And by the way, what were the streets and alleys of Saltillo called before?

Trees, customs, trades and even smells gave names to the streets of a city that read like a story.

It was late afternoon, on a warm summer day in 1885, when Don Martín de la Cruz and Don Aniceto Valverde met, as they often did. Only this time they decided to change their usual meeting place.

The old inn, located in one of the annexes of the Tlaxcala bullring, was a thing of the past. Valverde suggested meeting at the Plaza de Armas: the provisional governor, Julio Cervantes, had just inaugurated an electric lighting system, new benches, and a beautiful fountain in the center of the Saltillo plaza.

YOU MAY BE INTERESTED IN: Coahuila: 21 bodies recovered in Pasta de Conchos; 13 miners have already been handed over.

The ages of the old friends varied according to the century. They had known each other since childhood. Don Martín worked as a vegetable merchant, which he grew himself in his garden, located south of the city, in the old Tecos neighborhood . Valverde, for his part, had a modest grocery store , also in that area. Firewood and bait were his best-selling products.

They were united by a friendship filled with memories, as well as their undeniable Tlaxcalan roots, which they could hardly hide behind their dark faces. Another bond, though more tenuous, was their Nahuatl, which time had slowly erased. Words often sprang from their mouths because they couldn't find a Spanish equivalent.

Don Martín was coming back from a long nap, preceded by a jug of pulque. Valverde, meanwhile, had finished his day a little early to meet his old friend. After the obligatory qualli tonalli (good afternoon), they sat on one of the new benches in the plaza, facing the Portales de la Independencia. Under one of the arches, Valverde's gaze fell on the San Luis Pharmacy, owned by Mr. Juan Carothers , as if he wanted to recognize someone. Then he looked away. The bench was conveniently located under the shade of a generous ash tree.

There, amid the murmur of the children's fountain and the comings and goings of passersby, they discussed the latest news of the past few days and, unwittingly, cast a discreet glance at the girls strolling along the walkways. Some passersby looked at them with a certain strangeness, as if to say, "Those aren't from around here."

The topics were usually the same, but there was always something new to share. They briefly reviewed their younger years and the conflict over the lands taken from the Tlaxcalans after the dissolution of the town of San Esteban de la Nueva Tlaxcala. They both agreed that things were no longer the same as before.

YOU MAY BE INTERESTED IN: Death threats against the mayor of Piedras Negras during a live broadcast.

After a while, topics of conversation began to dwindle. They looked at each other's faces and both sighed. Then, almost without meaning to, Don Martín brought up the subject of the old names of streets and alleys. Those names that, after the establishment of the Republic, had been replaced by those of protagonists of the War of Reform and Independence.

Thus, as in a game of memories, they evoked corners, nicknames, stories, characters that time was already beginning to want to erase.

When the sun set behind Tlaxcala Hill, Don Aniceto looked at the clock on the Chapel of the Holy Christ. It was still broken, as it had been for weeks. He immediately asked the time of a gentleman who was passing by.

"It's seven twenty-five," the man replied politely.

They slowly rose from that bench, which was already showing signs of discomfort in their bottoms. They stretched their legs and said goodbye with the usual words:

—Until tomorrow, God willing.

Then, without haste, each of us headed down that old street that once bore the name of Del Curato. From that conversation, we glean some names that were part of a layout and a Saltillo that now exists only in memory.

THE OLD NAMES

In ancient times, street names didn't come from an office or an official decree, but from the voices of the people, from the tree that provided shade, from the goat that wouldn't let you sleep, or from the bear that came down from Zapalinamé in search of food.

YOU MAY BE INTERESTED IN: Monclova offers Civil Registry brigade with affordable procedures

Before nomenclatures, enameled plaques, and marble numbers, streets were read like a story: through episodes of flowers, saints, animals, neighbors, trades, and customs.

Many of those names have changed, others are hidden behind layers of time, and a few still endure with stubborn dignity. Let's take a look back, thanks to the good memories of the old Tlaxcalans: De la Cruz and Valverde.

Before the arrival of settlers, the Saltillo Valley was an oasis, a veritable orchard, with many springs. Around these springs grew a dense vegetation that left the newcomers speechless.

From Zacatecas to Saltillo, the journey was long. One of the few places to refuel was the well at La Gruñidora Ranch, where the water was so bad that even the animals weren't offered it.

Already in the village, some streets began to be named after their characteristic trees: Sabino Street, Mezquite Street, Huizache Street, Palma Street. There were also Tejocote Alley, Olive Grove Alley, Willow Alley, Flower Alley... and even a street called Maravillas. The Fat Poplar needs no explanation.

ALLEYS WITH HOOFS AND PLUMAGE

The animal kingdom also left its mark on toponymy: the Alley of the Tlacuache, the Parakeet, and the Bear. The Alley of the Bull reflected the bullfighting passion of the time. The Alley of the Dogs and the Alley of the Goat were also featured, perhaps because of the smell... or because it kept everyone awake.

There were Zapaterías Street, Zapateros Alley, Comercio Street, and Processions Street. Others had more rude names: La Matanza Street. There were also Agua Chiquita Street, Noria Alley, and Atarjea Alley: names that spoke of water as a vital resource.

YOU MAY BE INTERESTED IN: State intervention grants justice after 6 years to worker unjustly dismissed in Torreón

Many streets took their names from what they were or looked like: Del Relox, Callejón Largo, Las Ventanas Verdes, del Andrajo, del Humo, del Rebaje. Others recalled the rugged geography of old Saltillo: Las Barrancas, El Cerrito.

Some streets were named after local residents: La Delgadina, Don Teodoro Carrillo Alley, Briones, Trejo. Others sounded like nicknames: Uncle Campanero, Uncle Juan Tomás, Muarrás, or Julio. Other more subtle names appeared, such as Juan Landín.

Streets named after saints and religious denominations abounded: Purísima, San Francisco, San Esteban, Santa Anta, San Luisito, Dolores, Belén, Compañía de Jesús, Bishop's Alley, Oratory Alley, and Parish Church. It was almost an urban Stations of the Cross.

NAME THAT RAISES THE EYEBROW

Some names aroused curiosity: Moro Street, Trick Alley, The Traviesa, Earthquakes, The Americans, Honesty... whose?

On the west side of the city were the streets with names in Nahuatl: Tacuba, Coyoacán, Xóchitl, Tizoc, Xicoténcatl... Today they seem foreign to us, but they are still alive and everyday.

Sometimes memory moves slower than progress. But it's still there, lurking between alleys and corners. If we close our eyes, we can still imagine the donkey carrying firewood on the Callejón de las Cocinas, or the jingling of a bell in the Callejón del Tío Campanero. Those streets don't have the same names as they used to. Because, sometimes, the best stories aren't in books, but in the adobe walls faded by time.

After all, as they say, all past time was... before.