OCTOBER 2003 VOLUME IX, NUMBER 2

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I N S I D E

by Jeanine Lee Kitchel

Jeanine Kitchel, a San Francisco Bay expat, moved to Puerto Morelos several years ago. Read more about Puerto Morelos in Jeanine’s upcoming book, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya (January 2004, Enchanted Island Press, $15). This non-fiction travel account leads the reader on an adventure that is not only fun to read but just the ticket for anyone who has ever dreamed of retiring in Mexico. Kitchel bought land, built a house, and retired in Puerto Morelos in 1997. Watch The Mexico File for a book review when her book is published.

Puerto Morelos has never been a contender for the tourist trade in the Riviera Maya. Located at the northernmost spot on the Riviera Maya map, just 36 kilometers south of Cancun, it was aptly named Quintana Roo’s best kept secret a few years ago.

Only recently has it been recognized as a destination spot for travelers. Most come to snorkel or dive in the pristine waters of the Palancar Reef (recently renamed the Great Mesoamerican Reef ), which has

M á s o M e n o s 2M u m m y M u s e u m 4

M o m e n t s i n T i m e i n C o p a l a 4A b o u t M e x i c o 8

carried the designation of ecological reef park since 1998.

Others come to take advantage of the yoga centers or the town’s spiritual offerings – temazcals, jungle journeys, Maya goddess center. And some tourists come simply

to hang out in a place that isn’t overrun with other tourists.

That’s what drew me to Puerto Morelos in the early ‘80s – near empty beaches and a lack of travelers. At that time it was a working fishing village, and even today, many townspeople still work the sea for a living. Every morning, if you’re up early enough, you can see the white and blue tiburoneras motoring out towards the reef, in search of the freshest seafood you’ll find on the coast, available by early afternoon at the fishermen’s cooperative on the town square at competitive prices. If your timing is good, and you’ve booked a few nights in one of the town’s low key hotels with kitchenette, have the fisherman filet it for you after he weighs it so it will be ready for the grill.

Local Puerto Morelos fishermen were

HOLY MOLE – FOOD AS A ROAD MAP THROUGH MEXICOby Nick Gallo

Nick Gallo is a Seattle writer with longtime travel experience in Mexico. He contributed an article on Rincon de Guayabitos for the May

2000 issue of Mexico File.

For much of my life, I thought I knew Mexican food – crispy tacos, goopy nachos, bunker-busting burritos. There’s nothing wrong with that – I rank Tex-Mex food right up there with garlic mashed potatoes as essential desert island fare – but then I started making regular visits to Mexico.

South of the border, I was surprised by all kinds of things. Tacos didn’t have hard shells, iceberg lettuce or heaping servings of ground beef. Usually, they were soft, small discs that held nighttime snacks. Hot sauce wasn’t the lifeless stuff slathered on chips, but instead came in so many sumptuous varieties and bright colors that they sometimes stole star billing.

In fondas, the humble food counters found in every market, I discovered

quesadillas filled with flores de calabazas (squash blossoms); pozole, a thick, savory, pork-and-hominy

Puerto Morelos – Quintana Roo’s Best Kept Secret

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Photos: Colleen McKay

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My family took many road trips when I was growing up in the

1950’s, and although my main memories are of being car sick and breathing second-hand Pall Mall smoke (who knew?) for endless miles, I do recall how different and diverse each part of the country was. You drove from one state to the next not knowing what to expect, learning about the country that most of our fathers had fought for just a few years earlier. The radio stations faded in and out with the regional twangs of people who lived in the area, announcing the day’s grain prices, playing Sinatra, Williams, Clooney and the newest flash-in-the-pan, a kid named Elvis, gossiping about the new diner offering the best dang fried-chicken this side of the Mississippi. You never knew what the motel or the chow would be like after a 500-mile drive in the ’56 Chevy, and it made every day a grand adventure.

I don’t have to tell you that things have changed a bit. The Clear Channel

radio conglomerate ensures that you will hear the same music and the same message (boycott the Dixie Chicks) wherever you may roam, and no matter where you are, the landscape is dotted (blighted?) by the same stores – Wal-mart, KFC, Dominos, Shell, Denny’s, you know the others. We now have a very safe and predictable travel experience – no surprises, no risk, no damn fun. I used to, not that many years ago, always pull into a town and ask around for the best barbeque, forever looking for the world’s finest. If you do that today they look at you as if you just grew a toe on your nose as they mutter something unintelligible, slowly backing away from your demented grasp.

Which brings me to why Mexico is the place I now like to road

trip. Public restrooms might be elusive, and hotel rooms are – let’s be kind – inconsistent if you don’t plan ahead (I don’t), but, man, is it fun. I love going to the open air markets for ice-chest snacks, the bakery and tortilleria, the beer distributor for a 20 bottle case,

Puerto Morelos Continued

given a ten-year step down period to adjust to a no fishing policy which will begin in 2008. At that time, the reef will become a true water park aquarium on a grand scale. Presently, neither jet skis nor parasailing is allowed, which means the only noise you hear is that of natural surf breaking on the mighty reef just a half mile off shore.

Many local fishermen have created new jobs for themselves as snorkel guides or dive masters. If you like to snorkel, it’s easy pickings for inexpensive snorkel trips by going to the local Puerto Morelos dock where a handful of snorkel boats can always be found. For higher quality dives or fishing excursions, contact Sub Aqua Explorers, right on the town square next to the bookstore, or contact Kathy Loretta at Diving Dog Tours (yes, there really is a diving dog at bocapaila@yahoo.com or check Diving Dog’s schedule at El Pirata Restaurant on the square).

The town boasts a handful of inexpensive hotels and bed and breakfasts from as low as $45 US per night. As prices vary with the season it is best to contact the hotels directly for pricing. A few of my favorites on the beach and right in town are Ojo de Agua (871-0027), Casita del Mar (871-0301), and Amar Inn Bed & Breakfast (871-0026). Part of the proceeds from your room rental at Amar Inn goes towards ecological measures geared towards saving the reef and the mangroves which surround Puerto Morelos.

The owners of Amar Inn were the initiators in establishing an ecological initiative to save the Palancar Reef, shortly after Garrafon Reef, near Isla Mujeres, was ruined by countless day trippers

who stepped on that fragile eco-system, eventually deteriorating it to nothing in twenty years’ time. At Ojo de Agua, wind surfing and kite surfing are popular sports, along with kayaking. Rent wind surf and kayak equipment right there on the beach. For an unusual experience, swim just off Ojo’s beach to the south and look for its namesake – the hole in the water – which is where fresh water from a local cenote streams into the ocean. Ask for information at the hotel desk.

A bit more upscale, also on the beach, is Villas Playa Sol (871-0236) with 30 condo units. Just off the beach are Casa Caribe (871-0049), Villas Clarita (871-0042), Villas Shanti (871-0040) and Motel Eden. On the town square, you’ll find charming Posada Amor Hotel & Restaurant, (871- 0033), one of the town landmarks, with super room rates, along with a good restaurant that serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not far away

is Hacienda Morelos (871-0015) on the beach, with ocean views, reasonable rates, and a restaurant downstairs.

Farther up the beach, about a kilometer north, is La Ceiba Hotel & Spa. Room rates are expensive, but the hotel is a striking vacation spot, with many amenities on site including spa, temazcal, gym, and massage room plus a beautiful

wooden zapote dock that stretches from the wide sand beach to a pleasant palapa where you can sit and watch pelicans, cormorans, or magnificent frigatebirds to your heart’s content.

Near La Ceiba, a few private beach villas

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The dock at Puerto Morelos

Pool at La Ceiba Hotel & Spa, Puerto Morelos

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are for rent; see www.casitamaya.com. Half a mile north of La Ceiba is Acamaya Reef Campgrounds (871-0132) one of the few trailer parks along the coast, with reasonable rates on the beach. South of town is Rancho Liberdad (871-0181) also on the beach, a hip, happening hotel for the avant garde traveler.

As for eats, Puerto Morelos has a smattering of restaurants, some quite good. I may not list them all here, as each season brings new eateries, so make sure to ask around once you’re in town. Top of the line is John Gray’s Kitchen, run by former Ritz Carlton chef John Gray and his wife Dora. Gray’s trendy new restaurant on Ave. Ninos Heroes, one block before the main square, serves up designer style cuisine every night but Sunday. For Italian food, try Palapa Pizza on the square; there’s sushi Mexican style at Hola Asia, El Pirata for great local eats like tacos, enchiladas, empanadas, and salbutes – Mayan fair you’ll love – plus even hamburgers and fries. The food is tasty with great prices and it has a view of the town park.

Pelicano’s – on the beach with a large palapa roof – is known for its seafood. In recent years the wait staff has become

Puerto Morelos Continued quite complacent; we suggest you count your cervezas when you get your check. Across the street is a cute Italian deli with great salads, sandwiches, cappucino, drinks. Spaguettino is a couple blocks north of the square, with tasty Italian eats and a large variety of wines, nice atmosphere. El Café d’Amancia is good for coffee, light meals or snacks, on the square. El Viejo Pescador is owned by the fishermen’s cooperative, and we hear there is good fresh fish nightly. El Tio’s, down below, is a local eatery with tacos, empanadas, salbutes, very cheap. Another local spot is Tuch T’lan (“the rabbit” in Mayan) with daily specials at unbelievable prices for authentic Yucatan food. Both Ojo de Aqua Hotel and Casita del Mar have small restaurants as does La Ceiba Hotel.

Every Wednesday there is a traveling vegetable vendor who sets up a booth on the town square – with fresh, tasty veggies and fruits. There is the tortilleria where for a few pesos you can get a kilo of fresh hot torts – bring an empty stomach! – on Ave. Ninos Heroes, not far from John Gray’s Kitchen. Scattered throughout town are little tiendas, or stores, selling soft drinks, beer, snacks, and on the town square is Casa Martin Super Market where you can find most any food or liquor item you might need. An ATM is there also. The town has two money exchanges and two internet spots – for checking your email, right near the town square, next to the liquor store. Computer Tips Internet also sells office supplies.

In case of medical emergency, there is a Medical Clinic just down the street from Hacienda Morelos Hotel. A local doctor is usually on call. In Mexico, medical students can receive tuition assistance by working off their loans in small town clinics like the one in Puerto Morelos. So, this is a good spot to get help with Moctezuma’s Revenge, but not a good spot if you are having cardiac arrest. There is an American Hospital behind American Express and a large new medical center in Cancun near J.C. Penney’s at the Mall of the Americas for more extreme emergencies.

As for shopping, Puerto Continued on page 6

Morelos has an Artisan’s Market with about 20 booths displaying and selling items such as hammocks, local clothing, hats, arts and crafts, and jewelry. The Tee Shirt Shop next to El Pirata has great tee shirts and lots of nice souvenirs. Don’t forget to stop in the bookstore, Alma Libre Libros, for a page-turner for the beach, right on the square.

For things to do around Puerto Morelos, check out Dr. Alfredo Barrera Marin Botanical Gardens, 65 hectares of semi-evergreen tropical forest surrounded by Puerto Morelos’ mangroves. An abundance of native plants and trees are here, all clearly identified by their Latin and Mayan name. A small pyramid site sits at the back of the reserve, along with a replica of a Mayan village, created by Sylvia, the curator, who has donated years of time to this facility. She has also planted a Mayan herb garden. Howler monkeys sometimes pass through the jungle part of the reserve late in the day, if you are lucky enough to spot them. The gardens are also alive with countless birds of Quintana Roo’s tropical forests. This is a very popular spot for bird watchers, so bring your binoculars, pack a lunch, and make an afternoon of it. Donations are accepted at the gardens, and we strongly urge you to be generous. The botanical gardens are two kilometers south of town, an easy walk or a short cab drive.

Puerto Morelos is actually a town divided by Highway 307. In 1988 when Hurricane Gilberto ravaged the area, around 60 feet of new sand was deposited on Puerto Morelos’ beaches from the storm. In Mexico, squatter’s

Fishing excitement with Diving Dog Tours

Diving Dog Tours, with coronado

Dock at Pelicano’s

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The Mummy Museumby Yvonne Moran

Yvonne Moran is a freelance writer and a former general assignment daily reporter. Her stories have been published in The New York Times, Connecticut Post, The Advocate, Greenwich Time, Irish America Magazine and Fairfield County magazines, amongst others. She contributes travel stories to several websites and also writes for national Irish newspapers and magazines. She has been writing about travel for more than a decade. Yvonne contributed an article on Chiapas for the July 2001 issue of Mexico File, as well as articles on Talavera pottery for the August/September 2001 issue and on baby turtles for the April 2002 issue.

They stare back, lifeless and shriveled, at the curious onlookers, unable to say who they are or where they’re from. They’re the mummies of Guanajuato’s world-famous Mummy Museum. During the high season, hundreds of tourists daily form snake lines outside the tiny museum to view the macabre images of the afterlife.

“When the family didn’t or couldn’t pay the cemetery’s maintenance fees, employees opened the tomb and removed the body to the nearby cemetery,” said Carlos Montiel Martinez, my very informative guide, during my visit to see the 100-plus mummies housed in glass paneled displays. He’s been involved in the museum for three decades, having begun working part-time there when he was 14 years old. Most of the bodies were removed from the cemetery’s crypts approximately six years after burial because the family hadn’t paid the dues required every five years, said Martinez. Current fees are approximately 500 pesos, or $51.

The museum, which has four rooms and three corridors, is the only one of its kind in the world. But what’s remarkable is the pristine condition (relatively speaking) of the bodies, some of whom were buried almost 150 years ago. The museum is located in the city of Guanajuato, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, in the small state of the same name, near the city of Leon. It is several hours drive from Mexico City.

Juan Saramillo, whose museum number is 92, is the best preserved body in the museum. His eyebrows and eyelids are intact (unlike most of the other mummies), and he has facial hair, including a mustache. He died on 1 January 1903 and was removed from the cemetery seven years later.

“We don’t (exactly) know why they are conserved,” Martinez said, adding that there are several possible reasons. A constant semi-warm climate allows for a necessary rate of dehydration; the terrain is hygroscopic; crypt, rather than ground burial, helped, and minerals and gases in the soil inhibit natural decay. It’s estimated that the natural mummification process takes approximately five years. However, not all bodies removed from their tombs are well preserved, and those that are not are burned, my guide said.

“These bodies aren’t preserved at all, unlike Egypt’s mummies,” said Martinez. In Egypt, their brains and entrails were removed, their skin was oiled, and bodies bandaged before burial. The Mexican mummies aren’t mummies in the strict sense, as mummies must be prepared with oil, he said.

Guanajuato’s mummies were placed behind glass cases after a period of being displayed openly. However, visitors stole various body parts and the mummies’ identifications, so they were placed behind glass, my guide said. Pranks including placing cigarettes in the dead bodies’ mouths were also played.

Remigio Leroy, a French doctor, is the museum’s oldest mummy at almost 140 years old. The museum opened with just his body in 1870. The most recent mummy is a 55 to 60 year old fully clothed person who died in 1979 who’d been removed from the cemetery in 1984. While the museum didn’t have a record of that person’s name, I was informed that it’s available in the public records. Since 1984, bodies exhumed from the cemetery are no longer placed in the museum. The families of the deceased are now responsible for the graves’ upkeep, and if they abdicate responsibility, the bodies are cremated or placed in graves belonging to family members who have died more recently.

The first mummies exhumed in 1870 were

Moments Back in Time in Copala by Nancy V. Sont

Nancy Sont is a writer who lives in McDonald’s Corners, Ontario, Canada, and the owner of NVS Editorial Services (613-278-0225). She is a frequent contributor, having contributed an article on Old Acapulco for the November 2001 issue of Mexico File, as well as an article on monarch butterflies for the February 2002 issue.

After a long winding drive through the rising Sierra Madre mountains, past spectacular views, past women selling bread on a slow moving corner, we arrived in Copala and parked at the far edge of town, across from Daniel’s Restaurant. We were very lucky not to meet the people from the two weekly cruise ships that visit the tiny town.

A child on a burro arrived and asked my daughter Scarlett if she wanted a ride. She wanted to take his photo but the second set of batteries was now dead, as well as the first.

She immediately made acquaintance with him. Because the place is a ghost town now that the silver mine is closed, many men have left to find work. The children do the rest of the income earning.

Victor, our guide, assured Scarlett that she would have plenty of chance to talk to them. They would certainly follow us around the village.

As we piled back into the van to go further into town, children on burros called their names aloud to her so she would know who to ask for, should she wish to pay for a ride or a photo.

We parked near the center of the village alongside the Zocalo. Two more children met us, offering us some small bark carvings of the town. I was amazed and intrigued,

“Haciste lo?” I asked eagerly in Spanish, to which one child nodded.

“Como?” I prodded. He pulled a tiny slot screwdriver out of this pocket to show me just how he had made them, putting the screwdriver into the tiny rectangular window hole. “What a magical carving to sell,” I said, as the child leaned over the carving.

A man with a weather worn face smiled Continued on page 6

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humble conditions, I went back for my friend, Jane, and Scarlett. Jane didn’t agree it would be nice to live in one of these ramshackle wooden houses.

The pathway meandered up and down between the scattered dwellings, some with cement walkways and tile roofs, others with wooden slat walls and tin tops.

Two children played alongside the road on a cliff.

Noting the quiet, I asked, “Are there any birds here?”

“Yes,” the 10-year old girl nodded. “What color are they?” I prompted.

“Red, green orange, yellow, blue, black, white...” the girl responded, referring to the big bird, the toucan, that lived in the tree around the bend.

She slipped down the six foot high bank, landing on her feet, laughing loudly. The commotion brought the attention of her mother across the valley who waved in response to me. It felt so relaxing to be here. I felt very at home, accepted even though I was a tourist, even more so than in my own neighborhood thousands of miles away.

Around another bend we found what looked like a huge beehive attached to the side of a tree. It must have been 18” wide and 30” long. It was huge.

“A small green bird made it,” the woman who lived alongside it said as she came down the hill, laden with plastic shopping bags of groceries. It was amazing to see her wearing a business suit and carrying groceries, far from any city. Perhaps I hadn’t seen the whole town!

I didn’t find out until I was on a guided tour in another area that the ‘beehive’ was actually a termite nest. No one had told the people who lived there; they’d just seen the little bird using it.

An elderly lady wearing a pink and blue housedress emerged from a narrow dirt pathway. She had grown up here, lived right there in that small square house that was nestled into the hillside.

“How old is this road?” I asked.

“Older than I can remember,” she answered, the same answer as to how long she’d lived in the pink house raising her two sons.

We talked as we climbed the steep road back

to the village. The church rose across the valley in front of us and we stopped for a few photos. Was that bird I heard caged or loose? I wondered, as we met the same teen I’d met earlier. No, this canary was caged.

Daniel’s Restaurant was about to close when we arrived, but he didn’t mind staying open to serve us the best chicken dinner I’d ever eaten. He placed it on two burners which he brought to the table. The sun was setting beyond the open balcony as we sat and ate. The Sierras rose majestically around us, covered with dark greenery. A distant truck’s engine came in and out of earshot as it made its way along the curving roads on the mountainside.

What a place, where the birds are toucans, the nests are feet wide, the children make carvings my children never dreamed of – this was certainly a heavenly place, I thought as I watched the sunset. Maybe I could share it with those who would also love it, those who wouldn’t be on a cruise ship to Mazatlan. I took out my notebook and pen and leaned back in my chair, listening to the sound of a burro across the valley.

If You Go:Copala is in the mountains about 40 miles from Mazatlan, Sinaloa. Head southeast on Highway 15 for 12 mi/20 km. At Villa Union, turn left on Highway 40 toward Durango. Pass Concordia and its giant wooden chair. After about 20 mi/35 km is Copala.

For more information visit www.copala.com. The website says visitors can see hand carved furniture being made, bricks made from the mud in an open fi eld, handmade pottery and glazed fl oor tile, a commercial laundry in an open fi eld using hot pools fed by natural hot springs, plus many other unique sights, common to this area.. I didn’t see any of that, since we arrived after 5:00 pm. Our guide wasn’t too interested in volunteering any information. Be sure to take along some spare change – hand drawn crayon pictures done by the children are $1US each!

broadly as we decided how much to pay. The price was ‘whatever you’d like.’ They each gave us a free one. Our driver said that was to ‘hook us in.’

They would say, ‘No you take it for free!’ The recipient would inevitably want to give it back, but the child would stand firm. The recipient would then dig deep to compensate them. I asked again, “How much?”

He looked up at his older brother with questioning faith, to which the brother replied, “Cinco (5) pesos.”

The brother put the piece on his arm to show that the four-inch carving was part of a pricker from a tree, probably about 8” tall before it had been sawn off for the carving.

“There’s a very big one in the church,” the man commented, spreading his arms wide. I marveled, looking around to see where the church was.

After selling us their wares, boys disappeared and I realized I had better start exploring. The stone road was only another block long as it climbed the steep hillside beside the tourist shop.

The houses consisted of tiny forested farmyards. A pig oink’ed and wandered along the yard, then onto the road, followed by a few squealing piglets.

A teenager and her boyfriend walked along, finally catching up with me. I surprised them by speaking Spanish. They were quite friendly and willing to talk. The girl was 18, he was 22. She had lived there all her life.

They explained that since it was a ghost town, there were houses available to buy. A group of Americans lived there. A Cuban lived on the hill in a Caribbean style home on the top of the mountainside. They only came for a few months of the year. They treated the woman that worked for them as their daughter and paid her well.

Over the rattling of the chickens came a TV voice. I noticed an electrical pole that stood beside me. There were no cars or driveways along the narrow road that led up into the hills.

The dirt between the anciently placed stones had eroded, leaving the road a bumpy carpet. In the summer rainy season, it would be such a different place.

Amazed at what I was seeing, how close to the land the people lived, and in such

and finding the guy with the perfect carnitas or the mesquite-smoke ladened carne y pollo. I love walking the village streets, hanging in the zocalo, never knowing what lies ahead in the town up the road.

Más o Menos Continued

b b b

b b b

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Mummy Museum ContinuedHoly Mole Continued

Continued on page 7

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placed in the cemetery’s administration offices. They were then moved to a nearby underground crypt and displayed along passageways for visitors, who could reach out and touch the bodies. It wasn’t until the 1960's that the museum building was reconditioned for the specific purpose of using it as a museum and the four exhibition halls were added.

The mummies’ social status can be determined by the type and amount of clothing in which they were buried. Traditionally, the deceased were laid to rest wearing their best attire, and while several wore jackets and dresses, others owned the most rudimentary of clothing. Several were also buried naked.

The museum houses three foreigners, two French doctors – and a Chinese woman who’s been in the museum for 133 years. While many French relocated to Guanajuato after Maximilian visited in the 1860's, Martinez didn’t know how or why the Chinese woman came to live and die there. The area’s immensely rich silver mines (at one time the richest in the world) attracted many foreigners in the 19th century, however.

Room number three, which houses 15 mummified babies and four heads (the bodies having been destroyed by visitors) is the museum’s most popular room. Crowds stand around and stare at the tiny mummies, signs of lives that had been cut short long before their time. One baby wore a yellow and green costume representing St. Joseph; another was attired in black and white clothing depicting St. Martin de Porres, while babies dressed in red and white and holding a heart represent the Sacred Heart. Several still had their favorite toy or blanket beside them that had comforted them when they were alive. Babies who died weren’t considered infants, but “little angels,” free from all sin, and this is why they were dressed in this particular way, according to the Mummy Museum booklet I’d purchased in the museum store.

Photographs of the recently-departed with their family members hang on the walls of corridor one above the mummified bodies. It was customary in Mexico at the beginning of the

stew; and the comida corrida, a four-course, mid-day meal

that introduced me to dishes that ranged from soulful (tortilla soup) to sublime (huitlacoche, or corn fungus).

In Jalisco, I saw the light. A state famous for its

charros, its cowboys, Jalisco is known as a carnivore’s kingdom where you smell restaurants before you see them. Wander around Guadalajara and you can subsist on the wafts of pit-cooked cabrito (kid). But my memorable moment occurred at a small, homey restaurant.

“You should try something truly Mexican,” a Mexican friend commanded, ordering for me.

A plate arrived with what resembled a chile relleno except that it was bathed in a white cream sauce and sprinkled with ruby-red pomegranate seeds. With my first forkful, I tasted the crunchy pomegranates, followed by a blast of fresh walnuts. One bite into the chile pepper brought a delicious explosion of chopped pork, garlic, and tomato. With each succulent forkful there was another eruption of flavor – raisins, almonds, fresh peaches and apples – all of them contributing to a robust interplay of flavors. Most surprising of all, the fabulous dish was served cold.

The dish was chiles en nogada, and it was a revelation. Mexican food – real, authentic Mexican food – was richer, bolder, and more complex than I realized. Formerly, Mexican food seemed as subtle as the Chihuahua dog in the TV commercial who proclaimed, “Yo quiero Taco Bell.” But this dish was refined and balanced. It was exuberant, colorful, almost baroque in presentation. It was meant to be savored. Few Mexican dishes are as elaborate as chiles en nogada, a seasonal specialty, but as I began to travel throughout Mexico, I discovered a repertoire of intriguing dishes. In Oaxaca, I encountered mole (MO-lay), an indigenous word meaning mixture. Oaxaca is famous as the land of seven moles – seven vastly different dishes, with

dozens of variations. The most celebrated is mole negro (black mole), a complex dish that makes whipping up French sauces seem like a snap. In Oaxaca, I joined Susana Trilling, a chef who runs the Seasons of My Heart Cooking School, for a day of marketing, cooking, and feasting. No masochist, I didn’t attempt to create mole, which involves laborious preparation of a long list of ingredients – sesame seeds, chiles, garlic, almonds, nuts, a touch of chocolate, and more – but I hung out at the comal, Mexico’s version of the wok, and pestered Trilling with questions about Oaxaca’s cuisine.

In the following days, I rambled through town to sample the specialties Trilling

mentioned. In little time, I found chapulines, fried grasshoppers;

entomatadas, tortillas in a red sauce; quesillo, a stringy, pungent mozzarella

cheese; tasajo, thinly-sliced dried beef; clayudas, frisbee-

sized tortillas dabbed with pork drippings, bean paste, and grilled meats; and hot chocolate, flavored with cinnamon and nuts.

I was beginning to understand. When it comes to food (and many other aspects of culture), there isn’t just one Mexico, but multiple Mexicos. With 32 states in about a dozen regions, Mexico contains a wide array of distinct, regional cuisines, each shaped by different ancestral habits, customs, and geography.

The northern states have hearty “cowboy” fare: fire-smoked steaks and “drunken beans” (pintos cooked in beer) wrapped in flour tortillas. In Veracruz, the Spanish- influenced cooking includes huachinango a la veracruzano – red snapper smothered with a zesty sauce of tomatoes, chiles, olives, and capers. In the Yucatán, Maya-inspired dishes are flavored with achiote

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The Mexico File’s contents are intended for the independent traveler. The infor-mation given is believed to be reliable, but cannot be guaranteed for accuracy due to constant changes that occur in a country this size. n Unsolicited stories, photos and letters are welcomed and encouraged. Postage should be included for any items to be returned. n This publication may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the editor and the author of the article.

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MFTHE MEXICO FILEThe Newsletter for Mexicophiles

Holy Mole Continued

seasoning, made from a local seed and spices, marinated in bitter orange juice, and wrapped in banana leaves before being baked. Not long after visiting Oaxaca, I found myself in Mexico City where I tracked down Patricia Quintana, author of The Taste of Mexico (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1986). I had many questions. Why are some tamales heavenly and others taste like dog food? What’s up with corn fungus? How did French rolls get to Mexico?

Deciding I needed a lesson in the basics, Quintana took me to Fonda El Refugio, a Zona Rosa restaurant renowned for its sage kitchen staff of elderly women. “Here we have the pre-Hispanic diet,” Quintana said, as if she were summoning the nation’s ancient Aztec soul as she offered me a spoonful of nopalitos – diced cactus – accompanied by warm tortillas, guacamole, beans, and tomatillo sauce, all foods that predated Cortés.

“And here,” she cooed, nodding to a platter of quesadillas, “come the Spaniards. Milk, cheese, fried foods – this is the legacy of the Europeans.”

The history of Mexican gastronomy is entwined in the union of Aztec and Spanish foods, she said. Indigenous people relied heavily on corn, beans, and squash – the holy trinity – along with chiles, tropical fruits, the turkey, and crunchy insects. (They also introduced vanilla and chocolate to the world.) The Spanish brought the

wheat culture, adding beef, pork,

dairy products, sugar cane, olives,

onions, and garlic to form a combination plate for the ages.

“Our foods are a product of our history,” Quintana said. “They tell us where we came from.”

And perhaps where Mexico is going. In recent years, Mexican chefs have embraced global culinary trends. In some cases, this means the nouvelle approach – tony restaurants elevating authentic regional specialties with the royal treatment and contemporary cooking techniques. In others, it means fusion fare. As if to symbolize the country’s 21st-century yearnings, chefs unveil cross-cultural adventures such as tenderloin of beef and chipotle chiles in a sauce of port wine and fresh figs.

I have nothing against the latter trend – I never met a jalapeño mousse I didn’t like – but over the years, my tastes have grown simpler. Paradoxically, as I’ve come to appreciate Mexico’s rich traditions, I’m happiest when I’m at a beach cafe eating ceviche or back in the fondas, slurping vegetable soups that don’t make it into tourist restaurants.

Recently, I was traveling with a group in La Paz, eating at the city’s finest restaurants. During the trip, Andrew, a group member who had not seen much of Mexico, discovered street food. While the rest of us were perusing museums, he’d duck out to the city square to join the businessmen and day laborers hunched over plastic plates, gorging on gorditas and sopes and empanadas. Unhappy about the disruption, the trip’s organizers told him to lay off the snacks and save his appetite, but Andrew paid them no heed. He’d spot another street vendor and off he’d dash to gulp down another peasant treat. I sympathized. With Mexican food, the magic rises from its roots.

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20th century to photograph those who’d died before they were buried, Martinez said. And the Mexican’s ambiguous relationship with death is reflected in Jose Guadalupe Posada’s nearby drawings, depicting cheerful skeletons dancing and street-sweeping. Posada taught Diego Riveria, one of the country’s most famous artists.

Although work had begun on building a municipal cemetery in 1853 in response to a cholera outbreak, the city’s cemetery wasn’t officially opened until 1861 due to several major political events. Prior to the introduction of public cemeteries, bodies were buried in the atria of churches and convents, and in the churches themselves, depending on the social status of the deceased. Burials in these traditional venues were prohibited when the 1860 Reform Laws declared that church property belonged to the nation.

Several of the mummies showed physical signs of how they’d died. Blood traces between a 54 year old male’s ribs told of how he was killed with a knife or gun in 1940; marks on a woman’s neck testified to her death by a hanging suicide or homicide; while a large empty space where a tumor had grown in a woman’s stomach was evidence of cancer.

One woman died during an unsuccessful Caesarean operation performed in 1920. Close by, her 18 centimeter high dead baby holds the record for being the smallest mummy in the world, according to the guide. A very large woman was buried alive because she suffered from catalepsy, which gives the frozen-like appearance of death for such a time that everyone believes the person is actually dead. The horrific accident was only discovered five years later when the tomb was opened. Her body, which had originally been buried face upwards, had turned over in the grave. And her arms, previously folded across her chest were now folded near her face. Her body and facial expressions reflected some of the horror of her fate.

Because the bodies were not embalmed, the mummies have different facial expressions; however, most of their mouths are wide open because after death facial muscles relax and jaws drop. Some

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Don’t Worry, Be HappyThe World Values Survey in New Scientist magazine has concluded what many of us have suspected all along, ranking Mexico as having the second highest percent of happy people in the world, trailing only Nigeria (huh?). The United States, with a large percent of the world’s total wealth, came in a dismal 16th – something to consider the next time you are crawling along on a freeway after pulling another 12-hour work day.

Home Depot Expands OperationsHome Depot, the Atlanta-based home improvement retailer that blazed across America in the 1980’s and 90’s, has moved into Mexico intent on becoming the dominant player in the field. With a growing middle-class and the fiscal crisis from eight years ago in reverse, they see a great opportunity to capture the $12.5 billion home improvement business. Home Depot currently has 15 stores in Mexico with three more planned this year, providing 2,000 new jobs. Ace Hardware, which has 84 stores in Mexico, is understandably concerned about the competition.

New Telescope Nears CompletionNear the small town of Aztitzintla (pop. 7,000), on top of the Sierra Negra volcano about 100 miles east of Mexico City, dozens of welders, scientists, and engineers have been working daily, constructing a $100 million radio telescope with an antenna 165 feet in diameter. When completed in a couple of years, it will be the most powerful of its kind in the world, peering into now unknown galaxies. The location, in a 15,000 foot inactive volcano, has an oxygen level of only 57% of that at sea level. Newly developed millimeter wavelength detection devices will be put to test here, which may advance communications technology as well as security measures. The project is being funded and developed by both the United States and Mexico, with Mexico spending $50 million.

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Mummy Museum Continued

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of the cadavers’ hair and nails had also continued to grow, thanks to their body’s store of calcium. Many still have teeth, and their skin is dry and taught.

Entry costs into the Museum of the Cult of the Dead, adjacent to the Mummy Museum, is included in the price of the same ticket. Ghoulish glass displays include a cut off finger, and a constantly disco-like flashing scene of a head already removed by a guillotine. Someone who’d been tortured during the Inquisition had been placed in a coffin with huge nails that protruded into the victim’s body. A bizarrely-placed hologram showed a dead fly under a microscopic. Ghostly music played continuously.

Approximately 6,000 people a month visit the museum, primarily to see how people are preserved in Guanajuato, said Manuel Gutierrez Cerda, the museum’s director, of the many tourists that visit the historic city. “And a lot of people leave crying,” he added.

It was a relief to emerge in the warm, life-embracing Mexican sunlight.

Information: The Mummy Museum is open seven days a week from 9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Entrance is approximately $3.50. Get there early to avoid the crowds!

The museum's address is: Pantheon Municipal, at the west end of town. Bus: Take a “Las Momias” bus in front of the basilica or the market downtown, and the bus stops a short distance from the museum. Phone: 4/732-0639

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rights prevail, and if someone remains on previously unacknowledged land for 60 days, they may lay claim to the property. After the hurricane, squatters came from all over Quintana Roo to lay claim to this new beach.

But just days before this came to pass, the PRI sent in troops to relocate the squatters to jungle land on the other side of Highway 307. Land grants were bestowed on the squatters, and today, La Colonia is the other half of Puerto Morelos. If you are hankering for a true Mexican style pueblo, check it out. It has a town square, a church, a school. Prices tend to be lower at La Colonia restaurants and small vegetable stands. It’s a good place to practice your Spanish or buy a BBQ chicken grilled on mesquite for $5.00US. Delicious!

Puerto Morelos has experienced great growth in the past few years in the real estate market. Unlike Playa del Carmen which stretches for kilometers both north and south, Puerto Morelos is surrounded by mangroves, so there is a limited amount of land for sale. Most beach-front land is now sold, but there are houses for sale throughout the town. Check with Vicky Sharp for what’s still available at (998) 871-0112 or vsharp@prodigy.net.mx or Marcela Diaz at (998) 845-8725 or floridakey@aol.com.

When you’ve explored Cancun and Playa del Carmen and are still looking for that quiet getaway spot that seems just out of reach, check out Puerto Morelos. If you settle into the town’s relaxed lifestyle and start to feel comfortable, watch out. Because next thing you know, you’ll be moving there. That’s what happened to me!

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