Ciclovia is a temporary closing of streets to cars to allow cyclists and pedestrians to use the roads safely for a morning or a day.  It started in Bogota in the 1970s and has since spread to other Third World cities like Quito, Lima, Mexico City and Los Angeles.  With only about 2 miles of road closures, Ciclovia in Morelia, Michoacan, Mexico may be small, but it is mighty beautiful and a great way to see some of the sights.  Sunday morning the road in front of our hotel was closed to traffic, and slowly but surely cyclists and pedestrians began to take to the street.  We were off to a slow start to the day because we were at a party until 1 AM the night before, meaning the bike rental stand was out of bikes by the time we finished breakfast.  Luckily our hotel also had bikes to borrow for free.  No need for lycra today.  The ride was going to be short, and it seems that Mexicans don’t wear shorts, so when in Rome…

We headed east down the main road toward Callejon de Romance (The Alley of Romance), a pretty alleyway which couples deface with their padlocks signifying their love. There are a couple stories behind the name.  One is that the alley is so narrow that lovers on balconies on opposite sides of the street could reach out and touch each other.  The other story is that it got its name because there are passages from the poem “Romance a Morelia” inscribed on the walls.  Mostly I think it’s a marketing gimmick for tourists.  Whatever the origin, as we travel through the city, we could see what inspired the poet.*

“¡Romance de mi ciudad,
bañado con agua zarca,
para endulzarte, en los patios
reventaron las granadas!”

“Romance of my city,
bathed with clear blue water,
to sweeten you, in the patios
the pomegranates exploded!”

From Callejon de Romance we ride parallel to the aqueduct toward Plaza Morelos.  The aqueduct was built in the early 18th century to bring some of that clear blue water into the city during a drought, and it functioned until 1910.  Originally seven kilometers in length, today only 1700 meters remain, but it’s still an impressive sight.  Something I would have expected to see in Italy, France or Spain, but not in Mexico.  It’s interesting how technologies migrated around the world in the old days.

At Plaza Morelos coincidentally stands a statue of Jose Maria Morelos, a renowned military leader of the Mexican War of Independence.  He was born in Morelia, then known as Valladolid, in 1765.  He had some initial successes in the war racking up a record of about 22-1, including the capture of Acapulco.  That one loss was a biggie as he was eventually captured and executed in 1815.  The city was renamed in his honor in 1828.  Personally, I prefer to have cities named after people who don’t get captured, but not my pig, not my farm.  Notwithstanding his defeat and his girly name Morelos is probably worthy of a profile in toxic masculinity.

Across the street is Templo de San Diego.  From the outside it’s a fairly nondescript church, at least by Mexican standards, and at first we didn’t even bother to go inside.  But don’t be fooled.  The inside is spectacularly colorful and ornate.  We came back later to marvel at the decor and attend mass as it was Palm Sunday.  In an interesting Mexican twist, during mass someone in the back of the church would occasionally shout “¡Viva!”, which the crowd would repeat con gusto.  I half expected someone to fire a pistol in the air in celebration like in an old western movie.  Or maybe a cartoon mouse.

“En la iglesia de San Diego
se bautiza la alborada
y por ‘volo’ distribuyen
cantos de paz, las campanas.”

“In the church of San Diego
the dawn is baptized
and by flight the bells distribute
songs of peace.”

Plaza Morelos and Templo de San Diego marked the end of the road closure at the eastern end, so from there we turned back west to Fuente de las Tarascas.  The sculpture in the middle of the fountain depicts three Indian women holding up a basket of fruit.  This is the third sculpture at this location.  The first was similar to the current one but was removed in the ‘60s because boobs.  The second sculpture transitioned and had no boobs.  In the ‘80s they brought boobs back, proving once again that the ‘80s were the greatest decade.

“Cestas de frutas le suben,
en agosto las muchachas.”

“Baskets of fruit are raised up
by the girls in August.”

Back on the main street we make a stop and Museo de Dulce to pick up some gifts.  Museum guides dressed in 19th century apparel show how they have made candies from local fruits for 150 years by macerating fruit like coconut or quince, mixing with sugar, and then letting the mix simmer before cooling into blocks.  The blocks were then chopped into smaller pieces and packaged in paper wrapping.

“Portales donde se esconden
el amor en raya de agua
de papel con filo de oro
y dos palomitas castas,
olor de la fruta de horno
junto a las ollas de horchata,
requiebros del membrillate
a la desnuda cocada.”

“Portals where they hide
love in streaks of water
Of gold edged paper
and two breeds of doves,
smell of oven fruit
next to the horchata pots,
Complements of the quince
to the bare coconut sweets.”

Across the street is a government building where protesters have expressed their discontent by spray painting slogans.  And by protesters, I mean local Antifa.  Some of the graffiti read “Aborto libre” and “ACAB”.  It’s not clear if they wanted abortion laws loosened in Mexico or if they wanted them to be free of charge.  Maybe they are like American progs, something is available only if someone else is paying for it.

Further west we pass the cathedral, which is sandwiched between Plaza de Armas and Plaza Melchor Ocampo. The cathedral has a pink hue due to the color of the local stone used in its construction.  Construction began in 1660 and was completed in 1774, which is faster construction than California’s High Speed Rail.  It has two towers in the front and a blue tiled dome in the middle.  While the interior is not as striking as Templo de San Diego, the exterior is fantastic.  Within the pink walls of the cathedral is a huge organ.  With 4600 pipes and it was the largest organ in the Western Hemisphere when it was imported from Germany.  The cathedral hosts the Morelia Organ Festival, not to be confused with the Folsom Street Fair.

“¡Rosa plegaria de piedra
que levanta entre dos plazas
secular clamor del hombre,
trocado en torres ufanas!”

“Rose prayer of stone
that raises between two squares
secular clamor of man,
turned into proud towers!”

Next to the Cathedral was the Plaza de Armas where numerous vendors were selling foods (including crickets, they make you strong), drinks, souvenirs, and various trinkets made from palms.  The plaza was decorated with giant Easter eggs and an Easter bunny. The Viejitos performed for the tourists.  The Viejitos are a group of dancers consisting of four men from the Purepecha tribe.  They wear masks to look like old men, hence their name.  Each dancer represents earth, air, fire or water.  Kind of like an indigenous boogie wonderland.  

“Plaza de Armas rumorosa
en noches de serenata,
cuando vueltas y más vueltas
dan mis garbosas paisanas,
regando luengos adioses
para envolver al que pasa.”

“The buzzing Plaza de Armas
In nights of serenade,
When round and round
my graceful countrymen give
watering long goodbyes
to envelop those that pass by.”

Soon we hit the western end of the road, or at least the closed road, and it’s time to turn around and return the bikes.  The ride was short, sweet, beautiful and poetic.

So should you visit Morelia yourself?  It’s only a four hour bus ride from Mexico City, so if you are in the area and have the time, yes.  It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and there’s more to see than I’ve shown here.  It’s cheap, and the people were friendly.  Will I go again?  If I have another party to go to, sure.  I would also consider using it as a base to explore other cities in the area like Patzcuaro, which is known for its Day of the Dead festivities and was the inspiration for some of the scenes in the movie Coco.

But what about safety?  The State Department discourages visiting. 

I’m not going to lie, that warning made me a little nervous before our trip.  Despite what the experts in the State Department said, we felt perfectly safe, safer than in most big cities in the US.  We walked around the city day and night, rode the local bus (more like a minivan), took Uber, and were on the streets late at night.  No hint of trouble.  Maybe we are just Science Deniers.  Or maybe we got lucky.  All the locals and all the semi-locals said it’s safe, just be off the highways after about 10 PM.  Perhaps locals have a different perception of “safe”, but even the retired gringo expats we met said they felt safe.  “But tell people back home it’s terrible.  We don’t want a bunch of tourists.”  So don’t go.  It’s terrible.  But really, go, even if you don’t ride a bike or wear lycra.

 

*Poem translated with the help of Google.  It probably sounds better in Spanish.