Wanderlust

Well, it turns out that the 6:05 bus to Jalapa is coming from somewhere else (Cosamaloapan?) and it doesn't arrive until 6:40. But at least it takes 15 minutes less to get to Jalapa than the three and a half hours I had been told to expect. I buy my ticket to el DF in the terminal and get my taxi to the Mesón del Alférez, a colonial mansion converted to hotel, totally charming but kind of dark--I buy two 100-watt bulbs the next day.

The best things about Jalapa are the Parque Juárez and the Museo de Antropología. The plaza principal, the Parque Juárez, is built on a hill, like the city, and therefore operates on various levels, with various institutions tucked into the slopes--el Ágora de la Ciudad, a cultural center where free of charge I see "Baraka," a strange documentary without narration or dialogue that seems to be an illustration for Anthropology 101; la Pinacoteca de Diego Rivera, a small museum that used to house a few of Rivera's works but now has an exhibit of ceramics, somewhat interesting; and the Italian Coffee Company, a delightful café where I can get Earl Grey tea and a brownie. Above, the Parque offers flowers, huge trees, small fountains, and five (!) balloon sellers--can they all possibly make a living? In the afternoon there are an abundant supply of little kiddies chasing pigeons, which kiddies everywhere seem to love to do.

The Museo de Antropología, a 20-peso taxi ride from downtown, is a jewel of architecture and landscape architecture, all beige marble, glass, and greenery. Set on the side of another hill, the route of the exhibits has the visitor descending three marble steps every 10 meters or so. What the visitor is seeing are gorgeous stone prehispanic sculptures, including several mammouth Olmec heads, for which the museum is noted, all found in the state of Veracruz. To the right every once in a while one finds a large glass-walled patio, with more sculptures, surrounded by trees and enormous plants, almost giving the effect of a jungle. From the patios one can drift to the outside grounds, a large expanse of lawn, flowers, and trees. The effect--especially since I have come early and apparently no one else knows that the museum opens at 9--is enormously tranquilizing, as well as awe-inspiring for the beauty of the sculptures and the beauty of their setting. The museum alone is reason to come to Jalapa.

My final day in Jalapa I explore the Parque Paseo de los Lagos, a large wooded space with an apparently artificial lake made to look like two, with geyser-like fountains gushing up. Then I tramp around looking for interesting facades to photograph--Jalapa speaks of a centro histórico, but what is histórico takes looking for--climbing the hill to the market and beyond and discovering stairways leading to a lower space where, conveniently at comida time, is a vegetarian restaurant that was somewhere else last visit.

Back in el DF the next day after five hours on ADO GL (wishing they provided headphones like ETN so one could avoid the movies but discovering that a Dracula movie is a satire on English high society), I focus on getting 13 rolls of film developed, then rediscover that Tlacotalpan is enormously photogenic, the next day have several enlargements made (also of Veracruz and Jalapa) while I shop (vitamins, pajamas, clothes for the gym, my bus ticket home, provisions at the Mercado San Juan).

Concerts seem to be suspended at this time of year, but at least I can do museums on my final day. The Museo Franz Meyer has an exhibit of photos of Mexico City's Centro Histórico taken in the period 1920 to 1940, from which I can see the in 1925 the Zócalo was beautifully landcaped (though, oddly, without benches) and an exhibit of posters in which I can see the controversial poster for last year's Festival Cervantino. The museum itself provides a marvelously pleasant setting sitting in the patio café, with the gurgle of the fountain and the soft Baroque music having a totally relaxing effect.

From the Franz Meyer I cross the Centro Histórico to the Museo de la Ciudad de México to see an exhibit of absolutely incredible sculpture by Victor Hugo Núñez, a Chilean exiled in Mexico since 1974. His large-format sculptures, mostly of people and mostly of iron, are simultaneously realistic and phantasmagorical, inspired by Mexican and Chilean artesanía. I am able to buy a small flattish barro figure, signed by the sculptor, for 50 pesos, after which my photo is taken, to include in a mural of owners of these figures, and I am asked to write a commentary in a book on the fact that I own one. After such an intense viewing experience, more museum-hopping is out of the question, so I eat and wander (buying on the street a purple baseball hat, something I've been seeking for a long time to go with my Guatemalan jacket) until time to get organized for my return home.