~ W a y m a r k s ~: The Zocalo

Anyone who has watched the opening scene of the James Bond movie Spectre (2015), starring Daniel Craig, will be familiar with the central square of Mexico City – the Zócalo. It’s where James Bond pursues a baddie clutching a walking cane with a silver skull for a pommel amidst crowds of revellers out celebrating Mexico’s famous ‘Day of the Dead’ festival. The chase ends up with Bond finishing the baddie off in a highly improbable but palm-sweatingly tense punch-up in a helicopter perilously swirling about over the heads of the many people gathered in the city square below. For me though, first watching that iconic opening – which cleverly appears to have been shot as a single take – on the big screen of the Cathay Cinema in Singapore it was oddly nostalgic, as it took me back to the Zócalo.

I first visited Mexico City in 2011 shortly before the Day of the Dead. My Rough Guide to Mexico gives a somewhat understated description of the annual festivities: “Día de los Muertos: If visitors know just one Mexican holiday, it’s probably the Day of the Dead, when families honour and remember those who have died. Actually taking place over two days, November 1 and 2, it’s an indigenous tradition unique to Mexico. […] it’s usually a private rite. In every home and many businesses people set up ofrendas (altars) for the deceased: the centrepiece is always a photograph, lit by candles. In addition to the photo, the person’s favourite foods are also placed on the altar, as a way of luring the soul back to this world. For the same reason, strong-scented, bright orange marigolds are often laid in a path leading to the altar, and resinous copal incense is lit. On the streets, market stalls brim with eggy, orange scented pan de muertos and colourfully iced sugar skulls. Families usually gather to eat dinner on the night of November 1, then visit gravesites, which are also cleaned and decorated. Far from being a sad time, the Day of the Dead is an occasion for telling funny stories, bonding with family and generally celebrating life.”

What the guidebook oddly leaves out is the fact that this carnival-like parade which is depicted in the opening scene of Spectre in Mexico City actually does take place each year. Not only do people get dressed up for it, but people also expend a considerable amount of time and effort creating enormous floats of the most spectacular and fantastical monsters and mythical creatures, all vibrantly painted which are paraded through the streets of the city to the Zócalo, or central square, where people flock to admire them. By a further strange coincidence, the private after-party for the London premiere of Spectre was held at the British Museum, and so for several days before and after the front hall of the Museum and the Great Court were decked out with some of the enormous skulls and dancing skeletons used in that opening parade scene ... And, judging by the stacks of empty champagne bottles I saw spilling out of the rubbish skips back of house the next morning, Mr Bond must have hosted quite a good party!

Zócalo is an unusual name – it actually means ‘plinth’ – and the central square of Mexico City originally got this name from a proposed monument to commemorate Mexico’s Independence, the base of which (long since demolished) was the only part which was ever constructed. By some strange twist of logic though, this nick-name for the central square became the standard term of reference for all city and town squares throughout Mexico. Mexico City’s Zócalo is one of the largest city squares in the world, comparable to Moscow’s Red Square and Beijing’s Tiananmen Square. And, just as with Beijing’s Tiananmen Square, the centrepiece is a truly huge national flag which is ceremonially raised and lowered each day by a goose-stepping military guard of honour.

Catedral Metropolitana

The Zócalo is flanked by two buildings of central importance to modern day Mexico – the Catedral Metropolitana, and the Palacio Nacional. Thought to have been built on the site of Moctezuma’s Palace, the Palacio Nacional was also the site of Hernan Cortés’s first residence after he defeated the much maligned Aztec ruler in the 1500s. Since 1562 the Palacio has been the official residence of the Spanish Viceroys, and since Mexico’s Independence in 1821 the presidents of the Republic. Today it’s most famous for a spectacular sequence of murals painted by the artist, Diego Rivera, who began painting them shortly after the Mexican Revolution in 1929 (I’ve written about these murals previously on Waymarks here).

Palacio Nacional

Jesús Nazareno Church

The Catedral Metropolitana which is visually very striking – and holds centre stage in the movie fight-sequence opening Spectre – was begun in 1573, although the front towers weren’t completed until 1813. The building contains a plethora of different architectural styles which make it one of the most distinctive and interesting buildings of its kind. I rather like it, even though I’m not usually a fan of garish and over-the-top cathedrals – I tend to prefer a sparer sort of sanctity, something more airy and austere (think Durham or St. Alban’s Cathedrals perhaps). A few streets away from the Zócalo is a very simple and austere church and hospital, called Jesús Nazareno, which were both founded by Hernan Cortés in 1528. Hence this church with its rather fortress-like thick walls is one of the oldest Spanish buildings in the city. It has a wonderfully cool and dimly lit interior, perfect for escaping the midday heat and sun. It is also the last resting place of the famous Conquistador himself. He’s commemorated very simply by a modest bronze plaque set on a wall near the altar, which is presumably located close to the place where he is buried.

For a long time it was assumed that much of the stone used to build the Cathedral and other Spanish buildings was taken from the huge Aztec temples which had stood here at the heart of the Moctezuma’s capital which the Conquistadores had usurped, and so there would be little left of the original city of Tenochtitlan left. But happily the nearby ruins of Templo Mayor, which have been under archaeological excavation since 1978, have proved that this wasn’t entirely the case. Thankfully the remains of quite a few Aztec temples have since emerged, teaching us much about the ways of life – and death – which flourished in the Mexican capital before the arrival of the Spanish Conquistadores. More animated reminders of the original Aztec city and its culture are commonly found most days on the side streets around the Zócalo – where it isn’t unusual to find Pre-Columbian revivalist dance troupes, fully bedecked in plumes, dancing to intoxicating drum rhythms. They are truly mesmerising to watch.

The city of Tenochtitlan was founded, so the legend tells, when the sight of an eagle sat upon a cactus devouring a snake indicated where the wandering Aztecs were meant to found the heart of their empire. This motif now forms the centrepiece of the flag of the modern Mexican Republic. Originally the centre of the city was an island in the middle of a lake, hence a floating city grew up here. It must have been quite a sight to behold when Cortés and his men first saw it. In order to get a sense of what this waterborne world might once have been like it’s worth taking a trip out to the suburbs, to the floating gardens of Xochimilco. “The floating gardens themselves,” so my Rough Guide says, “are no more floating than the Titanic: following the old Aztec methods of making the lake fertile, these chinampas are formed by a raft of mud and reeds, firmly rooted to the bottom by the plants. The scene now appears like a series of canals cut through dry land, but the area still is a very important gardening and flower-producing centre for the city.” Here too the carnival-esque atmosphere continues most weekends, with parties of revellers in high spirits, all quaffing back tall beakers of chilli-spiked beer, as they drift along on brightly coloured raft-like boats, called Lanchas. Drifting amidst the bankside flower markets, serenaded into the night by bobbing mariachi bands who grapple alongside like marauding pirates! … It is hilarious and awful in equal measure, but thankfully there are moments of calm along the canals, and so it can feel quite peaceful and enchanting too, especially on a moonlit night when you’re in the company of good friends ... Peaceful, that is, until Mr Bond decides to rip through it all at full-throttle on a speed boat he’s commandeered – no doubt off on the start of another international, jet-setting adventure. Best hang onto your sombrero, amigo!