A small-seemingly very cozy town of Katemako, lost on the shores of the lake of the same name in the dense, like black hair, mountain jungle of the eastern state of Veracruz (Mexico), is known throughout the country.
Katemako is the capital of sorcerers and wizards, the city of black and white magic.
The trip there is definitely worth the effort. And you have to spend them.
If you suddenly get lost or decide to just clarify the road, you will be given detailed instructions with all possible courtesy, politely raising the sombrero above your head:
- Katemako, senor? There is nothing easier - you will get to Orizaba, and after you pass the volcano, take it to Otatilan, and there it is a stone's throw …
But at this moment one more guide will certainly appear and, also raising the sombrero, will certainly disavow the previous one:
- If you really need to Catemaco, senor, go through Cordoba to San Andrei and no longer listen to this senor, he himself does not know what he says …
Both put on their sombreros and begin to find out which of them knows the geography of their native land better. This is for a long time, so it is better to go without waiting for the end of their fascinating dispute. Through Orizaba or Cordoba - it doesn't matter. Wherever you go, you will not be able to avoid a single spiraling mountain road, where two trucks drive away, hitting each other with their sides.
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The highway winds through the selva, twists over gorges, crosses rivers overgrown with mangroves. This calm, muddy, brown water is inhabited by a huge, two-meter high prehistoric armored pike. I happened to see one specimen of this river horror in the aquarium of the port of Veracruz. Mouth, teeth, size … They say this fish does not attack people. Probably only out of philanthropy. The average parameters of homo-sapiens, it seems, could swallow whole.
As the Katemako approaches, the road becomes more and more deserted and abandoned. The last signs of civilization are disappearing, only the asphalt of the highway reminds of it. The sun paints the selva yellow-green, hides blue shadows in ditches, something ominous, alarming appears in the cry of birds, in all the discord of the jungle. Anxiety, a feeling of unaccountable fear covers, and I no longer want to go further, to Katemako.
But it's too late to return - after the bend the highway goes down sharply, the edge of the lake is shown, and here it is, Katemako. The embankment, cozy mansions along it, a two-story hotel with colors reminiscent of egg liqueur, blue flowers strewn with acacia crowns. Nice town, picturesque …
We came here with a friend: I'm on a business trip, Ruslan for the company. And on the way, he found how not to stop by the magicians! In addition, he hoped to help his father, who fell seriously ill fourteen thousand kilometers from Katemako, in Russia. Ruslan believed in magic, to me, I must confess, it all seemed a scam. After all, as you look at a page of paid advertisements in a newspaper, either in Mexico City or in Moscow, you will immediately see that there are even more charlatans in this area than in politics.
Advertising is rampant in Katemako too - everything is hung with large and small posters, signs, banners: endless "hereditary sorceresses and healers", all sorts of seniors Amalia, Miss Agness and dona Jimena, as well as black and white magicians of incredible declared power vying with each other to offer their services. At the end of the city hall, a bright poster adorned the entire wall, claiming that "Only the doctor of magic and master of occult sciences, Prince Tigris Vincent, will help solve your problems." Approximately the same thing was shouted by the boys, who flew at us in a shrill and unceremonious flock as soon as we got out of the cars. It is extremely difficult to get rid of them - the main rule is: do not speak, do not smile, do not look into the eyes.
In order not to look at the funny and cute faces of these engines of trade, I peer into the distant islands, located in an archipelago on the lake. The lake is raging. And then I notice a certain absurdity, a strangeness that at first surprises, and after a moment it conveys a heavy feeling of alertness, anticipation of danger, the presence of the inexplicable and therefore frightening. The fact is that the lake rages with complete calm. Tall gray waves crash over the parapets, leaving patches of yellowish foam on the asphalt. The ground underfoot trembles from blows, but not a single flower moves on the acacias, and hummingbirds calmly hover above them in the rainbow contours of their swift wings. The rumble and splash of the lake grows louder, the space of the waters is covered with uneven white forelocks of foam, the waves rise above the islands, leaving only the tops of the trees visible,growing on them. But the air is still quiet and motionless. It is as if a giant of an incredible size is loosening the bowl of the lake in his fist, stirring magic with reality.
Islands of the Lake Katemako archipelago
It becomes uncomfortable. Ruslan too, he also noticed this strange behavior of the elements.
“Don't worry, seniors. You are in Katemako,”says the porter phlegmatically, who has appeared on the doorstep of the hotel to receive our things. “Signs often happen here.
- What does this lake riot portend?
The receptionist shrugs, how does he know he's a small man. Let the seniors ask the magicians, black or white, no difference. Here, in Katemako, weak sorcerers are not found. Any sign will interpret.
The surrounding places have been famous since pre-Columbian times as the center of inexplicable powers and supernatural crafts. Every year, on the first Friday of March, a convention of witches and sorcerers from all over Mexico and Latin America is held here. According to local assurances, the conventions have been held for two thousand years. However, now they are like congresses of professionals: with an agenda, seminars, working groups and round tables. Once upon a time these meetings were called sabbaths and looked, probably, accordingly.
In contrast to the phantasmagoric worlds of Sergei Lukyanenko, the "dark" and "light" coexist here quite peacefully, without intrigues to each other, without the intervention of "patrols". Often their houses are side by side, and the children play together.
We begin our journey into the mysterious world with a black magician. It happened. A modest sign hung on the walls of his brand new two-story mansion, painted in cheerful pastel colors. There was nothing sinister, mystical or infernal on it, which usually accompanies the dark side of magic, and therefore it seemed to us quite sane and not dangerous.
Don Mario answered the question about the lake raging in complete calm with a long excursion into the problems of the relationship between the gods of the Aztec pantheon. Allegedly, now the time has come again for the battle of the god Quetzalcoatl, kind to people, with the god of war Huitzilopochtli. In fact, many, many centuries ago they already fought in space, and, despite the remoteness of the battle from the Earth, the planet was shaken by catastrophes, and people suffered death and misfortune. Then the evil god of war, he is the sun god Huitzilopochtli, expelled Quetzalcoatl, but he promised to return to people. Since the distant time of this battle between good and evil, the gods of the Aztecs periodically remember it. Well, it's like playing chess, repeating the previous moves of the main players. At such moments, you can expect everyone …
This "Song of Hiawatha" would probably go on endlessly - Mexicans love to talk about their glorious past, about ancient civilizations and the secrets that are stuffed with their memory. But we were in a hurry - we had only one day at Katemako.
Don Mario began his work in a small room with windows curtained with thick black fabric and walls painted in bloodthirsty scarlet. The chest of drawers covered with a dark tablecloth is filled with specific artifacts, the shape and purpose of which is impossible to describe. Then Don Mario began to whisper some incantations, burn herbs with a pungent and unpleasant odor, and at the same time cook some muddy and loudly gurgling potion on an alcohol lamp. The impression from the ceremony was painful and ominous. However, Ruslan endured him stoically: Don Mario promised to "open a portal" to his sick father and give him strength to fight the disease.
He opened this portal after half an hour of incredible efforts. Don Mario was sweating and breathing heavily, Ruslan swallowed hot potion and also looked sad. When it was all over, Don Mario from a sorcerer with ominous attributes again turned into a hospitable host, gave us coffee, told another Aztec legend and, finally making sure that we had a rest and came to our senses, let us go.
Katemako embankment. Monument to the fisherman
We went to the white magician the next morning. We got there at an obviously inopportune time - she was cooking for the ambassador. Oh, ambassador! If someone has been to Mexico and at the same time did not try the ambassador, it means that he did not understand anything and saw nothing in this country. Posole is an Aztec soup that is cooked in a meat broth made from special maize grains, from a mixture of dozens of peppers and countless other spices. When the salting is ready and poured into plates, it is seasoned with finely chopped fresh vegetables and … washed down with beer.
However, we got carried away with gastronomy. So, the white magician, who is still more convenient to call a witch, because the magician was a woman, cooked an ambassador.
Yes, I forgot to say - the ambassador is cooked for at least four hours, and the process itself resembles a sacred rite. Nevertheless, the sorceress dona Beatrice agreed to receive us. To my timid attempt to be delicate, expressed in the offer to come back later, so as not to interrupt the sacred ceremony of cooking ambassador, she replied strangely: "Come in, come in, seniors, I will finish now …"
It was not even the raging lake itself and not the black magician's potion that made me believe in the existence of magic, but exactly what dona Beatrice did with the ambassador, moving her hands over a large vat, boiling on the stove burner and spreading an impossibly delicious smell, whispering several spells, she removed the lid and solemnly proclaimed: "Done!"
“I don’t usually use my power in everyday life,” the woman said. “But now is a special case, seniors are foreigners, it’s not good to keep them waiting.
- How long did you cook it? I asked incredulously. He asked suspiciously.
- A little over an hour … Do not hesitate, the ambassador is ready. Want to try it while I'm studying with your friend?
The ambassador, in fact, turned out to be extremely tasty.
If you believe Carlos Castaneda, the craving for the mystical and incomprehensible is in the blood of the Mexicans. They themselves believe that the essence of their national character is determined by spirituality and imagination, inherited from the creators of great civilizations. Probably, this is so - nowhere else in the world do sorcerers and magicians hold their annual conventions with such enviable constancy: two thousand years in a row. And nowhere else in the world is there a city whose entire economy and all life is one hundred percent dependent on magic.
And Ruslan's father recovered. It is not known, however, what helped him - magicians from Katemako or drugs prescribed by doctors. Maybe both. Ruslan himself does not like to return to this topic in conversations. But judging by the fact that he began to travel to Katemako often, he does not believe in medicines.
