It’s Easter weekend and I’m boarding a bus out of Mexico City. Traffic is fairly light as we make our way out-of-town, as most people have headed back to the villages where they were born to celebrate the Christian holiday with family. As we make our way into the mountains I see snow at the top of the highest volcanic peaks, and I’m overcome with the feeling of the last days of Jesus before the crucifixion.

As we near the town of Cholula you can see the brightly colored church that sits atop the infamous Great Pyramid. Considered to be one of the oldest towns in the Americas, I mentally prepare for the spiritual presence that will undoubtedly be found here.

The steep pathway of cobbled stones is before me. I feel my own cross weighing heavy on my proverbial back as I start the ascent. My breathing is labored as I climb, yet my spirit becomes free as I pass stone crosses and sidewalk vendors selling rosaries and other religious trinkets.
At the top of the Great Pyramid the entire valley can be viewed. It’s where you can truly appreciate the colorful architecture of this Mexican city.

After a spell, I head back down and over to the museum to learn more of the history of Cholula and the pyramid. Along the way, a man is selling fried grasshoppers, and I can’t resist buying a handful.
Crunchy and spicy.
I carry on, eventually walking the grounds of the excavation sites that have been uncovered so far.

After Cholula, we go down the street to a much less crowded area to see a couple other churches. Less popular but filled with ornate gold and a feeling of true Catholicism. I’m always in awe of places that have been filled with great riches and are not guarded with the traditional police and guns, instead only protected by faith.

It’s symbolic of what I suppose it means to be a true Christian, or at least a decent human being.


Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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