By Adriana Mendez
Under the first flight of stairs that leads up to the bell tower are pieces of wood that belonged to the original staircase. Daniel and his team had repaired the staircase a few years ago. A chill ran through me as my eyes went up the staircase, and I wondered if I would be able to climb to the top. I imagined the route that my feet would have to take with my hands gripping the wooden railings with each step.
Slowly and precisely, Daniel showed me how to climb each flight of wooden stairs. Some segments forced me to place my body against the stairs to avoid hitting my head. In other sections, I had to proceed on my knees. I was careful not to look down. Daniel climbed with enviable skill. We finally reached the platform, where the immense jewel that marks the hours lies. Daniel greeted it with a smile, and took hold of the pendulum that precisely measures the seconds. He manipulated it from left to right to set it to the right time. Then he took a lever and began to turn it while two huge gears rotated. A dim light flooded over the three faces of the clock, showing the printed date when the bells rang for the first time. It was 12 o’clock on September 16, 1901.
I was captivated by the clock’s beauty and imposing size. The lead weights hanging from steel cables above it rise little by little, while the hands mark passing time. Dozens of metal gears are in constant motion. I was amazed at the perfection of the machinery, synchronized to ring every 15 minutes with the three bells that hang from the highest part of the tower. As Daniel checked and wound the clock my gaze drifted to the stone walls displaying framed photographs of various clock models. The images, my memory, and my heart transported me to other times. The times when, to find out what time of day it was or to set the clock at home we tuned in to XEQK to listen to Luis Ríos Castañeda. He would give us the exact time minute by minute, followed by the familiar refrain, “La hora del observatorio, misma de haste, haste, la hora de México,”
After enjoying the view of the city from above for a few minutes and taking some pictures, we started down the steep wooden stairs. I managed to tame the butterflies in my stomach, and stepped carefully and firmly on each step.
How nice it was to meet this man who loves what he does, and who has officially held his position since February 9, 2019. His enthusiasm infected me, and confirmed once again that the most beautiful thing about San Miguel, in addition to its architecture and history, is its people. They are generous, enthusiastic, and committed to their city, and that’s what makes a difference. What a privilege to hear the story of this beautiful clock from Daniel. How lucky that Don Raúl continues to do what he likes most, in his watch shop on calle Orizaba. You never know what an afternoon chat on a terrace can bring you. This week took me on a visit to a place I never imagined I would get to know. It made me reflect on time and our obsession with counting it. And remember that time does not wait. It passes objectively on the clock, through seconds that form minutes, and minutes that complete hours. Always the same size. Not even the finest, most precious machinery of a clock can speed up or stop time. Our subjectivity, however, makes us perceive it with different durations and calibers.
I enjoyed every minute of my visit to the clock tower. Some were intense and loaded with a good dose of adrenaline, others challenged my memory, and delighted my brain with new and valuable information and with unforgettable melodies. The time spent inside this beautiful tower adds to the affection that I have for this city, where I choose to live.
The curiosity that Michael infected me with led to a heartwarming experience. Now I can partially answer his question. I still need to investigate the meaning of the sounds emitted from the bell tower. That will be another story. What I do know is that the bells of the clock tower ring the notes re, la, and sol. They resound every 15 minutes, with a tan-táaann which means a quarter hour, and the sound táaaaaann means an hour. Could you tell me what time it was when this story was born, while I was enjoying the sunset that afternoon on the terrace of La Única? Just follow the pattern…
