Page 144 - Fingerprints of the Gods by Graham Hancock
P. 144
Graham Hancock – FINGERPRINTS OF THE GODS
the 1920s). There is still a bohemian feel about the place and until late at
night a current of excitement seems to ripple among the crowds filling its
bars and cafés, narrow cobbled streets, old buildings and spacious
plazas.
We checked into a room overlooking one of the three open courtyards
in the Hotel Las Golondrinas. The bed was comfortable. There were starry
skies overhead. But, tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep.
What kept me awake was the idea of the civilizers ... the bearded gods
and their companions. In Mexico, as in Peru, they seemed to have
confronted failure. That was what the legends implied, and not only the
legends, as I discovered when we reached Monte Alban the next morning.
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