers carrying fat wallets into town. I tried to place myself in the shoes of the "originarios" and thought how this caravan of wealth must have added to their rancor. The proxy people who manned the other side of the counter that wasn't theirs would naturally wax impersonal. These types of economies, although they often operate in beautiful settings, are often stale and stagnant serving only daytrippers and people who are distant from the rest of the community. Tapalpa is beautiful, a mountain town, 2100 meters above sea level and  formerly a place of ranchos about the surrounding hills which are now all dotted with cabins,, more like luxury houses, built to rent or serve as vacation homes. 

 

A "cabin"

     The zocalo is impressive. It is stepped downwards past a corridor of churches,, really the same church, San Antonio one, two, and three just built in three different epochs. 

                                     
                               
                Looking up with New San Antonio on the left and older San Antonio on the right. 

                                                
                                                             Older San Antonio

 

The oldest San Antonio

This priest in older San Antonio had the eyes of a guilty Mesmer 

  

Jesus in New San Antonio

 

New San Antonio's brick work

       The main reason we came to Tapalpa was because my wife had entered a 18 kilometer race. While she ran I walked. I ambled about 5 kilometers to what is said to be an ancient very worn crater with a collection of large rocks in its center said to be the stopper from the last eruption. I passed the remnants of the oldest papermill in Mexico built by a group from England. The road was lonely and a fast moving stream escorted me along, past thick woods, and wild flowers. The shade and humid woods was a breath of fresh air for my deep seated prejudices. I felt rejuvenated and open to love once again.

                 

                                  

 

Oldest paper mill in Mexio

                                                      While I walked my wife ran.

                             


                                                                Below: The Piedrotas
                                             

 

Well guess what this is called. 

There is a stream that passes through the crater with oozing mud and on the other side is an ancient disheveled revetment engraved with petroglyphs. The guide thought it was Otomi in origin.

Reminds me of the caracols carved in our region atop La Malinche.

 

What a surprise to find this bride on the rocks