Heart of the City

Listen, it's lucky for you that you found me. I mean, forget the two-hour bus rides and the "historic walking tour" crap, all that's rigged up for the tourists anyhow. You don't want that. Now me, I know this town inside and out. I know bits of it they never show you on the tours. Hell, I reckon there's things I could show people who've lived here all their lives that'd make their eyes pop out of their head.

Look around you. You see all this, huh? You see all the hotels and nightclubs and fast food joints and junk like that? This isn't the city. Not the real city. This is just a shell they put around it. They're putting the same shell around all the cities now. There's nothing here that you can't find anywhere else, am I right? Course I'm right. Hell, people say they want to travel: they want to see new things and experience different cultures, but what the really want is an air-conditioned hotel room within walking distance of a Mickey Dee's.

But not you, my friend. I could tell. The minute I laid eyes on you, I said to myself, here's someone who isn't just looking for the same-old same-old. No packaged, processed and prearranged here; this fella is looking for the real deal, what makes this fine old town what it is. So like I said, it's a good thing that you found me.

Now, let me show you something. You take this street: like I said, all concrete and smoked glass, right? But! If we just duck down this alley here, and go down this way a bit there? Hah? You see? How's that for a quick-change trick? Not a scrap of neon to be seen. You can't even hear the traffic on the freeway any more. See these buildings? That's hand-cut stone, my friend. Most've these places have been standing here for ages, you know. This street we're on, by the way, is authentic cobblestone. You get cars through here from time to time, but I think we're safe. Go ahead, take whatever pictures you want. They don't get much in the way of tourists around this neighborhood, but if you stick with me, you're fine.

Well, what do you think, friend? Have I whet your appetite? Well, you ain't seen nothin' yet, like they say in the pictures. Come on down here with me; just squeeze your way past this gate, it'll be fine. Like I said, I've been all over this town, and I know it like damn few others. Now watch yourself, this bit isn't always well lit, I'm afraid. Don't worry, we'll be back in the sunshine in a minute.

There, now. How about that? Right out of the picture books, isn't it? All wrought iron and hand-carved woodwork, and not a single power line or TV antenna in sight. In fact, if I can call your attention to the fountain in the middle there, you'll see that's the primary source of water for this little neck of the woods. No, don't try to talk to them, these folks don't like outsiders very much. Besides, most of 'em can't speak English anyway.

You know, you're going to run out of film if you keep on like that, and I haven't even shown you the good stuff yet. Serious! Now, I should warn you, we're getting pretty deep into the city now, and it's starting to get dark. If we head back now we can probably make it back before—no? I was right about you, Chief. Forward it is, then.

Okay, this is important: I need you to stick to me like glue, okay? These old streets are like a maze, and if you get separated from me you may never get out. These roads don't show up on the city maps, you know. That's right, just keep following me. We can gawk at the scenery on the way back. Incidentally, it may interest you to know that these roads actually follow the old paths that were here before there even was a city. You're right, it is like stepping back in time. Speaking of which...

Ah, now here we are. It doesn't get much more out-of-the-way than this, my friend. Those aren't actors, by the way: this isn't one of those Historic Recreations, this is the real deal. Everything and everyone you see here is authentic, just as real in their lives as you and me are in ours. Living the same way their grandparents did, and their grandparents, and on back for who knows how many generations! Whassat? What they're speaking? You wouldn't know it. No—trust me, I don't care what you took in high school; this language you don't know.

Now, here's what I wanted to show you. Beautiful, isn't it? And not one stone of it that wasn't here before the first European explorers set foot in the area. Hard to believe they could make something that ornate so long ago, isn't it? "The Heart of the City," they call it in the local tongue. They say the city just grew up around it, and yet there ain't one person out of a thousand in this town that even knows it exists. If you look up there, at the top of the steps, you'll see the altar. They used to do sacrifices up there, you know. True. They thought it would appease the gods who guarded the city, make sure they'd keep it from harm. If we go up there, I can show you the stains, where—no? Fair enough.

How did I find this place? Well, much as I hate to admit it, I got lost. Yeah, like I said, I've wandered all over this city, and one day I just lost my bearings and wound up here. Damn near didn't get out, either. Fortunately, I managed to cut a deal with the head man—he's the one up there at the altar; that's right, in the mask—they let me go, provided I would bring others back here on a regular basis, say every full moon or so. Hey, now: don't feel too bad. I promised you the tour of a lifetime, didn't I? Anyway, if it weren't you, it'd be me. Now, it looks like our friends up there want you to join them. Hey, if it helps, look at it as doing your part to keep fine old traditions alive. And remember, no photographs. These are a very traditional people.