My Albuquerque friend Peggy Roberts came to visit me here in Xalapa on her vacation. She arrived last Wednesday, March 26, so she and I were able to do some traveling before I started back to school yesterday after a two-and-a-half-week break for spring vacation.

Today we walked around the Cerro (meaning hill—or, in this case, an extinct volcano) de Macuiltépetl that stands in the middle of the city of Xalapa. In the photo here, Peggy is standing in front of a sundial located at the top of the hill. (Click on the photo to enlarge it and see what time it was when I took the picture.)

After our walk, we went to the La Estancia de Los Tecahuetes, a restaurant, for a wonderful meal and margaritas.

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Last Sunday morning, Peggy and I took a bus to Papantla (pronounced Pah-PAHNT-lah) to see El Tajín (Tah-HEEN) , an extensive ruin with a number of pyramids, including the renowned Pirámide de Los Nichos, shown here. As its name implies, it has many niches—365 to be exact—built into its four sides.

El Tajín is hedged around by a forest of green and flowering trees. As we walked the length of this village of pyramids, we found shade under trees growing here and there along the way. For me, the green lushness of the vegetation made visiting this site especially pleasurable—added to the pleasure of marveling at the unique arquitecture and speculating about the long-ago builders and inhabitants of the place.

Peggy and I stayed two nights in the small city of Papantla, trying the local food, touring the mercados, and walking the hilly streets. One of our favorite places to eat was the Plaza Pardo Restaurant, which has wonderful fish dishes and overlooks Papantla's central plaza, as shown here. (Peggy is toasting you with her chelada).

On Monday night after dinner, we walked up a steep hill in the middle of town to see this statue of a volador at the top. Papantla is noted for its voladores and for its excellent vanilla, which comes from an orchid grown in the area.

You can read here about the voladores and the supposed origin of their ritual performed high in the air.

Here’s my view when I open my front door—geraniums blooming in the passageway that leads from my door to the stairs that take me down to the first floor and out the gates of my apartment building.

The door and windows you see opposite my door belong to the office of an acupuncturist. Here in Xalapa’s centro, homes, apartments, stores and offices sit side by side or one above the other, a jumble of commercial and domestic spaces.
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On February 2, Margarita, Joaquin and Miriam took me—as well as Elena and her daughter Gisela, whom I met then for the first time—to a small city called Tlacotalpan (pronounced—with difficulty—as tlah-coh-TALL-pahn) for the celebration of the Dia de la Candelaria.

Tlacotalpan is a colorful city that was declared a World Heritage City by the United Nations in 1995. It celebrates the Dia de la Candelaria in a big way over several days—with the running of the bulls through the streets, performances by jaraneros, musicians who play small guitar-like instruments called jaranas, and a procession of the statue of the Virgin from the church to the river, where a boat carries it along the river and thence back to the church. In addition, the center of town is filled with stands and stalls where artisans sell their wares.

By the way, you can see and hear a You-Tube video from the Candelaria fiesta last year that demonstrates the size and sound of jaranas here: http://video.aol.com/video-detail/guanabana-el-butaquito/267964436