Where did THAT come from?

During our day of wandering Cholula and reminiscing, we (or maybe I) kept pretending that we were thinking seriously about moving back there.  Truth be told, if Volkswagen were to call Mario and offer him even a moderately interesting job, I'm quite sure he'd jump at the opportunity.  After working elsewhere, we're realizing that VW was a marvelous company to work for. 

Anyway, while I was doing all my pretending about moving back, I was mid-thought, thinking how nice it would be to be near the zocalo, as they now have a (very) small playground when a voice in my head interrupted me out of nowhere, saying, "but Cholula is so far from Texas." 

Where did THAT come from? 

For almost as long as I can remember, or was aware of the Great State of Texas, I have nursed a huge grudge against the entire state.  Why?  That's a little vague.  Maybe because it's so stinkin' big.  And Texans are famous for being very proud of their very big state.  I think in my mind I equated Texan pride with arrogance (despite not knowing any Texans) and I just wanted to avoid the entire state like the plague. 

Then I moved to Coahuila, which shares a pretty extensive border with Texas.  In fact, once upon a time (during the colonial era, I believe) Texas and Coahuila were one enormous state called, rather uncreatively, Texas-Coahuila.  And slowly but surely, Texas grew on me.  Like the suave southerner it is, it wooed me oh-so-gently.  Now, after just three years in close proximity, I can honestly say that I like Texas. 

I never thought those words would pass my lips. 

But do I like it so much that the thought of being 10 hours away from the border would give me pause to consider moving back to central Mexico?  Apparently so. 

Who'd have thought? 

Destination: Cholula

Thirteen years later, still taking the same pictures in the same places.

 A few weeks ago, we took the fastest visit ever to Mexico City took a side trip to Cholula, just outside of Puebla (2-3 hours from Mexico City).  Way back in 1999, when I came to Mexico for the very first time, Cholula was home for 4 months.  When I spent two years in Morelos, I came to Cholula every other weekend to visit Mario, making it home again.  This town has a very special place in my heart, and walking around made me feel like I was home again.

The view from the zocalo.

As we drove into town, we drove behind the University de las Americas (where Mario studied and I spent my study-abroad semester).  Our mouths hung open as we drove past bar after swanky club after posh bar--it was like the strip at Acapulco without the beach!  Mercifully, once we got out of spitting range of the UDLA, it became evident that Cholula was still sleepy, loveable Cholula.

The Capilla Real--49 domes!  One of my favorite churches in Mexico.

Mario lived for 11 years, two blocks from the zocalo and that was just about where we parked.  We had tacos arabes at Tacos Robert (I was also craving a cemita and contemplating getting both a cemita AND the tacos, but they were out of cheese.  What's a cemita without cheese?  OK, it'd be a big, huge drippy sandwich--without cheese.  No thanks).  After that we wandered the zocalo, and visited our favorite chapel Cholula is said to boast 365 churches (as the Spanish built a church over Aztec pyramids and Cholula was a huge center of worship for the Aztecs).  In reality, there are something like 200+ churches in little Cholula.

Front door to the main church.

Popo (the volcano) was putting on a good show!

Love the contrasts!

My boys in front of the Capilla Real (please correct me if I've got the name wrong!)

We had ice cream and people-watched on a bench in the zocalo.  Then we noticed that they were setting up for a concert in the kiosko in the center of the zocalo, so we stayed to listen (Mario will do ANYTHING to drive into Mexico City as late as possible to avoid the traffic--the concert was a great excuse).  And a highlight was that they played the William Tell Overture, so I could bounce Joey on my knee with accompaniment other than my own humming.  I think I enjoyed it more than he did.

There are three huge, enormously old trees in the courtyard.  Waaaay back in the day, the Indians weren't allowed inside the churches, so mass was held outside for them  Passing these trees I always think about the countless people who spent hours sitting under these trees, nearly 500 years ago.  Oh, the stories the trees could tell!

I had always wanted to hear a concert in the bandstand. This visit, dreams came true!

What a great day!  We felt that we were literally walking down memory lane.