The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1936-04-27

EDITORS NQTE-This rowing reporter
for The Times goes where he pIes~es.
when he pIeases. in search OF odd stories
about this and that
CUERNAVACA. Mexico. April 81.
~ Once in a while something
happens that makes you feel the
world is wonderful place, and
that people are fundamentally
good, and it leaves glow in your
| memory that is like pleasant
dream. That has just happened to
me in the village of Tepoztlan.
Tepoztlan lies in hot little val
ley, brown and dusty, between two
high mountains of bare solid rock,
about Is miles from Cuernavaca.
Not until last year was a gravel
road built into Tepoztlan. 1 don't
know why they built it, for the
| people don't need it. Not many
people use it, for the road isn't on
the maps yet. So stranger is still
a novelty in Tepoztlan.
In fact, fellow who had been
over there told me that Tepoztlan
was the only place he'd been in
Mexico where the people were surly
to an outsider.
NTHEN I came down of the
w mountain, and turned the
corner at the plaza, and stopped, I
was overwhelmed by little Mexican
h0UC Thou
boards, on the tenders, all over the
back of the car. At least dozen
of them, all pointing and shouting.
1 picked out one cute youngster
in overalls, pointed at him and said
listed" had chosen him for my
guide. He made all the others get
off, but they ran alongside the car,
the whole bunch of them, all over
town.
drove up one street and down
the other. In low gear most of the
way. For the street descended in a
series of slopes and shelves, like the
side OF pyramid. Going up, the car
could hardly-get over.
The houses were all brown adobe.
Tepoztlan is not pretty village.
Finally we pulled up at the in
evitable plaza, and parked in the
shade. Tepoztlan's plaza is meager,
IKE the rest of the town. It is a
block square, and there isn't a tree
In it, nor blade of grass. Nothing
but a cement fountain.
TT was Sunday afternoon. Quite a
Il few people were around the
plaza. Along one whole side, under
tin roof, was the market. It was
the poorest market I have ever seen.
Women in black, some with ba-
b1eS, simply sat on the cement with
their ware in neat piles before them
peanuts, beans, mangoes, sandals.
walked through the market, re-
membering the report of Surliness
to strangers. 1t made me timid.
and maybe extra polite. AS I
passed each stall, tipped my hat
said "buenoS tardeS" as pleasantly
as I could.
In every case I had a pleasant
"buenos tardes" in return. Every
body looked at me curiously, but
with friendliness.
When I came back, there was a
crowd around the car. The little
guide I had chosen was trying to
keep the others off the car. He
threw rock at one tiny brown fell
low and hit him in the cheek. The
child cried as though his heart
would break, and I took him in the
seat with me and gave him nickel.
Out of the corner of my eye I
caught his mother reaching in the
the window, jerking his sleeve, and
whispering 'graciaS, gracias" to
him. She wanted him to be sure and
thank me.
T SAT there and had a long talk
Il with the sharpest of the boys,
and by working his answers around
into the few Spanish words I knew,
1 found out where the school was,
what grade he was in, where the
pottery was made, when the new
road opened, and so on.
was there about an hour, try
ing to talk to the big crowd around
the car. The bright little boy was
the only one could understand.
These people haven't learned to
have their hand out. They wanted
nothing, except to be kind, and to
see the stranger. They were
courteous and reserved, but definite
ly friendly. And when women in
Mexican villages unberd toward a
stranger, that's something.
Finally I had to 60 My little
guide took his place on the run
ming board The whole crowd stood
on the market steps and watched
us go. And as far down the street
as could see and hear, they were
waving and calling "adios."
drove on up the mountain
toward the sun, loving the people
of Tepoztlan.