Don’t worry if you don’t understand two out of three words in the title, I will explain everything. This year, we traveled to Tepoztlan, hiked up and down a mountain, and ended up in a temazcal.
Ok, I’ll keep explaining.
It was an intense, surreal experience, and I am still unsure what was real and what only happened in my head.
In the first 30 seconds of entering the temazcal, I thought I would pass out if I didn’t immediately leave. I somehow didn’t leave.
The whole thing was mostly in Spanish or Nahuatl, and I understood all and none of it simultaneously.
Throughout the entirety of that hour, I yelled things I did not understand, only to realize later how much sense they made.
Now that we are all on the same page, let me paint the whole picture.
Tepoztlan is a small town 80 km south of Mexico City and is a very popular weekend destination for local tourists. Families come from Mexico City to explore artisanal shops, colorful houses, hike gorgeous cliffs surrounding the town, and relax in spas dotting the sides of its charming, cobblestone streets. It’s a place where ancient indigenous culture and spiritual charm intermix with shopping, eating, and relaxation for a full body and spirit retreat. Part of the spa experience is a temazcal ceremony, a tradition that comes from pre-Hispanic ancestors, and takes place in a circular dome structure made of adobe bricks or mud. It’s basically a sweat lodge, which combines meditation of the mind and purification of the body into a ceremony led by a shaman.
This was the gist of all I knew when we boarded the red-eye flight to Mexico City. We tossed and turned in our upright economy seats for four hours, then dozed off for an hour and a half on the bus to Tepoztlan, and that was it for a night’s sleep. But sleep deprivation is no reason to postpone plans, and we had plenty of plans for that day. It all started with climbing to El Tepozteco pyramid, an archaeological site consisting of a small temple dedicated to the Aztec god of pulque. This all sounds mystical and ancient until you realize pulque is an alcoholic drink made from fermented sap of the agave plant. We’ve had it before, and it was milky, viscous, and slightly acidic, sort of like alcoholic kefir. To show our reverence to this tipsy god, or possibly due to lack of sleep, we took almost two hours to stumble up the rocky path before enjoying the views of Tepoztlan from the top. As I was trying to keep my footing during the steep descent, Victor assured me that we would be well rewarded by a relaxing ceremony in a temazcal. I believed him, as I often do.
We got to the spa and checked in. Our temazcal was already warmed up and the shaman, a young man wearing nothing but swimming shorts, was patiently waiting for us. We changed into our bathing suits and left everything outside – all electronics, phones, bottles of water, clothes, and shoes.
“This is a rebirthing ceremony!” the shaman announced, as he lifted the heavy rugs covering the entrance to the dome-shaped hut, inviting us to crawl into the darkness. We sat cross-legged on the floor and nervously looked at each other, unsure of what to expect. It was warm inside, but certainly not hot. We have in the past experienced an Estonian sauna, a Turkish hammam, and a Norwegian badstue complete with a jump into the Northern Sea, so I was feeling confident. Partly because a sweat lodge is something I associate with cold northern climates, and I just didn’t think that people living in tropical climates have much of a desire to sweat more than necessary.
Our shaman crawled inside and closed the heavy rug “door” behind him. The entire hut was submerged in complete darkness, and I heard water being poured on the rocks and sizzling in the darkness. Next thing I know, I couldn’t breathe. I have never experienced air this hot in my entire life. I was breathing in boiling steam, my skin tingled, and my head felt light. I threw myself on the ground and started crawling to where I presumed the door was.
“I am sorry…” I gurgled to Victor. Even as I was struggling to breathe, I was still upset that I was giving up on this experience so soon. I pushed the rug aside, and cold fresh air hit my face, relieving the intense heat, pain, and fear.
“If it’s too hot,” the shaman said in English, “Lower your head towards your chest or simply lie down.”
Tentatively, I closed the door and pushed my head down into my chest. That did make it better, but it was still incredibly hot. I lay down and tried to steady my breathing. This was much better. This was doable.
I was finally ready to be reborn.
Shaman began chanting. In the darkness of the hut, I thought I could see star constellations in the night sky that didn’t exist. My body felt light, as if I was floating in water, rather than lying on the ground. I was no longer bothered by the heat. The heat existed, and so did I, and we had mutually agreed not to bother the other.
Later, Victor told me that at this same time, he could feel Quetzalcoatl, an Aztec god who looks like a feathered serpent, land on the very top of his head and slowly slither down his body. Maybe he was being poetic in describing how the heat felt on his body. Or maybe I was not the only one hallucinating in that hut.
“We stretch!” shaman said, and I felt his hands on my back. He stretched out my arms and legs and extended my back, quickly manipulating all my limbs in the darkness. It was almost a pleasant massage, if you forget the heat, the darkness, the claustrophobia, and the fact that the masseuse was also barely dressed and sweating. In a minute, I heard him make his way over to Victor and Victor’s limbs and back cracking under the pressure of the shaman’s strong arms. Once done, the shaman started chanting again.
“If you want, scream Puerta!” said shaman.
“Puerta!” I yelled. I had no idea what I was saying. Victor, who undoubtedly knew this word in Spanish, remained quiet.
A second later, the rug was pulled aside, and some fresh air was let into the temazcal, as the shaman crawled out. He came back a minute later with a cup.
“Coffee.” He said, reaching out to me in the darkness. I put my hand out, trying to imagine how I was going to be drinking coffee in this heat. Something wet and grainy was slapped into my hand. I pulled it close to my face. My palm was full of wet coffee grounds.
“Scrub!” shaman said and started slathering coffee grounds all over himself. Victor and I vigorously scrubbed ourselves. The shaman chanted, then left again.
He crawled back in with a large bucket.
“Tea!” he announced, happily. I peeked into the bucket before the temazcal door closed, and unlike the previous coffee, this did, in fact, look like tea. Before I could say “This is the weirdest tea party ever….”, shaman yelled, “Wash!” and threw the tea into my face. I, who likes my tea boiling hot, initially recoiled, but quickly realized this tea was tepid warm and actually very pleasant in the heat. He poured some on my head as well and then threw the rest into Victor’s face. We washed the coffee grounds off with tea. This was, in fact, the weirdest tea party ever.
Shaman sang and his voice bounced off the domed roof. It was a song about nature or ancestors or love or maybe none of these things. It was in Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and I sang along.
“What is your name?” he asked me.
“Julia.”
“Say out loud, to yourself – I love you, Julia!”
“I love you, Julia!” I whispered, and at that moment, these words made less sense than the song in Nahuatl.
“We always tell others we love them, but never ourselves. If you want, scream Puerta!” said shaman.
“Puerta!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, relieved to be back at something familiar.
A moment later, the temazcal door was opened and fresh air rushed in.
“What’s Puerta?” I whispered to Victor.
“Door…” he whispered back, “You’ve been asking him to open the door…”
“I don’t know what I have been saying…”
“Oh, yes, you do!” Victor laughed.
When we finally crawled out, squinting into the daylight, it felt like maybe 15 minutes had passed since the beginning of the ceremony. My iPhone confirmed that we have been undergoing the process of rebirth for almost an hour. I chugged water while Victor put his hand on my shoulder and leaned on me slightly.
“Are you feeling lightheaded?” I asked.
“Yes. I think Quetzalcoatl just flew off.”
We stood in the sunlight, aromatic tea residue steaming off our bodies, which were still covered with an occasional streak of coffee grounds. In the last 24 hours, I worked at a corporate job, slept for less than 4 hours, climbed a mountain, and then was purified, steamed, healed, and finally reborn.
I can’t think of a better way to spend a weekend.
