Friday, October 7, 2011

Tepoztlan Story

“Thirty five years ago, there were no cars in Tepoztlan.
There were taxis, but most of their work was in Cuernavaca.”

Jerry had come to Tepoztlan in a busload of clowns, real ones,
from San Francisco about that long ago. They left and he stayed,
working for local bands, and later as a massage therapist. He was
a colorful character, but his Spanish was excellent, and the locals
took to him. He dropped out of Yale. He dropped out of everything.

“One time, back then, a taxi driver from Tepoztlan picked up a fare
in Cuernavaca at night. He didn’t get a good look at his passenger.
While they were driving, his passenger asked him if he was from
Tepoztlan. The driver said: “Yes, but how did you know?”
The passenger responded: “That’s not important. What is, is that
I have a message for the people of Tepoztlan. When the great
sorrow comes, Tepoztlan will be protected. You can let me out here.”

The driver stopped the car and let the man out. It was the middle of
nowhere. When the driver turned to collect his fare, the man was gone.

Evidently this story has been lore, since then, among the local
people. And the local people, the Tepoztecos, are not New Age


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