Saturday and Sunday
On Friday evening, in lieu of dinner, I had a Rompope Paleta, one of those wonderful Mexican popsicles. Rompope is reported to be like eggnog, so that sounded like a good flavor to try. It tasted fine, but turned out to be a poor choice for other reasons. It gave me some of the famous Moctezuma's revenge. By Saturday morning John was full of energy after his day of rest and I felt like crawling into a hole.
We went to the little plaza here in Eronga after breakfast. John had some ice cream from the Italian restaurant (nothing like a little breakfast dessert!) and I had their oddly flavored espresso with foamed milk. The sign above the door says 100% Italiano, but they feature chiles and quesadillas on the menu. John planned to go to Patzcuaro and look for painted furniture. Since he's traveling home on the bus he can take all kinds of stuff. I'm trying hard to keep my purchases at a minimum, for financial reasons as well as lack of space in my luggage. I had wanted to go to Quiroga and look around, but instead went home, took a Lomatil tablet, and plunked down on the couch in the living room to rest.
A few hours later, after a decent nap, I did go to Quiroga. It was a 12 peso bus ride north, around the west side of the lake. Very pretty, and on the way I chatted with a friendly young man who was carrying a gorgeous flower in a vase to give to his mother. Neither of us knew the name of it, in English or Spanish. He told me that 'cuaro' which ends the name of many little towns means 'place'. Patzcuaro is the Place of Sky (though I've seen mostly clouds on this trip), Erongaricuaro is the Rich Land Place.
All around Patzcuaro Lake there are little villages of Purepecha descendants. Back in the 1500's a very enlightened priest was sent to this area to relieve a viscous one who had been torturing people, forcing them to become Catholic and 'civilized'. Vasco de Quieroga actually believed that the natives were more than just souls to save, he saw them as people with excellent skills in copper smithing, weaving, pottery, and wood working. He encouraged each village to develop the skills that made sense based on their natural resources and those activities persist to this day. He also laid out a number of cities in a grid formation. He was well-loved and there are many places named after him, lots of parks with his likeness in statues and paintings.
Quieroga is a town he built and used as his headquarters for a long time before moving to Patzcuaro. I wish I could say it was as pretty as Patzcuaro or Eronga but it's not. It's on highway 15, a major east-west road, and so has become a trading center. The main streets are packed with hundreds of tiny shops, there's a lot of traffic, the place is noisy, dirty, and smells of diesel. The main plaza is crammed with tents and craftspeople shouting for customers. I walked from the bus stop to the main street and bought a pair of decent 'tennis' shoes for walking around instead of using my heavier hiking boots. Then I wandered up the streets trying not to step on the little women with their wares spread out on woven matts, taking up half the sidewalk. I ate at a restaurant that was in the back of a 'shopping center', basically a strip of interior stores with a plastic roof to keep out the rain. I ordered the house specialty, Sopa Terasco (bean soup) while a Mexican Match Maker game show played on the flat screen TV. I'm always amazed at how different the people on TV look from the people I see around me. The ones on TV have blond, red and light brown hair, the women look like prostitutes with skin tight clothes and thick makeup, the men often look like thugs with piled up hairstyles and tattoos. The people I see everyday have black hair (unless they're older women - then it's dyed red), dress modestly, don't wear much, if any, makeup, often wear American tee-shirts like the lady in a green one that said "Kiss Me, I'm Not Irish", and certainly don't look like they would mug you if given an opportunity. But I suppose a foreigner coming to the US would have similar observations about American TV versus the people one sees on the streets in any given town.
On the way back to Eronga, the little Combi bus was packed. My body rebelled against the bean soup so I sat still and hoped I could make it back to the house without an embarrassing incident. It was early evening and the sky was overcast but glowing in the subdued sunset. The little towns took on a magical quality. Church towers rose out of the mists like silent candles.
Sunday
A great day to sleep in. I think I drifted in and out of slumberland for two hours after I heard John rummaging around in the kitchen. By the time I got up he already had breakfast made; scrambled eggs with lamb and peppers, salsa, tortillas, mangos, and beans. We certainly do eat well around here. After my bout with the 'revenge' I only ate some beans and mangos, and drank a little coffee.
We started out early with the intention of going to Patzcuaro and then to TsinTsunTsan where the Tarasco nation (the Purepechas) had its huge pyramid. They were one of the few groups the Aztecs never conquered because they had copper arrowheads that could pierce the Aztec quilted cotton armor.
On the Combi to Patzcuaro, a young woman that John knew boarded the bus. We visited with her a while. She had a backpack with her and she was headed to Uruapan to see the eternal spring and Mexico's most recent volcano, Paracutin (which erupted back in the 40's). John had met her in Eronga the previous week. She is working for an elderly lady, helping her to categorize an extensive library of books in Spanish, English, French and German. The lady wanted someone who could write a grant and start a library here in Eronga. The girl said she wasn't really qualified to write the grant but she did help the woman for several weeks in exchange for room and board. Quite a nice gig. Then she asked us how long we would be staying. I said I had to be back in a week. She looked at me and with a perfectly straight face said, "Oh, do you have one of those job things?"
In Patzcuaro, I wanted to go back to a shopping area known as the Eleven Patios. It was a nunnery, built in the 1600's, with 11 open areas or patios inside, for the Dominican Sisters. Now it is full of little shops. We had gone there last week, but it was a slow day and raining, so few of the shops were open. I tried to imagine the sisters confined to such a place. I suppose it needed 11 plazas so they could grow some food and be outdoors a little without being seen by passers-by. The old bath room has not been converted to a shop. It is a small room with an adjoining area that is dominated by a large sunken tub and two spigots for water. The tub is basically a hole in the floor, about 2 feet deep lined with tiles and has a step down into it. There are no windows nor any natural light in the room if the door is closed. It must have been a dreary place to take a bath, or maybe it was magical, lit up with candles. I wonder how often they bathed……
The shops were filled with crafts from all over Mexico. I purchased two small folding mirrors with beautiful painted designs on the covers and a hot-mitt for the handle of a cast iron skillet. In the shops there were blown glassware, copper pieces both for utility and highly detailed in enamel paints, jewelry of every kind imaginable, ceramics, candles, figurines, cloth finely woven with embroidery, paintings, linens for dining and beds, wooden sculptures both painted and plain, furniture, basketry, and more. Most of it was good quality and with decent prices. I know you can go to the villages where this stuff is made and get it cheaper, but here it was, all in one place. This is Quieroga's legacy…….in a converted nunnery. How fitting.
I met John back at the plaza and we had those wonderful shrimp cocktails again at the two adjoining stands. I swear, Patzcuaro is heaven. In Spanish 'cielo' means both sky and heaven. Patzcuaro - Place of Heaven, aptly named! We then wandered over to the larger central plaza and looked around there a bit. More stores, more people, more things going on. Saturday and Sunday are the big shopping and socializing days. The town was busy everywhere.
There are buses that will take you any place, you just have to find the right one. After a lot of walking around, we found the right place for the bus to TsinTsunTsan. John told me a story of being in Mexico years ago with his wife. He told her to watch closely, then he asked four different people for directions to a place he already knew, and he got four different answers. Today, we asked three different people where to catch the bus and got three different answers. The last person was the woman selling tickets and she pointed us back to the first place where we'd already waited a while. The bus did come eventually. Now THIS bus was the kind you see in the movies. While there weren't any people with chickens in cages on their laps, we did have to step over a huge sack of corn somebody had put in the aisle because there was no room for it anywhere else. We put our stuff in the first seat, behind the driver. Why? Because it wasn't possible to sit in those seats, there was a metal rack across the place where your legs would go. Only a tiny child could sit in those seats, or (lucky for us) our bags. Now who would put a seat where there is absolutely NO leg room?
TsinTsunTsan is a charming little village. The Archeological site is right on the edge of town. John isn't much into climbing, so I hiked up there. The pyramids sit on top of a huge artificial plaza twenty feet or more above the surrounding landscape. I've never seen any shape like these. The floorplan is a rectangle with a half circle bulging out of one side. There are 5 of them spaced only about a foot apart. The whole complex is half a mile long and about 15-20 feet high. It's a ruin of course, I have no idea how tall they were in their heyday. Or what use they had. I doubt they were used for human sacrifice. There was no mention of that in the signs around the park. But the views of the lake and surrounding countryside is extensive. I can see why they picked this spot to be their sacred place. Plus it's probably more defensible. The backside of the complex is a relatively tall and rugged mountain.
Again, it poured rained. I slogged back down the hill to the plaza and found John with two more new hats. I think he's up to 7 or 8 now. These were 'winter' hats, nice knitted wool. I bopped around the plaza for a bit as we waited for a Combi or bus to show up. This market featured mostly woven crafts (lots of Christmas bells and wreaths woven from yucca and palm fiber) and pottery. My favorite dark green glaze on red clay must be made near there because there were dozens of vendors selling it. It didn't look like a bus back to Patzcuaro would be coming anytime soon, so we opted for one to Quiroga. It would be possible to catch another Combi there and circle the entire lake that way. I was lucky to have been to Quiroga only the day before, so I knew exactly how to walk across the town from the place we were dropped off to the place we could pick up a Combi back to Eronga. It was only six or seven blocks but it sure beat getting the run-around from half a dozen people who didn't know what they were talking about.
Back in town we decided to eat at the 100% Italian restaurant. We ordered a small pizza and then discussed sharing a medium instead of getting a small one and spaghetti. Some of our conversation was in English, some in Spanish. The waitress understood that we wanted a medium and a small pizza. So we ended up taking a lot of pizza home. Plus, midway through the meal we spotted Trini walking across the plaza and invited her to join us. She expressed surprise to find us eating out, she'd just delivered tamales and salsa to the house for our dinner. I guess she forgot to tell anyone she was going to do that. Oh well, tamales are great for breakfast too!!
Showing posts with label Patzcuaro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patzcuaro. Show all posts
Monday, September 13, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Chile Rellenos
Friday, Sept. 10, 2010
Friday. Chile Relleno day. I cleaned up the kitchen, made a list of food items we might need for the next three days, and wrote all morning. Trini showed up around 11:30 for my relleno lesson. But first we had to go to the plaza to get the cheese and chiles. We also got lots of other stuff: onions, garlic, tortillas, a can of tuna (for Trini), and those wonderful green juicy oranges. Five places. Each one has a specialty. Tortillas are made and sold hot off the griddle by the kilo in a hole in the wall next to the church, a tiny fruit stand where Trini and the vendor argued over which two avocados I should buy, a larger store with canned goods and the oranges, cheese at a different little store and yet another for a kilo of eggs, handed over to me in a plastic bag. Of course she knew exactly what to buy where, which had the best prices, and I spent a whopping twelve dollars. We have enough food to last most of the week. Back at the house she chided me for putting fruit in a basket that was intended for tortillas, and again for putting the eggs in the refrigerator. If eggs have never been refrigerated, they don't need to be. It ruins them she said. Wow. For my entire life I've been eating ruined eggs and didn't know it.
On to the rellenos. We spent half an hour roasting them over the open flames of the stove until they were quite blackened. She put them into a plastic bag to steam for a while, and then we washed the roasted skins off in the sink. A slit up the side and a few cuts dumped all the seeds out and they were put over a little rack to dry. She heated about 1/8th of an inch of vegetable oil in a skillet. Meanwhile she poked a big hole in each of six eggs and poured the whites out. She whipped them to stiff entirely by hand with a fork, then added the yokes into the foam and stiffened it up again. Meanwhile I put a big chunk of the crumbly cheese inside each chile and secured it with a toothpick, then powdered them with white flour. She took each chile by the stem and dunked it into the egg mix, then quickly transferred it to the oil. After a minute or so she rolled it over very carefully. Using her bare fingers and a fork she rolled them around and round until the coating was 'yellow' and starting to brown slightly. After they were a nice rich brown she pronounced them Ratones, rats. And indeed, they did resemble rats with a stiff tail sticking out.
Then, in her speed of light fashion she cleaned up the kitchen, swept the floor and said goodbye. I added some fruit, rice and guacamole to the rellenos and we had a incredibly good lunch around 2:00. John wasn't feeling very well, so he went off to nap, and I wrote for a while more. It was time to get some real exercise. I hiked up the road leading west for a couple of miles, to the most rural area. Wide open fields, planted in almost mature corn, alfalfa hay, and some vegetable gardens spread out over the verdant rolling hills as the road climbed up into the mountains. This day, the weather was intermittent, spitting rain and then bright and sunny. I had not taken my camera and it was a shame. The views from up there took in the entire lake region, and the volcanos to the east were fully visible, much taller than I had imagined when all I ever saw were their flanks disappearing into shawls of dark clouds.
John thought there might be some activity in the plaza in the evening since it is Friday. We didn't hear music coming from that direction so we sat around and talked, uploaded photos on the computer and he went to bed early. A very laid-back day, and in some ways a much needed rest. Newness and strangeness can make you feel tired, the brain can only take in so much at a time. I think that's why little kids need so much sleep. And this old brain of mine has been working out like Arnold Schwartzenegger getting ready for the Mr. Universe contest. I needed a day off!
Friday. Chile Relleno day. I cleaned up the kitchen, made a list of food items we might need for the next three days, and wrote all morning. Trini showed up around 11:30 for my relleno lesson. But first we had to go to the plaza to get the cheese and chiles. We also got lots of other stuff: onions, garlic, tortillas, a can of tuna (for Trini), and those wonderful green juicy oranges. Five places. Each one has a specialty. Tortillas are made and sold hot off the griddle by the kilo in a hole in the wall next to the church, a tiny fruit stand where Trini and the vendor argued over which two avocados I should buy, a larger store with canned goods and the oranges, cheese at a different little store and yet another for a kilo of eggs, handed over to me in a plastic bag. Of course she knew exactly what to buy where, which had the best prices, and I spent a whopping twelve dollars. We have enough food to last most of the week. Back at the house she chided me for putting fruit in a basket that was intended for tortillas, and again for putting the eggs in the refrigerator. If eggs have never been refrigerated, they don't need to be. It ruins them she said. Wow. For my entire life I've been eating ruined eggs and didn't know it.
On to the rellenos. We spent half an hour roasting them over the open flames of the stove until they were quite blackened. She put them into a plastic bag to steam for a while, and then we washed the roasted skins off in the sink. A slit up the side and a few cuts dumped all the seeds out and they were put over a little rack to dry. She heated about 1/8th of an inch of vegetable oil in a skillet. Meanwhile she poked a big hole in each of six eggs and poured the whites out. She whipped them to stiff entirely by hand with a fork, then added the yokes into the foam and stiffened it up again. Meanwhile I put a big chunk of the crumbly cheese inside each chile and secured it with a toothpick, then powdered them with white flour. She took each chile by the stem and dunked it into the egg mix, then quickly transferred it to the oil. After a minute or so she rolled it over very carefully. Using her bare fingers and a fork she rolled them around and round until the coating was 'yellow' and starting to brown slightly. After they were a nice rich brown she pronounced them Ratones, rats. And indeed, they did resemble rats with a stiff tail sticking out.
Then, in her speed of light fashion she cleaned up the kitchen, swept the floor and said goodbye. I added some fruit, rice and guacamole to the rellenos and we had a incredibly good lunch around 2:00. John wasn't feeling very well, so he went off to nap, and I wrote for a while more. It was time to get some real exercise. I hiked up the road leading west for a couple of miles, to the most rural area. Wide open fields, planted in almost mature corn, alfalfa hay, and some vegetable gardens spread out over the verdant rolling hills as the road climbed up into the mountains. This day, the weather was intermittent, spitting rain and then bright and sunny. I had not taken my camera and it was a shame. The views from up there took in the entire lake region, and the volcanos to the east were fully visible, much taller than I had imagined when all I ever saw were their flanks disappearing into shawls of dark clouds.
John thought there might be some activity in the plaza in the evening since it is Friday. We didn't hear music coming from that direction so we sat around and talked, uploaded photos on the computer and he went to bed early. A very laid-back day, and in some ways a much needed rest. Newness and strangeness can make you feel tired, the brain can only take in so much at a time. I think that's why little kids need so much sleep. And this old brain of mine has been working out like Arnold Schwartzenegger getting ready for the Mr. Universe contest. I needed a day off!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Street medicine and island views
Wednesday, Sept. 9, 2010
The morning dawned clear with clouds hanging over the mountains on all sides of the lake. It was cool and moist, but the sun shown for a while. John said he looks every morning to see if there's any sunshine, then quickly does a load of laundry so his clothes have a little time to dry. It was breezy this morning too, which speeded up the drying process.
We both slept better with the cat locked up, and even the cat seemed to have a better attitude, not quite so aloof and haughty. Contrite would better describe him. Perhaps he learned his lesson. Probably not. He yowled when there was someone to bother. Locked up and alone, he probably didn't let out a peep. But who would know? He was in a little building not attached to either of our rooms.
Around 10:00 we headed into Patzcuaro for business purposes. We decided to go to the seat of the revolution for El Grito on the 16th of September. This is Mexico's 200th anniversary of the revolution when they broke away from Spain. It all started in Dolores Hidalgo, so we suspect the party there will be huge, the fireworks innumerable, and the crowds giddy. It will be like being in Boston or Philadelphia in 1976 on the 4th of July. John knows a woman who will rent us a little apartment for the week, and we had to transfer money to her account in order to secure the rental. I also wanted to take advantage of the fact that Bancomer here would cash my traveler's checks, so I cashed the rest of them.
From now on, I will keep traveling money in a separate account and transfer money to it when needed. That way, if someone were to get my account number and password from an internet transaction, the most they'd get would be the little amount in there at any given time. Security in Mexican online banking is not what it should be. When I was in San Miguel, I joined an online Yahoo group that consisted of mostly ex-pats. The horror stories were numerous. Some people had their checking accounts cleaned out and attached savings accounts as well. It scared me. But taking a large amount of cash on vacation is equally stupid, so I opted for traveler's checks. Who knew it would be such misery to get them cashed?
Once all the business was attended to, we had lunch at two seafood stands that were next to each other on the edge of Plaza Chica. We got a shrimp cocktail, one from each vendor. Mine was exquisite. It was served in a large glass like they used to make hot fudge sundaes in, tall and tapered at the bottom. It was filled about three quarters full with cooked shrimp, topped with onions, hot peppers, a large chunk of avocado, and then filled to the brim with tomato sauce that was tangy and sweet. At the other stand, John ordered a smaller version that was not sweet at all, his was peppery and had a stronger tomato flavor. They were both delicious, but I liked mine a lot better. The peppers were hot enough to make me sweat and I have quite a tolerance for spicy food. It was the best meal I've had here so far, and it was from a street vendor!!
When I took a shower yesterday I had a muscle spasm in my neck. It was probably caused by toting luggage or carrying around heavy bags. My neck was stiff and sore most of yesterday and this morning it was so bad I couldn't lift my right arm above my head. So after that wonderful shrimp lunch we went in search of a masseuse, or maybe a chiropractor. The owner of the stall where I bought my jacket the day before walked past, so we asked him if he knew of anyone who could help. He took my by the hand and led me out onto the street. He looked up and shouted to some guys who were hanging a sign on the balcony. He pointed at me, told one of those guys I needed some attention and shortly thereafter, the guy showed up downstairs. He asked what I needed, assured me that he could fix it and then we went into an electronics store where he parked me in a chair behind the cash register. He grabbed a bottle of some liquid from under the cabinet and began to do a deep tissue massage on my neck. After a few minutes of massaging, he took hold of my arm and said "Suav-vey, suav-vey…." several times while wiggling my arm up and down. Then wham, he jerked it hard. It felt like my arm came out of the socket! Not only that…..like it had strings attached directly to my neck and those ripped out as well. I was stunned. But immediately the pain felt different. He massaged some more and did a few more 'cracks' to my neck and arms though nothing like that first one. In a few minutes I could lift my arm over my head with no pain whatsoever. And all this behind the cash register in an electronics store!!
Feeling much better, I told John I'd like to go see Janitzio Island after all. We hopped on a Combi and went to the pier to catch a boat out to the island. The boats are long and almost flat-bottomed with long benches on either side. About 20 of them were lined up at the pier, but Wednesday is not one of the big visitor days so all but one were empty. The boats have a roof and plastic curtains that can be pulled down in case of rain. The trip took about 30 minutes. Janitzio is further away than it looked, and quite a bit bigger than I expected. On the way across the lake, a 4 man combo played traditional Mexican songs and then passed the hat for tips. Since the island is inhabited by mostly Purepecha Indians, the boat was full of people returning home, some from working in Patzcuaro, some school kids in their uniforms. The women were all doing embroidery work, and they wore beautifully stitched skirts, aprons and blouses with colorful edges and flower designs. The guide book called Patzcuaro lake "impossibly blue" but with so many little towns surrounding it, and none of them with adequate sewage treatment, I found the lake to be "impossibly brown". However it doesn't have an odor. I have no idea if it has fish in it or if they're edible.
I think the island might be a volcanic spatter cone based on it's shape and the color of the exposed rocks. On the flattened top of island is a monument to Jose Maria Morelos, a hero of the revolution. It is a huge statue of the man with his right arm raised to the sky in a fist. John had no interest in climbing up to the statue, an elevation of about 500 feet, so I left him in a restaurant where he ate little fried whole fish that resembled french fries and drank a beer. The route was up staircases and sloping streets. There are no motorized vehicles on Janitzio, so I have to assume that people carry everything to the top by hand or with the aid of donkeys, all their home furnishings and goods for the little stores. Weekends the island is packed with tourists, but on a Wednesday the vendors are hungry. Each one of them attempted to sell me something as I huffed and puffed up the steep hill. Entrance to the monument is $6p, about fifty cents. The thing is huge and views from the base are amazing. Rain clouds were moving in and there was lightning off to the southwest. I entered the statue through a narrow door and inside were six levels accessed by staircases. On each level there were 10-12 murals depicting Morelos' life from birth through his life as a revolutionary leader, to his trial and execution. The Mexican revolution didn't go quite as well as the American one. All of the leaders were executed before the war was over, and their heads were displayed in cages for years in a plaza in Guanajuato. I saw two of the actual cages, skulls long gone, in a museum there last February. In the raised arm of the statue, a staircase leads to the 'cuff' of the statue's jacket, and from there one can see unfettered views in all directions. I was alone inside and the stairs were steep and narrow. It felt like I could fall backwards at any moment. The staircase inside the arm was more dangerous, there weren't even rails to hang onto. Finally at the top, I was too short to actually see over the cuff edge, the lightning and rain drove me back downstairs. The area around the base is filled with stalls and small restaurants, most of which were closed. The rain came down hard and I was fairly drenched by the time I got to the bottom. These middle-aged knees don't care much for downhill walking and with cobblestones wet and slick, it was slow going. The ride back was bumpy and the water choppy, but the little band played valiantly and I hope they got plenty of tips.
John headed back to the house and I went again to Patzcuaro to check out the Aurrera grocery, which he said is the equivalent of Walmart. Not quite but close. I wanted to purchase soy milk, olive oil, and parmesan cheese, none of which are standard fare for Mexican markets. After an hour looking I managed to find all three items and a few other things including green oranges from Veracruz that turned out to be the juiciest oranges I've ever bought. A Combi ride home to make squash with parmesan cheese for dinner, and it was time to hit the sack. Whew.
The morning dawned clear with clouds hanging over the mountains on all sides of the lake. It was cool and moist, but the sun shown for a while. John said he looks every morning to see if there's any sunshine, then quickly does a load of laundry so his clothes have a little time to dry. It was breezy this morning too, which speeded up the drying process.
We both slept better with the cat locked up, and even the cat seemed to have a better attitude, not quite so aloof and haughty. Contrite would better describe him. Perhaps he learned his lesson. Probably not. He yowled when there was someone to bother. Locked up and alone, he probably didn't let out a peep. But who would know? He was in a little building not attached to either of our rooms.
Around 10:00 we headed into Patzcuaro for business purposes. We decided to go to the seat of the revolution for El Grito on the 16th of September. This is Mexico's 200th anniversary of the revolution when they broke away from Spain. It all started in Dolores Hidalgo, so we suspect the party there will be huge, the fireworks innumerable, and the crowds giddy. It will be like being in Boston or Philadelphia in 1976 on the 4th of July. John knows a woman who will rent us a little apartment for the week, and we had to transfer money to her account in order to secure the rental. I also wanted to take advantage of the fact that Bancomer here would cash my traveler's checks, so I cashed the rest of them.
From now on, I will keep traveling money in a separate account and transfer money to it when needed. That way, if someone were to get my account number and password from an internet transaction, the most they'd get would be the little amount in there at any given time. Security in Mexican online banking is not what it should be. When I was in San Miguel, I joined an online Yahoo group that consisted of mostly ex-pats. The horror stories were numerous. Some people had their checking accounts cleaned out and attached savings accounts as well. It scared me. But taking a large amount of cash on vacation is equally stupid, so I opted for traveler's checks. Who knew it would be such misery to get them cashed?
 |
| Janitzio Island as seen from Eronga. |
Once all the business was attended to, we had lunch at two seafood stands that were next to each other on the edge of Plaza Chica. We got a shrimp cocktail, one from each vendor. Mine was exquisite. It was served in a large glass like they used to make hot fudge sundaes in, tall and tapered at the bottom. It was filled about three quarters full with cooked shrimp, topped with onions, hot peppers, a large chunk of avocado, and then filled to the brim with tomato sauce that was tangy and sweet. At the other stand, John ordered a smaller version that was not sweet at all, his was peppery and had a stronger tomato flavor. They were both delicious, but I liked mine a lot better. The peppers were hot enough to make me sweat and I have quite a tolerance for spicy food. It was the best meal I've had here so far, and it was from a street vendor!!
 |
| Janitzio Island with fisherman. |
 |
| A resort seen from the boat to Janitzio Island. |
 |
| Women on the boat, doing embroidery. |
I think the island might be a volcanic spatter cone based on it's shape and the color of the exposed rocks. On the flattened top of island is a monument to Jose Maria Morelos, a hero of the revolution. It is a huge statue of the man with his right arm raised to the sky in a fist. John had no interest in climbing up to the statue, an elevation of about 500 feet, so I left him in a restaurant where he ate little fried whole fish that resembled french fries and drank a beer. The route was up staircases and sloping streets. There are no motorized vehicles on Janitzio, so I have to assume that people carry everything to the top by hand or with the aid of donkeys, all their home furnishings and goods for the little stores. Weekends the island is packed with tourists, but on a Wednesday the vendors are hungry. Each one of them attempted to sell me something as I huffed and puffed up the steep hill. Entrance to the monument is $6p, about fifty cents. The thing is huge and views from the base are amazing. Rain clouds were moving in and there was lightning off to the southwest. I entered the statue through a narrow door and inside were six levels accessed by staircases. On each level there were 10-12 murals depicting Morelos' life from birth through his life as a revolutionary leader, to his trial and execution. The Mexican revolution didn't go quite as well as the American one. All of the leaders were executed before the war was over, and their heads were displayed in cages for years in a plaza in Guanajuato. I saw two of the actual cages, skulls long gone, in a museum there last February. In the raised arm of the statue, a staircase leads to the 'cuff' of the statue's jacket, and from there one can see unfettered views in all directions. I was alone inside and the stairs were steep and narrow. It felt like I could fall backwards at any moment. The staircase inside the arm was more dangerous, there weren't even rails to hang onto. Finally at the top, I was too short to actually see over the cuff edge, the lightning and rain drove me back downstairs. The area around the base is filled with stalls and small restaurants, most of which were closed. The rain came down hard and I was fairly drenched by the time I got to the bottom. These middle-aged knees don't care much for downhill walking and with cobblestones wet and slick, it was slow going. The ride back was bumpy and the water choppy, but the little band played valiantly and I hope they got plenty of tips.
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| Bass player in the boat band. |
John headed back to the house and I went again to Patzcuaro to check out the Aurrera grocery, which he said is the equivalent of Walmart. Not quite but close. I wanted to purchase soy milk, olive oil, and parmesan cheese, none of which are standard fare for Mexican markets. After an hour looking I managed to find all three items and a few other things including green oranges from Veracruz that turned out to be the juiciest oranges I've ever bought. A Combi ride home to make squash with parmesan cheese for dinner, and it was time to hit the sack. Whew.
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| Fried whole fish, called Charales. |
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| John about to down a fish. |
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| Down the hatch!!! |
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Patzcuaro and Erongaricuaro
Tuesday, Sept. 7, 2010
I suppose I should explain what I'm doing here in Mexico. I'm house-sitting. More or less. I'm working on my novel, seeing some sights, practicing Spanish, and eventually I'll go to Dolores Hidalgo to see the 200th Anniversary celebration of the Mexican Revolution. My friend John Chavez from Santa Fe has a friend, known locally as El Gringo Roberto. Robert's wife died last spring. He has not been back to the states in several years so he needed someone to come stay in his house while he was away. John volunteered but also said he didn't want to stay the entire time and could someone else relieve him? Roberto agreed. It was an "any friend of yours is a friend of mine" sort of deal. So here I am.
Roberto's house is very pleasant and organic. It is a series of small buildings connected by covered porches, walkways and stairs. The yard and gardens are full of flowers, flowering trees and small sculptures. There are five buildings. The one with the high pitched roof is the tool shed. The big one with lots of windows is the living room upstairs and a room and bath downstairs. John has been living there. The cat wouldn't let him live in the master bedroom. So I get that one. The kitchen is between the bedroom and the living-room building. It's the smallest room in the complex, definitely not designed by people who actually cook. Off to the side of the tool room is a small lean-to where the washer and dryer are, though neither work terribly well. Eating is done either in the living room or at several outdoor tables under the porch or out in the patio. The entire property is surrounded by a 7 foot wall and the entrance is a large steel gate with a small door built into it. From the decks and the patio the view is of Janitzio Island and Patzcuaro lake.
Then there's the cat. I don't know his name but I call him Yowler. He's white with black spots and decidedly unfriendly. I've moved into his space and he didn't care a bit for that. Last night he yowled to go out so I let him out, then he yowled to come in so I let him in. Repeat, repeat. The cat can also open the door to the living room which closes with a definite bang. John's room is directly underneath. I sleep pretty soundly, but I woke up around 2:30 to more yowling and figured he wanted in again. When I opened the door he wasn't outside. Suddenly he dashed between my feet and out the door. He'd been inside all along. I was confused. In the morning John looked like a zombie. He had been up all night futzing with the darn cat, waking up every time the living room door banged, etc. Without so much as a "good morning" he said, "We've got to do something about that cat!" The decision was made to move the cat to the tool shed. He likes to hang out in there anyway, and there's a cat box inside the door. So late in the afternoon we waited until we saw him go into the shed and then locked him in. He can yowl all he wants but everyone is going to get a good night's sleep tonight!
We walked the two blocks to the plaza in Eronga to check out the market. It was drizzling and dark. Few people were set up so we decided to take the Combi into Patzcuaro. The Combi's are little white Nissan buses with bench seats along the sides and one in the far back. They hold about 12 people on the seats, and cost 10 pesos, about eighty cents. I guess the distance from Eronga to Patzcuaro is at least 10, maybe 15 miles. It's a curvy though relatively flat road. Along the way are nasty speed bumps but between those the Combi's go like a bat out of hell. There are hundreds of them all over the place, probably half the road traffic are Combi's. The other half are delivery trucks and very few private cars. On Janitzio, there are no roads or vehicles at all. The only way to get there is by boat.
When we left the house it was cool and damp but by the time we reached Patzcuaro it was cold and raining. I needed to buy a jacket so I purchased one of those classic Mexican cotton "hoodies", in Turquoise and plum. We ate breakfast at a little cafe that had the worst waiter in the world. He didn't bring us coffee for the longest time, then no cream, then finally breakfast but not the juice. John saw him walking off down the street and pondered the possibility that he's waiting tables at a restaurant down the street too. Maybe he's hoping for double tips, but unfortunately, double nothing is still nothing.
I took five traveler's checks with me. John had successfully cashed them at the Bancomer Bank before. The manager at Bancomer in Tlaquepaque was the first one to tell me "No Vale". This time however, we were treated royally and the manager didn't even open my passport so he never knew about my multiple name problem. The cashier handed over the money and we were on our way. So much for corporate policies. It all depends on who you deal with and where. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Now I have enough cash to last for a while.
Patzcuaro is a colonial city with several interesting converted haciendas. One has 11 patios and is now a bunch of artisan shops. The city is a major tourist destination for people from Mexico City and Guadalajara. It's high, cool, and with many good craftspeople and artists. A great place to escape heat and crowds. We wandered all over. I bought a broad straw hat for about $2.50, and that helped keep the rain off. Around 2:30 we hopped on the Combi and headed back to Eronga. Bad timing. School had let out and the streets were packed with kids in their uniforms with their grandmother escorts, teenagers in matching outfits including the shoes, and all the people now off work for siesta. The Combi we boarded was full once we sat down, yet it still picked up seven more adults who stood and swayed and held onto the bars mounted above the side benches. The little bus is barely tall enough for ME to stand upright, the taller men had to hunch over. We sped down the winding roads at full speed, in the rain, people swaying to and fro, cattle grazing on the sides, and it felt downright dangerous. I now understand why I see so many people crossing themselves when they get on buses and airplanes.
Back in Eronga we shopped for produce at the now bustling market which occurs only on Tuesdays and fills three streets with booths. I purchased all kinds of fresh vegetables, mangoes and a bag of what I thought were cherries. The lady said they were in the same family, but called them Nanches. I think she said they were cherries to get me to buy them. When she sold them to other people she dumped a tablespoon of chile powder into the bag and then squeezed half a lime over it. At the house, I used an iodine dropper to sterilize water for the veggies and soaked the 'cherries'. What a surprise to find they were something else altogether. It's the weirdest fruit I've ever eaten. It is the size and shape of a yellow cherry, with a large pit, but the texture similar to pears, the skin like that of a green olive and the flavor is indescribable, except that it leaves the same after taste as panela cheese. And to make it even more mysterious, no two taste the same. There are subtle and not so subtle differences. Some are sweeter, some more bitter, some have a slight olive flavor but not briny, and a few really taste like cheese. I think that's why she added chile powder, to even out the flavors. I'll eat the kilo that I bought, but I don't think I'll buy them again. But who knows, the weirdness might grow on me.
I suppose I should explain what I'm doing here in Mexico. I'm house-sitting. More or less. I'm working on my novel, seeing some sights, practicing Spanish, and eventually I'll go to Dolores Hidalgo to see the 200th Anniversary celebration of the Mexican Revolution. My friend John Chavez from Santa Fe has a friend, known locally as El Gringo Roberto. Robert's wife died last spring. He has not been back to the states in several years so he needed someone to come stay in his house while he was away. John volunteered but also said he didn't want to stay the entire time and could someone else relieve him? Roberto agreed. It was an "any friend of yours is a friend of mine" sort of deal. So here I am.
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| The laundry house, the tool shed which is a traditional Purhepecha building called a Troje, on the right. |
 |
| Living room house with John's bedroom below, Troje to the left. Kitchen & bedroom house in the far back. Interesting "floor" plan! |
We walked the two blocks to the plaza in Eronga to check out the market. It was drizzling and dark. Few people were set up so we decided to take the Combi into Patzcuaro. The Combi's are little white Nissan buses with bench seats along the sides and one in the far back. They hold about 12 people on the seats, and cost 10 pesos, about eighty cents. I guess the distance from Eronga to Patzcuaro is at least 10, maybe 15 miles. It's a curvy though relatively flat road. Along the way are nasty speed bumps but between those the Combi's go like a bat out of hell. There are hundreds of them all over the place, probably half the road traffic are Combi's. The other half are delivery trucks and very few private cars. On Janitzio, there are no roads or vehicles at all. The only way to get there is by boat.
|
| View down the street, Janitzio Island off in the lake. |
I took five traveler's checks with me. John had successfully cashed them at the Bancomer Bank before. The manager at Bancomer in Tlaquepaque was the first one to tell me "No Vale". This time however, we were treated royally and the manager didn't even open my passport so he never knew about my multiple name problem. The cashier handed over the money and we were on our way. So much for corporate policies. It all depends on who you deal with and where. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Now I have enough cash to last for a while.
Patzcuaro is a colonial city with several interesting converted haciendas. One has 11 patios and is now a bunch of artisan shops. The city is a major tourist destination for people from Mexico City and Guadalajara. It's high, cool, and with many good craftspeople and artists. A great place to escape heat and crowds. We wandered all over. I bought a broad straw hat for about $2.50, and that helped keep the rain off. Around 2:30 we hopped on the Combi and headed back to Eronga. Bad timing. School had let out and the streets were packed with kids in their uniforms with their grandmother escorts, teenagers in matching outfits including the shoes, and all the people now off work for siesta. The Combi we boarded was full once we sat down, yet it still picked up seven more adults who stood and swayed and held onto the bars mounted above the side benches. The little bus is barely tall enough for ME to stand upright, the taller men had to hunch over. We sped down the winding roads at full speed, in the rain, people swaying to and fro, cattle grazing on the sides, and it felt downright dangerous. I now understand why I see so many people crossing themselves when they get on buses and airplanes.
Back in Eronga we shopped for produce at the now bustling market which occurs only on Tuesdays and fills three streets with booths. I purchased all kinds of fresh vegetables, mangoes and a bag of what I thought were cherries. The lady said they were in the same family, but called them Nanches. I think she said they were cherries to get me to buy them. When she sold them to other people she dumped a tablespoon of chile powder into the bag and then squeezed half a lime over it. At the house, I used an iodine dropper to sterilize water for the veggies and soaked the 'cherries'. What a surprise to find they were something else altogether. It's the weirdest fruit I've ever eaten. It is the size and shape of a yellow cherry, with a large pit, but the texture similar to pears, the skin like that of a green olive and the flavor is indescribable, except that it leaves the same after taste as panela cheese. And to make it even more mysterious, no two taste the same. There are subtle and not so subtle differences. Some are sweeter, some more bitter, some have a slight olive flavor but not briny, and a few really taste like cheese. I think that's why she added chile powder, to even out the flavors. I'll eat the kilo that I bought, but I don't think I'll buy them again. But who knows, the weirdness might grow on me.
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