“Bienvenidos a Mexico – Quidam in Monterrey”
By: Ricky Russo – Orlando, Florida (USA)
From the very first moment I stepped off the small jetliner and felt the warmth of the afternoon sun wash across my face I sensed I was in a strange, new land.
The place I left was cold, dark and still tucked in for the night. The sun here was full and bright – sharing its radiant energy with us unabated by cloud or storm, and at the same time becoming playful with a zephyr, teasing it to tottle about in excited rushes, bringing balance to the day’s warm brilliance. And on those breezes a tantalizing hint of spice.
Ahhhhhhhhhh.
In all my voyages since I’d been bitten by the travel bug in 2002, though I’ve visited north many times, I had yet to trek south of the border to Mexico, where I find myself now for the very first time.
And why am I here?
For Cirque du Soleil of course! I’m here to see Quidam, one of Cirque du Soleil’s signature shows with one of Mexico’s most fervent fans of the troupe: Rodolfo Elizondo!
My exhilarating adventure began the moment I met Rodolfo and left General Mariano Escobedo International Airport (MTY) making our way into the zona centro of Monterrey, 30 minutes away. It was a whirl-wind weekend that I shall not soon forget.
The City of Mountains
———————–
Monterrey (pronounced with a heavy ‘rrrrr’) is a very modern Mexico City situated in the northeastern state of Nuevo León, approximately 150 miles south of the United States border. This state capital boasts a populace that ranks it third behind the Greater Mexico City and Greater Guadalajara metropolises and is home to many businesses, industries, universities and families. But for only three short weeks, Monterrey would also be home to Quidam.
Rodolfo and I scrambled into his Toyota SUV and made haste to the center of Monterrey where the blue-and-yellow striped big-top awaited us. While we had a number of hours yet to go before our performance began, neither of us could wait to steal a look at the Grand Chapiteau standing triumphantly in Parque Fundidora. And as soon as we rounded the corner of this millworks-turned-greenspace, I spotted it.
“There it is! There it is!” I said, mimicking a short clip from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (Trekkies will no doubt recognize a similar line spoken by Khan as he tracks the Enterprise down in the Mutara Nebula.)
After spying the Grand Chapiteau and its immediate surroundings from the car, we grabbed lunch at one of Rodolfo’s favorite eating establishments at the Galerias Valle Oriente. It was a buffet of wonderful Mexican cuisine: beans and rice, chicken with a chocolate sauce (chicken mole), grilled beef, salads, fruits and chips! After lunch Rodolfo took me on a whirl-wind tour of his hometown, which not only thoroughly encompassed the brightest spots of Monterrey but also a journey that I found culturally fascinating.
Our first stop was the Mirador del Obispado (Bishop’s Lookout), which is located atop Cerro del Obispado, the hill of the same name. Rising about 775 meters above sea level, this viewpoint is adorned with a fabulous circular esplanade with a humongous flag and pole at its center. Besides a fantastic panoramic view of the surrounding city – you can easily spot all of downtown Monterrey and its sprawling environs from here, and Monterrey’s namesake mountains: Cerro de las Mitras (Miter Hill), Cerro del Topo Chico (Small Mole Hill), Cerro de la Loma Larga (Long Slope Hill), La Huasteca, and, of course, Cerro de la Silla (or Saddle Hill), which rises above 1800-meters (or 5900-feet) – you’ll also find Mexico’s biggest monumental flag here.
This larger-than-life flag, which is a focal point of Mexican independence celebrations here in Nuevo León, weighs over 200-kilograms and measures 50 x 28.6 meters. That’s one huge flapping green, white and red symbol of these Mexican states! And this atop a pole that stands slightly over 100-meters high and weighing over 120 tons itself. While that is impressive and a fabulous sight to see the vista of the surrounding environs is the reason to come here. And on a clear, sunny day like this day, the sky’s the limit!
Next we made our way down to the Macroplaza, which is a 400,000 square meter court consisting of various museums, monuments, gardens, fountains and various other green-space accoutrements. It’s anchored by the Palacio Municipal (Municipal Palace) on the south end at Constitución Avenue and the Antiqua Palacio Federal (Antique Federal Palace) on the north end at Cinco-de-Mayo Avenue. The Macroplaza features a number of monuments and other pedestrian zones, but the one item that fascinated me most was Fuente de Neptuno (the Fountain of Neptune), a beautiful bronze fountain that represents Neptune, the Roman god of the Sea (also formally known as Fuente de la Vida – the fountain of Life). After snapping a few pictures – I really love fountains – we made our way underground and I got to experience the metro system first hand.
We ducked underground at Zaragoza station (a stop on Line 2, or the Green Line) and rode it four stops up to Cuauhtémoc, switched lines to Line 1 (the yellow line) and took it all the way out to Estación Parque Fundidora, which is about 2 blocks from the Parque and, of course, is the site of the Grand Chapiteau. Metrorey is one of the more modern systems I’ve ever used (opening in 1991 and 1994 respectively) and it has a unique identifier for each of its stations, which I found very interesting: a logo.
The one at Cuauhtémoc, for example, is a stylized headshot of the important Aztec ruler of the same name. Parque Fundidora’s logo has trees to represent the park. Other more interesting ones include: a phonograph for Edison station; a canon for the Felix U. Gomez station (since he was a Mexican Military General); a stylized head shot of Simón Bolivar (a liberator), for the station of the same name; a pictograph of a train under maintenance for the Talleres station, a flame and atom diagram for the Universidad station, and an obelisk to
mark the Fundadores station.
We took our leave of the metro and made our way across the road into Parque Fundidora, the sun still shining brightly overhead. Our destination at the parque, of course, was the Grand Chapiteau. And once we got on-site we immediately took more pictures of us next to the advertisement banners in all sorts of wacky stances and poses and–Oh, wait… did I neglect to mention that earlier?!
Banner pictures on-site were just a continuation of this morning’s antics that were truly a three-ring circus all on its own. Let me explain:
On our way up to the Mirador del Obispado earlier in the morning, I spotted one of the very, very few advertisement banners for Quidam in Monterrey; crazy Rodolfo immediately slammed on the brakes and whipped out his digital camera. Snap! Snap! Flash! Snap! The next thing I know the SUV lurches round and comes to a rushed stop into a driveway nook about 10 paces from the banner. Rodolfo was already on foot before I could say “¿Qué tal?” (“What’s up?”). At first I wondered what he had stopped for but then it hit me. He was going to get personal, up close shots!
The two of us then posed with glee in front of this particular banner, featuring the headless one himself (Quidam), holding his signature green umbrella. We took turns placing ourselves in front of the banner and then in place of the character (assuming the role). It was a blast! Some shots required us to stand in the middle of the road, which while not a busy thoroughfare, was still quite steady with traffic. But anything for Cirque du Soleil… right Rodolfo? (¡ay caramba!… he’s trying to get me killed…)
The site itself was also covered with banners in several varieties: one with Quidam, one featuring Steven Ragatz as the character of Father, Olga Pikhienko the Hand-balancer (who was not going to be performing for personal reasons), one of Mark Ward being quirky John, and one of Viktor Katona as Boum Boum, the gloved one. And naturally we took our pictures with these banners too – again with Quidam pretending to hold his umbrella, one with Olga pretending to hold up her canes, and a third with Boum Boum. The third one I took a little differently: rather than stand next to the banner holding up my arms in the same pose as the character, I used the setting sun as a backdrop, and took the shot of my extended shadow on the ground in the same arms-over-head pose. It really turned out to be a neat picture!
Before long we made ourselves leave the Grand Chapiteau (Quidaaaaaam!) and continued our explorations in the park. Our next stop was Horno 3 at the old Monterrey Foundry. This blast furnace was once part of the now defunct Monterrey Steel Foundry Company and was in use from 1900 until the company’s bankruptcy in 1986. Two years later the park was born. Horno 3 is a museum these days, and you can take a trip to the top of this monstrosity for one spectacular view of the city. It’s 130ft (40m) from ground-level and is on a slated platform – so not only can you see all around but below you too; hold on! The incline chair (that seats about eight) will take you up to the top for about 80 pesos (approx $8.00) and from there all of Monterrey opens up to you.
Below, while patrons explored the Foundry History Gallery (a look at the events which forged the steel industry in Mexico), the Steel Gallery (a look at a productive industrial processes, and the Blast Furnace show (a multi-sensorial show complete with stunning effects simulating the workings at No 3. Blast Furnace), Rodolfo and I were taking in the relative peace and quiet in the skies above the park. You really get a fantastic view of your surroundings from here including the fantastic ‘M’-shaped Cerro de la Silla, my hotel (the Holiday Inn at Parque Fundidora) and the Grand Chapiteau itself (sitting next to Plaza Sesamo, a Sesame Street theme park.)
On the way back to the car, which was parked at the far end of the Macroplaza, Rodolfo and I took one of the most interesting and best modes of transportation in Monterrey: a boat on the Paseo Santa Lucia, an artificial water canal that connects Parque Fundidora 2.5-kilometers to the east with Museo de Historia/Plaza 400 (Museum of Mexican History) at the Macroplaza. Between the group of school kids singing and playing for the park crowd as we waited to get on the boat, and a dinghy filled with a Mexican instrumental quartet, and traversing this waterway in the twilight of sunset was such a delightful and relaxing cap to our afternoon. On the way you pass beyond the park, through beautiful fountains and other waterworks displays, around a whirlpool maker and finally into the water-filled Plaza 400 at the Macroplaza, entertained not only by the city lights around you but by the tour guide driving the boat. Fantastico!
But before running off to our vehicle, Rodolfo and I make one final stop along the Macroplaza: to the Palacio de Gobierno on the Explanada de los Hèros. This is the official seat of the Governor, or at least where his office is located, but it also serves as a Museum of local history and political development. The whole story of Nuevo León is adorned on the walls: you learn about what the early inhabitants were like, see some important artifacts of state, and see how the people of the region used to live.
One of the nice things you’ll learn here is the meaning behind the coat of arms. Since my Spanish was rather rusty, I could not appreciate the full story so I looked it up later. According to the Encyclopedia of Mexican States, “The coat of arms of Nuevo León is made up [of] four squares. Six bees representing the hard-working nature of the local citizens are at the top. The upper-left square features a picture of the sun over La Silla Hill (a landmark that often symbolizes the state) with an orange tree. In the upper right-hand square a crowned lion is [featured] ready to attack. In the lower-left there is a picture of the San Francisco convent. On the lower-right five smoking chimneys represent area industry. The weapons around the border represent both native warriors and Spanish conquerors.” And then there’s the state’s motto: Sempre Ascendens (Always Rising). Cool!
Seeing the palace lit up at night is just as brilliant. And if you’re looking to connect with the young locals, the surrounding esplanade is a wonderful place to hang out. Also be sure to look for a statue of a stylized horse… he’s very popular!
Then, after checking into my hotel and resting for merely a moment, Rodolfo and I were back on foot across the parque toward the Grand Chapiteau…
We were ready for Quidam.
Quidam, Quidam!
—————–
Tendré alguna vez la valentía de mi indignación?
Me hubiera gustado no morir.
Me hubiera gustado no crecer nunca.
Hubiera querido romperme el alma.
Hubiera querido desterrar todas las penas enterradas.
Deso que lo quieran con locura.
Me hubiera gustado rasgar con una voz áspera la superficie demasiado lisa de nuestras buenas intenciones.
From the moment John quietly appears to us and slips into his purple coat hanging neatly upon the coat-rack on stage, we’re not quite sure what to make of this zany world we find ourselves in.
Many words have been used to describe Cirque du Soleil’s Quidam over the years – artistic, cinematic, poignant, touching, agonizing, disturbing, striking, alluring and beautiful – and regardless of which of these words you choose, it is hard to deny that Quidam is one of those quintessential productions that strikes a raw emotional chord within each of us, one that is too hard to dismiss.
Quidam, which comes from the Latin for “a nameless passerby” marks Cirque du Soleil’s ninth production, premiering in Montreal on April23, 1996. Since then it has been heralded as one of Cirque du Soleil’s quintessential productions, showing us that we are all Quidams. “It could be anyone, anybody,” the show’s programme allows. “Someone coming, going, living in our anonymous society. A member of the crowd, one of the silent majority. One who cries out; sings and dreams within us all.”
In the world of Cirque du Soleil’s Quidam, the one who cries out is Zoë, a young girl who fumes because she believes she’s seen everything there is to see, experienced all there is to experience. For her, the world has lost all meaning. Her anger, sharp and unforgiving, shatters her little world and soon she finds herself in the universe of Quidam. Within this realm she finds she is not alone – Zoë is joined by a joyful companion (Target) and a more mysterious character (John) that will attempt to seduce her with the marvelous, the unsettling, and the terrifying.
We find the space before us is set as a typical family sitting room – two slanted, metallic chairs, a curvy floor lamp, a birdcage (with a red ball perched in the bird’s spot), an old-style transistor radio sitting comfortably upon a side table, and a swirl-patterned throw-rug are dotted about – and we watch as John busies himself about this rather unremarkable room.
The radio catches John’s eye, however, and he saunters over, flipping it on and filling the big-top with a nice, light tango. Satisfied with his selection, John then proceeds to run amok: carousing with audience members as they come through the doorway, playing with their hair (or lack-thereof in some cases), taking patrons on a wild goose chase, eating others’ popcorn and generally being a playful nuisance.
When John returns to the radio and attempts to find something new to lift our spirits we see what kind of a ham John really aspires to be.
Passing through the frequencies, he lands upon a station playing the soothing notes of “Kumbalawé”, a song from Saltimbanco, an older (chronologically speaking) Cirque du Soleil show.
When that does not elicit a response from his audience, he turns the dial and blasts the harsh overture of “Eclipse” from Nouvelle Expérience (an even older Cirque du Soleil show, chronologically speaking).
Satisfied that he’s once again captured our attention, he changes the dial quickly and finds a station playing the title song from Alegría. Everyone in the big-top recognizes this song and they begin to clap and cheer. John doesn’t think highly of this, however, and he clamps his nose shut in disgust (pee-you!) then mock gags himself with his index finger. (I love it!)
Eventually John advises us of the rules to be followed under the Grand Chapiteau (en español) and then the world turns dark and still.
Until…
*click*
The floor-lamp in the middle of the room suddenly flickers to life and we find ourselves in observance of Zoë and family on a typical day, seated comfortably in their sitting room (the room we saw as we entered the Big Top). Dad is content reading his newspaper and avoiding everything around him. Mom is expressionless, vacantly staring out into the nothingness of space while clutching that old transistor radio. Zoë, the child, is bored and in her attempt to gain her parents’ attention, hopscotch’s across the floor in front of them. But when they pay her no notice, Zoë becomes despondent and she wanders around the room – tracing a message on an imaginary window, running her finger across the family bird cage. But just when she thinks about turning off the light and returning to her room to sulk…
There’s a knock on the front door.
Startled, Zoë runs over to see who it could be, but what she finds on the other side frightens her – there’s a headless man with an umbrella on her doorstep! This man enters and she backpedals into the room. She watches him silently then with a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder, he drops his hat in the middle of the room and leaves. Frightened, yet undeniably curious, Zoë picks up the hat, holds it up to her ear and smiles at the whimsical sounds coming from within. Checking Mom and Dad to see if they’re watching, she tentatively places the hat upon her head. In the moment the hat comes to rest upon her brow, Zoë’s world comes alive – Mom, Dad and the entire living room slowly float away and Zoë (with us) becomes swept up into the universe of Quidam!
For those unfamiliar with the show, the performance is broken up into two one-hour halves with a 30-minute intermission between the two, and flows in the following manner: German Wheel, Diabolos, Aerial Contortion in Silk, Skipping Ropes, Aerial Hoops, (Intermission), Hand Balancing, Spanish Webs, Statue (Vis Versa), Cloud Swing, and Banquine.
All too soon the red proscenium-like curtains of Quidam float into place, signaling that the end is near. Zoë makes her re-appearance through a man-hole with the assistance of our resident clown (who is very funny, btw!) and she rejoins her family, who has finally taken note of the wondrous world around them. The Generics, androgynous characters dressed in white that appear in and disappear from the world of Quidam at will, have reappeared and have begun (with the assistance of John and Fritz) an energetic, ballet of happiness – dancing with each other, playing with one another and hopping, skipping and jumping around.
But a loud thunder crack sends them all to the stage where they lay motionless, lifeless and the Family is puzzled and insecure.
Quidam, who had been watching the final scene unfold from the depths of the stage, steps forward now to reclaim his blue bowler hat from Zoë; she is startled and becomes exasperated – she realizes he has come to take this fantastical world away from her! But a glance to the side shows her that the journey is not yet over – her family appears reanimated and full of life, which is what she wanted most. So, very reluctantly Zoë displaces the hat from her head, holds it in her arms and looks around one last time. Her white-garbed friends, who have been laying there lifeless, are now staring directly at her! She gently hands Quidam the hat, re-joins her newly-restored family and begins to sing (the signature song of the show.)
John removes the dad’s shoes and returns them to him (he stepped into them just after the living room floated away, figuratively taking his place) and the Generics come alive, slowly filling the edges of the stage. And once encapsulating the entire stage – and thus closing off the world of Quidam to us – they move to zipper away their hoods to reveal who they really are… the colorful artists in the show!
Wow!
Although our performance was not status quo, and many of the traditional pieces, character and story queues, and even a couple of the acts were missing (both Hand-Balancing and Statue were out, but Steven Ragatz’s juggling act was in); experiencing Quidam again under the Grand Chapiteau was a treat unsurpassed and the show still managed to rend my soul on more than one occasion. It was hard to leave the big top at the show’s finale.
After the evening’s performance, Rodolfo and I hung around the sites exit to see if we could chat with some of the artists who were quickly trying to escape to catch their shuttle bus that would take them back to their hotel. (We came to find out there were only two shuttle runs: just after the show and then an hour later. Most of the artists and crew didn’t want to be left behind for that second shuttle!); a few stopped and chatted with us. Most of these artists were friends of Rodolfo’s and were glad to see him, but couldn’t stop for a long conversation, so after a quick hand-shake and congrats on a good show, they were off again.
Many artists went by in a blur and thus the names of many escape me, but we did see Olga walk by, the German Wheel artist, the man who played Boum-Boum, the entire Spanish Webs gang and countless others. Once the bus took off so did Rodolfo and I.
Now I’ve REALLY Been to Mexico
——————————–
Come Sunday morning, as the two of us set off once again to explore the Macroplaza of Zona Centro, my guide said something very peculiar to me: I had not yet been to Mexico.
What?
“You’ve not been to Mexico,” he said “until you’ve been to Vips!”
Okay, vamanos!
Vips? What is a Vips?
VIPS, as it turns out, is a Mexican eatery chain owned and operated by Wal-Mart Mexico that specializes in breakfasts, lunches and dinners with – what else – a Mexican flair. It’s one of Mexico’s more famous chains (you can find more information at http://www.vips.com.mx), and it is said you’ve only really been to Mexico once you’ve eaten at a VIPS. Why? Because everyone has eaten at VIPS and, like McDonalds, they’re everywhere! Well… almost. I had a more traditional Mexican breakfast of soft tortias and salsa with melted cheese and sour cream on top, but you could get more traditional North American breakfast items such as: eggs, pancakes, waffles, bacon, etc. Why would you, though?
And while we waited for our food Rodolfo and I reminisced about Quidam.
Both he and I were disappointed that the Statue act was missing from the previous night’s show. While we didn’t know why it was missing, we both agreed the act was a seminal piece of Quidam and it’s hard to see the show continue in its absence. So many pieces of Quidam’s theme and story congregate based on this presentation so most of the second-half of the show was quite disjointed. At least, we both said, we were able to see Ragatz perform his juggling act and hear “Rivage” live under the big top again.
We also talked about how we royally scared Boum-Boum. As a finale to the Diabolo’s act (which comes just prior to Tissue (or Aerial Contortion in Silk), a joyful celebration commences with streamers of blue and white raining down upon the stage and a dance and a jig by a few of the Egare class of characters. But Boum Boum, the ghastly gloved figure, makes a short life out of the celebration – he hates it – and comes right on point to bellow a gut wrenching scream of anguish, silencing the world around him. What causes this piercing call for help I do not know, but just as soon as he was done with his scream, Rodolfo and I yelled right back. This appeared to take Boum-Boum off guard; he became frightened and immediately ran away like a scared little boy! (Actually, if an audience member does yell back he will run away, rather than stand triumphant and defiant. But it was fun!)
And speaking of the Tissue act, it’s another one of our favorite parts of the night’s show. At that time of the show the world of Quidam turns stranger yet, and even more dark:
John re-appears with a megaphone in his hand, barking gibberish orders to various personages left on stage. Zoë sits dejected on a giant swing, slowly swinging herself back and forth observing the chaos around her. Her father is suspended in mid-air, unaware that he is so, and takes the paper from around his face and tears it up, allowing its torn pieces to fall below him. And at the sound of wind, Fritz gets down on all fours and howls at the moon. And through this fantastical kaleidoscope of abstraction, a strip of red silk floats into view and unfurls across the stage; swept up within it is the contorted body of Isabelle Vaudelle, contortionist extraordinaire.
She climbs, twists, and slides through the silk slowly and deliberately at first, but thunderclaps signal a tense change and her movements become fast, chaotic and violent. And just when it seems she can not hang on any longer, her body suddenly drops and she becomes entangled within the silk. Her body flails for a moment… and again… and then becomes limp and lifeless. She has hung herself in the red silk.
The moment her body began to flail, goose-bumps trickled down my arms and I trembled in uncontrollable shivers. Vaudelle’s given sacrifice in congruence with the hauntingly beautiful “Let Me Fall” wrenched at my insides. I stared, transfixed with mouth agape (for the first time), watching the entire scene unfold. This act has never affected me so, but it was just so powerful and so sad and so poignant, especially when the father came and carried her away from her misery, I couldn’t help it.
If the phantasmagorical yet enormously powerful opening of the show doesn’t touch you emotionally (doesn’t that give you chills? It does me!), or the hauntingly beautiful tissue act, perhaps the melancholic conclusion to the first half of the show will touch you (it’s probably the third best emotional moment for me in the entire show):
A thunderclap tears through the big-top. Rain is falling somewhere just off stage, the sound of a small hand-bell chimes in the distance, and a haunting male voice fills the void. Ominous creatures dressed in white appear and fill the stage, taking their rest. Zoë’s Mom is off to the side clutching onto a huge red balloon while Zoë’s Dad is dangling overhead with the birdcage in his hand seemingly ready to encapsulate something. At the sound of another chime Zoë looks up and is compelled to release her balloon; she does so and her father captures it, receding into the darkness. And then the entire sky is filled with red as the male voice comes to a crescendo, and the nameless quidams stir releasing their own troubled souls.
One day I’m going to bring my own red balloon to let go right along with them…
Oh, food!
With our bellies full, we set off once again to explore the Zona Central of Monterrey, but unfortunately the weather wasn’t nearly as cooperative (or nice) – it turned cloudy, windy and cold. The worst part of it, though, was being ill prepared for the dip in temperature. All I had with me were short-sleeved T-shirts and shorts – typical Florida (and all points south) attire!
Brr!
Regardless of the weather, the two of us ended up on the streets of Monterrey, walking to our second destination of the day: MARCO.
MARCO, short for Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Monterrey (or the Contemporary Art Museum of Monterrey) is located on the corner of Zuazua and Ocampo Centro and offers temporary exhibits of the most outstanding new Latin American contemporary art around. Rodolfo took me on a tour of the “Mexican Room” where he showed me some outstanding paintings and drawings from such Mexican artists as Diego Creek, Carlos Mérida and Left Maria, many of which touched upon the various socio-politicial topics of the time. But political paintings weren’t the majority here: wonderful mosaics of nature and pencil-art were also on display. I highly recommend MARCO to experience the very singular and distinct style of Mexican art. It’s great!
Next up was the Museo de Historia Mexicana (or the Mexican History Museum). This place is a treasure trove of exploration, art and enlightenment for those interested in the history of this land. At this museum you’ll find temporary and permanent exhibits divided into five areas which represent important periods in Mexican history: The initial creation of these lands (“Earth”), the Aztec and Mayan civilizations (“Ancient Mexico”), the Spanish conquistadores and the arrival of the Europeans (“The Viceroy Period”), the Spanish/American wars (“19th Century”) and modern democratic Mexico (“Modern Mexico”).
While I am not usually a museum-goer, this particular museum brings out a fascinating tale and places Mexican history into perspective, a story that an outsider seldom appreciates.
For example, did you know that every schoolchild in Mexico must learn to count via the old Maya way using the dots and bars system? While simple on the surface, the Maya system of counting used a base-20 counting system intermixed with a base-5 system. Numbers one through 19 are relatively easy to discern, but after 19 the system changes. Rather than writing them using the same bars and dots, now they are written in powers of twenty. Wikipedia explains it thusly: “For example, thirty-three would be written as one dot above three dots, which are in turn atop two lines. The first dot represents “one twenty” or “1×20″, which is added to three dots and two bars, or thirteen. Therefore, (1×20) + 13 = 33. Upon reaching 400, another row is started. The number 429 would be written as one dot above one dot above four dots and a bar, or (1×400) + (1×20) + 9 = 429.”
Besides learning how to count Maya style, I also learned about Mexico’s tri-color flag and the significance (and story) behind the coat-of-arms featured prominently in its center:
The flag’s colors actually have two meanings these days. Originally the colors stood for Independencia (Green), Religión (White), and Unión (Red), but now stand for Hope, Unity and Religion respectively. The coat-of-arms is a scene inspired by an Aztec legend regarding the founding of Tenochtitlán (the ancient capital of the Aztec civilization where Mexico City now stands). According to legend, the nomadic Aztecs wandered throughout the Mexican lands searching for the sign that would indicate where their capital would be built. The sign, said war-god Huizilopochtil, was to be an eagle holding a serpent perched atop a nopal (a form of cactus) in the middle of a lake. After many years of wandering the tribe found this promised sign in the middle of Lake Texcoco and founded the city we know today as Mexico City. And it’s this image we see as the country’s coat-of-arms.
But…
Much like the finale of Quidam, all too soon my journey had to come to a close. And once I’d learned a bit about Mexican history at the Museo de Historia Mexicana, it was time to return to the airport and depart Monterrey.
I wish to wholeheartedly thank Rodolfo Elizondo for being my friend and guide during my quick stay in Mexico. I wish above all else I could’ve had more time there, seeing the show again and tour more of Monterrey; alas it was not meant to be. But I do know this: I will not hesitate to travel to Monterrey or anywhere in Mexico in the future.
So the next time Cirque is in Mexico I may just catch a plane!
