Sunday in Coyoacán: Encountering Medieval Spain in a Neighborhood Park

Yes, we're pretty much hooked on Mexico! Sunday afternoon we went for a quiet stroll in a park near the ex Convento Churubusco. Although this neighborhood park wasn't particularly crowded, it nonetheless bustled with the energy of a pickup soccer game being played on the basketball courts by neighborhood youth and the sounds of little kids clambering on the jungle gyms.

Our plan was to stroll around the perimeter, then explore the center. Unlike many paths in Mexico, which are nothing more than unevenly placed rough stones, the walkway was smooth with newly laid paving stones. We ambled along, commenting lazily on the huge palm and juniper trees and the few random flowers able to grow in the deep shade.

In the distance, the faint sound of group singing reached our ears. Strolling on, people-watching all the while, we paused to enjoy various fountains and a bust of Lázaro Cárdenas commissioned by the state of Michoacán. As we turned to cross the park, the singing grew louder. Now I could hear guitars. My first thought was whether it might be a rondalla group—serenaders who accompany themselves on their own stringed instruments.

Then we became aware that the music was coming from a kiosk at one side of the park. As we neared, we could see it was an actual performance. About a dozen singers with guitars and other stringed instruments stood in front of a small audience of perhaps fifty sitting in white plastic chairs.

At first we thought it was a private party, but when we mounted the stairs, a young man brought two chairs so we could sit down. When we were settled, Reed leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It's a Tuna ... a group of troubadours from the university like the ones we heard in Morelia."

In Morelia, the Tuna walks along the esplanade, stopping to serenade people sitting at the outdoor cafes, but here they were giving a most informal performance. The music was just right for a lazy Sunday afternoon in the park. The voices, accompanied by soft string sounds accentuated by tambourine, drum or even castanets, sang lyric songs about love and life. 

Have a listen! Here's a 13-minute YouTube recording of a mix of Tuna songs. Lovingly chosen, the music is good. The visuals are photographs of various Tuna groups dressed in the medieval university dress  that is the tradition and hallmark of a Tuna. While working on this post, I listened with growing pleasure both to this recording and to others listed below.

On Sunday, the occasion was highly informal. We suspect the audience was made up of family and friends. Members of the group took turns introducing the songs, a little girl (about five years old) clung to her troubadour-mom's knees for awhile, and a toddler meandered around until recaptured by her grandmother.

"So What's a Tuna?"

The origins of the name Tuna stretch back to the rondalla tradition that arose in Medieval Spain and Portugal and refers to an ensemble of plucked, stringed instruments. In Spanish, the last meaning of the verb rondar is "to serenade," but its primary definitions are to patrol or wander—suggesting the wandering troubadour or serenader.

According to Wikipedia, there were four types of rondalla:

• Groups of young men who played and sang regularly in front of homes; these were often serenades that a young man arranged for a young woman as a sign of his serious intentions;
• Bands of musicians known as murza or murga, who begged for alms;
• A group of musicians known as comparsa [troupe], who played together onstage; and 
• Groups of university musicians known as estudiantina [student-like], who were dubbed “tuna”. 

The Spanish brought the Tuna tradition with them to New Spain, today's Mexico. Estudiantina musicians in Spain and Mexico wear 16th century attire: "short velvet breeches, ornate shirts and a short cape with multicolored ribbons". Some songs feature a tuno swirling his or her cape in elegant and increasingly complex moves. On Sunday, we saw both a young woman and a young man display their skills with the cape.

Tuna Group in Guanajuato, Mexico
Note: Variety of shapes and sizes of their instruments
(Photo: Wikipedia)

Stringed Instruments

Given my Northern European heritage, my idea of stringed instruments before moving to Mexico was limited to violin, viola, cello, double bass, harp ... and maybe the highly suspect ukulele!

Living in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, broadened my horizon stringed instrument-wise because on the nearby Purhépecha Meseta [Highlands] is located the pueblo of Paracho, known world-wide for the quality of its stringed instruments. The photo above suggests the multitude of different kinds of stringed instruments played in Mexico and throughout Latin America. 

I had a vague idea about the lute as a medieval English and even French instrument and maybe I even had a vague notion of the mandolin (a member of the lute family), but the Mexican vihuela or bandurria or the ...? Well, you get the idea!

Bandurria

Here's a YouTube solo performance of the Lágrimas Negras Bandurria [1:19] "Bandurria Black Tears."

Mexican Vihuela

YouTube solo performance of Valdarrabano, Soneto [1:19 min] on the Mexican vihuela.   

Lutes ... all sizes and shapes!
The mandolin is in the Lute Family

Umpteenth Cultural Wakeup Call!

We in the U.S. may be known for our cultural myopia, but I pride myself on being at least a little bit culturally aware. So imagine how humbling it felt to discover that the words "lute" and "oud" derive from the Arabic al-ʿud (العود — literally means "the wood").

In turn, ʿud may be an Arabized version of the Persian name rud, which meant "string," "stringed instrument," or "lute." Moreover, "wood" may have been placed in the name to distinguish the instrument with its wooden soundboard from its skin-faced predecessors. Gianfranco Lotti suggests that the appellation "wood" originally carried derogatory connotations because of early Islam's proscriptions on all instrumental music. 

Thus it is that the origins of our Northern European family of stringed instruments are most likely found in instruments from Persia brought to Spain by the Muslim Moors from North Africa who dominated the Iberian Peninsula for 800 years (711 to 1492). Ferdinand and Isabel, in fact, celebrated their final victory over the Moors at Granada by funding Christopher Columbus' voyage West!

So we circle around again to the origin of the name Tuna, which may come from the French roi de Thunes, "king of Tunis," a title given to leaders of vagabonds or wanderers [rondar].

But there is also the legend of a real King of Tunis. Geography alert: Tunisia is on the Mediterranean Coast of Africa between Algeria, its western neighbor, and Libya, on its eastern flank.

This King of Tunis, known for his love of music and partying, enjoyed walking around the streets at night playing and singing, which may explain the origin of both 'king of the vagabonds' and of the Tuna.

¡Bienvenida a México! where life is never dull, and there's always something new to learn and appreciate on the cultural front!

Still Curious?

As an undergraduate music major, I developed a real love for the pure simplicity of Renaissance music. Here are a couple of other pieces, among many I've just discovered on YouTube. Enjoy!

• Borinquen (lamento borincano por laud) "Borinquen Lament for Lute" [4:45 min];
• 4 Pieces for Vihuela [6:03 min]: Gorgeous music from the Spanish Renaissance;
• Music in the Court of King Carlos V (Spain) [1:12:09] performed by the Orphénica Lyra.