I’ve been spending much more time in the port city of Veracruz because of my partner’s job. Downtown Veracruz, to be precise.
It’s amazing to me that a place only an hour or so away from where I live in Xalapa can feel so different. Xalapa, the state’s capital, is in the mountains, a verdant cloud forest. At least before climate change came along, it was often chilly and rainy, a kind of Mexican Seattle. It’s also well-known as an artistic and intellectual hub — throw a rock and you’ll hit 10 musicians. Throw another rock and you’ll hit 10 university students.
It’s never a good idea to leave the house without a sweater and an umbrella. You can practically drink your weight in coffee without even realizing it. People are polite, but not exuberant.
De-pressurizing at sea level
But oh, slide down 1,417 meters of mountain range to the city of Veracruz, and how things change! The air even loosens up, infusing your lungs suddenly with a bounty of unexpected oxygen. If it weren’t for the oppressively wet heat, all that oxygen would have me running giddily in circles.
Once in Veracruz, stepping off the bus — or out of the car — is a shock to the system. The engulfing hot and muggy air always makes me start sweating immediately. It’s hard not to be self-conscious among the city’s residents, who seem perfectly used to it and not at all sweaty.
They’d never make you feel silly for it, though.
Los Jarochos
And that’s part of what I love about “jarochos.” This is the name, by the way, for people from Veracruz. Outside of the state of Veracruz, all people in the state are considered jarochos. Inside of Veracruz, though, jarochos are residents of the city of Veracruz. That’s some thin slicing, I know, but I personally think they’re distinct enough to deserve their own nickname.
And let me tell you something: they are fun. They are nice. They are exuberant and gregarious. They do not attempt to be coy; they stare openly, and let you know it, though it somehow doesn’t feel aggressive. They say hello, and how are you, and they will probably wish you a good day.
They’re also funny. On a recent trip as I walked along the “malecón” (boardwalk) with my daughter after buying her the requisite güero güera ice cream, a man approached. After calling me “my love,” “my queen” and “my life,” he tried to sell me a watch from his collection. “They’re stolen, but they’re good!” he exclaimed.
If Xalapeños are cats, cool and collected, jarochos are the happiest — and sometimes the naughtiest — of puppies. “Hi, hello! I’m interested in you!”
It’s an interesting cultural personality given the physical backdrop.
The trees of Veracruz: “This is ours now”
If you decide to stroll around downtown Veracruz, you’ll notice that many parts of it seem downright gritty. Building after building is deteriorating, many of the large, old properties abandoned and/or in limbo. I haven’t been to Cuba, but it looks and feels the way I imagine urban Cuba to look and feel.
The main story I’ve heard about the lack of upkeep of historic buildings, which is what most buildings in downtown Veracruz are, is about red tape. Some of them have been standing for 500 years, and well, wear and tear is bound to happen. While there’s certainly interest in rehabilitating these old buildings, the nightmare of paperwork and at times contradictory official requirements for remodeling is enough to discourage even the most enthusiastic investors. Some owners have even decided to just wait for their buildings to colapse. The reason? Once they do, they’re free to build on them without all the historical preservation rules.
In the absence of much human intervention, the trees have taken over. “This is mine now,” they seem to say as they grow out of the windows and over the roofs. It’s a part of the city that feels as if nature is reclaiming it, little by little.
Go down the coast a bit, and things get cleaner, nicer. Boca del Río is practically Miami by comparison: the fancier, more modern, more air-conditioned Veracruz. But if you want to take a stroll among the ghosts of early Mexico and meet their gregarious descendants, then Downtown Veracruz is the place for you.
Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, sarahedevries.substack.com.
