Travelling in Mexico
Around eighteen years ago, while travelling in Mexico as a sprightly seventy-four-year-old, I climbed several pyramids; the largest one was the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan. It stood sixty-six metres high, and to me was quite a challenge. I looked straight ahead as I climbed the large stepping stones; only at the top did I turn and look down.
“Oh my God, how am I ever going to get down,” I said aloud. A young Mexican boy over heard me, and said, “I’ll take you down, Lady.” When I was ready to make the decent, he held my hand. I was so grateful for that, as going down proved to be much more difficult.
It was quite an experience climbing the pyramids. At the top of some, was a large, flat stone slab where the Aztec Priests would perform their offerings to the Gods, in the form of human sacrifices. I learned that many people, even children, were sacrificed this way; so gruesome. I found it very difficult to understand and accept such cruelty; but then, this was an ancient civilisation with its own beliefs and priorities, where the Gods had to be appeased – whatever the cost.
Every civilisation has its own story to tell. Mexico was an unforgettable experience, where I felt as though I had stepped back in time.