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Published: August 8th 2006
Very, hungry doggie
This is how Paul looked after the meal of horror.I thought we’d told all that there was to tell from Mazatlan, hoped that we’d start out this entry with crazy stories from the little town of Tequila where it just so happens they make the drink by the same name. But I would be remiss if I didn’t say a word or two about Paul’s squid incident, although I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we left it out.
The night after we posted our last blog entry, Paul thought it would be nice to eat dinner in a real restaurant, maybe even a nice restaurant. Most of our food has been coming from street stalls or the market which usually suits us just fine. But Paul had a hankering for something a little more upscale where we thought maybe the health standards might be a notch above our usual dives. (And to be fair, I jumped on the idea as my guts had begun to play up—still playing up too, but that’s a different story).
We decide on a beautiful place across from our favorite swimming beach that we’d walked by a few times and thought it looked cute. It had a palapa roof and bright colored table
cloths which I’m always a sucker for. Paul thought that the seafood must be fresh cuz heck, it was just across from a beach where we’ve seen plenty of fish. In retrospect, we both realize that maybe we shouldn’t assume such things.
I ordered my old standby, filet of fish. Usually, it’s a meal that just can’t go wrong. Paul decided to be risky and try a lovely squid dish. And then we settled in drinking our margarita and beer.
My fish arrived and was patty-shaped as if it were from a box. It was also very brown and rubbery, as in my fork bounced back when I tried to hack off a bite to eat. But at least it was sort of edible. Paul dove into his meal in usual Paul style which is well, let’s say a little enthusiastic. So it didn’t click right away with him that the food didn’t taste so right. About half way through, he starts to make these sort of gaggy faces which in turn got me feeling a little like gagging. Next thing I know Paul is running off to the men’s room with a look of sheer panic. Not
Blue agave--where it all starts
We got to try a bit of the heart of these plants after it had been baked for 36 hours. It was yummy--tasted like sweet potato. good.
Ten minutes later he comes back to the table red-faced and watery-eyed from purging every last bite of our nice dinner out. Guess the fish weren’t so fresh as we thought. We tried explaining this to the waiter who assured us that in fact the fish were very fresh and that Paul was just sick from before. In an act of compassion, however, he did bring Paul a glass of water and offer to call for an ambulance. We opted to just go back to the room and asked for the bill leaving both dinners half eaten and Paul’s beer still full (I have to admit that I downed my margarita when Paul was in the loo.) To our dismay, and despite the fact that Paul now had less in his stomach than when we arrived, we had to pay for both meals and the undrunk beer. We paid the bill with no protest (we were pretty sure it would do us no good), but not without me letting them know that I thought their restaurant was a disgrace—but secretly laughing on the inside ourselves because we knew that we’d be able to slander them on our little
blog. Trouble is I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the place. So if you’re headed to Mazatlan and decide to eat in any palapa-topped restaurants on the foreshore, consider yourself duly warned.
But after Mazatlan, we did, in fact, visit the little town of Tequila where they make the fine liquor of the same name. I imagined a messy trip in Tequila being that it’s my favorite drink and all and how I can do shots of the stuff without hardly making a face. Just ask Erin and her clan in Woonsocket. Add to that, the fact that we took a 10 hour overnight bus ride to get there, and I think that’s reason enough for a drink. Alas, we were much better behaved than I had hoped.
After finding a hotel and having ourselves a little brunch, we headed off to “Cuervo World”. It was easy to find as signs reading “Cuervo Mundo” were posted all around the city pointing our way. I was giddy. But darnit, if it wasn’t sterile and overpriced and free samples weren’t even included in the tour like we’d hoped. After snapping a few pictures of the
things that we could see without paying the entrance fee, we headed back to the main plaza where we had been harassed with a much more appealing (and cheaper) tour which promised us all the free tequila we could drink. They were right.
The distillery and hacienda that we visited was called La Cofradia, and it was great fun. We got to see the beautiful blue agave plants in the fields where they sit for a minimum of five years (up to ten years for the better quality stuff). Then we learned how they hack off the leaves leaving what they call the pineapple (probably because that’s what it looks like) or the heart of the plant. After carting these to the distillery, each of these pineapples are loaded into an oven (which has got to be tough work—they weigh between 75 and 100 kilos each) and baked for 36 hours. Then they are cooled and pressed, and the juices are fermented in vats and then distilled two or three times depending on the quality of tequila they are making. The whole process takes about 8 days, and each day this particular distillery produces 16000 liters of the liquid
gold (making it the world’s seventh largest producer). Imagine the hangover.
We also learned a whole bunch of interesting stuff about the different kinds of tequila which is important as depending on the type you imbibe, you may or may not be praying for your life the next morning. The first thing you want to make sure of is that it’s 100% agave. It turns out that a lot of the cheaper kinds are 40-50% cane alcohol. Then you can choose between blanco which is the clear, basic stuff or oro, golden tequila that has been aged in barrels to give it the color. There is also reposado and anejo which are even better, the latter being aged over a year. So there you go.
After the tour of the distillery, we made a quick lap around the La Cofradia museum. (Did you know that if you make tequila outside of Mexico, you aren’t allowed to call it tequila? In fact, legally no matter what you say, it officially isn’t tequila.) Then we were off to the tasting, and who are we kidding, this is the only part we really gave a damn about. Thing is, we over
estimated our tequila gulping bravado. That, and they didn’t have limes and salt. We had to start declining the offers to taste the different varieties before we even made it through all of them the first time. It’s probably a good thing as I was already starting to slur my words a little and act like a ninny.
That night, after a long afternoon siesta, Paul and I wandered around the beautiful little downtown area where every other shop sells tequila or tequila drinking accessories and is quite willing to let you sample their wares. At dinner, these yummy drinks made from grapefruit soda and tequila were included for free with our meals. And afterward, we were served a couple of tasters of straight tequila and an almond liquor that was pretty fantastic. This place loves to get its visitors drunk!
In the morning, we were again sitting in one of the town’s charming little squares when Paul notices across the square two foreigners eating on a veranda. I squint up my eyes and realize that incredibly, they’re our friends Sarkis and Karine who’ve just driven into town after some time in Chihuahua and Zacatecas. What a small
world.
And then, it was off to Guadalajara where we met our friend Kimary from North Carolina. And what d’ya know? We liked Guadalajara too. The downtown area is one plaza after another linked with pedestrian walkways. Everywhere we look there are fountains and cathedrals and beautiful old government buildings with gorgeous interior patios. It is all so stunning. One building we visited, which through the years has been used as everything from an orphanage to an army barracks, is graced with morbid murals by Orozco, one of Mexico’s famous muralists.
The first night in Guadalajara, Kimary, Paul, and I decide to grab a beer in the plaza while watching a free weekly mariachi performance. Minutes after sitting down, one of the most tremendous storms I’ve ever seen starts up and began to absolutely douse the city. We were lucky to be sitting under a large umbrella, but this did little good as the rain and hail were blowing sideways. After nearly an hour of trying to bear down and wait it out (none of us had an umbrella or raincoat), we made a run for it. I loved it.
The next day we visited Guadalajara’s market.
It’s one of the largest in the Americas and has everything from saddles to sombreros. There are three floors of row after row of stalls selling everything you never thought you ever needed. I read that you could even get dried iguana if that’s what you were after. Paul and I got a beautiful bright Mexican blanket to keep us warm on the over-air-conditioned bus rides, and Kimary got a fantastic vintage tin Corona tray displaying a saucy senorita. Ole.
One huge area of the market is full of little restaurants and taco stalls. In this area alone, there are easily a hundred different places where you could grab a bite to eat. We chose one at random and ordered up a dozen of tacos and quesadillas to go for a picnic we decided to have in another little plaza where the Jalisco state band was due to play for free that night.
When we got to the bandstand there was no bright shiny brass band to be found. Instead we found a wonderful one-woman show. Ana looked like a gypsy and was singing and playing the guitar, tambourine, and maracas all at the same time. She had
this beautiful warm smile and kept encouraging the little kids around to dance with her. Kimary and I decided to take her up on it. Ana taught us a little waltz and the official dance of Jalisco. Before heading off, Ana also granted upon us the honorable distinction of being official members of the Jalisco state band with her. What an honor and so much more fun than sitting around listening to the real band, I’m sure.
Later that evening, we went to a bar where a kick-ass Cuban band was performing. And what fun it was to watch all the couples salsa and samba around the dance floor! One woman, whose feet moved faster than lightening encouraged us to get up and dance. “You just feel it inside of you” she said as she spun around with a flip of her hair. Sadly, I’m afraid I might be lacking that anatomical region. Kimary gave it a go though and swiveled her hips with a young Guadalajaran dentist.
But the night was not over. Oh no! You see, we moved from our hostel where we stayed the first night to a cheaper quieter place near the Plaza of
Mariachis. Or at least we though it would be quieter. When our taxi pulled up there at one in the morning, we were immediately swarmed by throngs of mariachis. Looking out the windows all I could see in every direction was tight pants and shiny silver buttons. It was surreal—other-worldly even. Almost scary, in fact. We scrambled out of the cab and must have said “No, gracias” a thousand times in the half a block to our hotel. There were literally hundreds of mariachis in every direction. We felt outnumbered, on somebody else’s turf. Once safely inside our hotel room, however, we peered out the window enchanted as we watched mariachis roam through the streets. Being a mariachi isn’t just their job, it is their life. They are not men, they are mariachis. We laid in bed being serenaded to the distant sounds of trumpets, violins and guitars until the wee hours of the morning. What a happy, happy day.
But, we hadn’t gotten our fill of Guadalajara’s famous mariachis yet. Oh, no. Before getting on our bus to Guanajuato the next morning, we ate breakfast again in the market and were thrilled by one last serenade. How nice
it was for a little fanfare before our departure.
Now, Guanajuato is the first town so far that I’ve actually been to before. So I was excited to be able to show Paul and Kimary around and revisit some of the things I remembered from before, such as the stairway I ended up sleeping in during my previous visit because the whole town was madly celebrating its annual Cervantino festival and there were no rooms to be found. This was also the stairway where I woke up to find a policeman standing above me with his hands down his pants, but that is an entirely different story.
The trouble with Guanajuato is that it is an endless maze of alleyways, staircases, and tunnels making my memories from nearly fifteen years ago absolutely useless. Besides, getting lost while wandering around and admiring the beautiful, old buildings and pretty flower covered patios is the best thing about Guanajuato. So that’s what we did. We wandered with occasional stops to eat tamales, tacos, sopes, and all sorts of other goodies from the street vendors; stops to see sites of interest like Diego Rivera’s house, for instance; and stops to have beers
in cute little bars with patios hanging off the city’s many hills.
We saw the Alley of the Kiss, a famously narrow little alley with a very romantic past. The story goes that two young lovers were forbidden to see one another by the young girl’s father. The young man took matters into his own hands and rented the apartment across from her house where the two lovers could stand, each on their own balconies, and kiss all night long.
We took the funicular up one of the steep hills in town to admire the view below. At the top there is also a monument to El Pipila, the man honored for turning the tide in Guanajuato during one of the battles of Mexico’s fight for independence. As the legend goes, El Pipila tied a slab of stone on his back, charged the gates of the storehouse where Spanish troops were hiding out, and torched the place. Hidalgo and other rebel troops were able to shoot down the Spanish as they fled from the flames. Later on, however, the Spanish got their revenge. After apprehending and killing Hidalgo and three other revolutionary leaders, they hung their heads off
hooks on the four corners of the aforementioned storehouse. So we of course had to stop and see the hooks.
One night we participated in one of Guanajuato’s famous traditions. A group of students in traditional velvet costumes gather in one of the town’s many squares to play music and sing. The crowd joins in and then follows them through the winding cobblestone alleyways in an energetic sing-along. Nowadays, however, you have to pay to participate, and not just a little bit either. So Kimary, Paul and I tagged along as inconspicuously as we could without actually having to buy the tickets. I know, pretty sad.
And now, after two days in Guanajuato, we’ve had two relaxing days in San Miguel de Allende. San Miguel de Allende is another historical town with ties to Mexico’s revolution. What it is more famous for now, however, is all of the wealthy North Americans who come here to retire. As such, there is a much greater variety of coffee bars and pasta restaurants which is a fun change of pace. But, of course, prices are a little steeper too.
Here, we’ve done much of what we did in Guanajuato—just wander.
The town has several breath-takingly beautiful churches and old mansions that Paul has had fun snapping pictures of. It also has a wonderful handicraft market that has been lots of fun to browse in.
More than anything though, I’m just enjoying the down time in our hotel which is a bit more upscale than what we usually stay in. After all the mariachis and fireworks and stuff keeping us up all night the last couple of places we’ve stayed, we decided to splash out on something a little more comfortable and quiet. Best thing about our hotel is that it is an old inn, and our room is in the old stable part. It is so cute. There is also a wonderful garden courtyard and rooftop terrace where we can see all the tiled tops of the town’s beautiful churches. It’s been good.
Tomorrow, we take an early morning bus to Mexico City where we have four nights to see all the beautiful ruins and murals that the city is famous for. I can’t wait to show Paul around one of the most fabulous (if hectic and smoggy) cities I know.
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Laura, Whitney, & Lucy
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Thai Tom's
Hey Guys-- Sounds like you are having a fun (if gut destroying) journey. Whit and Lucy wanted to experience Thai Tom's because of your recommendation, so we cruised over to the Ave and sat at the bar for some tasty Pad Thai. I believe fun was had by all and nobody threw up. Take care and keep the blogs coming! Much love, Laura, Whitney, and Lucy