Slivers Of A Silver City; Zacatecas Is One Of The Once-Wealthy Colonial Mining Towns That Time Has Left Behind

By Minerva Canto

The Orange County Register

August 4, 2002

ZACATECAS, MEXICO — The taxi driver looks up at the gray sky casting a pallor over the seemingly endless brown earth surrounding Zacatecas and grunts, "Looks like it's a good day to me! You know, we pray for rain around here since our livelihood depends on it."

I sigh in response. The first thing I notice upon arriving in Zacatecas for a work trip is how desolate the terrain looks. As the taxi takes me from the airport on the outskirts of the capital to my downtown hotel, I glance outside the window as the downpour begins. We pass field after field of crops, all seemingly indistinguishable from one another.

I've been told that the capital, also named Zacatecas, is like Guanajuato, a colonial town with much history tucked into its centuries-old structures and churches. I loved my trip to Guanajuato last year, but so far I've seen nothing like it here. I quietly plot how I'm going to spend my week in this Central Mexican state. None of the plans calls for exploring the city.

We arrive in downtown Zacatecas as people scurry about, trying to find shelter from the rain. The cobblestone streets are narrow and one-way, a bit quaint and a big change from the multilane thoroughfares I'm used to navigating in Southern California. Shops, restaurants, banks and other businesses line the streets, but the rain obscures most details. Already, I'm depressed. I sleep fitfully that night after falling asleep listening to the loud stirrings of a party in the hotel courtyard.

The next morning, the transformation begins.

It happens in a church.

The Guadalupe Convent, on the edge of the capital, was erected in 1707 to educate religious missionaries. Dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe, it is an imposing structure that became an important religious institution that figured prominently during the colonization of northern Mexico. This attracted the attention of wealthy donors who lavished the convent with huge paintings, many depicting scenes from the Bible, that now decorate the long hallways, stairways and rooms at the convent.

I lag behind after the group I'm with moves on. I sit on a cold stone window ledge as I peer into the faces of the people in the paintings and try to imagine convent life 300 years ago. I let my imagination run wild with visions of priests, missionaries and other notables conducting important business of the day.

I decide to devote more time to exploring the city. Everywhere I go it seems there are churches, remnants of the period when Zacatecas was one of the most important cities in the New World for its silver riches hidden deep within the mines.

Perhaps the one that draws the most visitors and usually has a small crowd of people gathered agape before it is the intricately designed Baroque-style cathedral in the historical downtown area. Religious scenes are carved on one side of the stone faade.

Wanting to take advantage of the sunny weather, I take a taxi to "La Bufadora," proud symbol of the city, known as "La Bufa." Considered a must-see for any Zacatecas tourist, the site sits on a hill overlooking the city, providing a full view of Zacatecas. Frankly, I am not too impressed with the view, but as I tour La Bufa, I am rewarded with much more.

My first stop is the tiny church, named after the patron saint of Zacatecas, carved with symbols from the city's coat of arms, which was granted to Zacatecas by King Phillip II of Spain in 1585. After visiting the cathedral downtown, I've gotten my fill of churches, but I go inside anyway. I am drawn to a little room on the left near the entrance. Inside is a life-size statue of Jesus Christ. This is where many come to pray and ask for miracles, leaving behind photos of sick loved ones and small bits of paper with brief notes. I consider leaving a note with my request, but instead simply and quietly make my plea.

Facing the church are three statues of men atop horses, which draw a steady crowd of photo seekers. By far the most popular figure to have a photo taken with is Gen. Doroteo Arango Villa, more commonly known as Francisco "Pancho" Villa. He's probably the most prominent figure in the Mexican Revolution. Here, where he is famous for leading his troops in a battle for the conquest of Zacatecas, his statue holds a rifle aloft, his face forever etched in victory.

I pay about $1.50 to see a small museum that memorializes the eight-hour battle for the conquest of Zacatecas on June 23, 1914. I'm fortunate enough to arrive just as a young man gathers about 10 people for an impromptu guided tour. Soon, his authoritative voice and command of detail has drawn a throng of more than 50.

I'm transfixed as the young man retells the history of the battle, fought with revolvers and rifles, sometimes even hand to hand. Black-and-white photos show women saying goodbye to their sons, who sometimes were as young as 13 when they went to fight in the Revolution. Relics housed inside the museum include a massive 1898-vintage cannon, furniture from the era and newspapers recounting the battle.

I skip the numerous souvenir and trinket shops lining part of La Bufa and the opportunity to dress in Revolution-era clothing and head straight for the Swiss-built gondola that takes small groups from the top of the hill to city level.

Back downtown, I visit what is considered one of the best hotels in Mexico, which draws much attention for once having been a bullring. Painted a cheery orange, the five-star Quinta Real Hotel has been stripped of all traces of the gore of yesteryear. Other than the obvious shell of a bullring, the hotel now bears all the signs of an ultrafancy hotel, where rooms cost a minimum of about $250 a night. I wish I could describe a night's stay there, but waiting too long to make a reservation cost me the chance to go beyond touring the grounds and expensive gift shops.

I've heard so much about miners during my trip that I decide on a meal called "miner's lunch" at the cozy but definitely tourist-oriented restaurant "Siglo XVII," without stopping to consider that miners probably couldn't afford as much. As I listen to a live band singing love ballads, I eat my simple meal of five bean tacos.

To work off the meal, I take a walk through downtown, taking advantage that it's a Friday night and the shops are still open. I'm able to buy masks and other brightly beaded artwork created by Huichol Indians at a relative bargain. Some masks cost more than $100, but I find one for less than $40. Silver is the jewel of all souvenirs here. Tourists can find everything from cheap trinkets for less than $10 to one-of-a-kind artwork costing hundreds of dollars.

As I browse through a shop, I hear the unmistakable thumping of an approaching band. I quickly make my way out, trying to figure out which way the tamborazo (drum-beating) is coming from, then head toward the music as it gets louder and louder. Then I see it. It's the infamous callejoneada.

Three girls, arms entwined, lead the pack of at least 100 people of all ages, laughing, singing, dancing through a large alley. Toward the front is the six-man band, three banging on drums of various sizes as the crowd winds down the street toward the downtown square in front of the state capitol. It's a party on the move.

I want to see more of Zacatecas than my work trip will allow. I have yet to visit the Eden Mine to find out more about the mining life or the adjoining El Malacate, the subterranean discotheque. Or the many museums, such as the Rafael Coronel, which has a collection of more than 10,000 masks. Or the Quemado pre-Hispanic ruins.

The sun has not come out yet when I leave for the airport early the next morning, but this time I am able to pick out some of the different crops amid what now appears to me a land with promise.