Oct 2003 - Mexico File

OCTOBER 2003
VOLUME IX, NUMBER 2
carried the
designation
of ecological
reef park since
1998.
Puerto Morelos –
Quintana Roo’s
Best Kept Secret
by Jeanine Lee Kitchel
Jeanine Kitchel, a San Francisco Bay expat,
moved to Puerto Morelos several years
ago. Read more about Puerto Morelos in
Jeanine’s upcoming book, Where the Sky
is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya
(January 2004, Enchanted Island Press,
$15). This non-fiction travel account leads
the reader on an adventure that is not only
fun to read but just the ticket for anyone
who has ever dreamed of retiring in Mexico.
Kitchel bought land, built a house, and
retired in Puerto Morelos in 1997. Watch
The Mexico File for a book review when her
book is published.
Puerto Morelos has never been a contender
for the tourist trade in the Riviera Maya.
Located at the northernmost spot on the
Riviera Maya map, just 36 kilometers
south of Cancun, it was aptly named
Quintana Roo’s best kept secret a few
years ago.
Only recently has it been recognized as a
destination spot for travelers. Most come
to snorkel or dive in the pristine waters of
the Palancar Reef (recently renamed the
Great Mesoamerican Reef ), which has
Others come to
take advantage
of the yoga
centers or
the town’s
spiritual
offerings
– temazcals,
jungle
journeys,
Maya goddess
center. And
Photos: Colleen McKay some tourists
come simply
to hang out in a place that isn’t overrun
with other tourists.
That’s what drew me to Puerto Morelos in
the early ‘80s – near empty beaches and
a lack of travelers. At that time it was a
working fishing village, and even today,
many townspeople still work the sea for
a living. Every morning, if you’re up
early enough, you can see the white and
blue tiburoneras motoring out towards
the reef, in search of the freshest seafood
you’ll find on the coast, available by early
afternoon at the fishermen’s cooperative
on the town square at competitive prices.
If your timing is good, and you’ve booked
a few nights in one of the town’s low
key hotels with kitchenette, have the
fisherman filet it for you after he weighs it
so it will be ready for the grill.
Local Puerto Morelos fishermen were
HOLY MOLE
– FOOD AS A
ROAD MAP
THROUGH
MEXICO
by Nick Gallo
Nick Gallo is a Seattle writer
with longtime travel experience in
Mexico. He contributed an article on
Rincon de Guayabitos for the May
2000 issue of Mexico File.
For much of my life, I thought I knew
Mexican food – crispy tacos, goopy nachos,
bunker-busting burritos. There’s nothing
wrong with that – I rank Tex-Mex food
right up there with garlic mashed potatoes
as essential desert island fare – but then I
started making regular visits to Mexico.
South of the border, I was surprised by all
kinds of things. Tacos didn’t have hard
shells, iceberg lettuce or heaping servings of
ground beef. Usually, they were soft, small
discs that held nighttime snacks. Hot sauce
wasn’t the lifeless stuff slathered on chips,
but instead came in so many sumptuous
varieties and bright colors that they
sometimes stole star billing.
In fondas, the humble food counters found in
every market, I discovered
quesadillas filled
with flores de
calabazas (squash
blossoms); pozole,
a thick, savory,
pork-and-hominy
INSIDE
Continued on page 2
M á s
M u m m
M o m e n t s i n
A b o u
o
y
T
t
M e n o s
2
M u s e u m
4
i m e i n C o p a l a
M e x i c o
8
Continued on page 6
4
Puerto Morelos Continued
M
y family took many road trips
when I was growing up in the
1950’s, and although my main memories
are of being car sick and breathing
second-hand Pall Mall smoke (who
knew?) for endless miles, I do recall
how different and diverse each part of
the country was. You drove from one
state to the next not knowing what to
expect, learning about the country that
most of our fathers had fought for just
a few years earlier. The radio stations
faded in and out with the regional
twangs of people who lived in the area,
announcing the day’s grain prices,
playing Sinatra, Williams, Clooney and
the newest flash-in-the-pan, a kid named
Elvis, gossiping about the new diner
offering the best dang fried-chicken
this side of the Mississippi. You never
knew what the motel or the chow would
be like after a 500-mile drive in the ’56
Chevy, and it made every day a grand
adventure.
given a ten-year step down period to adjust
to a no fishing policy which will begin in
2008. At that time, the reef will become a
true water park aquarium on a grand scale.
Presently, neither jet skis nor parasailing is
allowed, which means the only noise you
hear is that of natural surf breaking on the
mighty reef just a half mile off shore.
Many local fishermen have created new
jobs for themselves as snorkel guides or
dive masters. If you like to snorkel, it’s
easy pickings for inexpensive snorkel
trips by going to the local Puerto Morelos
dock where a handful of snorkel boats can
always be found. For higher quality dives
or fishing excursions, contact Sub Aqua
Explorers, right on the town square next
to the bookstore, or contact Kathy Loretta
at Diving Dog Tours (yes, there really is a
diving dog at [email protected] or
check Diving Dog’s schedule at El Pirata
Restaurant on the square).
I
don’t have to tell you that things have
changed a bit. The Clear Channel
radio conglomerate ensures that you
will hear the same music and the same
message (boycott the Dixie Chicks)
wherever you may roam, and no matter
where you are, the landscape is dotted
(blighted?) by the same stores – Walmart, KFC, Dominos, Shell, Denny’s,
you know the others. We now have
a very safe and predictable travel
experience – no surprises, no risk, no
damn fun. I used to, not that many years
ago, always pull into a town and ask
around for the best barbeque, forever
looking for the world’s finest. If you do
that today they look at you as if you just
grew a toe on your nose as they mutter
something unintelligible, slowly backing
away from your demented grasp.
W
hich brings me to why Mexico
is the place I now like to road
trip. Public restrooms might be elusive,
and hotel rooms are – let’s be kind
– inconsistent if you don’t plan ahead (I
don’t), but, man, is it fun. I love going
to the open air markets for ice-chest
snacks, the bakery and tortilleria, the
beer distributor for a 20 bottle case,
Continued on page 5
2
The dock at Puerto Morelos
The town boasts a handful of inexpensive
hotels and bed and breakfasts from as low
as $45 US per night. As prices vary with
the season it is best to contact the hotels
directly for pricing. A few of my favorites
on the beach and right in town are Ojo de
Agua (871-0027), Casita del Mar (8710301), and Amar Inn Bed & Breakfast
(871-0026). Part of the proceeds from your
room rental at Amar Inn goes towards
ecological measures geared towards
saving the reef and the mangroves which
surround Puerto Morelos.
The owners of Amar Inn were the
initiators in establishing an ecological
initiative to save the Palancar Reef, shortly
after Garrafon Reef, near Isla Mujeres,
was ruined by countless day trippers
who stepped on that fragile eco-system,
eventually deteriorating it to nothing
in twenty years’ time. At Ojo de Agua,
wind surfing and kite surfing are popular
sports, along with kayaking. Rent wind
surf and kayak equipment right there on
the beach. For an unusual experience,
swim just off Ojo’s beach to the south and
look for its namesake – the hole in the
water – which is where fresh water from
a local cenote streams into the ocean. Ask
for information at the hotel desk.
A bit more upscale, also on the beach,
is Villas Playa Sol (871-0236) with 30
condo units. Just off the beach are Casa
Caribe (871-0049), Villas Clarita (8710042), Villas Shanti (871-0040) and
Motel Eden. On the town square, you’ll
find charming Posada Amor Hotel &
Restaurant, (871- 0033), one of the
town landmarks, with super room rates,
along with a good restaurant that serves
breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not far away
is Hacienda Morelos
(871-0015) on the
beach, with ocean views,
reasonable rates, and a
restaurant downstairs.
Farther up the beach,
about a kilometer
north, is La Ceiba
Hotel & Spa. Room
rates are expensive, but
the hotel is a striking
vacation spot, with
many amenities on site
including spa, temazcal,
gym, and massage
room plus a beautiful
wooden zapote dock that stretches from
the wide sand beach to a pleasant palapa
where you can sit and watch pelicans,
cormorans, or magnificent frigatebirds to
your heart’s content.
Near La Ceiba, a few private beach villas
Pool at La Ceiba Hotel & Spa, Puerto Morelos
Continued on page 3
Puerto Morelos Continued
are for rent; see www.casitamaya.com.
Half a mile north of La Ceiba is Acamaya
Reef Campgrounds (871-0132) one of
the few trailer parks along the coast, with
reasonable rates on the beach. South of
town is Rancho Liberdad (871-0181)
also on the beach, a hip, happening hotel
for the avant garde traveler.
Fishing excitement with Diving Dog Tours
As for eats, Puerto Morelos has a
smattering of restaurants, some quite
good. I may not list them all here, as each
season brings new eateries, so make sure
to ask around once you’re in town. Top
of the line is John Gray’s Kitchen, run
by former Ritz Carlton chef John Gray
and his wife Dora. Gray’s trendy new
restaurant on Ave. Ninos Heroes, one
block before the main square, serves up
designer style cuisine every night but
Sunday. For Italian food, try Palapa Pizza
on the square; there’s sushi Mexican style
at Hola Asia, El Pirata for great local
eats like tacos, enchiladas, empanadas,
and salbutes – Mayan fair you’ll love
– plus even hamburgers and fries. The
food is tasty with great prices and it has a
view of the town park.
Diving Dog Tours, with coronado
Pelicano’s – on the beach with a large
palapa roof – is known for its seafood.
In recent years the wait staff has become
quite complacent; we suggest you count
your cervezas when you get your check.
Across the street is a cute Italian deli with
great salads, sandwiches, cappucino, drinks.
Spaguettino is a couple blocks north of the
square, with tasty Italian eats and a large
variety of wines, nice atmosphere. El Café
d’Amancia is good for coffee, light meals
or snacks, on the square. El Viejo Pescador
is owned by the fishermen’s cooperative,
and we hear there is good fresh fish nightly.
El Tio’s, down below, is a local eatery with
tacos, empanadas, salbutes, very cheap.
Another local spot is Tuch T’lan (“the
rabbit” in Mayan) with daily specials at
unbelievable prices for authentic Yucatan
food. Both Ojo de Aqua Hotel and Casita
del Mar have small restaurants as does La
Ceiba Hotel.
Every Wednesday there is a traveling
vegetable vendor who sets up a booth on the
town square – with fresh, tasty veggies and
fruits. There is the tortilleria where for a few
pesos you can get a kilo of fresh hot torts
– bring an empty stomach! – on Ave. Ninos
Heroes, not far from John Gray’s Kitchen.
Scattered throughout town are little tiendas,
or stores, selling soft drinks, beer, snacks,
and on the town square is Casa Martin
Super Market where you can find most
any food or liquor item you might need. An
ATM is there also. The town has two money
exchanges and two internet spots – for
checking your email, right near the town
square, next to the liquor store. Computer
Tips Internet also sells office supplies.
In case of medical emergency, there is a
Medical Clinic just down the street from
Hacienda Morelos Hotel. A local doctor is
usually on call. In Mexico, medical students
can receive tuition assistance by working
off their loans in small
town clinics like the one
in Puerto Morelos. So,
this is a good spot to get
help with Moctezuma’s
Revenge, but not a good
spot if you are having
cardiac arrest. There is
an American Hospital
behind American
Express and a large
new medical center
in Cancun near J.C.
Penney’s at the Mall of
the Americas for more
extreme emergencies.
As for shopping, Puerto
Morelos has an Artisan’s Market with
about 20 booths displaying and selling
items such as hammocks, local clothing,
hats, arts and crafts, and jewelry. The
Tee Shirt Shop next to El Pirata has
great tee shirts and lots of nice souvenirs.
Don’t forget to stop in the bookstore,
Alma Libre Libros, for a page-turner
for the beach, right on the square.
For things to do around Puerto Morelos,
check out Dr. Alfredo Barrera Marin
Botanical Gardens, 65 hectares of semievergreen tropical forest surrounded
by Puerto Morelos’ mangroves. An
abundance of native plants and trees are
here, all clearly identified by their Latin
and Mayan name. A small pyramid site
sits at the back of the reserve, along with
a replica of a Mayan village, created
by Sylvia, the curator, who has donated
years of time to this facility. She has also
planted a Mayan herb garden. Howler
monkeys sometimes pass through the
jungle part of the reserve late in the day,
if you are lucky enough to spot them.
The gardens are also alive with countless
birds of Quintana Roo’s tropical forests.
This is a very popular spot for bird
watchers, so bring your binoculars, pack
a lunch, and make an afternoon of it.
Donations are accepted at the gardens,
and we strongly urge you to be generous.
The botanical gardens are two kilometers
south of town, an easy walk or a short
cab drive.
Puerto Morelos is actually a town
divided by Highway 307. In 1988
when Hurricane Gilberto ravaged the
area, around 60 feet of new sand was
deposited on Puerto Morelos’ beaches
from the storm. In Mexico, squatter’s
Dock at Pelicano’s
Continued on page 6
3
The
Mummy
Museum
by Yvonne Moran
Yvonne Moran is a freelance writer and a
former general assignment daily reporter.
Her stories have been published in The New
York Times, Connecticut Post, The Advocate,
Greenwich Time, Irish America Magazine
and Fairfield County magazines, amongst
others. She contributes travel stories to
several websites and also writes for national
Irish newspapers and magazines. She has
been writing about travel for more than a
decade. Yvonne contributed an article on
Chiapas for the July 2001 issue of Mexico
File, as well as articles on Talavera pottery
for the August/September 2001 issue and on
baby turtles for the April 2002 issue.
They stare back, lifeless and shriveled, at
the curious onlookers, unable to say who
they are or where they’re from. They’re
the mummies of Guanajuato’s worldfamous Mummy Museum. During the high
season, hundreds of tourists daily form
snake lines outside the tiny museum to
view the macabre images of the afterlife.
“When the family didn’t or couldn’t
pay the cemetery’s maintenance fees,
employees opened the tomb and removed
the body to the nearby cemetery,” said
Carlos Montiel Martinez, my very
informative guide, during my visit to see
the 100-plus mummies housed in glass
paneled displays. He’s been involved in
the museum for three decades, having
begun working part-time there when he
was 14 years old. Most of the bodies
were removed from the cemetery’s crypts
approximately six years after burial
because the family hadn’t paid the dues
required every five years, said Martinez.
Current fees are approximately 500 pesos,
or $51.
The museum, which has four rooms and
three corridors, is the only one of its kind
in the world. But what’s remarkable is the
pristine condition (relatively speaking) of
the bodies, some of whom were buried
almost 150 years ago. The museum
is located in the city of Guanajuato, a
UNESCO World Heritage Site, in the
small state of the same name, near the city
of Leon. It is several hours drive from
Mexico City.
4
Juan Saramillo, whose museum number
is 92, is the best preserved body in the
museum. His eyebrows and eyelids
are intact (unlike most of the other
mummies), and he has facial hair,
including a mustache. He died on 1
January 1903 and was removed from the
cemetery seven years later.
“We don’t (exactly) know why they
are conserved,” Martinez said, adding
that there are several possible reasons.
A constant semi-warm climate allows
for a necessary rate of dehydration; the
terrain is hygroscopic; crypt, rather than
ground burial, helped, and minerals and
gases in the soil inhibit natural decay. It’s
estimated that the natural mummification
process takes approximately five years.
However, not all bodies removed from
their tombs are well preserved, and those
that are not are burned, my guide said.
“These bodies aren’t preserved at all,
unlike Egypt’s mummies,” said Martinez.
In Egypt, their brains and entrails were
removed, their skin was oiled, and bodies
bandaged before burial. The Mexican
mummies aren’t mummies in the strict
sense, as mummies must be prepared with
oil, he said.
Guanajuato’s mummies were placed
behind glass cases after a period of being
displayed openly. However, visitors stole
various body parts and the mummies’
identifications, so they were placed
behind glass, my guide said. Pranks
including placing cigarettes in the dead
bodies’ mouths were also played.
Remigio Leroy, a French doctor, is the
museum’s oldest mummy at almost 140
years old. The museum opened with
just his body in 1870. The most recent
mummy is a 55 to 60 year old fully
clothed person who died in 1979 who’d
been removed from the cemetery in 1984.
While the museum didn’t have a record of
that person’s name, I was informed that
it’s available in the public records. Since
1984, bodies exhumed from the cemetery
are no longer placed in the museum.
The families of the deceased are now
responsible for the graves’ upkeep, and if
they abdicate responsibility, the bodies are
cremated or placed in graves belonging
to family members who have died more
recently.
The first mummies exhumed in 1870 were
Continued on page 6
Moments Back in
Time in Copala
by Nancy V. Sont
Nancy Sont is a writer who lives in
McDonald’s Corners, Ontario, Canada, and
the owner of NVS Editorial Services (613278-0225). She is a frequent contributor,
having contributed an article on Old
Acapulco for the November 2001 issue
of Mexico File, as well as an article on
monarch butterflies for the February 2002
issue.
After a long winding drive through the rising
Sierra Madre mountains, past spectacular
views, past women selling bread on a slow
moving corner, we arrived in Copala and
parked at the far edge of town, across from
Daniel’s Restaurant. We were very lucky
not to meet the people from the two weekly
cruise ships that visit the tiny town.
A child on a burro arrived and asked my
daughter Scarlett if she wanted a ride. She
wanted to take his photo but the second set of
batteries was now dead, as well as the first.
She immediately made acquaintance with
him. Because the place is a ghost town now
that the silver mine is closed, many men have
left to find work. The children do the rest of
the income earning.
Victor, our guide, assured Scarlett that she
would have plenty of chance to talk to them.
They would certainly follow us around the
village.
As we piled back into the van to go further
into town, children on burros called their
names aloud to her so she would know who
to ask for, should she wish to pay for a ride
or a photo.
We parked near the center of the village
alongside the Zocalo. Two more children met
us, offering us some small bark carvings of
the town. I was amazed and intrigued,
“Haciste lo?” I asked eagerly in Spanish, to
which one child nodded.
“Como?” I prodded. He pulled a tiny slot
screwdriver out of this pocket to show me
just how he had made them, putting the
screwdriver into the tiny rectangular window
hole.
“What a magical carving to sell,” I said, as
the child leaned over the carving.
A man with a weather worn face smiled
broadly as we decided how much to pay.
The price was ‘whatever you’d like.’ They
each gave us a free one. Our driver said that
was to ‘hook us in.’
humble conditions, I went back for my friend,
Jane, and Scarlett. Jane didn’t agree it would
be nice to live in one of these ramshackle
wooden houses.
They would say, ‘No you take it for free!’
The recipient would inevitably want to give
it back, but the child would stand firm. The
recipient would then dig deep to compensate
them. I asked again, “How much?”
The pathway meandered up and down between
the scattered dwellings, some with cement
walkways and tile roofs, others with wooden
slat walls and tin tops.
He looked up at his older brother with
questioning faith, to which the brother
replied, “Cinco (5) pesos.”
The brother put the piece on his arm to
show that the four-inch carving was part of
a pricker from a tree, probably about 8” tall
before it had been sawn off for the carving.
“There’s a very big one in the church,” the
man commented, spreading his arms wide.
I marveled, looking around to see where the
church was.
After selling us their wares, boys
disappeared and I realized I had better start
exploring. The stone road was only another
block long as it climbed the steep hillside
beside the tourist shop.
The houses consisted of tiny forested
farmyards. A pig oink’ed and wandered
along the yard, then onto the road, followed
by a few squealing piglets.
A teenager and her boyfriend walked along,
finally catching up with me. I surprised
them by speaking Spanish. They were quite
friendly and willing to talk. The girl was 18,
he was 22. She had lived there all her life.
They explained that since it was a ghost
town, there were houses available to buy.
A group of Americans lived there. A Cuban
lived on the hill in a Caribbean style home
on the top of the mountainside. They only
came for a few months of the year. They
treated the woman that worked for them as
their daughter and paid her well.
Two children played alongside the road on a
cliff.
Noting the quiet, I asked, “Are there any birds
here?”
“Yes,” the 10-year old girl nodded.
“What color are they?” I prompted.
“Red, green orange, yellow, blue, black,
white...” the girl responded, referring to the big
bird, the toucan, that lived in the tree around
the bend.
She slipped down the six foot high bank,
landing on her feet, laughing loudly. The
commotion brought the attention of her mother
across the valley who waved in response to
me. It felt so relaxing to be here. I felt very at
home, accepted even though I was a tourist,
even more so than in my own neighborhood
thousands of miles away.
Around another bend we found what looked
like a huge beehive attached to the side of a
tree. It must have been 18” wide and 30” long.
It was huge.
“A small green bird made it,” the woman
who lived alongside it said as she came down
the hill, laden with plastic shopping bags of
groceries. It was amazing to see her wearing a
business suit and carrying groceries, far from
any city. Perhaps I hadn’t seen the whole town!
I didn’t find out until I was on a guided tour in
another area that the ‘beehive’ was actually a
termite nest. No one had told the people who
lived there; they’d just seen the little bird using
it.
Over the rattling of the chickens came a TV
voice. I noticed an electrical pole that stood
beside me. There were no cars or driveways
along the narrow road that led up into the
hills.
An elderly lady wearing a pink and blue
housedress emerged from a narrow dirt
pathway. She had grown up here, lived right
there in that small square house that was
nestled into the hillside.
The dirt between the anciently placed stones
had eroded, leaving the road a bumpy carpet.
In the summer rainy season, it would be
such a different place.
“How old is this road?” I asked.
Amazed at what I was seeing, how close
to the land the people lived, and in such
“Older than I can remember,” she answered,
the same answer as to how long she’d lived in
the pink house raising her two sons.
We talked as we climbed the steep road back
to the village. The church rose across the
valley in front of us and we stopped for a
few photos. Was that bird I heard caged or
loose? I wondered, as we met the same teen
I’d met earlier. No, this canary was caged.
Daniel’s Restaurant was about to close
when we arrived, but he didn’t mind
staying open to serve us the best chicken
dinner I’d ever eaten. He placed it on two
burners which he brought to the table.
The sun was setting beyond the open
balcony as we sat and ate. The Sierras rose
majestically around us, covered with dark
greenery. A distant truck’s engine came in
and out of earshot as it made its way along
the curving roads on the mountainside.
What a place, where the birds are toucans,
the nests are feet wide, the children make
carvings my children never dreamed of
– this was certainly a heavenly place, I
thought as I watched the sunset. Maybe I
could share it with those who would also
love it, those who wouldn’t be on a cruise
ship to Mazatlan. I took out my notebook
and pen and leaned back in my chair,
listening to the sound of a burro across the
valley.
If You Go:
Copala is in the mountains about 40 miles
from Mazatlan, Sinaloa. Head southeast
on Highway 15 for 12 mi/20 km. At Villa
Union, turn left on Highway 40 toward
Durango. Pass Concordia and its giant
wooden chair. After about 20 mi/35 km is
Copala.
For more information visit
www.copala.com. The website says visitors
can see hand carved furniture being made,
bricks made from the mud in an open field,
handmade pottery and glazed floor tile, a
commercial laundry in an open field using
hot pools fed by natural hot springs, plus
many other unique sights, common to this
area.. I didn’t see any of that, since we
arrived after 5:00 pm. Our guide wasn’t too
interested in volunteering any information.
Be sure to take along some spare change
– hand drawn crayon pictures done by the
children are $1US each!
b b b
Más o Menos Continued
and finding the guy with the perfect
carnitas or the mesquite-smoke
ladened carne y pollo. I love walking
the village streets, hanging in the
zocalo, never knowing what lies ahead
in the town up the road.
b b b
5
Holy Mole Continued
stew; and the comida corrida,
a four-course, mid-day meal
that introduced me to
dishes that ranged
from soulful (tortilla
soup) to sublime
(huitlacoche, or corn
fungus).
In Jalisco, I saw the
light. A state famous for its
charros, its cowboys, Jalisco
is known as a carnivore’s kingdom where
you smell restaurants before you see them.
Wander around Guadalajara and you can
subsist on the wafts of pit-cooked cabrito
(kid). But my memorable moment occurred
at a small, homey restaurant.
“You should try something
truly Mexican,” a Mexican
friend commanded, ordering
for me.
A plate arrived with what
resembled a chile relleno except that
it was bathed in a white cream sauce and
sprinkled with ruby-red pomegranate
seeds. With my first forkful, I tasted the
crunchy pomegranates, followed by a blast
of fresh walnuts. One bite into the chile
pepper brought a delicious explosion of
chopped pork, garlic, and tomato. With
each succulent forkful there was another
eruption of flavor – raisins, almonds,
fresh peaches and apples – all of them
contributing to a robust interplay of flavors.
Most surprising of all, the fabulous dish
was served cold.
The dish was chiles en nogada, and it was
a revelation. Mexican food – real, authentic
Mexican food – was richer, bolder, and
more complex than I realized. Formerly,
Mexican food seemed as subtle as the
Chihuahua dog in the TV commercial who
proclaimed, “Yo quiero Taco Bell.” But
this dish was refined and balanced. It was
exuberant, colorful, almost baroque in
presentation. It was meant to be savored.
Few Mexican dishes are as elaborate as
chiles en nogada, a seasonal specialty, but
as I began to travel throughout Mexico, I
discovered a repertoire of intriguing dishes.
In Oaxaca, I encountered mole (MO-lay),
an indigenous word meaning mixture.
Oaxaca is famous as the land of seven
moles – seven vastly different dishes, with
6
dozens of variations. The most celebrated
is mole negro (black mole), a complex dish
that makes whipping up French sauces
seem like a snap.
In Oaxaca, I joined Susana Trilling, a
chef who runs the Seasons of My Heart
Cooking School, for a day of marketing,
cooking, and feasting. No masochist,
I didn’t attempt to create mole, which
involves laborious preparation of a long
list of ingredients – sesame seeds, chiles,
garlic, almonds, nuts, a touch of chocolate,
and more – but I hung out at the comal,
Mexico’s version of the wok, and pestered
Trilling with questions about Oaxaca’s
cuisine.
In the following days, I rambled through
town to sample the specialties Trilling
mentioned. In little time, I found
chapulines, fried grasshoppers;
entomatadas, tortillas in
a red sauce; quesillo, a
stringy, pungent mozzarella
cheese; tasajo, thinly-sliced
dried beef; clayudas, frisbeesized tortillas dabbed with pork
drippings, bean paste, and grilled meats;
and hot chocolate, flavored with cinnamon
and nuts.
I was beginning to understand. When it
comes to food (and many other aspects
of culture), there isn’t just one Mexico,
but multiple Mexicos. With 32 states in
about a dozen regions, Mexico contains a
wide array of distinct, regional cuisines,
each shaped by different ancestral habits,
customs, and geography.
The northern states have hearty “cowboy”
fare: fire-smoked steaks and “drunken
beans” (pintos cooked in beer) wrapped
in flour tortillas. In Veracruz, the Spanishinfluenced cooking includes huachinango
a la veracruzano – red snapper smothered
with a zesty sauce of tomatoes, chiles,
olives, and capers. In the Yucatán, Mayainspired dishes are flavored with achiote
Continued on page 7
Mummy Museum Continued
placed in the cemetery’s administration
offices. They were then moved to a
nearby underground crypt and displayed
along passageways for visitors, who
could reach out and touch the bodies. It
wasn’t until the 1960's that the museum
building was reconditioned for the
specific purpose of using it as a museum
and the four exhibition halls were added.
The mummies’ social status can be
determined by the type and amount of
clothing in which they were buried.
Traditionally, the deceased were laid to
rest wearing their best attire, and while
several wore jackets and dresses, others
owned the most rudimentary of clothing.
Several were also buried naked.
The museum houses three foreigners,
two French doctors – and a Chinese
woman who’s been in the museum for
133 years. While many French relocated
to Guanajuato after Maximilian visited
in the 1860's, Martinez didn’t know how
or why the Chinese woman came to live
and die there. The area’s immensely rich
silver mines (at one time the richest in
the world) attracted many foreigners in
the 19th century, however.
Room number three, which houses
15 mummified babies and four heads
(the bodies having been destroyed by
visitors) is the museum’s most popular
room. Crowds stand around and stare
at the tiny mummies, signs of lives that
had been cut short long before their
time. One baby wore a yellow and
green costume representing St. Joseph;
another was attired in black and white
clothing depicting St. Martin de Porres,
while babies dressed in red and white
and holding a heart represent the Sacred
Heart. Several still had their favorite
toy or blanket beside them that had
comforted them when they were alive.
Babies who died weren’t considered
infants, but “little angels,” free from all
sin, and this is why they were dressed
in this particular way, according to the
Mummy Museum booklet I’d purchased
in the museum store.
Photographs of the recently-departed
with their family members hang on
the walls of corridor one above the
mummified bodies. It was customary
in Mexico at the beginning of the
Continued on page 8
Holy Mole Continued
seasoning, made from a local seed and
spices, marinated in bitter orange juice,
and wrapped in banana leaves before being
baked.
Not long after visiting Oaxaca, I found
myself in Mexico City where I tracked
down Patricia Quintana, author of The
Taste of Mexico (Stewart, Tabori & Chang,
1986). I had many questions. Why are
some tamales heavenly and others taste like
dog food? What’s up with corn fungus?
How did French rolls get to Mexico?
Deciding I needed a lesson in the basics,
Quintana took me to Fonda El Refugio, a
Zona Rosa restaurant renowned for its sage
kitchen staff of elderly women.
“Here we have the pre-Hispanic diet,”
Quintana said, as if she were summoning
the nation’s ancient Aztec soul as she
offered me a spoonful of nopalitos – diced
cactus – accompanied by warm tortillas,
guacamole, beans, and tomatillo sauce, all
foods that predated Cortés.
“And here,” she cooed, nodding to a platter
of quesadillas, “come the Spaniards. Milk,
cheese, fried foods – this is the legacy of
the Europeans.”
The history of Mexican gastronomy is
entwined in the union of Aztec and Spanish
foods, she said. Indigenous people relied
heavily on corn, beans, and squash – the
holy trinity – along with chiles, tropical
fruits, the turkey, and crunchy insects.
(They also introduced vanilla and chocolate
to the world.) The Spanish brought the
wheat culture, adding
beef, pork,
dairy
products,
sugar
cane,
olives,
MF
THE MEXICO FILE
The Newsletter for Mexicophiles
onions, and garlic to form a combination
plate for the ages.
“Our foods are a product of our history,”
Quintana said. “They tell us where we came
from.”
And perhaps where Mexico is going. In
recent years, Mexican chefs have embraced
global culinary trends. In some cases,
this means the nouvelle approach – tony
restaurants elevating authentic regional
specialties with the royal treatment and
contemporary cooking techniques. In others,
it means fusion fare. As if to symbolize the
country’s 21st-century yearnings, chefs
unveil cross-cultural adventures such as
tenderloin of beef and chipotle chiles in a
sauce of port wine and fresh figs.
I have nothing against the latter trend – I
never met a jalapeño mousse I didn’t like
– but over the years, my tastes have grown
simpler. Paradoxically, as I’ve come to
appreciate Mexico’s rich traditions, I’m
happiest when I’m at a beach cafe eating
ceviche or back in the fondas, slurping
vegetable soups that don’t make it into
tourist restaurants.
Recently, I was traveling with a group in La
Paz, eating at the city’s finest restaurants.
During the trip, Andrew, a group member
who had not seen much of Mexico,
discovered street food. While the rest of
us were perusing museums, he’d duck out
to the city square to join the businessmen
and day laborers hunched over plastic
plates, gorging on gorditas and sopes and
empanadas. Unhappy about the disruption,
the trip’s organizers told him to lay off the
snacks and save his appetite, but Andrew
paid them no heed. He’d spot another street
vendor and off he’d dash to gulp down
another peasant treat. I sympathized. With
Mexican food, the magic rises from its
roots.
b b b
THE MEXICO FILE
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Voice mail: 800-563-9345 n Phone/Fax: (858) 456-4419
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Promotional rates are sometimes available. ©2003 Simmonds Publications
The Mexico File’s contents are intended for the independent traveler. The information given is believed to be reliable, but cannot be guaranteed for accuracy due to constant changes that
occur in a country this size. n Unsolicited stories, photos and letters are welcomed and encouraged. Postage
should be included for any items to be returned. n This publication may not be reproduced in any form without
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Editor: David Simmonds
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Contributing Editors: Cheryl Weller, Felice Simmonds n Design/Layout: Paul Hartsuyker www.hartworks.net
Mummy Museum Continued
20th century to photograph those
who’d died before they were buried,
Martinez said. And the Mexican’s
ambiguous relationship with death is
reflected in Jose Guadalupe Posada’s
nearby drawings, depicting cheerful
skeletons dancing and street-sweeping.
Posada taught Diego Riveria, one of the
country’s most famous artists.
Although work had begun on building a
municipal cemetery in 1853 in response
to a cholera outbreak, the city’s cemetery
wasn’t officially opened until 1861 due to
several major political events. Prior to the
introduction of public cemeteries, bodies
were buried in the atria of churches and
convents, and in the churches themselves,
depending on the social status of the
deceased. Burials in these traditional
venues were prohibited when the 1860
Reform Laws declared that church
property belonged to the nation.
Several of the mummies showed physical
signs of how they’d died. Blood traces
between a 54 year old male’s ribs told
of how he was killed with a knife or
gun in 1940; marks on a woman’s neck
testified to her death by a hanging suicide
or homicide; while a large empty space
where a tumor had grown in a woman’s
stomach was evidence of cancer.
One woman died during an unsuccessful
Caesarean operation performed in 1920.
Close by, her 18 centimeter high dead
baby holds the record for being the
smallest mummy in the world, according
to the guide. A very large woman was
buried alive because she suffered from
catalepsy, which gives the frozen-like
appearance of death for such a time that
everyone believes the person is actually
dead. The horrific accident was only
discovered five years later when the
tomb was opened. Her body, which had
originally been buried face upwards, had
turned over in the grave. And her arms,
previously folded across her chest were
now folded near her face. Her body and
facial expressions reflected some of the
horror of her fate.
Because the bodies were not embalmed,
the mummies have different facial
expressions; however, most of their
mouths are wide open because after death
facial muscles relax and jaws drop. Some
Continued on page 8
7
Puerto Morelos Continued
Mummy Museum Continued
of the cadavers’ hair and nails had also
continued to grow, thanks to their body’s
store of calcium. Many still have teeth,
and their skin is dry and taught.
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
The World Values Survey in New Scientist
magazine has concluded what many of us
have suspected all along, ranking Mexico
as having the second highest percent of
happy people in the world, trailing only
Nigeria (huh?). The United States, with a
large percent of the world’s total wealth,
came in a dismal 16th – something to
consider the next time you are crawling
along on a freeway after pulling another
12-hour work day.
Home Depot Expands Operations
Home Depot, the Atlanta-based home
improvement retailer that blazed across
America in the 1980’s and 90’s, has
moved into Mexico intent on becoming
the dominant player in the field. With
a growing middle-class and the fiscal
crisis from eight years ago in reverse,
they see a great opportunity to capture
the $12.5 billion home improvement
business. Home Depot currently has 15
stores in Mexico with three more planned
this year, providing 2,000 new jobs. Ace
Hardware, which has 84 stores in Mexico,
is understandably concerned about the
competition.
New Telescope Nears Completion
Near the small town of Aztitzintla
(pop. 7,000), on top of the Sierra Negra
volcano about 100 miles east of Mexico
City, dozens of welders, scientists, and
engineers have been working daily,
constructing a $100 million radio
telescope with an antenna 165 feet in
diameter. When completed in a couple
of years, it will be the most powerful
of its kind in the world, peering into
now unknown galaxies. The location,
in a 15,000 foot inactive volcano, has
an oxygen level of only 57% of that at
sea level. Newly developed millimeter
wavelength detection devices will be
put to test here, which may advance
communications technology as well as
security measures. The project is being
funded and developed by both the United
States and Mexico, with Mexico spending
$50 million.
b b b
8
Entry costs into the Museum of the Cult
of the Dead, adjacent to the Mummy
Museum, is included in the price of the
same ticket. Ghoulish glass displays
include a cut off finger, and a constantly
disco-like flashing scene of a head already
removed by a guillotine. Someone who’d
been tortured during the Inquisition had
been placed in a coffin with huge nails
that protruded into the victim’s body. A
bizarrely-placed hologram showed a dead
fly under a microscopic. Ghostly music
played continuously.
Approximately 6,000 people a month visit
the museum, primarily to see how people
are preserved in Guanajuato, said Manuel
Gutierrez Cerda, the museum’s director,
of the many tourists that visit the historic
city. “And a lot of people leave crying,”
he added.
It was a relief to emerge in the warm, lifeembracing Mexican sunlight.
Information: The Mummy Museum is
open seven days a week from 9:00 a.m.
to 6:00 p.m. Entrance is approximately
$3.50. Get there early to avoid the
crowds!
The museum's address is: Pantheon
Municipal, at the west end of town. Bus:
Take a “Las Momias” bus in front of the
basilica or the market downtown, and
the bus stops a short distance from the
museum. Phone: 4/732-0639
b b b
rights prevail, and if someone remains on
previously unacknowledged land for 60
days, they may lay claim to the property.
After the hurricane, squatters came from
all over Quintana Roo to lay claim to this
new beach.
But just days before this came to pass, the
PRI sent in troops to relocate the squatters
to jungle land on the other side of
Highway 307. Land grants were bestowed
on the squatters, and today, La Colonia
is the other half of Puerto Morelos. If
you are hankering for a true Mexican
style pueblo, check it out. It has a town
square, a church, a school. Prices tend to
be lower at La Colonia restaurants and
small vegetable stands. It’s a good place
to practice your Spanish or buy a BBQ
chicken grilled on mesquite for $5.00US.
Delicious!
Puerto Morelos has experienced great
growth in the past few years in the real
estate market. Unlike Playa del Carmen
which stretches for kilometers both north
and south, Puerto Morelos is surrounded
by mangroves, so there is a limited amount
of land for sale. Most beach-front land
is now sold, but there are houses for sale
throughout the town. Check with Vicky
Sharp for what’s still available at (998)
871-0112 or [email protected]
or Marcela Diaz at (998) 845-8725 or
[email protected].
When you’ve explored Cancun and Playa
del Carmen and are still looking for that
quiet getaway spot that seems just out of
reach, check out Puerto Morelos. If you
settle into the town’s relaxed lifestyle
and start to feel comfortable, watch out.
Because next thing you know, you’ll be
moving there. That’s what happened to
me!
b b b
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