Andrés Eloy Blanco Meaño (Cumaná, August 6 1896- Mexico City, May 21 1955) was one of the most reknown and talented politicians, or, as he defined himself, "a man of letters loaned to politics". He is probably the most easily recognized son of this city, and yet, at the same time, the least honored when it comes to respecting and perpetuating his legacy.
The house where Andrés Eloy (as he is known by most) lived as a child is one of the best preserved remnants of the colonial district. However, recently it was robbed a couple of times (even though it is located next to the governor's mansion, which means, in a heavily guarded area, but that's another story for another post).
My daughter Anna is visiting and it so happened that she had never been inside the house. I had taken it for granted because usually most kids visit this house as part of the schools' field trips (the city does not have many historical places turned museums). We were running other errands, but I decided to make a parenthesis so that Anna could have that experience. It was a great decision.
A new local university located nearby is working on a project to revitalize the house. There is more activity here now, more youth visiting, which is good.
We were very lucky to have a great tour guide; a very young man, just out of High School, which gave me some hope in the role of young cumaneses in the future of the city.
The tour started in the living room. This furniture is not the original. They were renovated, but they could not replicate the original fabric. The piano, even though is still working, cannot be touched. It belonged to the Blanco family and is one of the most precious pieces in the collection of objects.
Many of the objects displayed in the house were brought to Cumaná from Mexico by a relative. The poet lived most of his exile and died there.
This closet has not be opened in years. They fear it may break. It is a more-than-a-hundred-year-old original piece.
This is the bed of Andrés Eloy's parents. The upper part is missing.
This is the bed used by the poet during the years he lived in the house. In this bed, it is said his favorite brother died. He was the brother who introduced him to his future wife.
Pictures of most of the poet's family on the wall. The walls are quite damage by humidity.
Not sure if there is a renovation project to preserve them.
Here is a place for praying. His was a very devoted Catholic family. Children were brought here to pray before going to bed.
An original water basin.
A closer look at the family tree.
Here, a fascinating desk build by the poet himself. In his free time he liked to work on carpentry. This was inspired by the mexican piramids.
Anna taking a closer look of some details.
Here a couple of wood scultures given to the poet by friends
The poet and his family. Two of his children are still alive. One lives in the US, the other in Mexico.
The family kitchen
Well-preserved kitchenware give us an idea of how hard cooking was back then.
A mortar, called pilón here. Not an original piece, but the design has not changed in centuries.
This piece was known to me. Even back in the 70s we used home-made brooms to sweep the house.
This one was an impressive utensil. A water filter. Water was poured on the upper rock basin and decanted drop by drop to the clay jar below.
The family dining table. There were some original silverware on the walls.
The library, now as part of the dining room. Most of the old family books are lost or elsewhere. The shelves have been filled with texts donated by different people.
Andrés Eloy writing. It is said he worte it himself on the wall years later when he came just as a visitor. The text has been rewritten over the years to refresh the faded ink.
It reads: More than a politician I am a man of letters, a poet loaned by poetry to politics, in the name of intellectual responsibility.
There are tons of interesting pictures on the wall with even more interesting stories. One of the pictures show women voting in 1947, a legal achievement put forward by Andrés Eloy Blanco.
The simplicity of the passports of old.
A panoramic view of the house with the historic vine in the middle (not the original tree), inmortalized by Andrés Eloy in his poem Las uvas del tiempo (the grapes of time).
All in all, it was a great experience. Now Anna can say she learned more about our most famous poet (and will remember that infor better than anything she might have been taught at school).
We ended our walk downtown and I got her some sunglasses she wanted badly.
