anika in mexico

I woke up suddenly for no particular reason very early. The curtains were open, so the first rays of sunlight were gently illuminating the room. I was about to roll back over to go to sleep, but I was curious about the time. I don’t remember what the clock said, because as I turned to look at the time, my attention was caught by the sunrise. It was already spectacular, even though it was just starting. I struggled for a second: go back to sleep, or stay up and watch the sunrise. I opted for the second option, and, although sleepy, I watched the sky get brighter and brighter, the clouds get more and more vivid. It was really incredible. The view from my window was already really awesome–over looking a ravine with guayaba (guava) orchards in the distance. With the amazing sunrise, it was truly a captivating sight.

Once the sky became typically blue and the clouds typically white, I indulged my sleepiness and went back to sleep for a little bit.

I woke again to sounds coming from the kitchen. Teocrito was frying plantains! He and I had some instant coffee and a lot of the plantains with sour cream. It was a great breakfast. Little did I know at the time, it was only the first breakfast of the day.

Karin stayed in bed for a long time. When she got up we started making breakfast #2.

This was really interesting because we made eggs on a plantain leaf. Karin hadn’t ever done it before, so she put too many egs on the first leaf. Teo looked at the 3 eggs that were struggling for space on their green bed, and exclaimed, “it’s just supposed to be one egg per leaf!” Those first three didn’t turn out so great, but Teocrito ate them anyway. The first batch looked a little undercooked for my taste, so the next batch I made scrambled. I think they turned out a lot better, and my were they tasty. The banana leaf really added a different flavor. I ate it with one of the typical rolls that they use here often for tortas. I also had a tuna (cactus fruit, not the fish), and a bit more coffee.

After breakfast Karin and I took a long walk all around the rancho. We walked through lots of mud. We meandered through the guava orchard and made our way to one of their bordos. There was only a small ascent to get to the bordo, but when I turned around, the view was amazing. You could see their orchard, the field where they used to grow tomatoes, and still grow some raspberries and flowers, the house, other ranchos in the distance, and the distant blue mountains that provided a dramatic backdrop. Plus the sky was filled with white clouds, and just a bit of blue sky that peeked through here and there.

We sat together for a long time, appreciating the view and talking about life.

We mosied back to the house, and before I knew it we were leaving to get yet more food. This time we went for “gorditas” which as far as I can tell are the same thing as sopes–a thick tortilla with and the edged pinched up all around to make a little dish to hold the ingredients. I’ve seen gorditas that are more like a little pocket, with the ingredients enclosed into 2 tortillas that are pinched together, but sopes are always like the open faced thick tortilla with various ingredients.

To get the gorditas, we drove a short distance down the road to an outdoor style restaurant. Also a simple operation, like the place with the tamales from last night, but this place seemed a lot more cheerful. The exterior of the house was painted bright blue, and there were tarps arranged to make a reasonable roof under which there was one line of long plastic table where you could sit. Each table had it’s own set of chiles and pickled vegetables to be added to the gorditas if you liked. Not that the gorditas really needed more chile. The first one I had was one with chicken. Then I got one with mushrooms. They came with some frijoles smeared as the bottom level, then were layered with some previously prepared chicken or mushroom mixture, and topped with queso fresco. The chicken one was good and a bit spicy, but the mushroom one left my lips tingling, it was so picoso. Karin and I both bought a small jar of honey from the same place. It smelled amazing, and it tasted even better.

Next we went over a hill, through a valley, and then up another hill to a little town. We first stopped into a bakery that Karin and Teo are familiar with. They’d sent most of their products to the plaza where they have a market every Sunday. But they were working on some more rolls, both dulces (slightly sweet with some sugar on top) and some salados (salty) that they promised would be ready in 45 minutes if we wanted to return.

They were so gracious at the bakery, and let me take tons of photos. I watched as the baker reformed each roll after it had already risen the first time, letting it rise once more before he’d put it in the horno. It was a very repetitive process, and he was very fast. The horno was a traditional wood-burning oven, and they baked everything by the wood fire. It wasn’t rounded, but instead rectangular with a seemingly open top. The burning wood was arranged in a semi-circular formation around the mouth of the stove. It was very warm, and the smell of burning wood brought back memories of winter fires at home.

We walked on up the street to the Zocalo of the town, and soon entered the area of the “plaza” where they had the market. Actually in small towns they just refer to the market as the plaza. So to be accurate, we went to the plaza. There was lots and lots of fruit and vegetables. Also lots of tarp-roofs. I saw red cactus fruit there! I told Karin I wanted to try them. One of the vendors peeled one right there for me, and I ate the delicious fruit right in front of the stand. It was really good, so I bought a bag of them to take home. Truth be told, the green ones are tastier, in my opinion, but I love the color of the red cactus fruit. Once peeled, the fruit is bright fuschia, and it’s fun to eat such a bright shade of pink.

I also bought a green pomegranate (they call them “granadas” here.) It’s bright green on the outside, but the seeds are just as red as any other ripe red skinned pomegranate I’ve had at home. The guy who was selling them offered me a free taste of them, and shoveled three teaspoons of loose seeds into my waiting hand. They were so good I just had to buy one!

After we’d bought a bunch of other fruits and vegetables, we returned to the bakery. They were in full swing, placing the uncooked rolls onto a long wooden palette that the baker masterfully and precisely placed within the oven. When the rolls finished baking, he’d just as accurately fish them out from the horno and tumble them onto the waiting wooden table where his wife would organize them to cool, and dust off the excess flour before transferring them into a waiting basket.

The baskets were large and round. On the first visit I didn’t think too much about them, but now I took a closer look. They were woven in such a way that there was a rather large bump that rose from the center of the basket. The sides were about the same height as the central bump. The rolls could be neatly arranged in a radial pattern to fill the basket. Then one of the other workers in the bakery took up the basket, and placed it right on top of his head! It was like a giant sombrero, filled with bread. The “bump” in the center was just the right size for a head. Really ingenious.

The baker pulled out lots of little brown rolls. The few that were odd shaped or sized or a little too blackened, he set aside, ostensibly for the family. He also pulled out some rolls that were bright pink! These were the dulce rolls, and later I saw him dusting some unbaked dulce rolls with the pink sugar just before they went into the oven. Another fun bright pink thing to eat! We were offered some of each type of roll to try, hot from the oven. They were really so good, both the salados and the dulces. Karin bought a big bag filled with both varieties.

We were soon on our way back to the ranch, and in the car we kept eating the rolls. I had the idea to open the honey to dip bits of the salado roll. It was delightful, and soon we were all dipping the bread in the honey and getting rather sticky.

Back at the rancho we all just relaxed for a while, had some fresh mint tea and yet more bread with honey. I started a couple of new patterns based on the decorative iron work that’s in front of many windows in Mexico, including those at the rancho. Eventually we were back on the road, and thankfully we didn’t stop to eat anything else (I was stuffed!).

It started raining on our way back, but we’d been fortunate to have such great weather during our stay. It’s really been raining so much here. A lot of rain, everyday. I got back to the house by 9pm, did most of my homework and went to bed.

I woke up at about 10am. I heard Sigrid and the other guests in the hall, but when I finally got up and went downstairs, everyone was missing. So I made myself breakfast, took a shower and tidied up my room. Just when I was thinking I’d go for a walk, Karin called and asked if I’d like to go to the Rancho. I said, “yes of course!”

The plan was that they’d pick me up around 2 or 3 and then we’ll stay over night. Karin said that we would have “la cena” in a small town near the ranch tonight, go for a long walk in the morning around the ranch, and then check out a market tomorrow which is supposed to be very interesting to see.

That’s pretty much what happened. They picked me up, and we were off to the Rancho. We stopped at a big restaurant right on the side of the highway–we didn’t even have to exit, just pull off onto the side of the road and park. We had tacos among other things. Everything was ok, but I definitely have had better tacos.

We got to the Ranch and settled in a bit. Karin and I took a walk across the road, down a sandy lane. There was a meadow to the right that had tall grass that was in bloom, and the whole field looked soft and silvery green. There was a small “bordo” (water reservoir) off to the left that we walked up to through some of the same tall grass. There were little white butterflies fluttering around the bank of the bordo. We might have walked further, but the farmer had blocked off the lane near his house.

So we turned around and went back. Then we all piled into the truck (including Marco ((who takes care of the ranch when noone is there)) and his wife and kids) and headed off to Tapatino for tamales. This is the same little town where Siggy and everyone ate tacos when I went to the ranch the first time, but this time we headed up the road away from the main town square. We stopped and a conspicuous looking little “restaurant”. They were cooking the tamales on a small gas stove that was on top of the a table on the sidewalk. Through the doors that lead into a cement entry way, was another table. This is where we sat. I got one green tamale and an atole flavored with some kind of fruit. Atole is a hot drink made with rice or oats that is flavored with everything from chocolate to fruit to caheta to ground up cookies. I don’t usually like atole because it’s typically VERY sweet, but the fruity one I had was only a little bit sweet.

After dinner we walked around the town square. There were lots of people, and a few stands with jewelry. Karin bought me a little silver ring and I bought myself a big bracelet made with lots of small reddish orange opaque glass beads. There was a guy there selling little kits to blow bubbles, but he had one that was making these HUGE bubbles. I’ve never seen them so big. He said it was some kind of industrial formula of soap that allowed the bubbles to get so big.

After we’d seen everything there was to see, we all headed back to the ranch. I took the opportunity of having a tv and dvd player and movies in my room to watch a movie. I saw the Red Violin. It was pretty good, and it was pretty late when I finally went to sleep.

written on 08.14.2007

I woke up Sunday at the ranch with a terrible tummy ache. There wasn’t much I could do except be miserable and try to achieve a zen like state while sitting in the shade on the porch. I guess my stomach is still not used to all the Mexican food, but I’ve also noticed that in general people here don’t tend to be meticulous about the storage and care of food.

I discovered the open mustard and mayo, not in the fridge, but on the pantry shelf at my house here. I decided to give the mustard a shot, but I’m going to steer clear of that mayonnaise. They also keep eggs out of the fridge. Certainly, they aren’t basking in the hot sun, but still, I’m just so used to refridgerating eggs, and also bread. It just keeps the stuff from going bad as quickly. With the eggs I reasoned that maybe they have a source where they get really fresh eggs, so it doesn’t matter if they are kept in ambient temperatures, but I also can’t help but think that we are in Mexico City, and I don’t see lots of chickens running around in back yards providing fresh eggs to interested parties.

But whatever it was that I ate that brought on the tummy aches and quakes, I was no happy camper that morning at the ranch. It was another beautiful day, but I couldn’t take it all in. When breakfast got started, I had to retreat to my bedroom as even the smells were making me queasy. While everyone ate a nice breakfast outside, I opted for a frigid, low-pressure shower. Not ideal, but it really helped me feel better, and the rest of the day was one long slow progression towards feeling ok again.

I rode back in Siggy’s car with Pollo and Chucho. Chucho told me to tell the truth: that I’d probably had a really boring time with everything and everyone. I said no, that I’d had an awesome time; it was really so much fun, but that this morning I’d really been feeling crummy. This seemed to appease him, so then he was happy again, telling more stories. Eventually the stories blended into Spanish conversations with Siggy, and I was glad to have the chance to just sit and be quiet and enjoy the countryside on the way back to town.

We arrived a bit before 7pm. Siggy came in, and we were both distressed to learn that Sigrid had fallen friday afternoon and hit her head. When anyone tells the story, Leonardo was the one to come to the rescue, and he acted very effectively, putting his first aid class to good use. There was a lot of blood all over the place, including all over Sigrid. They drove her to the hospital where she was soon fixed up with 8 stitches.

Although a bit battered and bruised, she’s otherwise ok, which is a great relief to everyone. Honestly in someways her mind seems sharper than ever. Sure, she’s still in pain and frustrated by the whole thing, but at least her spirits are up. I’ve offered to help her with several things since I got back and she seems truly grateful for my offer, even if she doesn’t accept the help. Today when I suggested I read to her from “our book” her eyes lit up and she exclaimed, “yes that’s a great idea!”

But I digress. 7pm, back from the ranch, got the bad news about Sigrid, but relieved she’s ok, I was totally exhausted. By the time I got to my room alone, it was 7:30 and I thought, “oh, i’ll just lie down for like half an hour.”

written on 08.13 and 08.14.2007

I fell right asleep, and only was awoken once briefly when Santiago, who was sleeping on the air matress right outside the paper thin door that separated my bedroom from the main entrance room, started screaming his head off. It sounded as though he was being murdered in his sleep. Of course we all tried to ignore him at first (he’s prone to a bit of drama on a regular basis).

Well, turns out he actually was being attacked. By a puppy. We got to make lots of fun of him for it later in the morning when we all finally got up. He would push the puppy off him, but of course the pup thought this was play, so he’d jump right back on his head and start licking him furiously, until pushed off again, so that he could hop on Santiago’s head again. Each time the puppy pounced, Santiago would let out a startled scream followed by sleepy, angry, incoherent, Spanish mumbling.

Finally Siggy got up and grabbed the puppy to let him outside, and everyone was soon able to drift back to sleep.

I was awoken by the Killers singing when someone called my phone (I’m borrowing one of Siggy’s phones while I’m here, and all the menus are in Spanish so I don’t know how to change anything). I sleepily grabbed for the phone and was pleasantly surprised to hear my mom say, “Anika?” I told her to hold on a sec, lest everyone get rudely awoken in the house for the second time that morning, and I groggily stumbled out onto the front terrace.

I spoke with her briefly as the call was costly for the both of us, but it was good to hear her voice and assure her that everything was really going great. While on the phone I woke up a bit, and was able to appreciate the beauty of the morning. All traces of the storm, except the damp ground, were gone. The sun shone brilliantly, the dew sparkling in the morning light. In front of me stretched out an incredible vista over looking the valley and orchareds and meadows and sheep grazing in the background.

I actually turned around and lay back down in bed for a split second before coming to my senses. I hopped right back up, put my shoes on and took a walk around the area, soaking up the amazing morning. Ana (the friendly german girl; now I know who’s who) came along, as well as Zeus, the ranch puppy that Teocrito adores, and who loves to attack Santiago’s head in the wee small hours.

The ground was really soggy, so I didn’t get too far before my shoes were soaked, but it was great to amble around in the sun and really be present to the quiet of the country.

Back at the ranch house, I asked if I could take a shower, and they managed to get the hot water heater lit so that I had chilly water instead of freezing water to bathe with. Clean and fresh, I gobbled down the breakfast Saskia made (juevos con jamon y queso y pan ((eggs with ham and cheese and a roll))). Soon everyone who was going to Taxco was ready, and we hopped into 2 cars for the 1 hour + ride. On the day trip went Siggy, me, Charlie, his Boston friend, Pancho, Ana and Leoni (the other, quieter German).

The drive to Taxco was incredible. We wound our way over mountains with treacherous curves and drop offs. We sped (sort of sped, they have lots of speed bumps all over Mexico, some with little or no warning, so you really have to be careful) through valleys where they grow the all the flowers sold in Mexico City and those for Dia de Los Muertos. We passed many small restaurants and vendors, and stopped briefly for a Jugo de Coco (fresh young coconut juice).

The guy running the stand wore a cowboy had and wielded a machete, deftly lopping off just enough of the top of the coconut to expose the soft inner mantle, but not piercing it, so the juice wouldn’t spill on the ground. He then cut a small hole in the exposed coconut meat, inserted a straw and voila! Fresh coconut juice. We all sipped merrily, and of course took a few touristy shots of ourselves drinking from the green coconut husks. When the drink was empty, if we wanted, we could ask the vendor to cut open the coconut and scoop out the meat. He would then put it in a bag and you could sprinkle lime, chili, salt, sugar, or whatever you wanted over the coconut, and then have a tasty treat. I took mine just with some lime and munched it happily as we continued our drive.

Shortly after the coconut stop, I spied my first real live Burro (donkey, jackass, etc.)! I love donkeys for some inexplicable reason. It was Siggy who pointed it out to me, aware of my fondess for the creatures. After that, each time anyone in the car saw one they’d cry out “donkey!” as we passed. I saw dark brown ones, light gray ones, and every shade in between. Each one was always right on the side of the road, tethered to a tree or fence to graze. Seems a little dangerous for the donkey, but I supposed it works since so many of them do it. As we were driving through one little town I actually saw 2 donkeys loaded up with wood being led by their keepers down the hill along the side of the road. It was so cool to see donkeys in action.

As the road got steeper and windier and more exciting, Siggy mentioned that we were nearing Taxco. We entered a toll road, and within a minute or so we go our first view of the city. The buildings encrust the entire side of the mountain. Most are white or light brown with red roofs, but what really stood out to me were the regular black squares of all the windows that seemed to mournfully witness our approach to the city, blankly and unfalteringly gazing back at us. As picturesque as the scene, and indeed the city, was, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched, and not in an entirely approving way.

Soon we were swallowed up by the city limits, churning down little crooked roads and alleys, up and down steep inclines, making our way to the center of the city. Parking was tricky to say the least, but eventually both cars were safely, if not awkwardly parked. Siggy’s car was stationed in front of an old, defunct horse drawn carriage, assigned the spot by an official attendant, looking after the cars that circled the main plaza. Pancho’s car was parked backward in what looked to me like a back entrance to a store, but I suppose he’d gotten permission to park there as well.

First stop was the church where we found ourselves a tour guide who explained about the history of the church, how it was built and from what, and about the decorative aspects inside, including the paintings and carvings on the altars.

There were a couple of “unusual” paintings that showed themes that were very uncommon. One portrayed the Virgin Mary, pregnant, big belly and all. Another dipicted the circumsion of Christ. Several others were rather violent, and then there was a room with portraits of important people from the town including the Bordas and the namesake of the town who was born in Taxco and gained fame as a comic writer in Spain.

After the tour our guide mentioned a silver coop that he belonged to, and he could show us where it was. There were 27 small stalls all selling silver jewelry. We were escorted back to “his stall” where his daughter was tending the stand. We were told that because he brought us here, we would receive a 10% discount on anything we bought. Later I found out that he actually gets a commission from the sales from the people he brings, and that anyone who wandered in off the street would probably get the same “special discount”. Be that as it may, there was really a good selection of jewelry, and I made my first purchases here, including one “splurge” for a bracelet that was made of circles wrapped in silver wire. Because it was worked differently, the wire was actually a purer silver than 92.5, or at least so I was told.

Next we kept walking down the crooked, steeply inclined road to check out several outside vendors that were selling anything but silver. Colorful fiber mats, colorful painted coconut masks, colorful stone beads, colorful purses made from grass or recycled candy wrappers. I looked over the stands a bit, but I was really there for one thing: silver.

As we meandered along, one of us would pop into one of the many silver shops, and the rest of us would follow. We found one other store where there was some really nice pieces, but this time I made a mental note and decided I could come back if I wanted to. Our walk led us back to the main plaza where we all agreed that a chance to sit and have a refresco would be very welcome. We went into one of the little courtyards off the main square, and were soon enjoying our drink of choice. I ordered an iced latte, which came frozen rather than over ice. I don’t usually go for frapuccinos, but it looked good, so I kept it. I was quickly reminded why I don’t usually drink frozen drinks anymore. I got some serious brain freeze because I always drink those things too fast regardless of their temperatures.

After a while of sitting, I got restless as there were some very enticing little silver shops all around the breezy courtyard. I got up and went into one that was decorated like a cave, rough walls and rock-formation tables and all. Everything was white-washed though, setting off the silver very nicely. The store really had some great variety, but was by no means cheap. Some of the bracelets were a bit heaftier, but their prices started at about $50USD, and I’d already seen similar ones for between $15-$30USD. There was a pendant that I decided to keep in mind for possible purchase. It was $20USD at the shop, and I found it at a smaller store for only $10USD. *score*!

Pancho remembered a place that was like a whole market with lots of little vendors but wasn’t exactly sure where it was. We asked so many people, who all seemed clueless, but had their own suggestion about where we could go find “good deals”. Finally we asked our parking attendant, and he steered us in the right direction. When we arrived, it was after 5pm, and unfortunately many of the stalls were already starting to pack up for the day. Still there were many to browse, and I got a really good deal on a set of silver bangles and several pairs of nice big silver earrings for about $8-$11USD each.

After getting home I read up a bit about Taxco and its silver and learned that it’s not uncommon to purchase items that aren’t exactly made of silver. Apparently if you discover that something is marked 92.5, but actually it’s not, it’s technically a jailable offense, but often it’s difficult to prove where the item was from anyway. After reading that I inspected some of my purchases, and I’m a little suspicious about some of them, but even so, I’m still happy with everything I got.

Final purchases made, we decided to take the cable car up to Monte Taxco, a big resort hotel that has a decent restaurant with an extraordinary view of the city from the terrace where we got a table. Lucky too that we were there Saturday because that’s the day that they have a buffet, and that Saturday’s theme was Mexican food, so I got to sample a lot of different dishes.

After dinner a Trio band (they are the ones that sing sweet soft Mexican love songs) started playing inside, eventually making their way to the terrace where they serenaded us with a lovely song about Palomas (doves). Below the terrace was a large patio that stretched to the ample swimming pool. Down there another band set up, and started playing before our trio band had finished our serenade. It was the battle of the Mexican bands. Unfortunately the other band played “Banda” music which is very loud and lively, so if I had to guess I’d say they won the battle. Yet still it was a great, truly Mexican experience to be enveloped by the cacophony of the two bands with two very different styles playing at the same time.

After the music subsided we decided to make our way back to the car. Since the cable cars stopped running at 7pm and it was now nearing 9pm, we had to take a taxi to the bottom of the mountain. What a harrowing ride. 3 of us piled into a little Vocho taxi and we were soon barrelling down some of the steepest inclines I’d seen in the city. We swooped around near 360 degree turns, also set at steep angles. I would have been afraid to ski down the road at an easy pace. In the bumpy back seat of the taxi, no seatbelts, and no driver side seat in front of me to provide even a false sense of security (they remove the driver seat in Vocho taxis for easy access to the back since Vochos only have 2 doors), we some how made it safely to our car. I was glad to climb back into the back of Siggy’s Jetta (pronounced “Yetta” here). It was spacious, there was a seatbelt, and also her seat firmly in front of me.

We made it back to the ranch in about an hour. I joined everyone who’d gathered in the kitchen for a few beers. We listened to Chucho retell many of the infamous tales they’d all gathered together over the years. They were pretty interesting, but after a while, I just wanted to go to sleep. I’d had a long day in the sun, walking around, and shopping; quite exhausting work. But Chucho kept talking. I suppose after a while my answers and comments were maybe a little less encouraging or friendly (which is what happens when I get tired), but certainly not antagonistic. Yet Chucho voiced concern that he’d said something wrong and wondered what happened. I was just like, no dude, it’s ok, I’m just tired. And then he told another story. Finally I was able to break away at about 3am, and I fell like a log into bed and stayed slept like one until sometime when it was light out.