Ghosts of the Sierra Madre
They say that every old house in Alamos has a ghost. Some are restless, keeping the owners awake, because they were sealed inside the thick adobe walls. Others vainly promenade around the square until dawn, unwilling to move on to the next world because this one was so sweet.
While most of the city slumbers in bygone glories, Alamos offers a glimpse of a rarified life that has long vanished. It has become a sought after retreat for upscale Mexicans ,seeking their cultural roots, and gringos looking for solace in sun-dappled courtyards, hidden behind 200-year old walls. Be sure to bring lots of film; the Republic of Mexico has declared the entire village a National Historic Monument.
If you arrive late, on a moonlit night, when most of the town is asleep, you can still hear the rustle of taffeta and the faint cries of se�±oritas that have bruised their delicate feet on the cobblestone streets around the square. So indulgent was this tiny treasure of the Sierra Madre that one Silver Baron paved the alleyway to his home in planchas de plata (plates of silver).
Besides its ghostly inhabitants, Alamos has produced a disproportionate number of national heroes and femme fatales; including Dr. Alfonso Ortiz Tirado, a beloved physician and well known tenor who passed away in the 1950s. The anniversary of his birthday has grown into an international extravaganza of lilting arias, throbbing rock bands, and classical guitar. Thousands of visitors pour into town to enjoy the nightly callejoneda, a promenade through the alleyways, led by the estudiantinas (dashing young musicians in Spanish costumes). Along the way, visitors dance in the street, retracing the same alleyways that were once paved in silver.
Maria Felix, known as the “Marilyn Monroe of Mexico” is Alamos’ greatest pop legacy. The voluptuous star made more than 47 films and was romantically linked with the muralist Diego Rivera and most of her leading men. History buffs can enjoy nostalgic photos of her and Dr. Tirado at the Museo de Constumbrista, just east side of the main square.
Casa Los Tesoros, a converted 18th Century convent, serves as an unofficial gathering spot for locals and visitors. All rooms have working fireplaces (welcome in winter). The portico surrounding the courtyard serves as an al fresco lobby with large paintings of Spanish Bishops and members of the royal court in full regalia. The air-conditioned restaurant is almost always open, although on a slow day you may have to track down the waiter in Chato’s Bar. Here you can sit for hours over an espresso or cocktail and meet everyone in town. Besides photos of Poncho Villa and other famous Alamosans revolutionaries, Chato’s main allure is that you can check out who’s inside from the street, before going in.
On my first visit, Los Tesoros was full and I was taken to a suite at Casa Pacifico, a sprawling hacienda that serves as guest overflow. My suite was larger than most people’s homes. It was Sunday and there was no room service. I had the entire hacienda to myself. Recalling all the ghost stories I’d heard, I went around turning on lights in both bathrooms and along the empty exterior hall. Unable to sleep, I headed back to Tesoros for a nightcap. There was no one on the street and I could hear my footsteps echoing on the narrow cobblestone street. Half way up the block I heard a female voice, so pure and haunting, wafting through the breeze. I strained to make out the lyricsâÂ?¦”and my heart will go on. It was the theme song from the movie Titanic. The words were English, but the cadence was strangely exotic. I followed the angelic sound up the street toward Los Tesoros, certain, it was the spirit of Celine Dion.
A few candles flickered beneath a painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe. The song now filled the entire enclosure of the former convent. The acoustics were ethereal in the stone patio. I searched the empty courtyard, trying to find its source. Moments later, in a dark corner I could make out two tired waiters with glazed expressions, staring at a boom box. The men pointed to a poster on the wall: “El Poder del Amor” (the power of love). The music was a promotional tape from George Martin and Angelica Amaya, a touring duo, scheduled to perform the following night. Martin, an opera star of German descent, had trained his young Mexican wife’s extraordinary voice. After the performance, he confided that the beautiful Diva didn’t understand a word of the famous theme song from Titanic. This was as close as I ever came to a personal experience with the ghosts of Alamos.
A part time resident from New Mexico recalled the chilling tale of a wealthy gringa’s frustrating attempt at restoring one of the original haciendas. Every time the workers took a sledgehammer to break the thick adobe walls, the handle broke and the worker ran off, leaving the tools on the floor. After two years of frustration, she decided to take up the sledgehammer herself. The facia broke, exposing a horrendous gaping hole. Inside was the preserved skeleton of a young woman, her hair and pieces of her clothing were still intact. The skeleton indicated she was carrying a 6-month old fetus. The daughter of one of the original families told her the story of a Silver Baron who was so ashamed of his unwed daughter that he sealed her in the walls so the town couldn’t gossip. The story changes from person to person, but the essence always remains the same.
When I first saw Alamos in 1964s it was a haunting ruin, overgrown with dusty bougainvillea and coral vines that refused to die. Since then it has become a magnet for those who want to live out their fantasies. Among the fortunate residents are Nancy and Jim Swickard. They arrived after dark. Jim drove down the cobblestone street toward La Purisma de Conception near the center of town. Glancing at the old church, Nancy said, “We’re home.” Today the Swickard’s home has evolved into Hacienda de Los Santos, one of the most elegant small hotels in Mexico.
The hotel’s landscaping reflects Alamo’s unique climate that changes from high desert – to lush tropical foliage, following the first rain of summer. Driven by the ambitious ghosts of their 17th century predecessors, the Swickard’s vision for the hacienda is always expanding. Each of its authentically restored rooms or suites is named for a saint. Some are as large as a small villa, with antiques and religious art, and fireplaces even in the bathroom. Through the years, adjacent mansions have been purchased and restored. While the bar and restaurant is for guests only, during quiet afternoons their young majordomo leads tours of Los Santos (cameras permitted). If seating is available, non-resident visitors can make dinner reservations. Los Santos kitchen only serves fresh seafood from the nearby port of Guymas with fruit and vegetables grown in the hacienda’s own garden. The service is impeccable, and if you’re lucky Jim and a cappella choir may serenade you.
Alamo is able to preserve this intimate, rarified status because there are less than 120 rooms in the entire village. There are several smaller B & B’s with very attractive guestrooms, including hacienda Obregon Dieciocho, located No. 18 Obregon, just down the street from Los Tesoros. No phone, you must inquire in person while you’re there. However, for total emersion into Spanish Colonial charm, Hacienda Los Santos has no equal. Town & Country calls it, “Mexico’s answer to Shangri-la” – a self-contained sanctuary with a first class health spa, private theatre and chapel.
From most hotels, tours are offered to the 300-year old silver mines along with excursions to the Rio Mayo (not to be confused with the pyramid building Mayans) where the small, indigenous tribe lives today, just as it did in centuries past. You can arrange a professionally guided bicycle tour or a day of bird watching at an unspoiled estuary on the Sea of Cortez. However, the afternoon home and garden tour is the most popular. It gives visitors a glimpse into the magnificent restored haciendas and the lifestyles of those who live there. All proceeds received go toward the Alamos education fund.
It was rumored that Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts stopped briefly in Alamos during the filming of “The Mexican.” It was in the summer and very hot. There was not enough water for Julia to take long morning showers, and people thought they heard her screaming at the staff. The film was shot in Quintos Real. The rumor has never been verified but, if you come late, on a moon lit night, when the air is perfumed with orange blossoms, listen for the little cries of the seÃ?±oritas in their satin slippers now that the silver plating has been removed.
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The author first visited Alamos in the 1960s when he got diverted from a surfing trip to San Blas. He rediscovered it in 1999, and had returned every year since.
