It's easy, especially after a year in which all eyes were on the Maya world, to get caught up in the history and artistry of its ancient cities, and the colossal heights attained by some of their pyramids. It's easy, in other words, to overlook the pyramids built by other pre-Columbian civilizations in Mexico.

Having spent one-third of my working life in the Yucatan for the past six years, I admit to some prejudice when it comes to Mexican pyramids. But I recently visited Cholula, on the outskirts of Puebla, and found myself wandering through a labyrinth deep in the bowels of the largest pyramid in Mexico, at 1,476 feet square and 217 feet high. By some accounts, it's the largest pyramid (by volume) in the world; different sources calculate the volume of a pyramid in different ways, but the lowest Cholula ranks is No 3. It's also one of the longest-inhabited sites in the Americas.

It's even easier to overlook the Cholula pyramid's greatness because it doesn't look like a pyramid. It just looks like a wide hill, crowned by a majestic church with gilded domes. The Great Pyramid of Tepanapa, informally known as the Cholula Pyramid, was built around 100 B.C. and was already covered by dirt by the time Cortez arrived in Cholula in 1519; this was one ancient temple he did not destroy in order to build his own monuments. In 1594, the Spanish simply built a church, La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de los Remedios, on top of what they thought was a natural hill.

Wandering through narrow, dimly lit subterranean passages and stairways leading from one side of the pyramid to the other provides a graphic understanding of the ancient Mexicans' propensity for building pyramids on top of pyramids. Cholula actually consists of seven overlaid pyramids built over six centuries. The first stage was built at about the same time as the pyramids of Teotihuacan, and it shared insect-like motifs and other characteristics similar to Teotihuacan. The second, superimposed on the first, departed from Teotihuacan's style, with stairs on all four sides. With the arrival of the Olmecs, the pyramid expanded once more.

By the time the Toltecs occupied Cholula, around 1100 or 1200 A.D., the great pyramid was largely submerged, and they focused on building new temples around the original. They dedicated one (under today's town square) to the feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl, and the city became a mecca for pilgrims from throughout Mesoamerica. Eventually, the Aztecs took over Cholula and were there when the Spanish arrived. The Great Pyramid, disguised as nothing more than a grassy hill, escaped the frenzy of destruction Cortez unleashed on the temples around it.

The pyramid slumbered under dirt and trees until construction began in 1910 on an insane asylum at its base. The dig in order to study the pyramid in the 1930s created 5 miles of zigzagging passageways that now provide an opportunity to view the various levels of construction. On the considerably shorter route that is open to tourists, models showing the various stages of construction have been built into the walls. On the way, you can examine delineated layers of shell and stone, detour briefly down stairways to view chambers from another century and peer up along treacherous-looking stairs toward levels built centuries later. You'll also see the steps leading out of the eastern part of the Pyramid to connect with later structures.

At times the tunnel walk feels a bit like a Disneyland dark ride. It's markedly different from the experience of climbing over Maya pyramids, which usually don't allow visitors into the chambers deep inside. One antidote to the slight disorientation that can result is a visit to the small museum, included in the 46 peso ($3.75) admission to the pyramid. The first thing you see is a cutaway view of the pyramid, showing the various levels and the excavated portion far from the summit. (The rest of the pyramid will never be excavated, because the church on top is a protected colonial monument.)

The walk to the top of the pyramid, though steep, is easier than navigating the narrow, unrelenting steps on Maya pyramids — it's more akin to a hike on a sunny day. The views of the city and surrounding countryside are a welcome bonus, especially as they take in three of Mexico's most celebrated volcanoes: Popocatepetl, Iztaccíhuatl and La Malinche. If you're lucky, you might see one of the lesser volcanoes nearby blowing off some steam while you're admiring the three big guys, as I did when I was there.

Though the Cholula pyramid can get pretty busy on weekends, it never approaches the crowds that overrun Chichen Itza every day of the week. The area behind the pyramid takes on a festival atmosphere, with vendors setting up arts and crafts booths and selling homemade sweets from tables under the trees. A team of voladores regularly performs their flying ritual for delighted visitors.

The city of Cholula itself is worthy of further exploration, but even a day trip to the pyramid is a fascinating juxtaposition of past and present. On the way to its entrance, I watched a procession of men and women in white garb burning incense and blowing tones out of a conch shell — a pre-Columbian ritual appealing to ancient gods for purification. Later, when I started back down the hill after my climb to the top, I passed a sturdy young man in an "Original Powerhouse Gym" T-shirt bunny-hopping up the stairs. He passed me again on the way down before I reached the bottom, and while I sat at the bottom catching my breath, he started back up. As I stood to head back to catch my bus, he was back down again.

"Entrenamiento," he gasped when I asked him why he was putting himself through that torture. Training. The ancient pyramid might be submerged in dirt, but it's still contributing to the strength and resiliency of the Mexican people.
