Travel by Inside Mexico

Visa study: 84% say AH1N1 will have no impact on their travel plans

margot — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 21:18:15 +0000

According to a recently published Visa Inc. survey, "Tourism Outlook USA", 84% of travelers say that the cost of travel and economic concerns will play a greater role in their travel decisions than fears of the AH1N1 flu virus.

The credit card and financial services company surveyed 1,000 US adults in May 2009 about their travel plans for the year, and the vast majority said that they would not alter plans because of the recent epidemic.

The results are consistent with recent statistical and anecdotal evidence that Mexico's tourist industry is bouncing back from the devastating blow of the influenza outbreak.

83%, however, say that they will curtail travel plans based on the economic environment, including traveling closer to home (31%) or traveling off-peak (46%).

Via CNBC

Havana: slowly complex

sue-ellen — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 20:40:16 +0000

My introduction to Cuba came before I left the Mexico City airport. As I boarded Cubana state airlines, I realized there were no assigned tickets. I headed for a window seat toward the rear, but a flight attendant blocked the aisle at the middle of the plane. I nodded toward the window. She sighed, annoyed at having to explain the obvious; the plane would tip over if passengers sat at the back. I thought that maybe my Spanish was failing me, but, as it turned out this was not an empty threat. Nor was this the only flaw of the Soviet-designed Ilyushin jet. Streams of thick white fog soon began pouring into the cabin from the air-conditioning vents.

I went straight to the exit row, tightened my seat belt, and took a deep breath. I opened the seat pocket. It was empty. No SkyMall. No airline magazine, no airsickness bag. It hadn’t occurred to me how comforting these details of air travel were. I shivered a little, realizing that at 30,000 feet above ground, what really keeps many of us tethered to civilization is the capitalist schwag in the seat pocket.

It had been my goal to see Cuba while Fidel was still alive, and I was full of expectations about the island that had taken a different path, rejecting many of the liberal assumptions about economics, government, and globalism. I was exhilarated to plan a trip to a place forbidden to Americans.

From Mexico, however, the path to Cuba is straightforward. Buy your ticket and go. Instead of Cold War-style restrictions, I found only minor banking inconveniences: you can’t use US credit or ATM cards, and there’s an extra fee to change American currency.

My first night I explored Havana. At dusk the streets fill up with life. Women sit in doorways catching the breeze; bare-chested men lean against cool stone walls. Following the dense streets off the Malecón, the seawall that protects Havana from crashing waves, Havana looks like a city that was abandoned and then re-inhabited years later by twice the number of people. Once-stately residences overflow with multiple families. What paint is left peels off the old buildings. Outside the center, the streets are nearly empty of motor traffic. Occasional antique Cadillac and Dodge cars rumble by. I walked down the middle of an unlit street, squinting into the shadows at its edges, marveling at the feeling of walking through a city frozen in 1959.

During my first days, I moved around inside the tourist bubble. The tourist world is hermetic, with its own infrastructure: tourist cabs, tourist money, tourist police. I would realize later that the system separated locals from tourists. Cubans were prevented from entering the hotels, going to certain beaches, even from entering beach resort cities (Veradero) without a work pass.

It took time and a fortunate encounter before I started to see beyond the preconceptions I had brought with me.

One afternoon, a fellow tourist and I were walking downtown. We asked a local – who happened to be an off duty cop – for directions, and struck up a conversation. That night, we took Pedro out to dinner. The tab, including beers came to about $20 USD. Money is a constant concern in Cuba. In other places, low salaries are balanced by a cheap local market. Not in Cuba. A bag of powdered milk is $6 USD. A pound of meat is $1 to $2. Considering that the average wage is about $10 a month, we had spent two month’s salary on a single meal.

Pedro invited us to visit his family’s house, and I began to see the Cuban government through Cuban eyes. My idealized vision did not die quickly. I argued with my new Cuban friend that there were benefits to his country’s system. He responded by explaining the coordinated local vigilance, where neighbors can turn each other over to the police for graft or illegal economic activity. He told me that his police squad was instructed explicitly to stop black Cubans.

On walls, socialist mottos are painted in bold: “Patria o Muerte,” and “Todo en Linea con Fidel.” More often, though, I heard “la juventud no tiene esperanza” from taxi drivers, the managers of the casas particulares, and even from the hustlers in the street trying to get me to buy cigars, rum, girls, or cocaine. Being a short-term tourist means being a resource. To Cubans, tourists represent both danger and opportunity: a risk that they can get in trouble with the State, and the possibility to make some money.

As a foreigner it is easy to ignore some of the island’s most difficult realities. Short-term tourists don’t have to worry about the being turned in by their neighbors, aren’t limited to the national wage, nor do they have to present a national passport to move from city to city. As much as I wanted to become close friends with Pedro, our circumstances were just too different.

At moments, however, the guarded relationship between us relaxed. On the way back from visiting his family, Pedro brought me to at a restaurant for locals. We each ordered spaghetti that cost about 75 cents. The noodles were bloaty, the cheese crumbled over it was sour and it was served in a plastic bag with water tomato sauce. Pedro looked around. There were no utensils so he took out his laminated national ID, and used it to scoop the noodles into his mouth. I looked through my wallet for a utensil and took out a credit card. After a long day of walking, we ate it all.

Puerto Vallarta and the Riviera Nayarit, "Exploring San Pancho"

Shauna — Wed, 27 May 2009 18:38:48 +0000

Puerto Vallarta and the Riviera Nayarit, "Exploring Sayulita"

Shauna — Wed, 27 May 2009 18:03:48 +0000

Puerto Vallarta and the Riviera Nayarit, "Exploring Bucerias"

Shauna — Wed, 27 May 2009 17:01:46 +0000

Puerto Vallarta and the Riviera Nayarit, "Exploring the North Shore"

Shauna — Wed, 27 May 2009 16:14:37 +0000

TRAVEL UPDATE: Cruise ships return to Mexico

simon — Thu, 21 May 2009 16:14:13 +0000

Swine flu is slowly abaiting, and with the recent lift of travel restrictions for Mexico by the UK Foreign Office and the US Centre for Disease Control (CDC), cruise ships are beginning to arrive in Mexico again.

On the 19th May, the very first cruise ship arrived in the port of Acapulco, the Sun Princess travelling from Costa Rica. In the last few days, several cruise liners have announced that they will be returning to Mexico by the end of May or beginning of June. Both Carnival and Royal Caribbean Cruises have announced their return to Mexican shores, bringing relief to the communities of tourist destinations such as Cozumel, Cancun and Playa del Carmen.

This is fantastic news for the Mexican tourism industry. Looking to lose up to $5 billion as a result of the travel warnings and general fear created by the press, the Mexico needs all the help it can get to reestablish this hugely important industry.

San Luis Potosi: soon to boom again

sue-ellen — Tue, 19 May 2009 04:13:04 +0000

Just before the street lamps come on in the Jardín de Tequis, about a ten minute walk west along Venustiano Carranza from San Luis Potosí’s city center, the sky is a deep, electric blue. It’s an unusual color, visceral, as if you were a whale peering from the depths, toward the surface of a shimmering sea. Then the yellow lights twinkle on, and the color of the sky deepens, but holds the twilight for what seems an impossibly long moment. Grackles squeak and alarm from the trees in the park. Teenagers skateboard. Young parents push strollers.

Along the north side of the park there’s some bustle where Doña Juanita and her family are slapping together tacos rojos. The matriarch’s been at it for 48 years. Red because there’s a touch of chili in the masa, with a bit of queso fresco rolled into a tortilla dipped in hot oil, topped off with fried carrots and potatoes, shredded lettuce, and more cheese.

This little park sits out beyond the impressive colonial center, but it’s a point of convergence for potosinos. San Luis Potosí is one those cities that’s deceptively large. It still feels like a collection of neighbors, even though it claims a million-plus population.

An SUV stops and two women in their 50s step out to order. How long have you been coming for these tacos? One laughs and drops her hand to her waist, palm down.

Since she was a little girl. A young man rolls up with his novia in a silver VW bug that looks like a crumpled ball of aluminum foil, gets his tacos, asks me if I want to see the jewelry he makes. A day laborer ambles by, inquiring. Might Doña Juanita have any chores for him? He munches one of her quesadillas.

Doña Juanita’s a tough, wiry great-grandmother, who skips along so fast with her cane that her grandkids hustle to keep up. Business, she says, is better than ever. She’s selling more tacos at higher prices and she’s got more than enough help; the night I’m there a daughter, a daughter-in- law, and a granddaughter are working for her.

My family loves the business too, she says.

All the potosinos I met noted that San Luis Potosí is safe. I felt completely comfortable walking between the city’s seven plazas late at night, admiring Latin America’s first master lighting plan, designed by Mexican architects Gustavo Aviles and Maria Pinto-Coelho to “project unexpected geometries and shadows on streets, plazas and buildings, [and to] create narrative sensations of space and time.”

Perhaps big city folks will find the absence of below-the-surface crackle boring. But San Luis Potosí is a livable place with good infrastructure, one of the best hospitals in the region, and, with students from the Universidad Autonoma de San Luis Potosí everywhere you turn, the energy of a university town.

It was founded as a boomtown in 1592. The Spanish discovered gold in the nearby Cerros de San Pedro. The wealth that poured out of those gold and silver mines is evident in the mansions at the city center and street after street of well-preserved colonial houses. In fact, San Luis Potosí’s next goldmine may well be these buildings. At least one is being turned into an impeccable boutique hotel.

Located in the north-central part of the country less than two hours from San Miguel de Allende, few tourists stop in San Luis Potosí. Why, you might wonder, is San Luis Potosí, with more colonial buildings than any Mexican city save the DF and Puebla, off the track for traveling foreigners and Mexicans, whereas San Miguel is virtually synonymous with Americans living in Mexico? Surely it has to do, at least in part, with the whimsy of history that built a storied expat tradition in one place and not in another.

The lack of attention shows in the rental market: A quick check of the classifieds puts well located 2-3 bedroom apartments at $180-500 USD per month.

They’ve got a shiny little airport where you can’t get lost and direct flights to San Antonio. As more tourists and expats arrive -- as they are bound to do -- it will be interesting to see if potosinos continue to reimagine their present by including their past: Doña Juanita’s tacos, the colonial architecture, and an easy neighborliness.

Getting there

By car: Take Route 57 north.
By bus from Mexico City: 5hrs. from Mexico Norte Station, ETN: $ 360; Primera Plus:$125

By air: Aeromar, 1 hour 15 minute flight from Mexico City. $ 250-300 RT.

Where to stay

Hotel Panorama. Amazing views from the top floors. $50-80 USD.

Hotel Filher, Universidad No. 375 Centro. A good traveler’s hotel and SLP's oldest. $45 USD for a double.

Westin SLP. Fancy hotel, outside the center. $250 USD and up.

Where to eat

Rincón Huasteco, Cuauhtemoc 232 (corner Tomasa Esteves). Excellent traditional food from the state’s eastern lowlands. $

Restaurante 1913, Galeana 205. Solid Mexican fare with local touches in lovely space. $$

Doña Juanita’s tacos, Jardín de Tequis. Cheap, tasty, filling street food. ¢

Ajijic: Expats flex voting muscles

sue-ellen — Mon, 11 May 2009 04:06:03 +0000

The map shows Ajijic, an idyllic mountain village overlooking Lake Chapala in the state of Jalisco, as squarely within the boundaries of Mexico. M-E-X-I-C-O. But for all Mexico's florid politics, it sometimes seems as though PRI, PAN and PRD are just initials and that the real political dialogue is between the Republicans and the Democrats, or between the Conservatives, the Liberals, the NDP and the Bloc Québécois.

So many artists, adventurers and retirees from the U.S. and Canada have streamed into the string of towns known as Lakeside, that some of the region’s promoters now tout it as the world’s largest expatriate community. And the expats – an estimated 15,000 of them – have brought along their politics with their golf clubs and easels. Their arrival is turning this booming area south of Guadalajara into a case study of expat politics at a time when vote-abroad initiatives are expanding worldwide and the U.S. is poised for its most competitive presidential race in generations.

U.S. citizens have been voting abroad for decades, but last year marked the first time that Canadians could cast ballots from another country. Both the U.S. expats and their Canadian counterparts had blockbuster contests to capture their attention, even all the way down in Lakeside. The Democrats swept control of the U.S. House and Senate, while the Conservatives grabbed Canada’s House of Commons in an election that saw the New Democrats emerge as a major third-party force.

The Canadians of Ajijic and their U.S. neighbors, not surprisingly, approach campaign season very differently. The Canadians are low-key and steer clear of partisan vitriol. The Americans are much more active, sometimes even disrupting otherwise genteel dinner parties with their feisty political squabbling.

Several hundred fans turned out to see George P. Bush, the President’s half-Mexican nephew, in Ajijic in 2004. It was the launch of Republicans Abroad at Lake Chapala.

“A lot of (local) people discovered they weren’t the only Republicans,” said Norm Pifer, former president of the Lake Chapala chapter.

This time around, the Republicans have been relatively quiet; some say they are discouraged by President Bush’s abysmal poll numbers and a war in Iraq that is approaching its 5th year. They didn’t hold a Fourth of July event this year and, in fact, no current member of Republicans Abroad at Lake Chapala could be reached for this article.

The Democrats, on the other hand, are highly visible and highly energized.

"I find that either the [Lake Chapala] gringos are liberal to ultra-liberal, or they’re by far the loudest,” said Mike Osborn, a self-described “apolitical person” who lives in Ajijic. “I’ve never seen anyone near what I’d call a Rush Limbaugh.”

On July 4 this year, more than 50 of Lake Chapala’s Democrats gathered for grilled hotdogs and baked beans and screened the musical 1776 at a home on Mexico’s largest lake.

“Democrats,” said Howard Feldstein, chair of Democrats Abroad Mexico, “are much more vocal.”

Which can’t be said for any of the party loyalists among the Canadian expat community in the area. “It’s not that Canadians don’t have strong views,” said Rob Parker, a former Conservative Member of Parliament who know lives is Ajijic. “You just don’t get the pitched Conservative/Liberal/NDP discussions that you would with
the Republicans and Democrats.”

About 8,000 Canadians live in the Lake Chapala area during the winter. Despite a voter registration drive organized by the local chapters of the Canadian Club and Elections Canada, there was no influx to the ballot box. Only 914 Canadians in all of Mexico requested ballots for the 2006 race, according to the Canadian Embassy. Still, Parker said, that was “a reasonable turnout" for the first year of voting abroad. Part of the problem, he said, was that some Canadian residents feared they would be tracked down by tax collectors if they revealed their Mexican addresses.

The last Canadian election produced a minority government, which could mean another big election campaign in the near future. So the Canadians of Lake Chapala will have something in common with their U.S. neighbors, who are sure to spend the next year debating the presidential race.

All of which means Osborn will have to get tough. His circle of friends is “50/50 liberal/conservative", so he adheres to a firm rule designed to keep the peacepeace: no politics while socializing. One time a newcomer attempted to discuss politics at dinner, but was met with silence. “After a moment,” Osborn said, “the conversation returned to the price of shrimp.”

Mexican tourism industry to finish 40% down in 2009

simon — Thu, 07 May 2009 02:47:26 +0000

I'm writing this post having just seen Alfredo Coutino of Moody's Economy.com being interviewed on CNN Espanol.

Mr. Carino offered some context for the potential economic consequences of the swine flu crisis that is gradually starting to abait in Mexico. They are certainly not pretty.

According to the Director of Moody's America Latina, the Mexican tourism industry will fall by around 40% by the end of 2009. Mexico's GDP is expected to fall by roughly 0.5%.

This is a shocking but believable figure from the international analysis and forecasting firm.

Over the past week, I have been traveling through the state of Quintana Roo, from Chetumal, through Tulum and Cozumal, and now heading toward Cancun, I have seen exactly what many others who are staying away from Mexico haven't: an industry decimated by factors completely beyond their control.

The media's obsession with narcos and Mexico-as-a-failed-state were almost enough to give tourists a reason to stay away, but the AH1N1 virus has seen them and raised them. It's now a whole new game of cards.

Since my escape from Mexico City, I have visted truly incredible, beautiful places. From small beach towns, incredible lagoons and eco parks, to big tourist destinations like Playa del Carmen and Cozumel. All very different but unified by the fact that there are simply no tourists there.

People are desperate for business. Arriving in Playa del Carmen yesterday was an eye opener.

Previously, we'd been to the Bacalar Laguna and the Mahual beach resort on the Costa Maya, but these are places that, while reliant on tourism, are pretty small. It didn´t seem out of the ordinary that there were only a few people around. The southern Costa Maya is still finding its feet when it comes to major international tourism and has not built up the infrastructure nor the reputation of the tourism giants further north.

But Playa was a ghost town. If you don't know Playa del Carmen you need to know that it grew up as as a fishing village ferrying divers to the brilliant blue waters off the island of Cozumel.

Over the last ten years it has grown and grown, partially in the shadow of Cancun but partly as the less plastic alternative. It is now very much like a Caribbean cruise ship stop, full of shops selling everything a tourist might want, from 'I love Playa del Carmen t-shirts' through to high-end designer brands.

In any other year this town would be over-run by tourists. Today there was hardly a gringo in sight. Salespeople in places like this are never shy, but there seemed to be an heightened sense of desperation and dissapointment when I declined to buy their hand rolled 'Cuban' cigars.

Cultural centres have also been hit hard. A couple of days ago we stayed in Tulum, home to several important (and magnificent) Mayan temples.

As it says on the label, the ancient Mayan culture is what the Riviera Maya is all about. A huge proportion of foreign visitors to the region come here to view these temples, with the beach holiday being an added bonus. And yet in the last week, travelling the length and breadth of it, I haven't been able to see a single archaeological site.

In fact it was telling that, walking past the bus station I was stopped by a group of European back packers, who, seeing a fellow guero, wanted to know if the ruins were open. When I told them that they weren't, they fell into a huddle to consider how to salvage their trip.

Now, I'm not trying to be alarmist or mournful, just realistic. It's easy to let these numbers become an abstract part of the media's 24/7 swine flu coverage, but it's another case altogether when you're actually experiencing it for yourself.

That's why, as a community, we need to pull together to promote Mexico as one of the greatest countries to visit on Earth, and do everything we can to change people's minds about cancelling holidays, cutting short vacations.

As expats living in Mexico, or seasoned travellers who long ago fell in love with its charms, we need to be blogging, tweeting, sending emails, writing on our facebook walls, commenting on magazine and newspaper articles, basically everything we can that might help encourage others to populate these destinations whose only income is from tourism.

I don't want to come across as all 'feed the world' or Live Aid on you, but I do believe that we can make a difference and have a reponsibility to do our best for the country that many of us have adopted as home.

We'd love to hear more from all of our readers about your favourite places to visit or take a vacation in Mexico. What makes it special? When's the best time to visit? What hotel would you recommend? Let us know in the comment section below, and in my next blog post I'll be telling you my top places to visit in Quintana Roo.

Canadian Embassy throughout Mexico to re-open May 7th

sue-ellen — Wed, 06 May 2009 16:29:41 +0000

The Canadian Embassy throughout all of Mexico will resume full services on Thursday, May 7, 2009, but is open today to offer emergency consular and passport services.

Keep in mind that many Canadian tour companies and airlines (WestJet, Air Transat, Air Canada Vacations and Sunquest) in the country have suspended air traffic between Canada and Mexico. Air Canada, Mexicana, Aeromexico, Aviacsa, and some American airlines have reduced their scheduled flights from Mexico City to Canada due to a decrease in passengers.

Many countries, including Canada, have implemented screening mechanisms for flights arriving from Mexico so you should be prepared for delays. Travellers departing from any airport in Mexico should expect to encounter screening procedures before boarding outbound flights. Travellers who present flu-like symptoms may be denied boarding.

On April 27, 2009, the Public Health Agency of Canada announced a travel warning for Mexico recommending that Canadians defer all non-essential travel. Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada (DFAIT) updated its Travel Report for Mexico accordingly.

Check this following website: http://www.voyage.gc.ca/countries_pays/report_rapport-eng.asp?id=184000

DFAIT has set up a Global Issue page with all influenza-related travel advice, including information on screening procedures that other countries are implementing: http://www.voyage.gc.ca/countries_pays/issues_enjeux/article-eng.asp?id=1083

A list of doctors and hospitals in Mexico can be found at the following websites :
http://www.canadainternational.gc.ca/mexico-mexique/emerge-urgence/med.aspx and http://clues.salud.gob.mx (in Spanish only).

BREAKING NEWS: Mexico reopens archaelogical sites to public on May 6

simon — Wed, 06 May 2009 02:51:22 +0000

In a another step towards normality, El Universal this evening reported that the National Advisary Committee for Culture and the Arts (Conaculta) has instructed the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) to reopen it's 175 archaeological sites around Mexico to the public.

Furthermore, major cultural centres such as Bellas Artes in Mexico City and La Tallera in Cuernavaca will also open their doors as of Wednesday, May 6th. Other museums, galleries and cultural centres will reopen gradually over the coming weeks.

This is great news for the ailing Mexican tourism industry that has been hit a devastating blow by the swine flu outbreak (AH1N1) over the last two weeks. Now is the time to help revive tourism in Mexico by letting potential visitors know of the cultural riches waiting for them - from Mayan temples to modern masterpieces.

Opening on Wednesday 6th of May:

Bellas Artes, Mexico City

La Tallera, en Cuernavaca, Morelos

Ignacio Ramírez "El Nigromante", San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato

Museo de Arte e Historia, Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua

Los Cabos: enchants and delights

sue-ellen — Tue, 05 May 2009 04:06:37 +0000

More than ever, Los Cabos is Mexico’s hottestdestination. Cabo San Lucas and SanJosé del Cabo are the big players in Mexicanbeach tourism.You’ll find brand-name golf courses, marinasfor your yacht, first-class spas, the country’s mostexpensive hotel and some of the best chefs cooking up newwave Mexican cuisine.

San José del Cabo International is the fifth busiest airportin Mexico with visitors from the US and Canada, Asia andEurope bustling in and out of it all day, everyday. Delta,American Airlines, Continental, Northwest and United flydirect to Los Cabos from their hubs. You can get a low-costticket from Mexico City on one of Mexico’s new budget airlines,offering a comfortable flight, movie and a snack.

Arriving at the airport can be an adventure; it’s too crowdedand the signs and directions are confusing. Get a bus, orrent a car and get out of there as fast as you can.

Hotels

Contrary to what many people think, there are options forevery budget in Los Cabos. You can get a cheap hotel nearthe beach or an expensive one in the middle of town (or viceversa, obviously). Cabo San José is more of a city destinationthan Cabo San Lucas, which is a port-resort. The mostfamous hotels and timeshares are in Cabo San Lucas, suchas the Las Ventanas hotel and an amazing variety of PuebloBonito hotels and resorts.

Pueblo Bonito Rosé (it really is pink), stands out from thecrowded beach line, and offers an amazing picture-postcardview of the stone arch that yachts sail by, where adventurousdivers explore the sea bottom and, in winter, seals hang out.

Changes in Scenery

San José is a desert beauty. There you are surrounded by redsand and cactus; it’s more like a meditation than a picnic.

Cabo San Lucas has the deep blue sea, the rock archand…shopping.

Since the port is especially designed to welcome big cruiseships, there is an enormous variety of duty-free products.There’s even a duty-free Liverpool, a branch of the big Mexicandepartment store where, as in other duty-free shops, youcan find the requisite perfumes, alcohol, tobacco, chocolates,sunglasses, electronic devices and souvenirs, and also getgreat prices tax-free on clothes and shoes, too.

Restaurants

“The American tourists come with a new attitude, an openmind. They don’t want a recreation of their every day mealsat home; they want to try a gourmet meal, Mexican gourmet,”says Antonio De Livier, executive chef de cuisine at PuebloBonito’s La Frida, “gourmex” restaurant.

Keeping pace with the food revival sweeping Mexico, the“pacific cooks” in Los Cabos have built culinary dream teamsthat use fresh, high quality ingredients to prepare creativedishes for tourists willing to pay top dollar for a singular,gastronomic experience.

“I try to be the ’author‘ of my preparations. I take my experienceand memories and develop a new way of cooking thesame rib-eye,” says Chef De Livier, who worked for years in the most competitive kitchens in Boston. “Those are the BigLeagues. I learned to cook with real monsters.”

Don Emiliano is another restaurant to keep in mind, althoughthe chef is currently in Japan. Chef Margarita Salinasleft Mexico City years ago to follow a dream. Now, she is cookingfor some of the world’s most demanding customers, theJapanese. Not Japanese tourists either-- a Japanese investorinvited her to open a restaurant in Tokyo, called La Colina.

At El Chilar, Chef Armando Montaño solves a big, tastyproblem everyday. Sounds like magic, but he’s figured outhow to keep the scent and flavor of Mexican chiles whileremoving the burn.

“My food is based on chiles, but my main clients are Americantourists. So, we have developed techniques to keep the aromaand spicy taste without the hot sensation.” Like Chef Salinas,Chef Montaño left a successful career in México City to come toLos Cabos. “I made my dream come true,” he says.

What to do?

Relax. Get away from it all. Just enjoy the food, the weatherand the beach. You don’t have to lift a finger, if you don’twant to. Many of the timeshares and hotels are all-inclusive;you needn’t leave the premises. Pueblo Bonito Sunset Beach,the biggest in the Pueblo Bonito family, offers nice villas,swimming pools and more than six different restaurants. Adeli opens very early in the morning and serves sandwichesand snacks. You can lunch at the buffet bar or watch a filmin the cigar salon. For a romantic dinner, enjoy the terrace atLa Frida and relax beside the golf course with a massage atthe Pacífica spa and resort. However you choose to enjoy theregion, pleasure and relaxation are BOTH on the menu.

Zitácuaro: The Monarch butterfly migration

catherine — Mon, 04 May 2009 16:58:09 +0000

Stretched out on the ground in a mountain clearing, I gaze up at the blue sky set ablaze with orange and black wings dancing against a breeze. Indigenous legend says that Monarchs are the returning spirits of warriors and children. Encircled by mighty oyamel trees bending under the weight of thousands of resting butterflies I close my eyes and listen to the hum of brilliantly colored wings and it seems plausible.

The mountains in the Macheros Sanctuary, tucked just outside the town of Zitácuaro in eastern Michoacán, are alive with the flutter of the travelers from afar. Only here, in a delicate pocket of endangered Mexican highland forest, can the Monarchs from Canada and the eastern United States survive the winter.

The Monarchs’ journey begins in August when they set out on the same path their great, great grandparents did one year ago. Relying on circadian rhythm and the position of the sun to guide them, the butterflies migrate south, arriving in November and leaving again in March.

Scientists are still baffled by many aspects of the annual migration, but it is now widely believed that the Monarchs’ ancestors were tropical butterflies that ended up in northern climes as a result of chasing their ever-depleting life source -- milkweed. Despite this, Monarchs never evolved to hibernate in order to survive the colder weather, and so each year they must return south when winter comes.

Straddling the Michoacán and Estado de México border, the Macheros Sanctuary remains relatively unspoiled by the crowds that flock to neighboring sanctuaries. Many are daunted by the trek there, a steep hour-and-a-half climb on horseback and then by foot. I find the hike exciting. As we ascend through cool shadows and patches of sunlight the first traces of treasure appear -- the glitter of a fallen wing and the occasional butterfly, drifting alone.

The guides who lead me up the mountain and stand vigil protecting the Monarchs are members of the local ejido. Established at the beginning of the 20th century as agricultural cooperatives, the ejidos were intended to redistribute wealth to poorer communities. Then twenty years ago the highland forests were deemed untouchable and logging was outlawed, without compensation.

Since then, the families here have struggled to adapt. They hope to find new promise in tourism, which they believe holds the future for both the Monarchs and their communities.

I learned of the Macheros Sanctuary through the owners of the Rancho San Cayetano in Zitácuaro. Pablo and Lisette Span own and operate the charming inn nestled in five hectares of beautiful gardens.

Visits to Rancho San Cayetano are intimate and unique, as the two love to share their passion for the Monarchs and conservation with their guests. The great room at the inn boasts a stone fireplace and a wall of butterfly-patterned stained glass windows. A trip to see the Monarchs that doesn’t end here in reflection and conversation, would seem strangely incomplete.

Back on the mountain, time passes and a young guide offers a final tour before the temperature drops. We enter the cool canopy of the forest and he gingerly cups a dormant butterfly in his hands. After blowing gently through his fingers, he opens his hands. In a burst of color, the Monarch flies away.

“They just need a little warmth,” he explains with a smile.

I smile back and think of how true that is for everyone who has journeyed to Mexico.

Practical Advice

-The Monarchs can be seen between November and March

-They are most active during the heat of the day (from 12 pm to 3pm)

-Take cash for entrance fee, horse and guide

-Pack water as refreshments are not available

Where to stay & eat

Rancho San Cayetano
Carretera a Huetamo, Kilometer 2.3, Zitácuaro, Michoacán
Tel. (715) 153 1926
Website: ranchosancayetano.com
Email: hotel@ranchosancayetano.com

How to help

Help save the Monarch and the forests through the Michoacán Reforestation Fund, a non-profit organization with a goal to “support forest ecosystem and habitat restoration programs in and around the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere.” Planting nearly half a million pine and oyamel trees each year, the MRF is working to ensure the survival of the Monarchs’ habitat while at the same time keeping the interests of the local communities in mind. Each tree costs just 50 cents (USD). michoacanmonarchs.org

Walking on faith for Guadalupe

catherine — Mon, 04 May 2009 02:49:33 +0000

Doctors say that walking is good for the heart. For many, it's even better to walk with faith. Guadalupe, they believe, can relieve any pain.

In some towns, the journey starts on the 9th; in others, like in San Juan del Rio, it's the 10th. Pilgrims walk all night, avoiding the heat of the day, meeting fellow faithful along the way, sharing shelter when their legs will carry them no more and food when their energy flags low. Their faith is collective and unwavering, the goal singular: to arrive at La Villita, the town that is home to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, where they will receive mass at the stroke of midnight on December 12th, when the priest will bless all who have ventured so far on foot, and some on their knees.

Fireworks light the highway, and the pilgrims huddle in parks and roadside bus stops for mass along the way. Showing their faith and thanks through dance and song, they ask the Virgin for protection, perhaps even a miracle. Most of the pilgrims carry images of the Virgin, tucked under their arms or strapped to their backs. Some statues are as heavy as four kilos, but their faith weighs more.

People from every state and many corners of the world come to worship at the Cerro del Tepeyac, the site where the Aztecs paid homage to the goddess Cihuacoatl ("mother of the serpent") also called Tonantzin ("our mother").

The apparition of Guadalupe there dates to the time of the Spanish conquest and is the point of fusion between Catholicism and the religion of our indigenous ancestors. Tonantzin represents femininity, the mother, the same way the Virgin of Guadalupe represents the Virgin Mary of Christianity. All of three are present here, their individual significance and provenances made more potent through the syncretism.

Guadalupe is an icon of Mexican culture, of mexicanidad, and the patron saint and protector of Mexicans throughout the country and the world. Francisco Diaz, a Mexican who has lived in Pennsylvania for the last 15 years, drove his truck-adorned with the flags of the United States and Mexico,and images of la guadalupana--for two months before arriving at Peñafiel, his birthplace. There he joined his parents and siblings for the journey to Cerro del Tepeyac, confident that the fatigue of the long journey would slip away the moment he arrives at the house of "Our Mother".

Residents from pueblos along the route emerge from their houses into the avenues and highways with sandwiches, fruit, coffee and water, gifts that help the pilgrims continue their holy walk. Señora Conchita, at 80, is too old to make the journey; it's up to the young to prove their faith in this way. But she can prepare food, so that the pilgrims will be strong when they arrive at the Basilica. She hopes the Virgin will take this contribution into account on the final day.

Chilangringo couple skips the Flu-opolis for a long weekend in San Miguel

aran — Sun, 03 May 2009 16:11:37 +0000

You know the swine flu frenzy is starting to get to you when you’re sitting on your couch in Mexico City for the 7^th night in a row wondering if the new Beverly Hills 90210 series will be coming on.

My husband and I reached this point on Thursday. We officially maxed out on panicked Mexican newspaper articles, no restaurants to eat at, and the general paranoia weighing heavily on the D.F. It was time to get out of town.

After a bit of online research and commentary from San Miguel de Allende bloggers, we decided that the town was just the ticket. San Miguel did not appear to be suffering from the same widespread panic that had prompted the shut-down of nearly everything in Mexico City. It is also a mere 3 hour drive away, thereby allowing us to avoid flu-screening drama or potential proximity to sickies at the airport. So Friday morning, we hit the road to confirm this for ourselves.

Arriving in San Miguel was truly a breath of fresh air. After parking our car, we momentarily hemmed & hawed over what to do with our blue face masks. Shoving them into our back pockets seemed like a good compromise, and this was confirmed by a sea of tapabocas-free faces wandering the streets. We discovered that the flu pandemic has certainly not left San Miguel untouched—bars, clubs, religious services, and large events have been closed, in addition to the mandated school closings. So while life in general here feels a bit quiet, it is still functional.

Almost all restaurants are open for normal dine-in business, and we’ve only passed by a few retailers with closed doors. (that is not entirely surprising, given that the hot month of May is in the low season for San Miguel tourism.) The vast majority of fruit sellers and artisan merchants are peddling their wares, albeit voicing many alluring promises of 20% or 30% discounts off the marked prices. San Miguel’s many parks have been filled mostly with mask-less people both yesterday and today.

In El Jardin, the main plaza downtown we even observed one mariachi band braving today’s 93F (34C) weather. And the most refreshing part—a dozen folks dancing to El Mariachi Loco with seemingly no concern that AH1N1 flu germs might be transmitted via trumpet.

The most prevalent reminder of the current “state of alert” reiterated by Guanajuato State’s Health Minister is the blue face masks worn by a majority of food service workers we’ve observed.

I have found some humor even in that, however. All street vendors are definitely wearing the masks. But the fancy restaurant we visited for lunch today? Not a mask in sight. And last night’s dinner at another higher-end spot? Our waiter’s mask seemed to be in a different position every time he came to our table. We haven’t been concerned in the least, but it has been amusing to note the apparent correlation between money and immunity to the flu virus!

As we visited multiple hotels yesterday to find lodging for our two nights here, many proprietors confirmed our suspicions—business was great through the beginning of this week with solid bookings through the next. But by mid week, the cancellations started rolling in...both from foreigners scrapping trips to Mexico, and from Mexicans who now wanted to get out of the country. Of the 23 rooms in our mid-range B&B, only 2 other couples joined us at breakfast. It’s quiet, but not as quiet as our lives have been in Mexico City all week.

We have one more night here in San Miguel. Tonight we’ll be celebrating an early one-year wedding anniversary dinner at The Restaurant, one of San Miguel’s hot “see and be seen” spots as we’ve been told by several locals.

We are both exceptionally happy about having chosen this for our weekend swine-flu escape. We´re even happier every time an SMA resident doesn´t recoil in horror after learning that we live in D.F., the hub of flu panic.

For any San Miguel readers, thank you for your hospitality & giving us a much-needed toque of normalcy during this time of country-wide stress. We promise to leave your state just as we found it: 100% free of confirmed cases of swine flu.

Julie Carmann
www.midwesternerinmexico.com

Holbox Island: The road less traveled

catherine — Sat, 02 May 2009 17:54:45 +0000

First there's the flight to Cancun, then the taxi to the bus station, followed by a three-and-a-half hour ramble through roadside pueblos and jungly Yucatan brush. When I finally arrive in Chiquila, all cramped legs and aching back, the 30 minute water taxi ride is still ahead of me. I schlep the bags and my weary bones into the boat and wonder if a package tour to Acapulco wouldn't have been the ticket.

But it comes into view: a mirage on the horizon takes the form of briny mangrove swamp, then sandy beach and shallow green-blue waters bobbled with brightly-colored fishing boats. The cares of everyday life ebb away, and even my overstuffed luggage seems miraculously lighter.

Holbox Island, 26 miles long and in most places less than a mile wide, is tucked into the corner where the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean meet. It has exactly one town, also called Holbox.

Nature here is abundant and diverse. Holbox is part of the Yum Balam nature preserve, home to turtles, dolphins, jaguars, and panthers. Gigantic whale sharks-the cornerstone of the island's tourist industry-feed in nearby plankton-rich waters and allow curious humans to swim alongside. And there are lots of birds: Holbox and tiny Isla Pajaro, 30 minutes away by boat, give refuge to 155 bird species that come and go during the course of each year.

There are no paved roads on Holbox, and, in fact, no cars. Residents and tourists of all ages zip around the dusty town square in the island's ubiquitous golf carts (the first time you see a ten-year old wheel around a corner with his younger siblings in tow it's unnerving, but you soon get used to it); others walk along the shore collecting shells.

I follow the breeze to the beach for fried fish and a cerveza. The sun is high overhead and the sea is intensely green. Time stands deliciously still. Work has begun on a highway leading directly from Cancun to Chiquila. Many residents are fighting it, fearful that development will bring what Holbox has successfully resisted for so long: high-rise hotels, traffic, air conditioning and us vs. them social friction. But that's the future. For now, Holbox is a place to leave it all behind and reduce life to its simplest and most beautiful rhythms.

Holboqueños are descendants of shelter-seeking pirates and local Mayans. An 1886 census counted 30 inhabitants on the island. Today it's about 1,500, most of whom make their living through tourism and fishing.

And then there are the quirky types from all over Mexico and the world, drawn to Holbox's beauty and easy pace: Sandra, the Venezuelan-English-American real estate agent; Mitra, an Iranian-Canadian-by-way-of-San Miguel jazz singer; Juan, the yucateco guide who leads whale shark expeditions and birding tours; Sveinung, the Norwegian filmmaker, married to Sandra, the Cuban hotelier-songwriter.

The new bakery in town is owned by a chilango couple. There's a veritable gang of Italians, including Italo, a gentle James Bond in a Hawaiian shirt, the unofficial mayor of the town, his two faithful German shepherds always slinking along beside his bare feet.

Halfway through my vacation I'm greeting them by name and learning their stories. Holbox is a small town-well, a tiny town-but somehow, unbelievably, not claustrophobic. The warmth and openness of everyone and the prevailing live-and-let-live ethic make for comfortable interaction between holboqueños and foreigners, tourists and residents.

"We are an island full of misfits," says Maggie (the retired New Zealand-Canadian software engineer), over a glass of red wine and a smoke.

Un relax Holbox-style isn't for everyone. When the rains come (and they do, torrentially) the island becomes a thousand slurpy lakes, sidelining golf carts and rendering shoes of any kind superfluous. The mosquitoes and the ubiquitous biting noseeums, known locally as chaquiste, challenge the most potent repellent. But for those who appreciate a simple beach vacation-the kind that used to be the norm, and that seems to be fast disappearing-Holbox is a hidden treasure.

The sun is dipping into low, late day clouds and the sea is a quiet green-grey. In twelve hours, I'll begin the trek home: back to the traffic, the work, the clock. But that's tomorrow. Right now it's just me and sky and the sound of the lapping waves.

How to get there

By Bus: Several departures daily from Cancun to Chiquila, 3/12 hours, $60 pesos

Cancun-Chiquila Private Taxi: $75 USD

Water Taxi from Chiquila to Holbox: 20-30 minutes, $40 pesos

Where to Stay

Villa Los Mapaches: These private beachside bungalows are a great place for un relax; from $50 per night in high season. losmapaches.com.

Casa Las Tortugas: The rooms are charmingly decorated and have wonderful balconies; from $70 per night high season. holboxcasalastortugas.com

Where to Eat Casa Sandra: You're in great hands with this boutique hotel’s chef “El Cubano Feliz.” casasandra.com

Villa Mar: Fried fish. Cold beer. Ocean view. Life is so good. (984) 875 2091.

What to Do

Whale Shark Tours (May through September). Swim with gentle giants.

Willy's Tours: holboxisland.com/tours/willys.htm

Birdwatching: Isla Pajaro is 30 minutes by boat from Holbox.

Mosquito repellent and cash. There are no banks or cash machines on the island.

For more information: holboxisland.com

Swine flu travel advisories for Mexico

catherine — Fri, 01 May 2009 07:11:49 +0000

More countries are issuing, or talking about issuing, Mexico travel advisories related to the swine flu virus, or influenza A(H1N1). Meanwhile US Vice President Joseph Biden appears to be talking about issuing a travel advisory... everywhere.

On Wednesday the World Health Organization raised the flu pandemic alert level to a 5. A 6 would mean a pandemic is underway -- signifying that there is sustained human-to-human transmission of the H1N1 virus in multiple countries.

"We're really connected by a lot of travel, people moving from point to point," said the WHO's Dr. Keji Fukada, explaining the H1N1 flu's global path.

Here we bring you a round up of relevant articles, information, and opinions:

World Health Organization, Swine Influenza

The gist: In straightforward fashion, the WHO "does not recommend restricting international travel." When traveling, they do recommend avoiding crowded, enclosed spaces, and "close contact with people suffering from acute respiratory infections," and they recommend hand washing and "cough etiquette."

CDC, Avoid nonessential travel to Mexico

The gist: US travelers should not go to Mexico unless they have to. If you must go, CDC makes these recommendations, including that travelers who are at high risk of severe illness from influenza take antiviral medications.

CQ Politics, Biden Issues Expanded Travel Advisory

The gist: If US Vice President Joe Biden had his way, folks wouldn't travel "anywhere in confined spaces now," including airplanes and subway. The good news for Mexico: "It's not just going to Mexico," he told NBC Today Show viewers. The bad news for all of us: his geographical parameter was "anywhere."

The Washington Post: Argentina, Cuba Cancel Flights from Mexico

The gist: Argentina announced a ban on direct flights from Mexico through Monday, and on Tuesday Cuba announced a "48-hour halt on flights to and from Mexico."

China View, EU health ministers fail to agree on travel ban to Mexico over swine flu

The gist: Health Ministers from the 27 European Union member countries could not agree on whether or not to issue a travel ban to Mexico. In favor of the ban: the Netherlands, Great Britain, and France. Against: Spain, Germany, Austria, Denmark.

CTV.ca, Canada's Mexico travel advisory earns criticism

The gist: Canada championed the WHO's decision-making power on issuing travel advisories; Toronto's economy lost about $950 million in the wake of SARS-related travel bans back in 2003. So while the US, France, Britain, and Germany also advised citizens against non-essential travel to Mexico, critics are crying foul on Canada for joining their ranks.

El Universal, Bolivia anticipates limiting flights from Mexico

The gist: Bolivia's minister of health, Ramiro Tapia said there are no cases of swine flu yet in Bolivia, but that the country has prepared an emergency plan under which access to the country would be restricted to passengers from Mexico. (That also goes for Mexican mega singer Vincente Fernández, who has a May 1 concert scheduled in Bolivia). The minister admitted this would be difficult given that there are no direct flights from Mexico to Bolivia; all air passengers pass through Buenos Aires, Lima and Panama.

New health screening for flu symptoms at Mexico airports

catherine — Fri, 01 May 2009 06:13:26 +0000

Mexico's Ministry of Communications and Transportation has issued a new health screening procedure for international travelers departing from the Mexico City, Guadalajara, Monterrey, Cancun, Cabo San Lucas, and Puerto Vallarta airports.

Passengers' temperatures will be taken, their general physical well-being will be evaluated, and they will be asked to complete a swine flu survey (which you can download from the Aeropuerto Internacional de la Ciudad de México website in English). Tests for the H1N1 virus may be administered to passengers.

"Passengers with high temperatures or testing positive for the H1N1 virus will be denied boarding," according to a Warden Message issued by the US Embassy to US citizens.

The survey asks passengers to check "yes" or "no" to having had the following symptoms over the past two days: fever higher than 39 degrees Celsius (102 degrees Fahrenheit), cough, headache, limb pain, joint pain, eye redness, nasal flux.

The US Embassy has advised citizens to allow time for delays at the airport given the new screening procedures.

For further reading:

Budget Travel, Swine flu: Are fever scanners at airports worthwhile?

The gist: Since SARS hit in 2003 all passengers arriving at Hong Kong's main airport are "scanned" for fevers. Depending on the outcome, passengers are pulled aside for secondary screenings, which could lead to a hospital quarantine.

El Universal, Mexico City: US says passengers with symptoms will not be able to travel

The gist: Re-iterates the US Embassy Warden Message in Spanish, pointing out that the US Embassy and its consulates will close May 1 and reopen May 6.

Crossing the border

sue-ellen — Fri, 01 May 2009 03:32:30 +0000

El Alberto, Hidalgo – The steeple of San Alberto Church is a shimmering beacon in the night for our group of about 40 people. We slide down a dust-and-rock strewn incline toward the soft river bank, and run across a shadowy glen to hide in a thatch of brambles that blocks out the constellations overhead.

Suddenly, a shot rings out.

Voices amplified by a crackling megaphone thunder from the road above: “Go back to Mexico. We don’t want you. Think about the snakes in the desert. Remember your families.”

Another gunshot sounds, and the Border Patrol drives away. We creep out from under the brambles and follow the river.

***

El Alberto, Hidalgo, an indigenous community of Hñahñu Indians, lies in central Mexico among hills plumed with cactus and scrub; a lush riverbank shades the Río Tula. The church, built in 1521, sits on a hill overlooking the town’s houses, many of which sit empty because their owners live in the US.

They started leaving this milpa farming community in the mid-80s, and for a time 60 to 70 percent of El Alberto’s people were living in El Norte. Now, about 20 percent of the 2300 villagers live in the US, the large majority illegally.

On this Saturday night the border is here in the middle of Mexico. Three years ago, the town’s citizens opened a border-crossing trail at Parque EcoAlberto. The trek has drawn nearly 4,000 visitors this year. In the late 1990s the town built a balneario, which became the foundation of the eco-park. The thermal waters fill a series of steaming blue pools encircled by a neatly manicured campground. Seven years ago, it occurred to the community’s governing assembly to create the border crossing simulation, which they christened the caminata nocturna, or nighttime hike.

The main component of the caminata’s success is that the people of El Alberto know exactly what it is like to cross the border. Here, they have distilled their real life or death struggles into a tourist spectacle that’s authentic enough to be believable (running in the dark is challenging), but not nearly “real” enough to scare off weekenders from the DF, who pay $200 pesos a ticket for the experience.

As Florentino García put it to me: “This park is like a store. You’ve got to sell well if you want your customers to come back.”

García and his El Alberto brethren are a second reason the park is doing well. An internal community reglamento dictates that every eight to ten years, each member of the community must give one year of unpaid social service. If your name comes up on the list and you’re living in Las Vegas, as García and many other Hñahñus do, you return to the village from Vegas.

Florentino’s last year of social service was in 1997, well before the caminata existed. That year he worked security at a local clinic: this year, he is the park’s treasurer and also helps build stone cabins for tourists. His wife, also from El Alberto, stayed in Las Vegas with their three daughters. When he's finished his service he will cross back to the US illegally. “It’s terrible. It’s horrible, it’s very, very horrible,” he says of crossing the desert.

***

A couple of hours – and a few scrapes and stumbles later – we huddle on a small hill and watch the drama of an arrest unfold in the blue-and-red flashing light of our ever-present pursuers, the Border Patrol. They cart away “The Fallen”, and we continue across another small stream, past a quiet cow, and into the bed of a waiting pickup truck.

Then we are blindfolded.

The night air whips around us as we rush down the road. When we arrive – wherever we are – the guides link our arms over each other’s shoulders and we form a silly conga line of the blind leading the blind … down hill. Finally we reach the end, and our guide allows us to remove our blindfolds.

The surprise revelation will make you blink, amazed. It’s as if you had closed your eyes, made a wish and got to watch it come true.

Talking to Florentino the next day, I ask him what the blindfolded part of the caminata means to him.

“The blindfold means tolerating hunger, not drinking, and crossing mountains and rivers … for us, los illegales, the blindfold is to cross,” he says. At the end of the journey, “the surprise is that you’re in the USA.”

What: Simulated border crossing, 3-4 hour nighttime hike called the caminata nocturna.

Cost: $200 pesos/person, discounts with accommodations rental. Where: Parque EcoAlberto, Ixmiquilpan, Hidalgo

Reservations: parquealberto@yahoo.com.mx, www.parqueecoalberto.com.mx, Tel: 01(759)727-7016.

Accommodations: campground: tent and blanket rental at the balneario (thermal pools). Stone cabin rental at El Cañon, overlooking the Río Tula.

Other activities: rappel, swimming, boat rides on the river.

April 30, 2009 Travel Advisory: Government of Canada

margot — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 17:59:42 +0000

The CanadianEmbassy in Mexico has issued the following information related to travel toMexico and the H1N1 virus:

The Canadian Embassy in Mexico City will be open for all urgent visa and passport needs;
Canada's Foreign Minister is recommending that Canadians cancel all non-essential travel to Mexico until further notice;
The Embassy is suggesting that all Canadian citizens currently in Mexico register with the Embassy, to facilitate the receipt of information and updates;
People who wish further information can call 01-800-706-2900, from withing Mexico or 613-996-8885 internationally, or email sos@international.gc.ca.

Consult the following web pages for detailed information:

Mexico travel update: www.voyage.gc.ca/countries_pays/report_rapport-eng.asp?id=184000
Information on the H1N1 Virus:ww.voyage.gc.ca/countries_pays/issues_enjeux/article-eng.asp?id=1083
Register of Canadians living aboad: www.voyage2.gc.ca/OLRPUBLICDFAIT/olrportal.aspx?Page=Start&LanguageCode=4105

Valle de Bravo: nature lovers' paradise

sue-ellen — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 14:44:58 +0000

Tiny Valle de Bravo, long known as a weekend playground for wealthy Mexico City dwellers and adventure sports seekers, is starting to turn its penchant for outdoor pursuits into viable eco-tourism projects, which in turn are stimulating interest from visitors.

With Valle’s eco-tourism industry still in its nascent stages, the Comisión Nacional de Areas Naturales Protegidas (CONANP) set up operations in the area a year ago, and sees huge potential for the development of eco-tourism in the region, due to its abundant natural resources.

“We are aiming to convert the ‘normal’ tourism you see here into ecological, rural, and alternative tourism, as well as working on sustainable development,” says Ricardo Vallín León, eco-tourism representative for CONANP in the Valle region.

Designated a pueblo mágico by the Mexican government, Valle de Bravo is a charming colonial town of winding, cobbled streets and red-roofed, whitewashed houses draped with bougainvillea. It sits on a hilltop above Lago Avándaro, providing ample opportunity for a gamut of water sports, while the pine forests that surround the town are ideal for hiking, mountain biking, and horse riding. Valle is also one of Mexico’s top spots for hang-gliding and paragliding: on a sunny weekend day you can see dozens of daring tourists floating across the cloudless sky.

Beyond these outdoor pursuits, another prime factor makes Valle ripe for eco-tourism: outside town in the municipality of Temascaltepec is the Piedra Herrada monarch butterfly sanctuary. The winter migration of millions of monarch butterflies from Canada and the United States to Mexico’s warmer climes is one of the country’s most spectacular natural phenomena. Between November and March visitors from all over Mexico and the world come to see these hardy but delicate creatures form shimmering carpets of orange and black over the pine trees.

The forests where the monarchs habitually winter are threatened by illegal logging, prompting the creation of government reserves to protect these well-traveled creatures. “Piedra Herrada, the monarch butterfly sanctuary, is one of our strongest ecotourism investments in the area,” says CONANP’s Mr. Vallín León. “Apart from the sanctuary itself, we are working with the people who live there [on the ejidos—communal lands] to train them as tourist guides and educate them on why the sanctuary is necessary.”

Another eco-tourism site is the Monte Alto Reserve, which offers mountain biking and hiking trails, camping areas, and 607 hectares of pine forest. CONANP is also planning, in conjunction with the local community, the construction of a Cultural Center for Conservation, which will include a monarch information center, local training courses on good ecotourism practices, a reforestation project, and a natural water recycling and treatment facility.

One high-end commercial venture that combines ecological and adventure pursuits is the Rodavento hotel. Operating since 2004, this hotel just outside Valle is made up of rustic-style cabañas with wood-fired stoves tucked into the woods around a lake. “The idea is to offer guests the possibility of luxury accommodation while also being exposed to nature,” says General Manager Carlos del Rosal.

And what is the hotel doing on the environmental front? "All our water is spring water and we have a natural water treatment plant as well. In the restaurant we focus on buying from local producers and most of the food is organic," he says. Rodavento offers an extensive menu of activities both on and off its grounds, including rappelling, kayaking, and mountain biking.

Antonio del Rosal, executive director of Rodavento’s parent company Río y Montaña, says the people now coming to Valle de Bravo are more environmentally conscious than perhaps they were a few years ago. “Having said that, I still think a lot of people don’t necessarily come here with ecotourism in mind. However, once they are here they get involved in outdoor activities and that helps to promote eco-consciousness.”

Valle is getting there on the environmental front and whatever your budget, eco-friendly lodges, bed and breakfasts, or campsites are available for choosing.

Getting There

Valle de Bravo is in the Estado de México, about two hours by car from Mexico City. From Toluca, take the carretera that goes to Temascaltepec. Exit at Valle de Bravo (Km. 40). You’ll pass the Nevado de Toluca and Los Saucos before reaching Valle.

Learn More

Valle de Bravo tourism office, Porfirio Díaz and Zaragoza, three blocks from the main Plaza. Open: Mon-Fri 9am-7pm, Sat 9am-2pm. Tel: 726 269-6200. www.valledebravo.com.mx.

Rodavento. The hotel has 28 cabaña-style rooms, starting from $1,702 pesos per person per night for double occupancy. Cabañas can sleep up to four people. Activities include: mountain biking, kayaking, climbing wall, rappelling, zip-lining, hang gliding, horse riding, and the hotel’s spa and temazcal (traditional steam bath). Tel: 726 251-4182, www.rodavento.com and www.rioymontana.com.

Comision Nacional de Areas Naturales Protegidas (CONANP). Valle de Bravo office: 726 269-6505 www.conanp.gob.mx.

Tara FitzGerald is a freelance writer and frequent contributor to Inside México. Her website is www.tarafitzgerald.co.uk.

BREAKING NEWS: Air Canada, WestJet cancel selected routes to Mexico

margot — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 01:15:33 +0000

Canadian airlines Air Canada and WestJet have announced the cancellation of certain routes to Mexico because of concern over the swine flu outbreak.

According to a press release on the the Air Canada website,Canada's largest airline plans to continue service to and from Mexico City. Travelers with Mexico City reservations may call 1-888-247-2262 to cancel or rebook flights with no penalty.

Air Canada operations to Cancun, Cozumel and Puerto Vallarta have been cancelled through June 1. All flights will be in operation through May 4th for Mexico-based travelers who wish to leave Mexico.

Regional airline WestJet will suspend service to Cancun, Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan, and Puerto Vallarta, also beginning May 4th. Flights to Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta will resume on June 20, 2009. Service to Cancun will resume in the fall.

Canada: The great white norte

sue-ellen — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 21:39:41 +0000

Most Mexicans don’t have much experience shoveling snow, but one family, arriving for a holiday at the central Ontario cottage community of Williams Landing last December, got a real taste of winter. A blizzard had left snowdrifts so deep that their taxi couldn’t make it to their cottage, forcing them to shovel a 200 yard path to the door.

Arturo Casso and Tania Lozano, two young professionals from Mexico City, traveled to Canada in November 2006 and had a more representative experience. They visited a friend in Toronto and then joined a coach tour to Niagara Falls, Ottawa, Montréal, and Québec City. Their itinerary reflects the most popular destinations for Mexican tourists: over 60% visit the province of Québec, and 51% go to Ontario (like Tania and Arturo, many visit both). The next most popular destination is British Columbia, attracting 19.7%of Mexican visitors. Urban centers are the prime draws, but ski resorts like Whistler and Mont-Tremblant are also popular, and Niagara Falls remains a perennial favorite.

Whereas many Mexicans travel to the US to visit friends and family, the lack of a significant Mexican immigrant community in Canada (just 42,740 according to the 2001 census) means that most tourists come to explore. According to the Canadian Tourism Commission (CTC), more than a quarter-million Mexicans visited Canada between January and November 2007, making Mexico the sixth–largest source of tourists to Canada (following the US, UK, France, Japan, and Germany). More importantly, this number is up 17.5% from the same period in 2006, by far the highest growth rate of any of the major source countries.

A survey of middle-class and affluent Mexicans conducted for the CTC by the Menlo Consulting Group, Inc.. indicates that these numbers are just the beginning. Vacationing in Canada appealed to 75.9%of respondents, but despite this high level of interest, only 16.2% had actually made a trip. This is in marked contrast with the case of the US: of Mexicans who indicated a desire to visit there, 87.7% had done so. The significant gap indicates a major opportunity for the Canadian tourism sector, and stepped-up marketing should enable the industry to capitalize on this sizeable latent demand.

One such effort is being undertaken by Jaime Horwitz, President and Chief Executive of CanadaenEspanol.ca, deMexicoaCanada.ca, and Canadamigos.com, a network of websites dedicated to the promotion of Canada to Hispanics around the world. He combines internet marketing, social networking sites, and blogs to attract potential visitors. Horwitz agrees that much more can be done to increase Canada’s visibility among Mexican tourists: “Much of the marketing that has been used in recent years is quite conventional, albeit important. Many tourism businesses in Canada have not realized the potential yet… even though many are now considering Mexico an important market that deserves more attention.” The Canadian government and tourism industry, he says, have trouble competing with the massive advertising budgets of destinations like Las Vegas and Orlando, but there are a number of factors that work in Canada’s favor.

One is the relative ease of travel: unlike the US, Canada does not require visas for tourists from Mexico, only a valid passport. Another draw is Canada’s positive reputation. César Albarrán, a Mexico City film writer, cites this as a reason why his parents sent him to learn English at a Canadian summer camp when he was eleven: “They thought Canada seemed more friendly [than the US].” He returned for nine summers as a camper, then as a counselor, and has since vacationed in Canada on multiple occasions.

Tania and Arturo also cite this positive image: “The people there were so open and friendly.” They were hard-pressed to recall any negative experiences during their two-week stay: aside from the November weather, an indistinct holler from a passing car in Toronto and a rigorous but polite interrogation by immigration personnel were their worst recollections. They count themselves as part of the 85.4% of Mexican visitors to Canada who would like to return, with one condition: as Tania says, “Only in the summertime.”

OH, CANADA!

Where to go

Canada’s maritime provinces (New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland) are popular with visitors from all over the world, but for Mexican tourists it’s undiscovered country. They are missing breathtaking scenery, friendly people, and great folk music. Seafood lovers can sample traditional fishcakes at wharfside restaurants in picture-postcard fishing villages like Peggy’s Cove, Lunenberg, and Hall’s Harbour; or experience world-class fine dining at a vineyard restaurant in Nova Scotia’s lush Annapolis Valley.

History buffs will love colonial Halifax; the Viking ruins at L’Anse-aux-Meadows, Newfoundland; and Grand Pré, Nova Scotia (immortalized by Longfellow’s poem Evangeline). Finally, kids of all ages shouldn’t miss the home of Anne of Green Gables in Prince Edward Island.

Websites:

tourismnewbrunswick.ca; newfoundlandlabrador.com; novascotia.com; peionline.com; canada.travel/splash.es.html

Jonathan Jucker is Canadian. He can be reached at jonjucker@hotmail.com.

Hotels: what women want

sue-ellen — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 21:54:07 +0000

Hotels, especially those catering to business travelers, are finding that an increasing number of their guests are female. A generation ago, a woman checking into a hotel alone was quite a novelty, but international chains report that women now account for more than a third of their business. With that in mind, hotels have set out to answer that age-old question: what do women want?

Surveys, such as one conducted by the Cornell University School of Hotel Administration, have tried to find out. When it comes to accommodations, women are much more fastidious: room temperature, scent, and decor are all important. Male guests are generally happy as long as they get sports on TV and a well-lit desk on which to work.

Women want strong locks on their doors and peepholes they can look through without standing on a chair.

They want ample shelf space in large bathrooms with well-lit mirrors. Small bars of soap annoy, and many women prefer bathtubs to showers. “I can spend an hour in a bubble bath relaxing, unwinding, reading,” one respondent wrote in her survey.

Amenities like hair dryers, large vanities, and skirt hangers are standard features in better hotels, and even modest establishments often include an iron and ironing board in every room. More opulent places go even further, offering a staff of butlers to take care of the pressing. In fact, they will even pack and unpack bags if guests wish. Since some women dislike having strange men paw through their underwear, these elegant establishments offer not only butlers but also “butlerettes”. Many hotels also employ women as room service waiters, as female guests feel more comfortable when someone of the same sex brings them breakfast or dinner, while men don’t seem to mind either way.

Women often prefer room service to dining alone in a restaurant: it is bad enough to be on your own at breakfast or lunch. According to the research, few women feel comfortable by themselves in a restaurant at night or stopping unaccompanied at the lobby bar for a drink. Because of this, executive lounges have become a blessing for women traveling alone. They can escape the confinement of their rooms to relax with other people and perhaps strike up a conversation without worrying that their friendliness will be misconstrued.

Because women traveling alone sometimes do feel uncomfortable or insecure, some hotels offer a floor for ladies only. One woman I know growled that this arrangement sounded like a convent, something a jealous husband would book for his wife.

Despite these amenities aimed at women, hotels for business travelers still belong primarily to the “man’s world”. Sports and cigar bars proliferate (though the Presidente InterContinental is the only hotel I know with a tearoom). Guys typically show up alone for a drink, find new chums, and gab and guzzle until late. Women business travelers tend to go back to their rooms, open up their computers, and get some work done. That may explain why, every year, companies send more and more women on business trips.

Jimm Budd can be reached at jimm@jimmbudd.com.

Catemaco: restless spell

sue-ellen — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 17:34:25 +0000

The pull of Catemaco was witchcraft. Lured by spells and spiritual cleansings, we imagined a white-robed clairvoyant channeling ancient Olmec spirits in a steam- and smoke-filled hut.

The idea of visiting Catemaco, in southeastern Veracruz, transfixed us for months. The more we postponed it, the more we became convinced of our need to visit. Whenever misfortune would strike, one of us would throw up her arms and declare, “That’s it, we’re going to Catemaco for a limpia.”

On the map, Catemaco is folded into the belt of volcanic mountains around Los Tuxtlas, a region cradled between two rivers and the Gulf of Mexico. The crystalline lake is a blue-green eye in the northernmost tropical jungle of the Americas. Magic and mysticism were sure to flourish in this far-off and bewitching place.

Of course, it would require an arduous journey to get there.

We left Mexico City by car early, when many Chilangos are just going to bed, and crossed into Veracruz by mid-morning. The beat of a son jarocho CD propelled us over the state line, where sultry gulf air enveloped the car and the arid Puebla highlands gave way to palms, cacti, and banana trees. We spotted waterfalls and dramatic gorges as we wove down through the jungle to the coastal plain.

Catemaco is no stone’s throw from the carretera, and the drive slowed once we left Route 150 and entered the free coastal highway. It’s a spectacular stretch: ocean views flirt with highway passengers on one side and boundless expanses of river basins flank the other.

After ten hours on the road (with a stop in Tlacotalpan) we finally hit the town of Catemaco and followed the lakeshore to Nanciyaga, an eco-resort completely off the power grid. Cell phone service goes dead and the solar-powered lighting in the cluster of cabins is kept at a minimum.

Perched on a clear, freshwater spring, Nanciyaga aims to revive spiritual symbolism from the Olmec era. Labyrinthine stone pathways lead from guest cabins to the “Tomb of the Jaguar” and an amphitheater where white-magic shamans gather each year for their annual conference; past the temezcal (sauna) hut and over a swinging bridge to the thatched roof dining area.

Between mud baths, massages, temezcal treatments and jungle tours, we stayed busy during the daylight hours. (After nightfall you’re expected to navigate with a flashlight). In the clear, placid mornings we canoed, spotting scampering baby crocodiles, tree-hopping monkeys, turtles soaking up the sun in floating gardens, and flocks of tropical birds.

Local resident and waiter Esteban Cortez Contreras sums it up quite simply: “The magic here is nature.”

From the moment we arrived we began hearing stories of curses, healings, and epiphanies. The black magic of the brujos (wizards) and the white magic of the shamans is sharply divided here. While we heard talk of dark magic and sacrilege, only “good” shamans are allowed to practice and confer at Nanciyaga.

Our last day in Catemaco came and we’d been so busy that we still hadn’t received a limpia. Between the morning’s activities we made our way to Nanciyaga’s resident shamans’ dens, through a snail-shell curtain and into dim, slatted shacks adorned with Catholic iconography.

Two minutes and $100 pesos later we were … clean? It happened so fast: a blessing muttered in a string of Spanish, a light-handed beating with basil branches and a cloud of smoke. Then, poof! Had all our dreams boiled down to this? A little hocus pocus charged at a Polanco lawyer’s rate?

Our shamans brushed off questions and sent us packing with clay amulets that testified to our spiritual cleanliness. With that, we climbed back into the car, headed home to the city.

A few days later, over lunch in Mexico City, a friend asked about our trip. She knew a woman who’d been divorced and lost two jobs following her cleansing.

So did our limpias work? We’ve wondered if we can chalk a good day up to genuine purifi cation, and whether a bad day means it was all a sham. Admittedly, within forty-eight hours of our limpias, one of us had been dumped and the other had developed a rash on her leg. Karma or coincidence? Bad luck or liberation?

All we know for sure is that the limpia worked to get us there. Perhaps that was the blessing.

TOURIST TIPS

Where to stay: Drive through Catemaco, but don’t slow down. In our opinion Naciyaga is the only place to stay: www.nanciyaga.com

What to do: The shaman limpia, temezcal treatments, and massages; the canoeing is spectacular; we give mud baths a mixed review.

What to eat: Mojarra de Catemaco (black bass) cooked either en tachgobi – special to Catemaco – or a la veracruzana. Malanga – root veggie. Pellizcadas – think quesadilla/ taco/ pizza. Nanciyaga sweet breads are famous. Hand-pressed Veracruz tortillas are delicious. Keep an eye out for carne de chango (once a dish cooked with monkey meat, now served with pork), and tegogolos – freshwater snails said to be an aphrodisiac.

Safeguarding the lake

Preservationists responded to environmental threats by establishing the Los Tuxtlas Biosphere Reserve in 1998. This protects 155,122 hectares and keeps the lakeshore largely free of commercial and residential development. Nonetheless, our canoe rides were ruined each morning when tourist-shuttling motorboats turned the glassy lake into a noisy, muddied basin. The area has yet to find true harmony between the local economy and ecological concerns.

Maya Harris and Catherine Dunn have been best friends since the eighth grade. They work for Inside México.

Mexico City beats

sue-ellen — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 18:20:30 +0000

The end of the road dropped Beat scribe Jack Kerouac into the horn-honking, whore-filled, mambo-blaring Mexico City of the early fifties. It was here that several Beat writers sought an intoxicating refuge from the late 1940s through mid 1950s.

William S. Burroughs came to escape problems with the law, and then found them anew; his Beatnik comrades sought adventure. “In 1949, it was a cheap place to live, with a large foreign colony, fabulous whorehouses and restaurants, cockfights and bullfights, and every conceivable diversion. A single man could live well there for two dollars a day,” Burroughs once wrote.

Burroughs, Kerouac, and company capered about the city and crashed in the Colonia Roma. In one of the DF’s most storied neighborhoods, these American rebels spun tales fueled by drugs, alcohol, and sex, and laced with melancholy and bohemian decadence.

The Beat stomping grounds of half a century ago nowadays bear no trace of their literary heritage, but what rebel would have wanted a brass plaque? Walk Roma’s hip and dingy streets on this unmarked homage route, and then imbibe some of the Beat spirit at a neighborhood watering hole (see sidebar).

The Cast

Jack Kerouac: Writer of On the Road, the 1957 title that defined the Beat generation. Famed for his frantic, explosive writing and his bohemian lifestyle.

Neal Cassady: As “Dean Moriarty,” the main character in On the Road, he earned his rep as an icon of the Beat generation rather than as an important writer.

William Burroughs: Best known for his book Naked Lunch, for creating a “cut and paste” style of writing, and for being a spiritual grandfather of the Punk movement in the US and UK. He lived in Mexico City for over five years.

Gregory Corso: Poet who wrote Gasoline and The Happy Birthday of Death. Part of the Orizaba 210 crowd.

Allen Ginsberg: Poet and writer of the American classic Howl. Lived at Orizaba 210 on-and-off for about five years.

The (Latter-Day) Landmarks

Cerrada de Medellín 37 (now José Alvarado 37): Burroughs, running from a drug and firearms conviction in New Orleans, was living here with his family when Kerouac and road trip buddy Neal Cassady showed up in the fall of 1950. (Cassady bailed for the US when Kerouac came down with dysentery). The address was the namesake for Kerouac’s Cerrada Medellín Blues poetry.

Orizaba 210: Possibly the biggest Beat Movement epicenter outside of the US during the early 1950s. This apartment building housed the likes of Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Neal Cassady, Gregory Corso, and Allen Ginsberg, all of whom came for long visits. It was here that Kerouac worked on Tristessa, Vanity of Duluoz, and Mexico City Blues, Burroughs penned Junky, and Corso wrote Gasoline. The original house has been demolished.

San Luis Potosí 154: Once the site of Mexico City College, a popular destination for GI Bill students and other Americans studying abroad, it’s now a campus of Universidad de Londres. The character Stan Shepard from On The Road was catching a ride to get to this school on time. Burroughs enrolled in pre-Hispanic history here on the GI Bill, but rarely attended classes.

Monterrey 122: The Bounty, the rowdy ex-pat bar here in the 1950s, is gone, but you can grab a quesadilla at the nondescript restaurant in its place. Called “Ship Ahoy” in Burroughs’ Queer, The Bounty served as the backdrop for one of his most tragic moments. On September 6, 1951, a day of drinking led to a fatal game of William Tell: Burroughs’ wife Joan placed a small glass on her head, and his pistol shot killed her. Burroughs has cited the ensuing emotional turmoil as his reason for becoming a writer.

For further reading, try Jorge García-Robles’ comprehensive study Burroughs y Kerouac: dos forasteros perdidos en México (in Spanish), and the Mexico City College Story website, www.mexicocitycollege.com

It began with a vow

sue-ellen — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 00:10:54 +0000

In a hilly patch of dense jungle in East-Central Mexico, steps zigzag up to a ten-foot cement totem-pole shaped like an orchid carpel. Below the totem, a stand of bamboo is, upon closer inspection, a cluster of cement wands. A mortar leaf balances delicately on its stem inside a clover arch like a giant ornament for a cake, or a crown. Buttresses trace butterfly wings.

Descend any of the stairways that thread through this forest and discover more elaborate constructions: an enormous cement lotus blooms in a courtyard between two wall-less houses; columns cluster beneath floors like underwater plants. Ropes of cement strung between giant cacti mimic vines; rooftop arches are bowing stalks. Spiral staircases end in ceilings. Doors give passage to nowhere. Bridges bridge nothing.

Is this an Eden, an artistic masterpiece, or a colossal, 30-acre joke? Is it art or architecture? Is it unfinished, a ruin, or just bizarre? These forms must mean something, but what? Visitors follow paths by the waterfall, their mouths agape, their questions fading to reverence as “Las Pozas” (named for the nine pools that collect the pristine river water that tumbles and rushes down the slopes) works its spell.

At the base of the hillside, the creations concentrate in a soaring jungle-gym of skeletal castles with seed-pod columns and blossoms for turrets. Tucked like the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse into these mad branches is a little box of a home, with a sad verse scrawled on an inside wall: “My house grows like a chamber’d nautilus after a storm… The deluge comes; and it is after me … This house is all assieged and wailing for its lords … My house has wings, and somehow in the dead of night, she sings…”

This fragment of poetry and more than 30 mossy structures crumbling in the forest outside the town of Xilitla, San Luis Potosí, are the remains of one dreamer’s awesome indulgence. They are the work of Edward James (1907-1984): millionaire eccentric, disappointed lover, rejected Surrealist, and master castlebuilder. The Scottish-American arrived at this isolated mountainside in 1947, and for over thirty years employed hundreds of locals to build his fantasy garden – and what just may be one of the great sculptural monuments of the 20th century.

It’s like a “whole mad enormous space ship from another world that exploded apart there,” says Mexico City-based artist Jan Hendrix. The wreck of Noah’s ark might be more like it, especially in James’s day when the metal cages that dot the property housed his collection of deer, ocelots, and flamingos. Scattered over a hillside, the installation does feel broken. When they’re not fortress-like and aggressive, spiky and defiant, the structures look blown open, ruins from the moment they were born, reminiscent of blitzed buildings from World War II. But the cement fragments bloom. They sprout shoots and buds; they are starting over. Even as Las Pozas is about ruin, it is also about rebirth, as new plants sprout from decomposing logs in the rainforest.

Preservation

As of June 2007, a consortium of investors is banking on the importance of James’ artistic legacy. More than two decades after the artist’s death, the site has been bought for $2.2 million USD by the Xilitla Fund, set up by billionaire ex-Banamex CEO Roberto Hernández and his wife Claudia Madrazo, and chaired by British-born UBS economist Damian Fraser. For Hernández to convince fellow billionaire Lorenzo Zambrano of CEMEX to join the project was easy. “This is the largest open-air cement sculpture park in the world, and CEMEX is one of the world’s largest cement companies. It was a natural complement,” says Fraser. A volunteer board comprised of artists, curators, and historians was assembled. The previous owner, Plutarco “Kako” Gastelum, the son of James’s local partner in creating Las Pozas, will stay on as a kind of custodian.

Since the sale, the San Luis Potosí government has recognized Las Pozas as a patrimony of the state, the Fund’s key first achievement. The next goal is status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. A local project manager has been named, the state’s Secretary of Tourism is on board, and technical surveys of the structural conditions have begun. Five million USD are earmarked over the next five years, for restoration of the works, revitalization of the gardens, and international promotion of Las Pozas as a “high quality ecological and cultural destination”.

For big leaguers like Hernández and Zambrano, these figures are low.

“This is a very small project,” said Fraser, who explained Hernández’s motivation as concern for a place he has long loved: his father was a native of San Luis Potosí. “This is not a commercial prospect,” Fraser emphasizes, “It’s philanthropic. This artistically important place stands in need of conservation.”

Still, suspicions have arisen. “There was a rumor Kako was thinking of selling, and every time you’d see a helicopter go over you’d think, this is it,” says Dalila Hernández (no relation to Roberto), the owner of a small hotel in nearby Xilitla. The town, with a significant Náhuatl presence, has never been rich, and since frosts and falling prices have nearly sacked the local coffee trade, work is scarce. Hernández, like her fellow retailers and hotelkeepers, hopes for more tourism, but wonders if it will be the locals who benefi t. “Everything Robert Hernández touches turns into a huge hotel,” she worries.

Others, including Kako Gastelum, wonder if the bankers will get the vibe. “People come for the myth, for the magic,” he says. “It’s going to have to be a very delicate balance between structural security and aesthetics.” Many visitors, he points out, prefer the works back in the thickets, where vines climb walls and trees relax over bridges, where the beauty is ghostly and the forest is winning.

Hendrix, a Dutch transplant to Mexico and a Fund adviser, is among them. “That’s way more interesting than the [semi-restored structures] at the entrance. They’re a disaster. They look like fakes of Edward James! His will was to let it evolve: a further symbiosis between jungle and architecture. What he wanted was for the jungle to overtake the place. Any ivy or fungus helps create an atmosphere,” says Hendrix.

“I have been very critical,” says Irene Herner, an art historian and Reforma newspaper reporter who is finishing a book on James. She sounded the alarm in an early November article for Nexos magazine. What if it becomes Disneyfied? Turned into a souvenir-and-a-snapshot tourist commodity? Herner has visited enough of what she calls “empty shells” of once wondrous monuments to know the vulnerability of their magic.

Now she supports the project with the zeal of the converted. “There is an absolute interest on the part of the people who bought [Las Pozas] to preserve it as a magical artistic sanctuary,” she says following a late November “Surrealism Symposium”, where advisors met investors for an on-site planning session. Herner believes the board’s priorities – to reinforce at-risk structures and regulate the tourist flow (which can range from a mere handful to a loud, littering throng during Semana Santa) – are sound.

Hendrix echoed her relief. “I was happily surprised by the analysis of CEMEX [whose technician promised not to touch a thing without the artists’ input],” he said. “Their job is to help with the endangered structural situation. That’s it.”

Herner reminds us that it is James’ work, ultimately, which will set the agenda. “Look, if important investors buy something it’s so they can get something out of it. But in this case, they’ll have to rescue the work of art, or they’re not going to have anything to sell. Here you don’t have a golf club, you don’t have a beach; you have this work of art. The task is to integrate this project into the history of art.”

James' eccentric shadow

The history of art hasn’t had much time for Edward James. The record counts him as a Surrealist patron, a collector of Dali, Magritte, Giacometti, Picasso, and Leonora Carrington, and a backer of Minotaure, the magazine edited by André Breton-- but not as an artist. “It is hard to be both,” says Fund adviser Lynne Cook of New York’s Dia Art Foundation. Indeed, James’ early volumes of self-published poetry were disparaged in Europe, and the few original paintings that hang in Xilitla’s Edward James Museum are unremarkable.

Treatments of what he built at Las Pozas quickly become studies of its creator, and as a subject James is hard to resist. The story of how the wealthy oddball – speculated to be the illegitimate maternal grandson of King Edward VII– came to be the brujo (sorcerer) of Xilitla reads like a Gabriel García Márquez novel.

James inherited his American father’s railroad fortune when he was young, and studied at Eton and Oxford, but to his socialite mother he was little more than an accessory. Once, when choosing which child the maid should ready to accompany her at church she crowed, “Let it be Edward. His eyes match my dress!” A brief marriage to the dancer Tilly Losch in the 1930s ended in a scandalous divorce: he alleged infidelity, she alleged homosexuality. In 1940, James fled to New Mexico, and then to Cuernavaca, Mexico, where he met a dashing telegraph operator named Plutarco Gastelum. James soon followed him to Plutarco’s native Xilitla, to purchase the site that would become Las Pozas.

The Surrealist escapist set to work building his personal paradise, hiring hundreds of locals to realize his strange designs. A local carpenter, José Aguilar, became a Surrealist moldmaker. According to former employees Ángel Alvarado and Ángel Martínez, “Don Eduardo’s” wages were the best in town. Alvarado remembers that you could always make a little extra as a skinny-dipping photo model.

One year, James hurt his back, and had to be carried sultan-like through the forest on a litter borne by his workers. Some say he bathed with his pet deer. Dalila Hernández remembers him as a dapper gent stepping into her perfume shop to chat Chanel No. 5.

Kako remembers the day his “magic uncle” was struck by a vision of the upper pool filled with ducks. Until sunset, Kako and his sisters made trips behind their “tío”, arms filled with flapping cargo. But Kako also remembers the more difficult eccentricities. James installed faucets everywhere throughout the construction, to accommodate his crippling hygiene compulsion. One year Plutarco built an access ramp for his jeep. Rather than complain, the displeased James had a doorway built that was just a hair too narrow for the vehicle to pass.

“For us [kids] he was only fun, but I imagine for my parents his extravagance could be difficult,” says Kako today.

If James was, as some say, heartbroken when Plutarco married in 1956, his attachment seems to have shifted to the entire Gastelum family. Kako’s sister Gabriela, who runs the “El Castillo” hotel in the family’s former home, says that James introduced her as his daughter when they traveled in Europe. She believes that James never finished his jungle installation so that he would have an excuse to continue living with her family.

Kako’s lingering attachment to James’ memory made it hard for him to part with the property. Its upkeep had been beyond his means for years, he says, but “it was very difficult to sell. I love the place. But I figured it would be a good opportunity for its maintenance and preservation.”

More than twenty years after James’ death, Kako decided it was time to let the creation, and not the memory of the man, guide decisions. “He wouldn’t have sold it,” said Kako. “But the truth is I wasn’t thinking of James anymore, but of his work.”

A new place for Las Pozas

The single paragraph usually found in the tourist guides doesn’t do Las Pozas justice, nor does a half-hour stop on a bus tour of the Huasteca. Taken piece by piece, James’ works can be ugly. Joints are merely functional, and rough columns still bear mold marks. Cooke links James’s giant forms to the “Follies” popular during the 16th through 18th centuries among British estate owners, who frequently commissioned towering impracticalities for their properties. Like Las Pozas, Cooke says these flights of fancy are often wrongly derided. Jan Hendrix and Damian Fraser both point out that the magnificent energy of the eclectic whole isn’t achieved by any single structure.

The sale puts a new price on the place, and the spotlight is sure to follow. If James’s work has been like a lost canvas collecting dust in the basement, the Xilitla Fund means to bring it out of the shadows. “But,” says Herner, “they need us [artists, writers, and critics] to express and explain to them what it is about.”

Lynne Cooke describes how a collection of bold quotations can emerge as a language of its own. Even without knowing of James’ affinity for Gaudí, you recognize the mark of the Spaniard in the hyperboloid totems and catenary arches, and in the way James let organisms, not arithmetic, guide his lines. The giant serpents standing guard along a central walkway could be straight out of a Dalí dreamscape; so could a huge pair of cement hands. You think of Miro’s ambiguous, whirling creatures. At one point, on my own wander through James’ creation, a strange breeze blew through an imaginary wall as a bird rose in its eye-shaped window, and I felt like I was inside Giacometti’s surrealist sculpture, “Palace at 4 a.m.”

James used to send Plutarco postcards from his travels, with rough sketches and notes saying “Let’s do this in Xilitla.” Now a Japanese-inspired pagoda floats above a high-walled walkway like a medieval Scottish close, which gives way to a run of playful paving in Mexican mosaic. Las Pozas is a Babel-like assemblage of homages and memories, like the magnified model of an architecture student suffering from ADD, or a strange dream.

André Breton advocated a rupture with rationality and restrictive custom, and James’s work, like his life, met the challenge. What rules does eclectic Las Pozas follow but “free play of thought and association”? The Surrealist practice of “automatic drawing” is transposed to three dimensions in James’ method: having a whim, jotting a sketch, and handing it off to Plutarco and Don José to see it realized. The Surrealists wrote manifestoes on breaking free from aesthetic prescription, but off in the isolation of Xilitla, James just did it. It is said that Las Pozas began with a vow. After a freak snowstorm wiped out James’ orchids, he said he would make some to last. The result is a spectacular marriage of nature and art. Besides the more literal leaves and buds, James’ hyperbolas and parabolas pay tribute to the plant forms that surround them. The artistic abundance mirrors that of the rainforest. Now nature creeps over the structures, painting them green, as if the jungle itself is finishing the piece, or the sculpture is alive and evolving. For Irene Herner, this “marvelous dialogue” between forest and man’s construction is the point, all the more relevant as environmental catastrophe threatens.

In the face of war, ostracism, and disappointment, James retreated to a lonely place to create a compensatory paradise. The impulse is as universal as the act was deeply personal. Left to us all is a marvelous monument to irrelevance and irreverence, to the urge for utopia, to the gorgeous eclecticism of dreams. To have captured in hard cement the rhythm of fleeting artistic impulse is James’ remarkable feat. The Xilitla Fund's challenge will be to preserve the magic of this sprawling chapel to a strange religion, where visitors tiptoe forward, eyes cast up, voices lowered, listening for wordless answers from this unique place.

Heavenly Holy Week

sue-ellen — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 23:44:49 +0000

During Easter Week, Holy Week or Semana Santa— whatever you choose to call it—people in Mexico can be divided into two groups: those who go on vacation and those who do not. To anyone new to Mexico, I should explain that there is an option. Schools close during the week, as do many offices and even factories. Those that attempt to remain open face a severe, if temporary, labor shortage. Even the government—in a country that takes separation of church and state very seriously—closes down on Thursday and Friday, usually giving bureaucrats Wednesday afternoon off as well.

Holy Week is not a good time to make last minute travel arrangements in Mexico. Hordes pour into seaside resorts while at American and Canadian ski resorts Spanish is often heard more frequently than English in queues waiting to board the lifts. Cities in Mexico become almost blessedly empty, many luxury hotels offering decidedly nonluxury rates during the week.

Those who do not go on vacation also can be divided into two groups: the devout, who believe Holy Week should be kept holy, and everyone else. Among the latter are those who at least attempt to soak up a bit of the local culture that makes Holy Week in Mexico so special. The Passion Play in Iztapalapa at Cerro de la Estrella (the Hill of the Star)—which, it was recently discovered, actually covers a pagan pyramid—is the most notable event in Mexico City. As many as two million people attend the annual reenactment of the Crucifixion. Iztapalapa is one of the more proletarian boroughs or delegaciones in the capital, not considered especially dangerous during daylight hours, but not a place to flash a Rolex either. Crowds, dust and litter can make taking in the Passion Play less than enjoyable, but then a crucifixion is not supposed to be fun.

Far more dramatic, for anyone who can snag accommodations, is Taxco, where on Thursday and Friday nights black-hooded, bare-backed penitents, weighed down beneath 90-pound loads of thorns, trudge barefoot accompanied by half-naked, cross-bearing flagellants who whip themselves with nail-studded lashes. Women, their unshod feet in chains, merely march hunched over, but the position after some hours becomes so painful they later have difficulty standing up.

San Luis Potosi is home to perhaps the most memorable of Holy Week spectacles with the Procesión de Silencio, rivaled only by the one in Seville. Led by a penitent in a great conical hood who bears a heavy cross, hushed candle-bearing votaries depart from a church in the center of the city, stifl ing sound and muffl ing footsteps as they flow toward the Cathedral on the Zócalo. Others follow, many weighed down by the images they carry; the faithful ooze into the streets throughout the night, returning eventually to whence they began.

The Procession itself is not actually silent: chains clank, drums beat an echoing lament, and flutes, guitars, and violins play a sorrowful dirge. It makes for a night to remember.

Hidalgo's lost tribe

catherine — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 18:03:31 +0000

This is not an official history of Venta Prieta, because that hasn't been written yet.

In fact, the only people who could write the history, the Venta Prietans themselves, just want to be left alone.

"We're not a museum,where you get your ticket and your information," said a man who answered his door one recent Thursday afternoon in this Pachuca neighborhood. Neighbors had pointed him out as one of the community's Jewish patriarchs. "We aren't interested in any more interviews. ...Everyone has already written about us. In every language."

The story of Venta Prieta, culled from the Internet and decades-old encyclopedias, points to a community that has struggled with its identity and survival.

The village's exact origins are under dispute, but sometime before the 20th century, a man named Ramón Jirón or his descendants founded the town on the outskirts of Pachuca, the capital of Hidalgo state. Some say Jirón had been a secret Jew in Michoacán, and that his family members fled to Pachuca after he was killed. Another version says Jirón himself fled to escape his father, who wanted him to become a priest.

In either case, word eventually reached Mexico City that a group of people outside Pachuca were practicing Jewish customs. These "Indian Jews," as they were referred to then, claimed they could trace their ancestral roots to Spanish Crypto-Jews, those Jews who had been forced to convert to Catholicism in 1492, but secretly continued to practice their religion.

According to the Museum of The Jewish People Online (bh.org.il), a website of the Nahum Goldmann Museum of the Jewish Diaspora at Tel Aviv University in Israel, the Venta Prieta Jews organized their first unified congregation around 1920. Still, over the following decades they had trouble gaining acceptance from Mexico City's Jewish community, comprising Jews who fled persecution in Europe. Jewish groups in Israel also refused to recognize them.

Where was the proof? According to the Orthodox and Conservative traditions of Judaism, to have Jewish blood a person must be able to document their matriline (line of female descent). The Venta Prietans had only their Jewish way of life.

The Indian Jews' darker skin color might have been partially responsible for their rejection,says Dolores Sloan, former editor of HaLapid, the journal of the California-based Society for Crypto-Judaic Studies, which studies the history of Iberian Crypto-Jews.

Among some established, fair-skinned Jewish communities, "There's a kind of racism against these dark people," Sloan says. "Why are they coming in? Are they going to improve themselves economically by being Jews? Are they going improve their social status by being Jews?"

What exactly defines a Jew is under debate. While the people of Venta Prieta have built a synagogue and observe Jewish holidays, some reports suggest they've struggled in recent years with their Jewish identity. Rabbi Samuel Lerer, who spent several years leading congregations in the United States, moved to Mexico City and worked with the Venta Prieta Jews until he retired in 1999. He also converted Mexican Jews in Veracruz, as documented in the 2006 movie Ocho Candelas. After Lerer's retirement, the Venta Prieta Jewish community eventually split in two, with some moving toward an Orthodox faith while the rest remained conservative. Little more information exists about how the community lives now.

At around 4 pm on a Thursday, a breeze swept through Venta Prieta's empty streets. Laundry fluttered on rooftops. Locked doors guarded brightly painted homes. At the end of Benito Juárez Street, across from a pharmacy, blue walls shielded any glimpse of the synagogue, known as Templo Negev. Two sets of metal doors were both locked.

Neighbors claimed they didn't know anything about the place. One elderly woman confirmed the temple's location, but cautioned that she didn't believe any of the people who went there were Jewish. After I knocked on several doors in the neighborhood, an older gentleman and his wife agreed to take me to the temple the next day.

The next morning, just after 11 am, we sat inside the temple's large, airy community center and waited. Colorful paper masks on the walls dangled streamers, left over from that week's Purim festival. Letters spelling out the word "Feliz" hung crookedly on one wall. A U-shaped table lay prepped and ready for the next day's seudah shlishit, or final Sabbath meal, each place setting comprising one pink plastic fork, a square styrofoam plate, a papernapkin.

The women would eat here; the men, on the other side of a wooden partition.

Just before 11:30, Elizabeth Téllez arrived, president of the Comunidad Mexicana Israelita el Neguev Venta Prieta.

A handsome, elegant woman dressed entirely in brown, she kept her hair covered by a brown knit cap. Téllez regarded me with a mixture of skepticism and kindness before saying that she was sorry, the community no longer gave interviews. They'd done so in the past and it had come back to hurt them, because people wrote things that weren't true.

Even truthful stories hadn't done much to help the Jewish families of Venta Prieta, she said.

"A lot of people have taken advantage of the community, when in reality they don't know us,"Téllez said, adding that she's heard stories of people not affiliated with the temple trying to raise money for Venta Prieta. "We don't need any promotion. Mexico and Israel, they accept us."

Téllez said that a rabbi traveled from Mexico City to lead their services each Friday and Saturday and that a few Venta Prieta families had moved to Israel. Other facts she would allow to appear in print: The temple, a stone structure with a Star of David etched into the window, was their third. Families paid for it and the recreation hall with their own money. About 150 Jewish people lived in Venta Prieta, Téllez said.

She showed me a black-and-white photo of the congregation, dated 1938, before politely ending the conversation.

"This is how we've always lived," she said, "and this is how we're always going to live."

Lesley Tellez is a freelance writer in Mexico City. Visit her blog atlesleytellez.wordpress.com.

Tecate: where it all began

sue-ellen — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 17:41:38 +0000

Tecate -- just south of the California line -- may be famous for beer, but it should be better known as the place where the health and fitness movement was born. Tecate's Rancho La Puerta introduced the world to organic health food, exercising with music, herbal wraps, and the search for new lifestyles.

Rancho La Puerta gave a new meaning to the word "spa," which dictionaries still list as a spring from which burbles supposedly health-giving mineral waters. These days most think of spas as exclusive resorts where the flesh is toned, kilos are shed, and the mind refreshed. All this began at Tecate's lush Rancho La Puerta, set amid cactus and bougainvillea in the shadow of Mount Kuchuma.

In 1940, Edmond Szekely, a Hungarian holding a commission in the Romanian army, moved into an adobe hovel five kilometers south of the U.S. border, because even with a fresh New York-born bride he feared the Americans might deport him. The year was 1940, and the Old World was engulfed in a war that would soon spread to the New: Romania was an ally of Nazi Germany.

There in Tecate, Szekely founded the Essene School, the health camp that became Rancho La Puerta. Guests (disciples, really) tumbled in. He charged $17.50 USD a week: disciples had to supply their own tents. There was no plumbing or electricity, neither gym nor pool, but there was a mountain for climbing, a river for swimming, goats for milk and cheese, and the first organic vegetable garden in Baja California.

Disciples breakfasted on wholegrain bread spread with wild sage honey, washed down with goat's milk. Lunch might be a tomato with goat cheese, while legumes, an ear of corn, or a baked potato made up dinner. Today such a regime is known to the fitness-obsessed as "spa cuisine."

Those first followers of Szekely's books helped set the tables and wash the dishes. They chopped firewood, worked the garden, and tended the goats. In silent meditation, they greeted the Morning Star and the evening stars. Days were exhausting: nights, minus electricity, made for sleeping.

While her husband experimented with theories involving hydrotherapy and herbal wraps, Deborah Szekely originated rhythmic exercising to music and relaxing in a whirlpool bath after a massage. Edmond's popular hydrotherapy and herbal wraps eased soreness caused by unaccustomed exercise.

US test pilots were the first non-disciples to discover the Essene School. "During the Second World War we had a steady stream," Deborah Szekely was to recall. "Young men who would eat and drink too much but had to hold their weight down if they were to keep on flying."

Before long, the ranch was discovered by Hollywood. Film stars heard what was being done for the pilots and beat a path to Tecate. The people who ran Rancho La Puerta (the Education Ministry demanded Szekely stop calling it a school) might be a little crazy, stars whispered to starlets, but the ranch was a wonderful place to lose weight.

True, it was somewhat primitive, but Deborah Szekely sought to make the ranch more comfortable, attractive, and profitable. The "professor," as guests dubbed her husband, was not opposed. More guests and money meant more opportunity to spread his gospel.

While the movie people were pleased that the ranch was moving upscale, those on top of the pyramid petitioned for a place closer to the studios. Aging movie queens wanted to rejuvenate away from prying eyes, in a smaller, more intimate, more exclusive--and if need be, more expensive--establishment.

In 1958, Deborah Szekely opened the Golden Door, north of San Diego. In its early days only funds from La Puerta kept the Door from bankruptcy, but it became a rousing success, starting a trend that continues to flourish today.

Jimm Budd can be reached at jimm@jimmbudd.com.

The frogs, the light, the art

sue-ellen — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 02:17:44 +0000

It was February of 1969 when I received a call in Boston from my mother back in Ohio, telling me of a small article she had seen in Vogue magazine.

I had a European trip in mind for the summer following college graduation, but she read to me about a place I´d never heard of, a place called San Miguel de Allende in the state of Guanajuato, Mexico.

She told me there was an international artist colony there, beautiful mountains and colorful deserts. It was supposed to be the most charming of towns, steeped in history, rich in culture, and with a first rate art school.

When the Instituto Allende brochure arrived, with black and white pictures of San Miguel and class descriptions, I knew I had found the perfect place for an adventure. A friend and I sent in our $10 US deposits, and two months later set off on the road trip of a lifetime, armed with an 8-track tape player.

Mexico did not have the best roads in 1969; you could say they were a bit rugged. And, since it was a hot summer we brought bags of water for the radiator to keep the car running smoothly.

The brochure pictures didn’t prepare me for the view overlooking the town of 11,000 people. I was enchanted by the narrow cobblestone streets and local people wearing clothing that came from a small village, not a city. The men dressed in white and wore sombreros; the women colorful long skirts with beautiful shawls. They went by in cars and carts, on horseback and riding donkeys. The high curbsides, colorful doorways, and rustic homes dotting the hillside captured my imagination.

I remember walking through the large main doors of the Instituto and feeling the inviting tug of the colonial architecture and the fountain. I was struck to see students from all walks of life. There were families with teenagers, couples from Germany, and artists from France, the United States, and Sweden. Random people dropped in constantly. You felt as if you could stay a month or for years.

I studied landscape painting with Fred Samuelson, who took us outside by the churches, into the fields, and on weekly field trips to nearby villages. I soon realized why artists settle in towns like San Miguel, Sedona, and Santa Fe; they all have a special magic for bringing out light and color.

My sculpture and silverwork class were taught in Spanish, but it never felt like there was a language barrier. Of all the classes, this one took me beyond anything I had ever experienced. They freed me from the exacting design classes I had been taking in Boston—little did I know that this silverwork class would prepare me for starting a jewelry company ten years later.

My friend and I lived in an apartment building with a swimming pool. The hot summer dried up the pond on the next-door neighbor’s lush estate and our landlord forgot to put chlorine in the pool, so all the frogs came looking for a new home. Within two days, our pool was full of them. The sound was so intense, it was as if hundreds of singing Martians had landed in the pool.

Unable to get the frogs out by hand or net, the landlord had the perfect solution: he brought in a night watchman, since frogs don’t make as much noise with humans present. I remember the watchman in his poncho standing outside, and then inviting him in for a tequila.

A day or two later, the owner brought in some mercenary chickens; we took a long field trip until the chickens finished the job.

Sitting in the Jardín Principal at night, you would see men on horseback riding into town. Picturesque can’t even describe it; the feelings were of peacefulness and safety.

Thirty-seven years have passed since my first visit to this magical town. The enchantment of years ago was still with me when I returned to San Miguel to show the Instituto to my daughter and her husband, who live in Mexico City. The doors are the same, but the building has been transformed. The colorful mural that adorns the wall behind the fountain in the main courtyard is wonderful. But I was a bit shocked to see a store, pay phone, and restaurant on the grounds. My old house on Zacatecas street and the bullring we used to look out on from our rooftop have been torn down and replaced with high-end housing.

Though the town now holds ten times the population and many modern conveniences, much remains of the spirit I remember. Sure, there may be a lot of English-speaking visitors, but there are so many creative people who live there and enrich the tapestry of this unique setting.

1969 was an incredible year. I missed Europe and Woodstock, but I wouldn’t trade my time in San Miguel for anything.

To learn more about the school check out their website at: http://www.instituto- allende.edu.mx/ingles

Rumbo a Oaxaca

Shauna — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 19:56:12 +0000

Merida: pitcher perfect weather

sue-ellen — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 03:43:42 +0000

Evening clouds chase the day away in a sweet moment of smoky blue. The stadium lights shine like headlights across the vast emerald green field, from home plate to deep center. Parque Kukulcán pumps with an '80s rock soundtrack straight from a Brat Pack flick. Food vendors wend through the aisles of tiny green seats wielding swabs of cotton candy, bags of popcorn, Montejo beer, kibbehs (Middle Eastern hors-d’oeuvres), and cold-cut sandwiches. We stand for the himno nacional and then it’s time to play ball: Los Leones de Yucatán, in crisp home-team whites, versus Los Piratas de Campeche.

Los Leones (the Lions) have been Mérida’s ball club in the Mexican League since 1954, and were 2006 League champions. When we touched down in the Yucatán capital, the team had just won the first half of the season, and American pitching coach Gilberto Rondon was feeling good about making it to the finals again (playoffs begin in August).

In and around Mérida there’s lots to do. You can just amble about the Centro Histórico's grid of flagstone streets, surrounded by the worn grandeur of colonial architecture, or pop into one of the many galleries on 60th Street. Weekend evenings bring musical performances and salsa dancing to the streets. The ruins of Uxmal and Chichén-Itzá are spectacular and just a daytrip away.

But the summertime feel of the place goes well with baseball. So on game night, we taxi-trekked from the Centro Histórico to the 14,500-seat stadium. Ninety pesos on a Tuesday night took us right behind home plate, among the players' pretty wives and girlfriends and adorable kids.

The crowd was thin that night; though judging from what Coach Rondon says, it was no measure of how far Mexican baseball has come in this soccer-crazed country. In the “old” days, traveling umpires would have to sleep in the clubhouse, and the Leones had to travel fifty-five hours by bus for games in Ciudad Juárez. These days games are televised on ESPN, and players make a good living (upwards of $115,000 USD for the “top guys”). Mexican talent has also been attracting more and more attention from Major League scouts impressed by Mexico’s baseball academies.

“Baseball’s changed here,” says Rondon, 54, who sports a crew cut and a tall, thick physique. “These guys are in shape now. They go to the gym. They work hard.”

Born in the Bronx, Rondon logged a few seasons in the Big Leagues before the New York Yankees sold him to Mérida in 1979. So began an international career as a journeyman pitcher and coach. He has plied his fastball and his know-how around the world: Taiwan, Italy, Canada, Puerto Rico, and Mexico—from Tijuana to Mérida, where his daughter was born in the backseat of a Volkswagen.

For Rondon, Mérida is a great place to pitch: the heat makes you sweat and loosens up your arm, unlike the highaltitude stadiums of Mexico City or Puebla.

He has the youngest pitching staff in the sixteen-team league; he calls them his “fourteen sons.” They include Luis Navarro, who is deaf in one ear, and Oscar Rivera, who pitched a perfect game last year. “I speak a different language with each one,” he says.

For the Mérida newcomer, the gift of the game was the pleasant cool of nightfall. Over nine innings, the porras (an unofficial fan club) brass band blared its support from the upper deck. Ball girls in black spandex and bikini tops delivered new baseballs to the home plate umpire. The team mascot --a scrawny-looking lion-- strutted the field. And every time the Leones scored a run, the team emptied the dugout to welcome the runner with high-fives: the Leones eventually beat the Pirates 6 to 1.

It’s not just Mérida that's a baseball town: “the whole south is,” Rondon insists. “They don’t like soccer here.”

When the game was over, fans took over the field, seeking autographs, snapping photos, and playing their own games around the bases. The world felt right—as it should when the home team wins, even when you’re just visiting.

The Stadium: Take a 20-minute cab ride from the Centro Histórico to the Parque de Béisbol Kukulcan. On the web: leonesdeyucatan.com.mx

What & Where to Eat

Breakfast: Have typical huevos moltuleños at Cafetería Pop, Calle 57, bet. Calles 60 & 62.

Lunch: Order anything yucateco at Los Almendros, corner of Calle 50 & Calle 57.

Dinner: Revel in the small, delicious menu at artsy La Casa de Frida,Calle 61 No. 526-A, between Calles 66 & 66-A.

Snack: Order panuchos and salbutes, two types of fried tortilla pockets topped with shredded chicken or the area’s famed pork, cochinita pibil. (We munched at El Trapiche on Calle 62, between Calles 61 & 59). Try Montejo, the regional beer.

What to see & do

• Catch a live trova set at Amaro: Calle 59 No. 507, between Calles 60 and 62

• Beat the heat in style with a guayabera from Guayaberas Jack on Calle 59 No. 507, between Calles 60 & 62.

• Visit the Museo de la Ciudad for a simple, well-done overview of Mérida’s history, from its beginnings as Maya capital T’oh. Calle 65 between Calles 56 and 56A, Tues-Fri:8am–8pm; Sat-Sun:8am–2pm. Free entry.

• Check out Museo MACAY for contemporary art Calle 60, next to the Cathedral on the main plaza Sun, Mon, Wed, Thurs: 10am–6pm; Fri, Sat: 10am–8pm; Tues:closed. Free entry.

• For good walks, stroll Calle 60 and the Paseo de Montejo. Hang around the main plaza on weekends (live music starts in the evening).

• For great city info in English,check out Yucatan Today.

The Riviera Maya: soothe your spirits with a seaside adventure

sue-ellen — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 09:25:56 +0000

I’m perched on a cliff top in Tulum, floating in a wooden bathtub filled with flowers. The setting sun throws jagged orange flames across the turquoise sea as a woman gently pours water over my head. This is part of the ‘Mayan Bath’ treatment offered by the Maya Spa Wellness Center – a spa serving three rustic hotels in the former hippie haven of Tulum. Although development and luxury hotels have come fast to the Riviera Maya, including Tulum, hotels such as Azulik, Copal and Zahra offer a back-to-nature option: the thatched beach cabañas have no electricity, there is no noisy nightlife and nudists enjoy the beach.

Once I have been exfoliated with honey and sugar, covered in Mayan mud and washed clean again, it is time to gather up the flowers from my bath and toss them out to sea in a ritual meant to free me of the toxins and stress harbored in my body.

Unfortunately, they don’t seem to want to go away. A high wind whips around the cliffs, picks up the flowers and hurls them back at me. I giggle self-consciously at the irony of it and pick bits of wet flower out of my hair. My therapist is not quite so amused. Spa treatments are serious affairs here.

Along the Riviera Maya, the spa business gets bigger by the day. Whether you are looking for low-key and rustic, all-inclusive and enormous, or exclusive boutique, the Riviera Maya offers hotels and spas to accomodate all tastes and pocketbooks. Taking advantage of the area’s Mayan heritage, most of the spas offer treatments that are, or purport to be, based on ancient Mayan traditions.

On the Xpu’Ha Beach far from what seems like anywhere, you need to be looking out for the sign marking the Hotel Esencia or the highway will whisk you right on by. This delightful boutique hotel, designed like a colonial house with cool, white walls and dark wood furniture is a haven of style and simple elegance. In the Aroma Spa I undergo a Mayan cleansing ritual and visit the kitchen where therapists prepare their products daily with herbs plucked from the nearby garden. Everything smells fresh and earthy.

The Riviera Maya is the place to relax and unwind. It boasts the same turquoise seas and white sand beaches as Cancun, without the big town hustle and bustle. Major -- if that is the right word-- towns in the Riviera Maya include Playa del Carmen, Tulum and Puerto Morelos. But many of the beach hotels are outside these towns and the night sounds you are most likely to hear include chirping insects and lapping waves.

Having spa-ed my way to relaxation, it was time for a little action. The Tulum ruins are one of the best-preserved, coastal Mayan archaeological sites. Although they are structurally less impressive than some of the bigger sites, they are worth visiting if only to experience the sweeping ocean vistas they offer.

Entering the site feels a little like entering an amusement park – stalls selling T-shirts and other souvenirs battle for your attention and the voladores perform their hypnotic, upside-down flying descent from towering poles. It’s definitely laid on thick for the tourists, but there is something fascinating about these men scaling tall poles and spinning downward in time to an incessant drum beat.

The site itself is compact and our guide took us round the basics and then left us to explore on our own. As well as cliffs overlooking the Caribbean, the site has its own beach, so you can escape by sea if you don’t feel like taking the bus back.

For another angle of the ruins, take a snorkelling trip out around the ocean-side and marvel at the site while bobbing in the waves below. This way you may see less detail but you do get to avoid the crowds of tourists.

There is plenty to do in the Riviera Maya, from spas to water sports to exploring archaeological sites, but the laid-back atmosphere means you can do as much or as little as takes your fancy.

What to see and do

Tulum Ruins

Well-preserved coastal Mayan archaeological site with a beach and views over the ocean. Open daily from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The site can be explored in a few hours.

Chichen Itza

Mayan pyramids and ballcourt, some 75 miles from Merida. The most famous of the Mayan pyramids on the Yucatan Peninsula and one of the greatest cities in Mayan history. Open daily from 8 a.m to 5p.m. It takes a day to fully explore the site.

Sian Ka’an Biosphere

The largest protected area in the Mexican Caribbean (approximately 1.3 million acres) has 103 known species of mammals, 336 species of birds, and 23 known archaeological sites inside the reserve. Tours are available and activities include kayaking, birdwatching and fly-fishing. www.cesiak.org

Hotel & Spa Options

Hotel Esencia, Carretera Cancun Tulum Predio Rustico Xpu-HaLote 18 Quintana Roo. Tel: (984) 873 4830/4835. reservations@hotelesencia.com,www.hotelesencia.com. Rooms start from US$475 a night.

Maya Spa Wellness Center. Carretera Tulum Ruinas at Km. 5 to Rojo Gómez on the way to Punta Allen, Zona Hotelera, Tulum, Quintana Roo. Tel: (984) 871 2750 reservations@ecotulum.com,www.maya-spa.com. The spa serves three hotels Azulik, Copal and Zahra. Part of the EcoTulum group: www.ecotulum.com. Azulik rooms start from US$255; Zahra rooms start from US$25; Copal rooms start from US$30.

Ikal del Mar/The Tides Riviera Maya. Fraccion 7, Manzana 20, Lote 05 and 06 Col. Xcalacoco, Municipio de Solidaridad, Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo. Tel: (984) 877 3000. reservations@tidesrivieramaya.com,www.tidesrivieramaya.com. Rooms start from US$585.

Getting there

By bus: ADO buses to Cancun, Playa del Carmen or Tulum depart daily from Mexico City’s TAPO and Terminal del Norte. Tickets cost approx. 1,200 pesos one way. The journey takes about 24 hours.

By air: There are multiple flights daily from Mexico City to Cancun International Airport, and many airlines fly this route, including Volaris, Interjet, Mexicana, Click, Aeromexico and Aviacsa. Tickets from around US$100.

A night with the gods

sue-ellen — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 15:11:56 +0000

Old traditions speak to me in ways I do not always understand. They bypass the filmmaker in me and enter my psyche like old forgotten memories. With the Huichol (WE–chol) tribe, the magic of their art draws me in. When I visit their villages in the mountains west of Guadalajara, I am trying to understand ancient traditions that are not mine. I am not an anthropologist, but a teaching artist who follows her passions, who perceives first, and reads about it later. The following are journal entries from a recent journey.

Day One I am with Isabel Jordan, an expat from California who has bought and sold Huichol art for over twenty-five years. We run around Puerto Vallarta gathering supplies for our trip to see the Huichol Semana Santa. We go from store to store finding candles, chocolates, ribbons in all colors, and brightly-hued tissue paper from the papeleria, all ceremonial offering requests from Julio de la Cruz Carillo, the shaman mentor I've been interviewing and videotaping for several months.

That night we drive four hours up a winding mountain road, with crazy drivers passing us on curves, to Ixtlan del Rios, and sleep six hours.

Day Two We awake in the dark, go to the small dirt airstrip, and sign up for space on the five-seat Cessna. After a thirty-minute flight over an active volcano and steep canyons, we land on a rocky road in the Huichol village of San Andrés. When we arrive, people come to meet us and invite Isabel to stay with them. Wisely, she chooses the house in the shade because the weather is hot.

Our sleeping space is a bamboo room, four feet off the ground. A sow and her piglets forage and squeal below. Chickens try to get in to roost on top of cartons labeled "huevos". My friends nap: I am tired but unable to sleep, so I prepare my camera and equipment.

Day Three We meet with town officials to ask permission to record daily life in the village. We explain that I am making a video about the Huichol so people who buy their art can better understand them. They are enthusiastic, breaking into smiles when I promise them copies of the video as gifts for them to sell to tourists.

A strict limitation: I cannot record the ceremonies. In some ways, a break from recording is a boon. When we record, we are spectators, not participants. The experience changes completely. When I first came here eight years ago, all the ceremonial events poured through me, completely new, unfiltered. This time I have a desire to record images that I can ponder, that will help me understand why I am drawn here.

I walk through the village, shooting in the heat of the day. Women walk by with bowls of food. Men sit in the shade rolling cigarettes and lighting them with rock flints. Children gather wood and haul it home. Red adobe bricks dry in the sun. Families rest in the shade, prepare tortillas, and eat. Everywhere I look are bright colors: in the women's jewel-toned blouses and skirts, the men's embroidered shirts and trousers, exuberant depictions of deities and flowers.

I return exhausted to our shaded, thatched haven and nap, lulled by pig grunts and chicken squawks, mixed with distant ranchero oom-pah-pah music. I need to rest my eyes, my mind, and my travelweary body, and become ready to receive glimpses of old gods.

Day Four My camera is at rest, so I become the lens and microphone. In the dark plaza, families circle their fires, talking, dancing, beading. Plumed wands wave blessings. People walk by in feathered hats, silhouetted against the flames. The music of high-pitched violins ricochets off brick walls, mixing with the shamans’ endless chants. Above the murmur of voices, the full moon, Saturn, shooting stars.

I am not a camera. I am moved by this devotion; I begin to catch a sense of the wisdom of these gods of fire, corn, rain, and earth.

Bulls, goats, and sheep are tethered in the center, lowing and moaning. I feel compassion for them, knowing their fate. But as each family takes its turn slowly dancing and singing around these beasts, blessing them with wands, thanking them with prayers, I am appeased. They are sacred and appreciated. Later, when they are sacrificed, and their meat eaten, it will bear more significance than any we buy off a supermarket shelf.

Julio receives a special blessing from his older brother shamans. He sits on a small stool near the fire, in the smoke. His head is bowed, perhaps listening to Grandfather Fire, Tatewari, the great teacher. His brothers’ feathered wands touch his left shoulder, right shoulder, right palm. He sits silent and humble the rest of the night.

Venus rises before dawn and signals the moment of resurrection. Julio and his family invite Isabel and me to the chapel for cleansings and blessings, water sprinkled with feathered wands on heads, eyes, mouths, hearts. Women hold bowls and fling cascades of water over the crowd. The water glistens in the candlelight, arcing over us.

We leave the chapel and Julio kneels before a lamb, prays, then quickly makes the sacrifice. The sacred blood is collected in a bowl: Julio and his wife Ramona dip candles wrapped in ribbons and paper flowers in the blood. They rise and return to the chapel, touch the doorway with the anointed candles, pray, then enter for a special cleansing for those who spilled the sacrificial blood.

Day Five When dawn comes, the whole town arrives to bless the bulls. One by one the animals are coaxed into the chapel. I am afraid of death so near, entranced by death so near. I turn away when the bull cries out, but turn back to see the shaman-in-training lean in and inhale the animal’s last breath, the exalted gift of the bull’s strength.

***

When we return to Puerto Vallarta, vacationing tourists are celebrating Easter with beach parties and margaritas. We are quiet, changed. All we see is cast in Huichol hues and shamans’ dreams. We return to our lives, adorned in invisible prayers.

MaraAlper.com

Southern exposure in Xcalak, Mexico

catherine — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 02:01:57 +0000

In a tiny fishing and tourist village on Quintana Roo's Caribbean coast, an unassuming thatched-roof palapa yields little clue to the gourmet culinary experience that waits inside. Amidst a cozy interior of wood, stone, gourd lamps, and Christmas lights, dishes that could grace the tables of a chic fusion bistro in New York or London are presented to a clientele of mostly expat devotees who can't believe their good fortune. Delectable palate pamperers like blackened shrimp on bean cakes with tamarind and avocado salsa, coconut-poached lobster, sesame-seared grouper with Grand Marnier glaze, and filet mignon with a huitlacoche truffle sauce draw in a such a steady crowd in this no-horse town that reservations are highly recommended.

How did a sleepy outpost, population 400, become home to the slice of gastronomic heaven known as the Leaky Palapa? The answer is burnout. Canadian chef and restaurateur Marla Stiles and her partner Linda Bestard were hankering for a dramatic life change after years of running a very successful restaurant in Ontario. They found their new calling in Xcalak (pronounced "shka-lák"), a tranquil little gem on the southernmost tip of Mexico's Costa Maya, far from the northern end's rowdy crowds, high-rise hotels, and all-inclusive tours. Xcalak is a leisurely five-to six-hour drive south from Cancún down highway 307, and just a crab's crawl from Belize. Dotted with quaint Belizean-style wooden homes, Mexican-style cinderblock constructions, sandy roads, and swaying palm trees, the town beckons you to stroll to the edge of its pier and gaze out upon the expanse of azure and turquoise sea.

"We sold everything," says Marla, "and headed out in Linda's 1988 Jeep." Towing an old pop-up camper, they traveled west, then south. They made it all the way to Texas, donated the dying trailer to a homeless man, bought a used motor home, and crossed the border in search of even warmer weather and top-notch diving. That was January 2004. The couple eventually found Xcalak on a stranger's tip. They camped and relaxed on the beach for six months until local foodies got wind that they were restaurateurs and convinced them to open a restaurant on the site of one that had closed down.

Back in the first half of the 20th century, when Quintana Roo became official Mexican territory, Xcalak was a major exporter of copra (dried coconut meat) and a bustling fishing village (reports put the population at 1,800). On September 27, 1955, however, things changed forever: Hurricane Janet hit, killing scores and devastating the coconut plantations. Most survivors fled, while the remaining stalwarts formed fishing co-operatives that are still active today.

The first tourists trickled in in the late 1980s. In 1998, local fishermen founded the Bahía Blanca tourist co-operative with a view to supplementing their revenue and creating employment opportunities for the community. Shortly thereafter, thanks to community initiatives and the non-profit Amigos of Sian Ka'an, the government designated nearly 18,000 hectares of coral reef, wetlands, lagoons, beaches, and jungle in Xcalak as a protected national park.

Today, Xcalak's appeal lies not only in the remote peacefulness it has preserved, but also in its world-class diving and snorkeling sites. The Great Maya barrier reef, second largest in the world, sits just off the coast (running from Cancún all the way down to Honduras), as does the Banco de Chinchorro, the largest atoll coral reef in the northern hemisphere, replete with exotic marine life and shipwrecks.

Xcalak is also an internationally renowned fly-fishing and bird-watching paradise. Foreign tourists usually opt to rent the mostly expat-owned modern seaside accommodations-ranging from romantic villas to small hotels-situated on the 15km stretch north of the town center.

I wound up in Xcalak quite by accident in December 2006. A sprightly New Mexican landscaper on a bus from Tulum convinced me and the California high school principal seated behind me to skip an overnight stay in Mahajual (a small cruise ship port city) and head straight to Xcalak, where her dive instructor boyfriend awaited. I stayed one night in sparse accommodations in town, and then was invited by Gretchen and Mark, a friendly American fly-fishing couple, to stay at their gorgeous beachfront home. The word around town was that in addition to diving and snorkeling, dinner at the Leaky Palapa was a must.

Two years later, the Leaky Palapa is still open for business-no small task when you're out in the boonies. Every week, Marla and Linda drive five hours round-trip to the nearest city, Chetumal, to stock their kitchen. But they love Xcalak, and have no immediate plans to leave.

"People come here, I believe, because of the remoteness of the town, the solitude, the ocean, the climate," says Marla. "And everyone always wants to see what's at the end of the road."

Sue-Ellen Mason can be reached at sue@insidemex.com.

Visiting Xcalak

The Leaky Palapa, next to the "Port Captain"

In winter: Thurs - Mon from 5pm on

In summer: usually open Thurs & Fri only

Open hours and days subject to change. Consult the menu at whirledvision.com/leakypalapa.html or theleakypalapa.com (coming soon).

For more information:

Bahía Blanca tourist cooperative: xcalak-ecotours.com

On Xcalak lodging and activities: xcalak.tv or xcalak.info

Xcalak Facts

Roughly forty expats have homes there-a mix of retirees and investors.

Permanent electricity service came to town in 2004-prior to that there was only electricity for four hours in the evening, generated by a diesel-powered plant.

About one hundred tight-knit Mexican families live in Xcalak now, making their living through fishing and tourism.

The rediscovery of Mayan civilization

sue-ellen — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 21:34:22 +0000

Today the remains of Mayan ceremonial centers in Mexico and Central America are major tourist attractions, but until the mid-nineteenth century the very existence of the great Maya civilization was largely unknown. The accounts of early Spanish conquistadors and monks had been filed away in Spanish archives and forgotten. Vegetation covered the abandoned sites.

In the late eighteenth century, when Spanish officials in Guatemala heard stories of strange ruins in the jungle, they dispatched Army Captain Antonio del Rio to investigate the reports. Del Rio and an artist named Ricardo Almendáriz spent months hacking their way through dense jungle before they came upon several structures near the village of Santo Domingo de Palenque. Two other explorers, Guillermo Dupaix and Juan Galindo, located the ruins of Palenque and Copán in the early nineteenth century, but the accounts these men published in limited and expensive editions attracted little attention.

Credit for making educated Americans and Europeans aware of the remarkable Mayan remains belongs to a New York lawyer, John Lloyd Stephens, and his British friend, artist Frederick Catherwood. Stephens was fascinated by ancient civilizations and in 1834-1836 had undertaken a journey through Europe, Turkey, Palestine, Sinai, and Egypt. When he stopped in London on his way home, he met Catherwood, who had also recently returned from a trip to Egypt and the Holy Land. Catherwood had seen a copy of del Rio's account of Palenque, and during their discussion of antiquities he asked Stephens his opinion about these ruins. Stephens was shocked: he had traveled halfway around the world to visit ancient ruins and yet he had been completely unaware of comparable remains in the American tropics.

Stephens returned to New York and for the next two years busied himself with politics and his legal practice, but his thoughts frequently wandered to Catherwood´s tales of ruins in Central America. One day, the owner of a bookstore called Stephens' attention to a recently published volume by an artist named Jean Fréderic Waldeck, who had visited Copán, Palenque, Uxmal, and Chichén Itzá. Stephens immediately sought more information; he secured copies of the works of del Rio, Dupaix, and Galindo that confirmed the truth of Waldeck's accounts.

In 1839, Stephens arranged to have himself appointed US ambassador to the Federal Republic of Central America, which was undergoing rapid disintegration. He invited Catherwood to travel with him.

The two men decided to search for the least accessible site, Copán, first. Starting in Belize, they traveled down the coast to Livingston, and paddled rivers, cut their way along overgrown jungle trails, endured heavy rains that made the paths nearly impassible, and once had to escape "arrest" by a group of freedom-fighters Copán and were awed by the vegetation- covered stone terraces, stelae, and pyramids. Stephens later described his thoughts at that moment:

"America, say historians, was peopled by savages; but savages never reared these structures, savages never carved these stones. We asked the Indians who made them, and their dull answer was ‘Quien sabe?' ‘Who knows?'"1

Stephens cleared some structures while Catherwood sketched the remains. Then, after Stephens made a brief trip to Guatemala City to fulfill his diplomatic obligations, the two friends traveled on to Palenque in southern Mexico and Uxmal in Yucatán. In 1840 at Uxmal, Catherwood collapsed and became delirious from malaria. As soon as he could travel, the two explorers returned to New York where the artist could recuperate. Undaunted, Stephens and Catherwood resumed their explorations in 1841-42, visiting the ruins of Uxmal, Chichén Itzá, and Tulum.

Stephens's vivid accounts of their adventures, illustrated by Catherwood's wonderful engravings, were published as Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatan (two volumes, 1841) and Incidents of Travel in Yucatan (1843), both of which became bestsellers. These books made the abandoned cities of Mesoamerica common topics of conversation in the United States and Europe and soon prompted others to visit, study, and excavate Maya sites. They also prompted scholars to scour Spanish archives for the early records of the conquest of Mexico.

It is fair to say that Stephens and Catherwood initiated the development of what was to become the discipline of Maya archaeology.

1 J. L. Stephens, Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chipas and Yucatan, 12th edition, Vol.1 (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1856), p. 104.

William Stiebing is a former professor of Ancient History and Archaeology at the University of New Orleans.

WHEN GOING TO MÉRIDA

Casa Frederick Catherwood houses a gallery of the artist’s work, along with a café and gift shop, where reproductions of Catherwood’s lithographs are available for sale. You may also buy them through the website: www.casa-catherwood.com.

Getting there:

Calle 59 No. 572, between Calles 72 and 74 (A few steps west of the Catedral de Santiago) Mérida

US Telephone: (917) 880 8587

México telephone: (999) 925 0358

Email: info@casa-catherwood.com

Entrance fee: $43 pesos

Hidalgo's British bounty

catherine — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 04:00:35 +0000

It is early morning on a Friday in July, and a rainy fog is lifting to reveal a chilly, tentative sun over Real del Monte, Hidalgo-at 2,800 meters the highest village in Mexico. A stocky, red-bearded man, whose bulky red and gold uniform is reminiscent of the Beefeater guards, swings a deafening hand-held copper bell.

"Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" roars Alan Jewell, the official Town Crier of Redruth, Cornwall, England. One hundred or so Mexicans and Britons pile into buses headed for El Panteón de los Ingleses, Real del Monte's brick-walled British cemetery, high above the mountaintop village.

The town is home to one of Mexico's most enduring ethnic cross-pollinations. Beginning in 1824, a hundred copper miners from Cornwall -- the toe shape sticking off the southwest of Great Britain -- came to Mexico and headed for the hills in search of silver. Today, hundreds of their descendants remain. The miners' influence is obvious in other ways: not just in Mexico's love of fútbol - unknown there until the Cornish arrived - but also in architecture. Up in the hills around Pachuca, many houses feature distinctly British characteristics: thicker walls, square windows, pitched roofs.

Mexico's remaining Cornish community represents a largely forgotten immigrant story. "In the early 1800s, miners in Cornwall were hard up and were seeking to make their fortunes in gold and silver mining in Latin America," says Gillian Dawe, whose ancestor William Dawe was a mine captain who came here in the 1840s. "They were like today's young Western engineers who go to oilrich countries in the Middle East."

Dawe - whose great-grandfather, Frank Rule, was known in Pachuca as the Silver King - visited Mexico in July, one of twenty-eight British guests who came to re-trace their ancestors' footsteps from Mocambo, adjoining the port city of Veracruz, all the way to Pachuca and nearby Real del Monte.

Ships carrying 125 passengers and some 1,500 tons of equipment sailed out of Falmouth, Cornwall in early April 1825, landing in Veracruz three months later. The treacherous 300-mile trek inland killed about half of the miners and their family members, many succumbing to malaria and yellow fever. Those who made it settled in Pachuca and Real del Monte.

The immigrants brought technology, notably the famous high-pressure steam pumping engines designed by Cornish engineer Richard Trevithick, which turned many of the area's water-logged mines into huge silver producers. The miners also brought Methodism, the mining lamp, and the legendary Cornish pasty, a small pie stuffed with meat or vegetables. Today the local pastes are stuffed with chiles and mole and sold on every corner in the area.

Richard Williams, a Cornish mining engineer who founded the Cornish-Mexican Cultural Society, works at building educational links between the two countries. He and British Society member Bridget Galsworthy Estavillo organized the delegation's visit to Mexico.

The sloping cemetery, restored by the British Society in Mexico City, is the tidy, pine-covered resting place of 750 Cornish people and their descendants who lived in or near Real del Monte.

Roger Clotworthy, 70, is one of those gathered outside the cemetery in the foggy mid-morning gloom. Clotworthy, of Helston, Cornwall, sits with Doris Jenkin, 80, a Cornish woman born in Mexico - cousins who are meeting for just the second time in their lives. Their grandfather, Philip Rogers, worked in
Mina Dolores, Pachuca. Roger's father went back to Cornwall, but Jenkin's parents, first-generation Cornish Mexicans, decided to stay.

"This was a very moving ceremony, because I can remember my grandmother singing ‘Abide With Me' all those years ago," says Jenkin, a Mexico City resident, recalling the hymn featured at the event. British Ambassador Giles Paxman is in attendance, as is Inocencio Hernández, the elderly villager who has looked after the graveyard for more than forty years. "Harold Pengelly [Pachuca's onetime British consul, born in Real del Monte] told me to take care of this graveyard, which I've done by sweeping and digging," says Hernandez, whom everyone calls Don Chencho. "It was terrible at times, keeping the vandals and the drunks out."

Don Chencho's decades of toil, gradually rescuing the cemetery from a daunting state of neglect, have been recognized with an Order of the British Empire (OBE), the first given to a resident of Hidalgo. It was awarded to him in 2006 by Queen Elizabeth II on the recommendation of Ambassador Paxman for "services around the world to the United Kingdom and British settlers wherever they went."

Today, Don Chencho has his medal pinned to his blue blazer. "He would wear the medal to bed, if he could," says Maria del Carmen Hernandez, Don Chencho's beaming daughter.

As Cornish visitors and locals browse through the cemetery tracking down family gravestones, one visitor, Harold Pengelly's nephew William John Dunstan, spends a quiet moment standing at the grave of his aunt, Frances Dunstan Pengelly.

A tall, thin man sporting a tan suit and a short, ash-brown beard, Dunstan last visited Pachuca at age 10, when his uncle was the consul. "We were told that when Uncle Harold died they took his coffin underground to the mine as a sign of respect before burying him," Dunstan says quietly.

"It is hard to say what it is like coming back here," says Dunstan. "Emotion. I feel emotional about my uncle Harold Pengelly. Pleased I came back."

Susana Seijas can be reached by email at susana.seijas@gmail.com.

For more information on the Cornish-Mexican Cultural Society: cornish-mexico.org.

A home for helpers

sue-ellen — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 09:19:41 +0000

Sunday is pot-luck night at the Casa de los Amigos, and the company is as diverse as the food. Sitting down for roasted chicken, rice soup, and strawberry tamales are Casa volunteers from Mexico and the US, a reporter from California, an Alaskan English teacher, a Japanese boarder, and a local Greek dancer. The conversation shifts to personal philosophic revelations: “I’ve been learning that you have to live in the moment,” says Cassandra, the dancer, picking out a piece of chicken. “…I mean like appreciating the friends that are with you right here and right now.”

Many who come to the Casa de los Amigos Center for Peace and International Understanding stay only for a short while, but they have left behind a priceless legacy of volunteerism.

The seeds were planted in the late 1930s, when Mexico City’s Quakers began to organize rural work camps. Volunteers from the US and Mexico built schools, drained mosquito-ridden marshes, and repaired hurricane damage. The camps became popular with American conscientious objectors escaping World War II.

The Quakers, a religious group known for pacifi sm and emphasis on a personal relationship with God, continued their work in Mexico throughout the 1940s and 50s, adding programs assisting Spanish Civil War refugees. Thousands of volunteers came through Mexico City every year. In 1956, the American Friends Service Committee acquired the Casa’s building from the family of the late Mexican muralist José Clemente Orozco. The three-story purple house in Colonia Tabacalera became a clearinghouse for Quaker volunteers, and “…at some point they started letting people stay who weren’t directly involved with the work camps,” explains manager Nicholas Wright.

Nowadays NGOs from Acapulco to Zimbabwe have websites, but before the Internet, would-be volunteers started their Latin American quests in the library of the guesthouse. One of the Casa’s greatest treasures is a huge collection of notebooks recounting volunteer experiences: they contain details about which programs feed their volunteers, which expect them to fend for themselves, and what a visitor should expect in the Chiapas jungle. Altruists are still drawn here, stopping on their way to work on organic farms, teach English to rural schoolchildren, or help women set up small businesses.

“People who are doing volunteer work still stay here because…it’s known as the place to start out because you have information from ten thousand people,” Wright says.

The Casa is run by a dynamic volunteer staff, doing everything from greeting guests and organizing activities to cleaning and preparing meals.

“Some people think volunteering is something you do if you don’t have any skills,” says volunteer Ali Packard. “I think volunteering is something you should do if you have a lot of skills.”

In addition to her talents as a sous-chef, Packard is also a skilled tango dancer and welder. “I work at the Casa, I’m unpaid… My parents have spent twenty years trying to come to terms with the fact that I don’t have a career or a mortgage or a car or children. I think they fi nally realize that what I do is actually quite cool.”

“Our…challenge is maintaining the peace of the guest house while coping with the quantity of human traffi c,” says Wright, a former backpacker who now lives in the Casa with partner and fellow volunteer Jill Anderson, and their one-year-old daughter Agnita, who was delivered by a midwife in one of the Casa’s apartments.

Although not a hotel or hostel, the Casa ends up in travel guides, which is part of the challenge.

“As long as [the books] say we’re a Quaker-run place with something to do with international understanding, then it’s fine," Wright says. “But sometimes when people come here who meant to go to Hostel Amigo, then we end up having an effect on them.” Guests who may have never considered volunteering find themselves sharing a dinner table with someone who spends their life helping others, and many end up searching for their own opportunities to help.

Visit Casa de los Amigos on the web at casadelosamigos.org.

Mineral de Pozos: ghost town rising

catherine — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 01:04:21 +0000

Four years ago, there was definitely something in the air in Mineral de Pozos.

Nothing visible was happening in the dusty streets of this ghost town baking in the high plains of Guanajuato, a four hour drive north from Mexico City; but in its empty plazas had appeared newly painted signs, some in Spanish, some English.

With its abandoned mineshafts and clumps of ore glittering amid dusky century plants, the silent town bore an air of desolation that was just a little too picturesque to be true. Light-headed at 7,500 feet above sea level, I saw occasional tidy door plaques and newly-rebuilt walls.

The landscape of Pozos is gritty and gripping, with its two ruined mines. Los Cinco Señores is characterized by its watchtower and a surreal high wall crumbling in the distance, built to prevent landslides. Santa Brígida's landmark is three smokestacks and a cluster of buildings that include a white-and-terracotta hospital and heat-cracked wind tunnels once used to stoke the furnace.

Any travel writer could hear the town screaming with potential but, despite rumors of plans for investment from FONATUR the answer was an inconclusive shrug.

***

On this recent visit I stayed in the elegant Posada de las Minas hotel and talked with all and sundry—the newest gringo in town who came for breakfast every day to have his eggs done just-so, the heavily pregnant waitress who skipped around like a 12-year-old, a gang of grand dames from Texas, a painter, a messenger, a photographer, a sports coach building a house.

It was the rainy season and the formerly baked yellow stone had a translucent pink sheen, in rich contrast with the foliage. Our suite, richly decorated with colorful folk art, sported heavy leather armchairs on a balcony overlooking the dome of a distant church.

What has re-lit Pozos’ fire? The spark didn't come from any federal or local government sources, but from loving and responsible investment, much from outsiders from the southern US. As has been the case in the development of many of Mexico’s well-established inland treasures, foreign fascination with the place, unselfish dedication to its aesthetics, and contribution to its community are bringing about positive development and a transformation in how the townsfolk see themselves and their home.

Created by David and Julie Winslow of Houston, Posada de las Minas is a restored eight-room mansion in warm pastel shades, with exquisitely tended gardens chattering with rare birds and bubbling with fountains.

“I like to think that both foreigners and Mexicans come here for the atmosphere and the good food and drinks,” says David in his Texas drawl, while his peacock doves fan and fluff their tails. “…We have tried to help newcomers by giving them the benefit of our experiences here.”

“We are not in the real estate business so we can offer our opinion … without trying to talk them into buying something.” Pozos didn’t need FONATUR to bring investment. By some estimates, certain properties have quadrupled in price over the last ten years on the heels of the real estate boom in nearby San Miguel de Allende, which peaked around 2000.

“Locals were receptive all along,” says David, who first visited the town in 1998 and bought the building that was to become the hotel in 2002, “just because we liked the property and wanted to clean it up and restore it.” Construction was taking place and bringing jobs.

“We have supported the local art community… We have bought pieces from virtually every artist in town, I think, and these pieces are displayed here at the hotel in guest rooms and in common areas.”

The role of artists in the foreign community is significant. Geoff Winningham has been coming to photograph Pozos since 1979, and about ten years ago set up his studio here, contributing a new transformer to the town so his dark room activities didn't blow everyone's electricity.

Other artists of note followed: Elena Bartula, photographer Bill Lieberman, Dan Rueffert, fiber artist Beverly Sky and her sculptor partner Mario Kon, and installation artist Larimer Richards. By November 2007 the New York Times had caught on to Mexico's latest arts colony, and a year later an article in the Los Angeles Times sealed Pozos' resurgence.

It was David Winslow who gave Winningham the idea for the community outreach project that became the Children of Pozos photo workshop in August 2007.

The first outreach project in town was held by Geoff's wife Janice Freeman, who brought ten boys from a local orphanage, aged 7 to 15, to her studio to teach them to work on her etching press. After about twenty classes there were spectacular results, and a subsequent auction raised several thousand dollars for the orphanage.

With this success in mind, Geoff set about organizing some of his photography students at Rice University, raising funds, and with the help of local mom Antonia Lopez Olveira, recruiting interested children. None had any experience beyond family snapshots, but the thirty children, aged seven upwards, produced extraordinary photographs. “I did a show on Pozos in 2004 and theirs puts mine to shame,” Geoff reflects, “…The results are about childhood and also about intimate feeling for the place where you live.”

The photos were shown in Pozos—the first time the kids had seen their pictures framed—and then in a major show of about 150 photographs in Queretaro last year.

When Geoff goes back the parents ask him, "You are going to keep this going, aren't you?"

Geoff, David, and others are trying to build an art facility in town, bringing fee-paying students from the US with locals participating for free: the answer is yes.

Go visit

Rates at the Hotel Posada de las Minas range from $850, including tax, to $1500 for a suite, hotelesboutique.com/posadadelasminas/. David Winslow, Posada de las Minas, Manuel Doblado No. 1, Mineral de Pozos, Guanajuato, Mexico 37910, Tel:01-442-293-0213; E-mail: info@posadadelasminas.com

For more information on the Pozos Children's Project, see:

media.rice.edu/media/NewsBot.asp?MODE=VIEW&ID=10713

For the exhibition itself:

cgjunghouston.org/art/pages/pages08/march08pozos.htm

Xalapa: Mexico's best kept secret

margot — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 18:44:44 +0000

The pea soup fog greets you on the road into town. By the time you come to the centro, the city is ghostly and shimmering, car headlights glowing like fireflies as they move through the streets. Elderly gentlemen huddle over steaming cups of coffee in grand old coffeeshops. Vendors in arcades near the zocalo tempt passersby with bottles of fruit wine and peanuts seasoned with dried sardines. Students tuck into used bookstores and pore over dusty volumes. Pedestrians scurry for cover when the drizzle suspended in the early spring air turns into a late afternoon downpour.

Between the urban sophistication of Mexico City and the rumble of the port of Veracruz lies the highland charmer Xalapa (pronounced ha-LA-pa, also spelled Jalapa). Despite being the city that gave the world's most famous chili pepper its name (jalapeño), Xalapa is nothing but cool: misty mornings gazing over lush green hills, a thriving art scene, the hip energy of a university crowd, and a café culture that would do Seattle proud.

Xalapa offers much of what has attracted foreigners to places like San Miguel de Allende or Oaxaca: history, museums (the largest collection of Diego Rivera paintings in the country is here, and the anthropology museum is second only to the one in Mexico City), beautiful architecture and cobbled streets and delicious traditional cuisine. Xalapa also has hints of Caribbean culture and...water! Year-round showers keep the city refreshingly comfortable and green, which can be a welcome change from Mexico's higher, drier west. And though the city's planners fell short in street layout-Xalapa's thoroughfares are a jumble even by colonial city standards-they more than succeeded with landscaping. Jungly parks sprout up all over town, and a series of causeways built around the lake in the centro makes for particularly agreeable strolling.

Xalapa hasn't yet made it onto the radar of most foreigners. "Jalapa Roy" Dudley is a photographer who has lived in Xalapa for more than 35 years. He estimates that though the foreign community is varied and includes many Europeans, it is small, with just 300 to 400 North Americans. "The School for Foreign Students at the [University of Veracruz] is only a block from my home and studio, so sometimes it seems there are lots of foreigners here," he says, noting that the city's overall population has grown much faster over the years than the number of foreign residents.

Yet this is part of the understated charm of being an expat in Xalapa, and brings foreigners closer to the jalapeño way of life. "Having taken pictures of a girl at her first communion, then her quinceaños and wedding, and now taking pictures of her daughter's first communion and maybe soon her quinceaños too, has made me part of the community," says Dudley.

The state of Veracruz is one of Mexico's most diverse, ranging from the tropical heat of the coast to the frigid temperatures of the snow-capped volcano Pico de orizaba (called citlaltopetl in Nahuatl, 18,400 feet). The terrain around Xalapa pleasantly splits the difference: at about 4,000 feet, the Xalapan hills are perfect for growing coffee (Coatepec is known as some of the world's best); the rivers and forests are home to a stunning variety of flora and fauna.

The geography is a boon for the adventurous and outdoorsy. Ecotourism outfits lead expeditions up craggy mountains, through caves and jungles, and down river rapids. A hike to spectacular Texolo Falls, located between the nearby towns of Xico and Teocelo, is a great way to spend an afternoon: start in Xico if you're feeling vigorous enough to walk up to the top; otherwise, take the stairs from Teocelo down the other way.

But if you're in the mood for leisure, don't worry. Xalapa is the perfect place to lose yourself in a hot cup of lechero (coffee with milk, Veracruz-style) and watch the world go by.

Boutique Love Shacks For Valentine's Day

sue-ellen — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 18:44:03 +0000

This Valentine's Day, put a new twist on the classic dinner date: have dessert brought to you in a romantic and comfortable hotel room. After all, nothing beats the cold weather like staying inside with your sweetheart!

Here's Inside México's guide to food, wine and love nooks for February 14th – or any other time you need a special getaway.

Ensenada, Baja California

La Villa del Valle (formerly known as Las Brisas del Valle) has maintained its sleek sophistication. The hosts, Phil and Eileen Gregory (he's an artist; she's a ﬁlmmaker), have built a beautiful mansion in a vineyard surrounded by northern Baja's semi-desert lanscape.

The décor is elegantly simple, and the rooms are private, perfect for romance. For each meal, the chef selects fresh ingredients from the hotel's own organic gardens. Be sure to try the four-course tasting menu at dinner, accompanied by a bottle of the hotel's own wine, Vena Cava, created by Mr. Gregory.

After dinner, you can retire to a sumptuous bedroom, and a bed plush enough to satisfy the heroine of "The Princess and the Pea." If you want to pamper your body as well as your palate, the hotel offers massages and yoga sessions. Otherwise, swing in the hammocks, tour the wine region and relax.

www.lavilladelvalle.com

info@lavilladelvalle.com

$175 USD per night (double room)

Pets and children are not allowed.

Cuernavaca, Morelos

Take a deep breath and get ready to enjoy a healthy healing experience with your special someone. You’ll want to stay forever at the exclusive Misión del Sol, an eco-friendly hotel and spa.

Visit the excellent gourmet restaurant and leave the stress of the city behind. The dining area is the very epitome of a relaxing space, and the menu offers tasty organic recipes, each crafted like a work of art. The wine menu presents a short but exquisite selection.

After the jazz band stops playing at 10, the romance continues: enjoy bedtime under lights as soft as quiet whispers; a double shower; and sheets that caress. What else do you need? All you have to do is rest and forget your worries.

www.misiondelsol.com.mx
reserv@misiondelsol.com
$227 USD per night (basic rate)
Check availability and packages

Campeche, Campeche

This extraordinary city, surrounded by an ancient wall built to protect it from pirates, is becoming a prime tourist attraction. The Hacienda Puerta Campeche, a collection of restored 17th century buildings, sits beside one of the wall’s most famous gates. In keeping with the Gulf setting, the hotel’s tropical bistro, La Guardia, serves up well-prepared regional food. The wine menu is small, but compliments the dishes perfectly.

At night enjoy the breeze in the stylishly lit roof bar, a perfect backdrop for romance.

It all looks like a Hollywood movie set, and the love story will continue in a room heated by passion and cooled to the languid beat of the ceiling fan. There’s even a nice hammock big enough for two.

The space is designed to calm the soul; in the morning you can float quietly through a watery labyrinth built among remaining sections of the city wall. Hacienda Puerta Campeche is not cheap, but you get your money’s worth.

www.haciendasmexico.com/puertacampeche reservations1@thehaciendas.com

$315 USD per night (basic rate).

Pets are not allowed, children are very welcome.

Colonia Roma, México, DF

In the heart of the chic and cosmopolitan Colonia Roma you’ll find a beautiful boutique hotel, La Casona, with a great bistro: Piaf is one of the few restaurants that stays open for dinner on Sundays, and the service is the main attraction. Well-trained waiters suggest delicious French dishes, impeccably prepared. The wine list is a gift, showcasing good wines at great prices. Order dessert in one of the luxury suites, literally cloaked in nineteenth century style. Enjoy the French rugs, wood fl oors, and absolutely beautiful bathrooms.

www.hotellacasona.com.mx informes@hotellacasona.com.mx

$185 USD Basic rate.

Continental breakfast included. Pets are not allowed, children are very welcome.

Rumbo a Mercado Jamaica

Shauna — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 23:16:23 +0000

Rumbo a Colima, "The Great Outdoors"

Shauna — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 18:07:17 +0000

On the Road with Maya & Catherine, "Monarch Butterflies"

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 20:06:57 +0000

Rumbo a Saltillo

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 18:08:47 +0000

Rumbo a Parras de la Fuente

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:57:17 +0000

Rumbo a Mazatlán

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:47:28 +0000

Rumbo a Cabo San Lucas

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:38:04 +0000

Rumbo a Guadalajara

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:26:07 +0000

Rumbo a Cuatro Ciénegas

Shauna — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:17:41 +0000

Morelia: Shopping, golfing...loving?

margot — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 22:06:00 +0000

No one would think of the San Miguelito in Morelia as a singles bar. It’s a restaurant, gallery, museum and bazaar. Antiques clutter every spare nook and cranny, making it look a lot like the Olde Curiosity Shoppe.

But what most captures your attention is the collection of sculptures of Saint Anthony - all of them standing upside down.

The faithful, explains Cynthia Martínez, a manager at the San Miguelito, come to pray to the saint and then stand him on his head until their prayer is answered. Men and women alike come; most are looking for a spouse. And many leave behind messages in San Miguelito's growing stack of guest books. "We have 17,000 entries," says Cynthia. How many have had their prayers answered? "We know of perhaps a dozen," she says. "But there undoubtedly are more who have never recounted their success."

Morelia, in case you haven't heard, is becoming a fashionable weekend haven for those bored with Valle de Bravo, Cuernavaca and San Miguel de Allende. Perhaps it's the 27-hole golf course designed by Jack Nicklaus that has made it such a favorite. Golfers must be lining up, for two more courses are under construction with talk of yet another along the shore of nearby Cuitzeo, the second largest natural lake in Mexico.

Meanwhile, new hotels are opening in ancient buildings on almost every block in the historic center. Notable is Los Juaninos, across from the Cathedral. It began as the palatial home of the Bishop of Morelia in the viceregal era. If legend is to be believed, public censure of episcopal opulence obliged the lordly cleric to seek more modest quarters.

The most famous of the luxury hotels in Morelia, however, is not new at all. Villa Montaña dates back more than half a century. Built by an American, it, along with the Villa San José and the Posada Vista Bella, attracted great numbers of vacationers from the United States in the 1950s and 1960s. Now a new generation of Americans - if Baby Boomers can be called a new generation - is returning.

This swarm of potential customers has fostered a growing community of artists. They gather along the Plaza de las Rosas on Sundays to display their works (Sundays only, because Morelia has banned peddlers from its streets). Collectors more interested in profits than aesthetics peruse and ponder. Many also stop in at the Casa de Artesanías, which features strikingly imaginative crafts and sponsors contests in which artists take innovative approaches to traditional designs.

In the 16th century, the first Bishop of the area, Vasco de Quiroga, encouraged indigenous Tarascan artisans and urged every village to specialize in one product. Possibly to counteract this coddling of the na- tives, the church and the viceregal government began importing entire families from Spain to become the new landed gentry. The colonizers moved the capital from Patzcuaro to Morelia, and gave it the grand ar- chitecture and aristocratic feel that still dominates the historic center.

Nights need not be dull in what was once a conserva- tive city; Morelia now boasts more than its share of discos and antros. There is a year-round roster of festivals and, being a university town, higher-brow diversions for those who prefer the staid and proper. On top of that, there is always the shopping.

Visit the Mercado de dulces, which sells more than candy. Stringed instruments from Paracho - a town fa- mous for its guitars - can be found at Iranpa in the historic center. Copperware from Santa Clara de Cobre is avail- able at Cobre y Arte in the Colonia electrícistas. Among the better art galleries are Galeria Oñate in the Plazuela Sonterraña in the historic center, and Creadores de Arte en Michoacán in Colonia Vista Bella.

And of course, many of the antiques on display back at the San Miguelito are for sale. Though what lures most people there, in addition to the good food, is the chance to petition Saint Anthony for a soulmate.

Tepoztlan: a valley, a mountain, an energy

margot — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 21:29:03 +0000

Round the bend of a mountain-hugging stretch of the Mexico-Cuernavaca highway, and there it is: Tepozteco Mountain rising from the Tepoztlán Valley. Craggy cliffs jut from the basin like cubist monoliths. The town of Tepoztlán is tucked, still out of sight, down in the rambling foothills of the Popocatépetl volcano.

It is believed that an undercurrent of curative powers exists in Tepoztlán and this has drawn followers of New Age, holistic and esoteric philosophies to this quaint, traditional pueblo. The beauty and the mysticism that surround Tepoztlán enticed me to visit; including that first time, I've made the hour-long trip from the D.F. nine times.

Locals claim that Tepoztlán is in a sacred valley where energies converge, and that these are concentrated in the pyramid built atop Tepozteco Mountain. The hike up is difficult, but the impressive view from the peak and the strenuous journey itself are completely fulfilling.

The journey to the Tepozteco summit begins on the main street, 5 de Mayo, which is lined by brightly painted artisan shops, holistic centers, restaurants and Zen bookstores, and punctuated by bursts of color from draping bougainvilleas. Pedestrians and stray dogs weave between passing cars and beverages stands offering cold micheladas. Aromas of incense, honey and fresh tortillas blend into a delicious combination. Hand-made itacates (blue cornmeal pancakes with your choice of topping) and quesadillas make a great pre-hike snack.

5 de Mayo leads to the "Camino del Tepozteco" at the base of the mountain. As the incline rises the people renting hammocks and selling tie-dye fall out of sight. A path of natural and built steps parallels a stream and is almost entirely shaded by arching trees and towering cliffs. I've shared the path with political pilgrims, ladies from Dallas on retreat, Nike-clad chilangos and a motley assortment of robed New Age monks. Some go slower than others, but everyone is vying for the same prize at the end.

If I weren't already winded from the climb, I would lose my breath each time I arrived at the pyramid and looked out on the vast valley accentuated by jagged peaks. Tepoztlán is at the center of it all, cradled by the surrounding mountains. Up there, gazing, resting, hours pass like minutes.

Returning to town in an exhausted euphoria, I like to visit the weekend craft market. Vendors sell sickles, poultry and legumes alongside incense, herbal remedies and tarot cards. Turn the corner and an accordion player squeezes out "Bésame Mucho" and vies for patronage with a flutist dressed as an Aztec warrior.

How does the trip end? Like any good story in Mexico – with a tequila and a cold michelada at my favorite restaurant, El Ciruelo.