Editor’s note: Seattle Times Travel writer Carol Pucci is in Mexico and sending back reports and photographs, in particular from Guanajuato. The latest dispatch is posted at the top of this series.
GUANAJUATO, Mexico The city comes alive at night when the area around the Jardin de la Union, the central square, feels like one big party.
Here you can watch soccer on a big-screen TV at one of the outdoor cafes, take in the free street theater on the steps of the Teatro Juarez or join the callejoneadas, bands of singing musicians dressed in traditional costumes, on a tour through the alleyways of the historic center, singing, dancing and drinking all the way.
My B%26amp;B hosts, Mike and Ana and I joined a group called Los Gordos de Verde The Fat Men in Green, an 11-man group of minstrels dressed in black tunics with green sashes, knickers and patent leather shoes. They gathered up a crowd of about 60 that instantly swelled to what had to be more than 100 once they started leading a rousing rendition of Cielto Lindo (Ay, ay, ay, ay. Canta y no llores…).
Several callejoneada groups compete for business, each gathering near the square around 8 p.m. and staggering their departure times so they don’t all end up at the same places at once. Everyone pays around $9 which includes a ceramic flask called a porron filled with wine, or in our case, orange juice spiked with vodka, refilled along the way by helpers who carted along half-gallon plastic jugs in boxes balanced on their heads. (Burros used to do the work but apparently no longer.)
Strumming their guitars and mandolins and hoisting a bass fiddle as they led us through the passageways, the Fat Men carried on a tradition that started in Spain. Sometimes called valetudinarians, the groups these days are mostly accomplished professionals rather than students.
Like just about everything that goes on in Guanajuato, it’s all strictly family fun. Kids join in, dancing and singing in the alleys and occasionally sharing a sip from their parents’ flasks. The neighbors didn’t seem to mind. Several stepped out on their balconies to sing along.
We ended up at the Callejon del Beso (Alley of the Kiss) where everyone squeezed through single file, kissing if they had someone to kiss, and then onto the steps of the Plazuela de los Angeles where the Fat Men took turns performing antics., sometimes mimicking famous Mexican singers, and, of course, selling their CDs. Touristy and a bit commercial, yes, but loads of fun.
Close enough to kiss
GUANAJUATO, Mexico “Guanajuato is full of stories,” says by B%26amp;B host Mike Anderson.
One of them has to do with the Callejon del Beso, the “Alley of the Kiss” around the corner from where I’m staying. This alley is so narrow the balconies of the houses on either side practically touch. Legend has it that the daughter of a wealthy silver baron who lived on the street fell in love with a poor miner. They were forbidden to see each other, so the miner rented a room opposite and they stole kisses (besos) from opposing balconies.
Couples who kiss while standing on the third stair are said to be guaranteed seven years of happiness, so naturally there’s always a waiting line for pictures.
I didn’t bring anyone along on this trip to kiss, so leaving my room my first morning here, I decided to walk up rather than down, to a monument on top of the town called El Pipila. A statue on top honors the town war hero. People come here for the views all over the city. I walked up here to test my high-altitude endurance. Surprisingly it took only about 5 minutes to walk what looked to be about a half-an-hour away straight up one of the cobbled passageways. If you’re thinking of coming here, leave the high heels at home. Otherwise, no problems really. There’s a funicular at the top. Most people take it up and walk back down. I did the opposite, and it deposited me at the edge of the Union de La Jardin, the shady town square ringed with outdoor restaurants, and Teatro Juarez, an elegant theater built around the turn of the 19th century.
I continued on a few more streets, past the University of Guanajuato and a sidewalk tortilla factory toward a house museum dedicated to the artist Diego Rivera who was born here, worth seeing for the black-and-white photos of his wife, Frida Kahlo, and a copy of his mural depicting a day in Mexico City’s Alameda Park.
Guanajuato’s historical center is a UNESCO World Heritage site, meaning no neon signs or traffic lights and, so far, no Starbucks. Instead there are places like Cafe Conquistador a few steps away from the Rivera museum where I struck up a chat (yes, high school Spanish works!) with Josue Dominguez, the young barista. The cafe roasts its own Mexican beans. He whipped me up an icy Frappuccino with chocolate and whipped cream for about $2.
The museums here are exquisite, and there are several worth a visit including one with exhibits devoted solely to Don Quixote, the Spanish literary hero in Cervantes’ “Man of La Mancha.” But wandering around compact Guanajuato is really more about little surprises. Almost everything to see and do is within walking distance or a short bus or taxi ride.
The lavish Teatro Juarez turns into a town gathering spot at night when mimes entertain families sitting on the steps. Kids bounce balloons while their parents munch on ears of roasted corn.
There is music all the time. The symphony performs every Friday night; the state bands play outdoors Sundays. You can salsa dance until dawn at one of the clubs off Avenue Juarez, or sit on a park bench most anytime and be serenaded by a strolling guitarist. I stopped for a beer at a caf%26#233; across from the cathedral and has a front-row seat on a the receiving line for a wedding, complete with Mariachi band. Sitting next to me was a woman who lived in Seattle for 38 years until she and her husband, an artist, moved here six years ago.
“How was it working out,’ I asked, “to be so far away from family and friends?” She didn’t have to think long before she answered.
“The six happiest years of my life.”
Find old Europe south of the border
GUANAJUATO, Mexico Houses painted hot pink, bright orange and cobalt blue tucked into cobbled alleyways too narrow for cars. . Sidewalk cafes, shady plazas and strolling street musicians.
Spain, Italy, France? It would be easy to mistake this university town in the mountains of Central Mexico for a medieval city in Europe. Substitute the easy-on-the-wallet peso for the pricey euro, and nearly year-round springlike weather and you’ve got a bargain travel destination where the U.S. dollar still buys more.
This isn’t beach-and-margaritas Mexico. The ocean’s an eight-hour drive away. There are tourists here, but, unlike nearby San Miguel de Allende, a town popular with ex-pat Americans, Guanajuato attracts mostly middle-class Mexican travelers who come to enjoy the mountain air, browse the museums and art galleries, and get lost exploring a maze of pedestrian passageways mostly devoid of cars.
Guanajuato, part of what’s called the Baj%26#237;o, or heartland of Mexico, is in the high desert mountains (6,700 feet), 225 miles northwest of Mexico City. Daytime temps are in the high 70s with lots of sun. I’ve packed a sweater and vest for evenings when it dips into the 50s.
Built into the valleys and sides of canyons in the mountains, 500-year-old Guanajuato was once Mexico’s most prominent silver-mining city. Spanish conquistadors built stately mansions and churches and French architects designed buildings with wrought-iron balconies. But it’s the streets, or I should say lack of them, that are its unique features.
The town center is at the base of a maze of mostly “callejones” or alleys that wind around steep hillsides above a bowl-shaped valley. With the exception of four small one-way streets above ground, traffic flows underground through a series of wide, well-lit tunnels, some dug during the city’s mining era; others more recently to alleviate traffic.
“Bus stops” are reached by walking down flights of stairs decorated with flower pots. Below are the tunnels like subways only for cars. The main street, Miguel Hidalgo, follows the course of the dried up R%26#237;o Guanajuato riverbed (the river was diverted after a flood in 1905), running beneath the town for almost two miles.
The taxi driver who drove me from the airport to La Casa de Dona Ana, the three-room B%26amp;B where I’m staying, could only go as far as a bank on a nearby corner. From there, Mike Anderson, an American from Alabama who runs the B%26amp;B with his wife, Ana, met me. We walked uphill several hundred feet on Callejon Calixto, an alleyway probably no more than 10 feet wide, to the 200-year-old house the couple recently restored.
Rooms with exposed brick and wood-beamed ceilings are centered on a two-story open-air courtyard. A small grotto beneath a fountain in the patio leads to oldest part of the house, an underground reservoir where occupants used to collect rainwater for their daily use. The $46 a night I’m paying includes a big breakfast cooked by Ana and served in the family dining room.
Today, the Andersons and their neighbors have plenty of running water, but living in a passageway presents modern challenges. Take the delivery of bottled gas, for instance, which everyone uses to heat their water.
I woke up around 7 a.m. my first morning here to the sound of a man outside yelling “Gas! Gas!”
Trucks pull up to the curbsides with fresh supplies. Then men run up the steep alleys delivering the 120-pound tanks to whomever has run out.
“Everything here has to be carried,” said Anna who was working up the energy to go out and buy fruit. That goes for oranges or gas.
Getting there: Guanajuato’s Leon International Airport (BJX) is 30 to 45 minutes from downtown. A taxi ride costs about $30. Flight connections to Leon from Seattle are through Houston, Los Angeles or Mexico City. I paid $350 for my ticket on Delta Air Lines.
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