My grandmother, Barbara, came from a family that loved traveling. Among other places she was able to go to was Mexico, a country which became a favorite of her Aunt Leatha, who was the most prolific traveler in the family. For a school assignment, Barbara wrote a short account of this trip, and I’ve included the full transcript below.
February 16, 1944 Barbara Crane
Xochimilco
Mexico is a land of enchantment and beauty. There is so much to see and do in this land of smiling people and colorful costumes. On Sundays the Mexican charros ride into Chapultepec Park with their gay and spangled costumes and beautiful horses. The senoritas, the tortilla makers, the typical iron gates of Mexico City. Then there is Acapulco with its coconut palms bending in the ocean breezes, the silver mining towns, and the ornate churches. We remember it all.
A few miles from Mexico City is a most interesting spot. This is Xochimilco—“the island of flowers.” A legend tells how the Aztec Indians once piled mounds of rich earth of rafts and eventually the rafts became fixed to the bottom of the river and they planted gardens on this fertile land and called them the floating gardens. This tale is no longer true, but it makes a rather inspiring background for the islands today.
When we arrived in Xochimilco we drove over bumpy, muddy streets and finally drove in [to] a parking lot for tourists. Immediately five or six little Indian boys rushed up and begged to “watch our car.” They knew they would earn a few centavos as a reward.
Our eyes filled with wonder as we reached the shore of the floating gardens. Small, ragged children, and dark laughing women rushed up to us with a huge boquet [sic.] of a hundred or more gardenias for only twenty cents! Others came with roses, violets, sweet peas and carnations which all looked like shining rainbows. Hardly had we a chance to look about us when a dark man with a flashing smile and a large sombero [sic.] came and showed us to our boat.
The boats were flat with a large arch over it which is decorated with gardenians [sic.] and names of senoritas women in with large daisies and wreaths of flowers.
For a hour’s ride we rented our boat for about seven pesos and then relaxed for a quiet, dreamy hour, while a native boy standing on the back of the boat pushed us along with a long pole.
As we drifted along we wound in and out among the islands covered with flowers and vegetation. Tall trees with drooping branches bend towards the still waters and everywhere we saw colorful arrays of carnations and roses and could smell their sweet perfume.
In the distance we hear the haunting, tinkling music of the mirimba [sic.]. Before long a flower covered boat had drawn up to ours and several musicians “serenaded” us. Beside us a little canoe with a charcoal stove had drifted up and we heard a soft, “Lady, lady, look enchiladas and tortillas. You buy some?” she asked. We couldn’t resist her shy face and pleading look so we bought some tortillas.
A little Indian girl paddled up and begged us to buy a gardenia corsage. In still another boat two men took our pictures. On one picture they decorated us with angel’s faces!
All too soon the wharf came into sight once more and regretfully we stepped off our little skiff.
As we left we dared not look back for we felt as if we wished to go on and on in this fairy land of flowers and graceful poplars. The little senorita who shyly handed us a waxy gardenia as we left gave us a silent message—“return again.”
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