I Coulda Been a Star!

One afternoon a friend called, asking if we wanted to be in a video to publicize Michoacán that was being shot by a film company from México City. Pátzcuaro and Morelia are in the state of Michoacán, and because tourism has been so heavily affected by news coverage of the cartel wars the state wanted to promote a more positive message.

Our friend said she was crossing Plaza Grande on the way to the mercado a block away when she was pursued by a young woman with a clipboard. Could she appear in a tourism video, and could she ask her other gringo friends if they would also appear? She thought, "Why not? Could be fun." And that's when she called us.


Mark decided that he wanted to go to the movies instead, so after several changes of schedule I met our friend at 6pm. We were transported to the yácatas (the spectacular archeological site) at Tzintzuntzan, about a 15 minute ride from town. We had already been told what to wear--capris, light-colored tops, and sandals. I did the best I could with my limited wardrobe, but when we arrived we were immediately dressed in other clothes.

The production company was filming the Purépecha Fire Dance,and apparently we were to be the enthusiastic gringo audience. Shortly after we arrived, however, we were joined by a young Spanish artist, Jaime, growing the audience to three.

We did manage to catch a rehearsal of the Fire Dance at the yácatas, with young men in ethnic dress chasing a burning ball of rubber in the dry grass around the site. This is the dry season and everything is flammable. Nearby were large patches of burned grass, indicating that rehearsal time had been extensive and sometimes exciting.

Here's a short video--notice how they snuff out the fire ball.

Every time we wandered toward the filming area we were herded back to a small stone building. We shared it with the costume mistress and her collection of costume items, ironing board and steamer, and 6 young local Purépecha women dressed in what I assume were supposed to be authentic costumes. In fact they looked more Hawaiian to me.

We waited. And waited. At one point a representative of the movie company came in to chat, and we peppered him with questions about when we would be filmed. He called the director several times and each time he was told, "another half hour." When the young women took off their costumes and went home we knew things weren't going well. By then we were known as "las turistas," the tourists, and our friend noted that we were now a commodity.

At 10pm we agreed that if nothing happened in the next 15 minutes were were leaving. Jaime said he would stick around for a little while longer, though I don't know how things worked out for him. As we left the director was heard on the radio asking the crew to go into town and find more "turistas." Where he expected to find tourists at 10:30pm in a small town was not our problem.

Fortunately I'd called Mark and he'd come out after the movie to see what was happening--which was not much. So he rescued us and took us home. On the way we puzzled over why it was so hard to film our short scene while we were available. Seemed a lack of coordination and planning, but we concluded it was not our problem.

I love going to the archaeological site because the structures are unusually constructed and spectacularly located. The yácatas stand on an immense platform overlooking  the red tile roofs of Tzintzuntzan and the lake beyond, and it's a blissfully peaceful place visited by only a few people at a time. I love the place, and the opportunity to visit, even though nothing came of it, was a pleasure.

But still.