CUERNAVACA, THE SUN CHILD OF THE 



SIERRAS 



By Russell Hastings Millward 



THROUGH the many ages of 

 travel few spots of the world 

 have remained unchanged in the 

 well-trodden paths of civilization ; but 

 Cuernavaca, the Sun Child of the 

 Sierras, lies today in the little Mexican 

 valley of the same name well preserved 

 in its natural beauty since the time of 

 Cuauhnahuac, when the ancient builders 

 wrote their history in hieroglyphics. 



The name Cuernavaca, meaning "horn 

 of the cow" in Spanish, is probably a 

 contraction of Cuauhnahuac, the more 

 poetic Aztec term, meaning "near the 

 mountain," and tradition tells us that it 

 was applied by the Spanish during the 

 days of the Conquest, in April, 1521. 



Accentuating the grandeur of the dis- 

 tant snow-capped mounts, Popocatepetl 

 and Iztaccihuatl, the town is situated on 

 the edge of the tropics, among the foot- 

 hills of the Sierras. Hemmed in on 

 every side by lofty peaks which no storm 

 can surmount, and having an altitude of 

 nearly 5,000 feet, which tempers the heat 

 of a tropical sun, Cuernavaca enjoys an 

 equable climate at all seasons of the year. 



It is little wonder, then, that the Aztecs, 

 the Montezumas, the great Conquistador, 

 Cortez, the unfortunate Emperor Maxi- 

 milian and his erstwhile Empress Car- 

 lotta sought this ideal retreat and found 

 peace, rest, and sunshine. 



There is no other 75-mile trip in the 

 three Americas so typically Oriental and 

 so full of charm as that from Mexico 

 City to Cuernavaca. The four hours 

 required to make the journey pass only 

 too quickly, as the train winds its way 

 through a veritable wonderland. Cha- 

 pultepec, Molino del Rey, Contreras, 

 Monte de las Cruces, and many other 

 places of historic interest are passed, 

 and upon reaching La Cima, the highest 

 point on the route, at an elevation of 

 about 10,000 feet, a magnificent view of 



the fertile Valley of Cuernavaca is un- 

 folded below. Plantations of sugar-cane 

 and coffee, fields of rice and bananas, 

 and orchards of lemon, orange, and 

 mango trees can be seen as far as the 

 eye can reach. 



From a line of mountains suggesting 

 Switzerland in their sublimity and whose 

 crests are perpetually covered with snow, 

 the panorama extends through a country 

 of rolling hills, winding rivers, blue 

 lakes, tropical plains, Aztec ruins of un- 

 known antiquity, primitive Indian vil- 

 lages, old mines of fabulous wealth, 

 petrified lava streams from volcanoes of 

 prehistoric days, and a civilization more 

 quaint and unconventional than that 

 found in any other part of the world. 



Upon arrival at the railway station a 

 number of rickety carriages will be found 

 in waiting, and, after a bit of good- 

 natured chaffing, a bargain is made with 

 one of the "cocheros" to drive you to 

 the village, about a mile distant. As the 

 frail little conveyance is driven along the 

 roadway, across the bridge, and then, 

 swaying to and fro, over the rough cob- 

 blestones of the narrow, crooked streets 

 of the village, you will experience a ride 

 not soon forgotten. Vying in its excite- 

 ment with a chariot race of medieval 

 times, a contest between the cocheros is 

 soon on in earnest. The houses of the 

 village, which are built without a vestige 

 of symmetry or regularity, appear to be 

 toppling over each other as the driver 

 frantically strives to reach the hotel 

 ahead of his rivals. Perhaps he might 

 be contemplating an extra tip for his 

 cleverness, if he wins the race, for you 

 will then be able to secure a first choice 

 of rooms ; but by what miracle has de- 

 struction of the entire outfit been averted 

 will ever remain a mystery to you. As 

 the fare is paid to the excited cochero 

 you will probably declare that you will 



