Astonishingly, the pyramid is not listed as a world heritage site, but this may contribute to the site’s charm and the fact that it is not overrun by tourists. What they don’t tell you in the local guides is that a trip to the pyramid involves around fifteen minutes in a narrow tunnel that is only six feet tall and scarcely wide enough for one person. Apparently, since the 1930s around five miles (8 km) of tunnels have been excavated beneath the pyramid by archaeologists in order to ascertain the various stages of building (it’s believed that the pyramid’s construction was undertaken in four stages beginning around 200 BC).
God knows, how many kilometres we traversed – it felt like forever. I couldn’t help but think of those poor unfortunate souls forced to work in the depths of the pyramids. When daylight finally greeted us I ran towards the opening. It really was as though we were being met by divine light at the end of the tunnel.
Emerging from night into day, the first sight of the pyramid – through which we had been travelling – comes as a shock. It resembles nothing more than a grassy hillock; its incline carpeted with Cholula was one of Mexico’s largest cities but never regained its former splendour wild flowers, with a pretty church, basking in sunlight at the top. It is difficult to imagine that this might once have been a pre-Columbian sacred site. The domed church, painted sunset orange, is known as the Santuario de la Virgen de los Remedios (Sanctuary of the Virgin of the Remedies) and was built by the Spanish following a swift takeover of the city. Unnerved by the fervour of the Aztec rituals, involving cannibalism, the dismemberment of sacrificial victims, and the proffering of human hearts as tribute to their gods, the Spanish wasted no time in demolishing whatever they could. As soon as they removed the sacred sites and temples, they erected churches on top of the remains. The earliest inhabitants of Cholula were evidently keen on sacrificial ritual as the town is famous for the sheer number of churches in use today. Apparently it once boasted 350! Cholula was one of Mexico’s largest cities but, following the terrible massacre by the conquistadores, it never regained its former splendour.
When we begin the climb, the remains of the final pyramid finally take shape. Steps once covered all four sides allowing the summit to be approached from any direction, but we decide to follow the natural curve rather than attempting an aggressive incline. Unfortunately, we don’t get stunning view used in the tourism poster. Clouds obscure the legendary El Popocatépetl volcano that separates the valley from Mexico City.
Danza de los Voladores
On the way down, next to a small crafts market, a strange sight awaits us. Four men in colourful costumes are swinging upside down, round and round a tall pole. It looks like some strange inversion of Maypole dancing. But this is Danza de los Voladores (Dance of the Flyers) an ancient ritual from Veracruz.
I watch mouth agape. What on earth possesses these men to indulge in an apparently nonsensical and uncomfortable ritual? Really, though, it is not so different from Maypole dancing. I can still recall my own childhood spent watching brightly attired figures with bells on their shoes, holding onto a coloured ribbon, and skipping around a pole on May Day.
In Mesoamerican times, los voladores rather more daring ritualistic dance would have been performed throughout the country. Now it most famously endures in the small hillside town of Papantla, founded in the 13th century by the Totonacs. (Its Nahuatl name means “place of the papanes” (a kind of crow).
Later, I discover that the five dancers (one sits atop the pole, whilst playing a flute and drum) are meant to The five dancers represent the four elements - earth, air, fire and water and the sunrepresent the four elements revered by the indigenous population - earth, air, fire and water and the man on top is the sun. While Maypole dancing celebrates the arrival of summer, this ceremony is aimed at appeasing the gods and ending a period of severe drought.
The tallest tree in the area would be used, cut down and stripped of its branches. In a strange inversion of the customary sacrificing of “female virgins”, only those men considered “chaste” could participate. Originally, the five men would impersonate birds and dress in appropriately colourful costumes. The pole is meant to connect the sky, the earth, and the underworld.
Interestingly, by the 16th century the ritual had become associated with the Spring Equinox. I realise that, after all, it is not so far removed from our own native folk dance. We too would select a tree from our woods, cut it down, and haul it to our villages in order to mark the oncoming season of the summer. But our ritual belongs to the Pagan fertility tradition while the Danza de los Voladores has a more urgent purpose – the need for rain.
Sadly, due to deforestation voladores often have to perform on metal poles, but at least women are now allowed to take part in the ceremony.
Just as May Day has remained a popular secular festival, the Danza de los Voladores endures as a ritual ceremony, and is now recognized as Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH) by UNESCO.
I have to admit witnessing these men fly round the pole proves a far more exhilarating experience than watching the relatively sedate maypole dance. It is almost unearthly, and strangely mesmerising.
The conquistadores may have torn down the temples and trampled over the sacred sites of the indigenous population but, as Danza de los Voladores proves, they did not succeed in breaking their spirit or wiping out entirely their traditions.
