Chiles and Chainrings

Espinazo del Diablo

2011-11-15T13:55:00.000-08:00

"Shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp" so began my mantra after 20 km of being beaten in the face by some seriously nasty headwind on our way into the city of Durango. I couldn't wait to get to Mazatlan and the beach.

Durango was a pleasant surprise and it wasn't for the chocolate cake and candied pecans I found either. I swear we were the only tourists in town and yet, with it's pedestrian streets and beautifully lit colonial buildings, Durango shone as if it had just been polished up for some international touristic event. Only there was no international event. Durango is just a lively and prosperous place. If it weren't for the fact that this capital actually sees snow in the winter I'd say that I'm shocked the place isn't full of gringo retirees. While we were excited to finally be turning onto the Ruta 40 which leads to the Espinazo del Diablo, we were also sad to be leaving this gem of a place.

Onward and upward we went only to be passed by at least a hundred local riders out for a Sunday ride. The folks were unusually accessible and curious for Mexican road riders, we exchanged stories and got the details about the ride that lay ahead. Most of them knew it intimately from an annual event arranged by Vagabundos Durango that follows this route from Durango to Mazatlan in two days and attracts over 500 riders. Were were doing it in three and it was still plenty tough.

The second day we paralleled the new toll road for a good distance and then made it to the the heart of the reason we were there "the espinazo!". To say this road ribbons, undulates, or meanders is an understatement...sinuous curves- oh yes it is all of those things. You reach a point where you feel you should must begin your descent to the sea, but the road drops twists and then regains all of the altitude you just lost. It does this countless times for more than 40 kilometres. Granted you do gradually do lose some altitude, but the only thing that makes this loss feel rewarding is the sea of disappearing blue mountain ridges that wash out to the left of you as you make you way down the road. It takes a long time before the metres disappear easily. A man directing traffic around a bit of road constuction eggs us on with accolades as to our cycling prowess and how tough these hills are. Basil moans of how this might be the toughest downhill ever.

And then all of a sudden we are at the sea and eating shrimp on the beach in Mazatlan.

The Plunder of Zacatecas

2011-11-14T15:59:00.000-08:00

The canyon lands melt away behind us as the landscape yawns into a wide open high plateau. Fluffy fat cows graze all around us and signs for lienzo charro appear painted on the walls of most towns we pass through. I delight in seeing young men in big hats practicing their rope work while riding horseback on the the grassy banks between the cattle fences and the side of the road. It is obviously mating season for certain insects as the road itself is full of the carnage of millions of giant smashed grasshoppers. On top of almost every pile of smashed sex-craved bugs more grasshoppers gather to copulate.

In Fresnillo, we hope to see some Day of the Dead celebrations, but upon leaving our hotel and making our way to the main drag, we are left speechless by a river of of parents dragging their costumed kiddies to every store in sight silently begging for treats. My feelings are so terribly confused. I love seeing kids dressed up, and, there is no argument, Mexicans know how to rock a wicked costume, but to know that commercialism and the pursuit of candy had pushed such a rich and healing celebration completely into the background is, well, troublesome. Given that this day is actually All Soul's Day and not All Hallow's Eve - this feels like little more than a greedy commercial opportunity at the expense of a much profounder tradition.

And so on we ride into the wind and ever higher into the wide open expanse that is the centre of Zacatecas. Halfway down the road we find a traffic jam. A transport truck has turned over and lost all of its cargo. The cab is completely flattened and dozens of people are mucking about the boxes and broken glass salvaging any full bottles of beer they can carry. The driver is okay. As we arrive, fully drained, in Sombrerete home to some of Mexico's richest deposits of mineral ores. I can't help but think of the parallels between the plundering halloween wannabes of the previous day, our beer looters from the afternoon, and the plundering of the original conquistadors marauding about the Americas in search of gold and silver and any other grabable loot.

State Line Shuffle

2011-11-11T14:18:00.000-08:00

Things have a way of falling into proper scale when out in the mountains on your bike. With the sudden end to our Day of the Dead tour we decided to head north out of Guadalajara. No plan, no preconceptions, just the vague idea that we would ride over the Espinazo del Diablo from Durango to Mazatlan. Plucking along highway 23 we had a tough time shedding Jalisco. It felt a little like a game of state line peek-a-boo as we crossed from Jalisco to Zacatecas to Jalisco to Zacatecas to Jalisco to Zacatecas to Jalisco to Zacatecas.

It was at the end of our first day that our love affair with burritos began. Having pushed harder than we should have and riding well into the night we arrived to a plate sized burrito stuffed with everything in the kitchen. The burritos that followed were never quite the same, but plenty tasty for different reasons every time.

Down the road we met the town of Teul a pretty, proud, and much forgotten about pueblo magico. Tucked away between meandering state borders, many dirt roads, and rather isolating canyons and mountains this region flies somewhat under the radar of the authorities which makes it choice turf for moving illegal merchandise. Unfortunately, there have been some flare ups over who controls the area. The locals say everything has calmed down now, but poor public perception will hang on and keep even local tourists away for a long time. Walking the streets, it's tough not to be influenced by local pride in who they are and where they are from. For us the real find were "gordas de horno en hoja de roble" aka corn dough, cheese, and strained yogurt baked on an oak leaf in a wood burning oven.

And then gorditas took front and centre stage. Chubby little corn or wheat disks patted into shape and then jammed with any variety of stews. It is tough to not stop at every roadside stand to sample each woman's rendition of carne deshebrada, picadillo, mole, or just plain and simple beans and cheese...

Guadalajara Bike Treats - the good and the better

2011-10-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

One thing that can be tough to find while bike touring in Mexico is a plateful of good veggies that you haven't put together yourself. Imagine our surprise at seeing snack carts like this stationed all over the centre of Guadalajara...

I felt all virtuous seeing the cyclist stopping in to refuel at one of these veggie carts. Could it be that through him I was vicariously living the healthy lifestyle misnomer that Basil and I have somehow perpetuated as professional bike tourists? Truth be told, this is what I truly crave post ride:

Oh yeah, CHURROS! aka dough - hand kneaded, fried in fat, sliced open and filled with homemade caramel then rolled in sugar and cinnamon. So simple and yet when made by this trio of angels it is like ambrosia...

Clearly I will never be a Pan Am games contender, but I can certainly take you to the best churros in town. God Bless these Guadalajaran churros makers. To sample these treats while in Guadalajara go two blocks up from the San Juan de Dios market kiddie corner from Hotel Azteca (any afternoon except Sunday). You won't regret it.

Change of Plans

2011-10-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

“Life is not orderly. No matter how we try to make it so, right in the middle of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, or drop a jar of applesauce.”
--Natalie Goldberg

As planned we started out pedalling on our Day of the Dead Tour in the Meseta Purepecha, but, following the unexpected and sudden twists that life so readily hands out, we ended up in Guadalajara. Sad to be losing our riding partners who returned home to address family matters, Basil and I turned to embrace what new direction this change of events might lead us.

We awoke the following morning having barely slept due to the noise of the traffic outside our hotel window. After some minutes of complaining to each other, we realized the noise of buses and trucks and cars had stopped completely. Peeking outside our window felt more like a dream than any possible reality - a river of bicycles silently glided past our hotel. What a relief it was to hear conversations and laughter instead of brakes and engines. It was Bicycle Sunday! better known as Via Recreactiva. On top of this, Guadalajara was also hosting the Pan Am Games. Everything was busy and everyone was at their friendliest.

So many distactions and yet with all our unexpected extra free time we were devoted to finding the maps needed to trace out a new cycling route. Top of mind was a trip along the road from Durango to Mazatlan also known as the "Espinazo del Diablo" (Devil's Backbone). Our first stop was to the bicycle friendly Casa Ciclista who offers a free place to crash and wash up for folks travelling by bicycle as well as city bikes for rent through Guadalajara's public bike rental program called bicipublica. Bernardo at Casa Ciclista pointed us in many directions for links that might help us gather more info. Best of all, he confirmed that our desired exit from the city was the lowest traffic of the two options we had for heading towards Zacatecas.

After gathering all the necessary maps, we decided to reward ourselves by attending our first ever Lucha Libre match - a definite must for pure gut busting Mexican entertainment.

Guadalupe Saves

2011-09-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

It was the seventh time I had called this hotel over a series of days, and the unhelpful young voice was not telling me what I wanted to hear. "You have to speak to Jesus to make a reservation for those dates". Previously nobody had answered the phone, and now I had someone on the line who wasn't equipped to make any decisions. This is not so uncommon, but, with enough persistence I usually get what I want. I tried to get around the need for me to have to personally speak to Jesus, but this voice wouldn't budge. At least I had the name of the absentee decision maker. "Okay, so when is Jesus in?" "Friday" she said and she hung up. I wasn't hopeful.

Four days later I made the indicated call to Jesus. This time a different reluctant voice told me that, "nobody knows where Jesus is as he has no fixed schedule". "Does he receive messages and call people back?" I suggested. "No" she scoffed and then agreed that I definitely needed to talk to Jesus to make a reservation. I was at an impasse. Exasperated, I sighed louder than I meant to and hesitated as I searched for the right words to move towards a solution, but my mind was blank. To get rid of me, she suggested that Sunday might be a good day to find Jesus.

On Sunday, I picked up the phone prepared to talk to Jesus. This time a much more confident voice gave me the bad news of Jesus' absence. I told her my story and she remembered us and our crew of strange bikes and cyclists. She offered that if I were to call back the following day, she would be able to tell me if she could hold some rooms for us. A little hopeful, but also wary, I asked for the name of the person willing to take ownership of my developing problem. "I'm Guadalupe" she brightly answered.

How many times a day do I see images of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico? She's on everything from towels to tattoos. She's in the market, on the bus, in the park, by the side of the road, on the wall outside the butcher shop. She's cut into tissue paper and strung decoratively about the streets. Heck, she's painted into hillsides. She's everywhere, and the next day, when she confirmed our room reservations, I was not surprised to be saved, not by Jesus, but by Guadalupe.

Day of the Dead

2010-11-04T16:12:00.000-07:00

Leading up to the Day of the Dead sugar skulls and plastic wreaths abound in every town. Our little group of cyclists slowly plod their way up to the town of Angahuan, Michoacan at the edge of the lava flow of the volcano of Paricutin. Purepecha announcements echo across town like some kind of continuous chant, people scurry about town buying flowers and wreaths in preparation for the celebration of the Day of the Dead. The atmosphere in the cemetery is not somber. The whole community turns out to tidy the graves and make their offerings spending the evening and day with their dearly departed. Kids run and play. Prayers are made. Food is shared. Plates of tamales are extended to us. The feeling is overwhelmingly warm and welcoming.

Festive Oaxaca

2010-07-27T09:22:00.000-07:00

It has been silent here a long while, but being in Oaxaca through Guelaguetza it is hard to keep quiet - especially through all the fireworks and festivities. Wandering amidst the carnival of colour and the hopeful energy that flows at events like this, it is difficult to understand the hesitation anyone might feel about coming here. As in life, if you keep your eyes and your heart open, Mexico is as beautiful as you allow her to be.

Mexican Doughboy?

2010-01-22T12:36:00.000-08:00

Mexican bakeries abound even in the smallest of towns. Most evenings the aroma of baked goods wafts out into the streets tempting passersby to load up on what are mainly sweet breads. I have learned over the years that, for Mexican bread to be at all enjoyable, it really must be eaten the day it is purchased. In my opinion, breads here look and smell a lot more exciting than they taste. They certainly do come up with a good variety of shapes for their breads, but I have yet to discover a huge variance between their flavour and texture. Perhaps with time, I'll be better at discerning their subtleties. For now, I'll keep following those aromas and will never resist a roll that comes out of a wood burning oven - especially one that is lovingly created by a happy fat baker.

Isla Soyaltepec

2010-01-21T07:47:00.000-08:00

What would life be like in a world without cars? A half hour boat trip through islands that are little more than tree tops takes you to the Island of Soyaltepec always remote, but now exceedingly remote since the flooding of the Temascal Reservoir. One benefit of the dam is that all 500 of Soyaltepec's residents have electricity, but the roads are grass or mud and stone and donkeys traffic all consumibles from the turkey studded wharf to the town at the top of the half hour climb. After days of rain the locals are pleased to see strangers picking their way along the muddy tracks towards the summit of their island. Local women proudly promote their embroidery, a local drunk keeps a good tune on an avocado leaf, livestock roams free and the 18th century church has the best view on the island.

San Pedro Ixcatlan

2010-01-20T13:37:00.000-08:00

To the right off Highway 182 just past the village of Surprise and some 7 kilometres down a cement road surrounded by blue waters and idyllic pastureland is a tiny slice of Oaxacan paradise. The pace is slow, everyone acknowledges you as you walk by, and you hear Mazatec more than Spanish in the streets of San Pedro Ixcatlan. Some thoughtful soul decided to share this dreamlike village with the outside world by building a hotel at the top of town's most distant hillock. Spend a few days nourishing yourself on seafood and basking in the simple beauty of the surrounding islands.

Mazatec country

2010-01-19T09:49:00.000-08:00

The gentle road that winds it's way along the banks of the Papaloapan river through groves of rubber trees and sugar cane is a welcome reprieve as we enter the wide open and warm country of the Mazatec people. Embroidery abounds, fields are fertile, and the weather holds out allowing some of our clothing to almost dry.

Leaving behind the Tuxtepec's paper mills and the largest brewery in Mexico, we turn west and make our way to a little visited gem in a forgotten corner of Oaxaca state: the 1000 islands. Fish, fish, and fish abound and are the main way of life for these people who just 55 years ago grew mainly cotton, coffee, and rice. Sleepy San Pedro Ixcatlan pokes out into the flood waters of the Miguel Aleman dam or Temascal reservoir and nestles itself nicely alongside the imposing presence of the Mazatec holy mountain Cerro Rabon.

Sierra Juarez

2010-01-18T07:14:00.000-08:00

It's not that there has been no sun on our little turn through the north of Oaxaca. We left the valley with the sun on our backs, but when the clouds roll in and you're at altitude the only way to escape the cold is with a hot beverage, a heavy blanket, and/or a fireplace. Homes are not heated in Mexico the way they are north of the border. When it is cold, it's cold. We still managed to pull ourselves out from under our blankets on our rest day to head out by mototaxi for a small sampling of the biodiversity of the forests of Sierra Juarez.

Return to the Sierra

2010-01-17T06:09:00.000-08:00

I stalled out. For some reason I got stuck and could blog no more. Not even cycling in the highlands of Michoacan or along the Pacific coast could pull me out of my slump. I was unwell while exploring our new Oaxaca route a few months ago and between guiding tours and moving in to our new place I have had little energy to spare since, but I'm back and reinspired by having nearly completed this new Oaxaca route with our first group of riders.

Here I return us to that climb from Oaxaca to Ixtlan de Juarez and on to Cerro Machin and Pelon and then that tremendous 3000m drop down into the spongy lush Papaloapan basin. We thought it was epic having done it in the rain and fog and then the dark, but this time we got to add the presence of ice and snow into the mix. Perhaps it is just a really mean mountain that doesn't really like to give up cyclists to the other side? All I know is: blankets can be hard to come by when it is cold and rainy in a place that is always hot, and clothing that varies from wet to damp isn't much fun at all.

Curious Goose

2009-11-09T10:34:00.000-08:00

Stopping for a quiet lunch outside of Tuxtepec we take notice of a curious goose keen on clean bicycles. His bike worship went on for many, many minutes until I shooed him away once he started to reef of the cables of the bike. He didn't move far though he simply waddled over to the next bike to cuddle up and gaze longingly.

Plunging into the Papaloapan

2009-11-07T06:28:00.000-08:00

Okay, so....I lied.

Earlier I said we were going to cycle this route the opposite way when we offered it as a tour.

You see, Basil cycled this road a decade or so ago and his memory was almost as foggy as the middle part of this day's ride. Leaving Ixtlan we believed we had 17km of uphill to be followed by a beautiful long downhill to almost sea-level, but much to our surprise 17km became 40km, and as a result, the ride became not so easy. It didn't help that our very late departure put us at only half way down the mountain by nightfall. Our only blessing was that the rain and the fog gave way leaving us a beautiful, dry, newly paved road that delivered us safely into Valle Nacional.

In the end, the amount of work that went into this day's longer than expected climb and our rolling (not always downhill) 3000m drop made us realize what a death march this ride would be for most fully-loaded bike tourists if cycled the opposite direction. For most such a ride would be simply impossible. Therefore we will indeed drop 3000m instead of climbing them. That drop will take us through pine-oak forests and into stunningly lush tropical hardwood jungle that is fed by water that trickles slowly and then cascades down the walls of the surrounding mountains eventually turning into tremendous rivers that gush out into the Papaloapan Plain. Corn, tobacco, coffee, rubber, sugarcane, and pineapple fill the valley and spill out towards the state of Varacruz. In Valle Nacional, surrounded by descendants of the Chinantec people, we eat empanadas and relax.

The Perfect Egg

2009-11-06T05:47:00.000-08:00

A day was taken to explore the communities and trails around Ixtlan de Juarez where everyone and their dog's fleas are named Juarez. In this exploration Basil and Alejandro came upon what might be the most perfect egg. Fried on a flat clay grill (comal) rubbed with salt this egg never met a drop of oil but it was coupled (quite beautifully I might add) with a fresh piece of the peppery anise flavoured leaf known as hoja santa. Bring it together with handmade tortillas and and this humble breakfast gets my label as the perfect egg.

Oh, and there are some pretty sweet forest trails out here as well, but those eggs!

Arriving Ixtlan

2009-11-05T13:24:00.000-08:00

We awake in a tidy, but roughly hewn wooden cabin in the village of El Punto almost 1000m above the Valley of Oaxaca. Outside the sun blazes down the lush hillside that leads to our cabin evaporating the thick layer of dew that has fallen overnight. We layer up in preparation for the remainder of our downhill before climbing back up to Guelatao the humble birthplace of Mexico's most beloved President, Benito Juarez.

From Guelatao it is a steep ascent to sleepy Ixtlan de Juarez once famous for it's cochineal industry. The Churrigueresque churches are the only testimony to the wealth that the highly sought after vibrant red dye of this insect brought to the area. Like Baroque on steroids the interiors of these churches drip with colonial excess. After silver, cochineal was once the second export of Mexico. It is difficult to imagine this simple town created so many millionaires.

Today it's wealth lay in the biodiversity of its surrounding forests. The WWF rates it amongst the 17 most biodiverse ecosystems in the world. All of Mexico's big cat species can be found here. Thankfully the Mexican government has invested a great deal in the development of ecotourism in this region and the surrounding communities take their role in this development very seriously.

Speedy Exploration

2009-10-10T17:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, Okay, we're back. I've finally come out of my long travel slumber and am ready to return to Mexico. Well, I've actually been here for a few weeks, but it's time to get on with talking about it. What inspires this? Why riding of course! We are making a quick turn of Oaxaca's Sierra Juarez to tweak the details of our Journey to Ixtlan tour that we are promoting for January 2010 - which is coming up fast.

After two years of bike touring inspired homelessness we've rented a spot to call home in Oaxaca. It needs a little TLC, but one of the main reasons we love it (apart from the garden and the terrace) is that 3km of pedalling has us plodding up into the steep folds of the very Sierra we are currently exploring - and I won't lie, those folds are steep. Fret not though, if you're thinking of joining us on tour, just for kicks and extra challenge right now we are riding the route backwards. Our intended route will go the other way round.

There is something crisp and magical about getting away from people and up into the mountains. It's as if getting away from all the noise and cement of the city distills my focus down to what is truly important. It is a great way to clear your mind. It is also a great way to enjoy some simple but delicious grub. Mid climb we stop at Linda Vista to look back on the Valley of Oaxaca and to enjoy some trout and some of the tastiest tostadas I remember eating.

Oaxacan Street Art

2009-10-08T07:15:00.000-07:00

If only all graffiti could be so interesting.

What is going on in Mexico?

2009-07-07T07:14:00.000-07:00

I've been silent here for a while, but as our travels in Greece wind down and my thoughts drift back to Mexico I have a few things to highlight...

Mexiphobia is really on the rise this year. I arrived in Greece just as the Swine Flu media frenzy exploded, and, with the amount of travelling I had just done, I have to admit that I felt a little unsettled about my potential exposure. However, as the brouhaha developed I became increasingly more and more annoyed. Basil did a little research and revealed that half a million people die every year because of the regular seasonal flu. Five million per year are hospitalized for severe symptoms. As the World Health Organization escalated the H1N1 virus to Pandemic level, tourism in Mexico plummeted yet the death rate for those catching this flu doesn't even come close to normal seasonal flu levels. The global death toll currently hovers around 300. At least the overzealous US fascination with the habits of Mexico's drug cartels has lost some of its media shimmer. I refer you to The Truth About Mexico as a good resource addressing the Mexiphobia that is running rampant in the USA and Canada.

Thanks to Shelly for forwarding this video about Swine Flu. This just made me grin and gave me hope for humanity.

And last, but not least I'd like to just put forward a little 'food for thought'...

Maybe, just maybe H1N1 is a call to seriously pay attention to how our food is being produced. Could it be that our drive to produce cheaper and cheaper meat is making us sick? Surely it isn't just coincidence that Mexico's outbreak started next door to US owned Smithfield Corporation industrial pig farm. Between the toxic manure lakes and the dirty confined quarters these animals live in, perhaps the filth of our agri-greed is catching up with us in the form of H1N1. I love meat, but I'd happily eat less of it, pay more for it, and be proud to know my farmer was raising my food in a sustainable, healthy, and environmentally non-damaging manner.

I'm not alone in this, Avaaz.org recently delivered a petition to the WHO in Geneva demanding global investigation and regulation of factory farms. The reaction of the WHO is interesting and can be read here.

Mango!

2009-03-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

All hail the marvelous mango!

Mango season is in full swing and I feel obliged to make mention of this magical time of year for my dear friends who don't live in mango producing countries. These babies featured above are ataulfos - the king of mangodom - as far as I'm concerned and my fruitbowl is full of them. Yum!

Mexican Advice

2009-03-20T22:04:00.000-07:00

I've been quiet because I haven't been well. It is not uncommon for me to get sick at the end of a touring season. Sometimes I wonder if cycling keeps my immune system up. It seems that as soon as I stop for more than a few days some bug grabs me. I'm feeling better now and have enough energy to reflect on the all that has passed between the Yucatan and Chiapas.

I love Mexican rotulos (painted signs on buildings), but, as a cyclist, this one was priceless especially because Rayon, Chiapas is a tiny little pristine village above the clouds on the road to Jitotol. The advice is still good.

Coffee, Caracoles, and No Cameras!

2009-03-03T15:37:00.000-08:00

It is hard to imagine that, only one day before, the mountains were lush with thick tropical foliage. Leaving the town of Jitotol for San Cristobal Chiapas, we are well into pine forests. We can see our breath, but the sun is shining, and, remembering our horrible hypothermic ride from last year, Basil and I say a little prayer of thanks for the lack of impending rain. This absence of rain allows us to enjoy watching the local villagers picking and drying coffee beans. The smell of the coffee fruit fermenting as we pedal through the villages is even more intoxicating than the landscape.

As we pedal our way higher into Chiapas, the people become a little less friendly, and somewhat suspicious. Passing two military camps in less than 30km it's easy to imagine why. We arrive at Oventik or Caracol Cinco, which, to describe it in overly simplified terms, is one of five centres for Zapatista good government councils. Each centre is structured to represent it's surrounding Zapatista indigenous communities and the effort is to supply them with fair local autonomous government. These centres are called caracoles because historically the caracol (conch shell) represented autonomous gatherings. The shell was blown into to summon meetings. If you're interested there is a lot more info about Zapatistas and their Caracoles here .

What we see as we saunter into Oventik or Caracol 5 are colourful zapatista themed murals and a small shop selling zapatista paraphanelia, some daily foodstuffs, and coffee and light snacks. The place teems with "intellectual" European tourists out to support the rebel cause with their small wire-rimmed glasses, cargo pants, multi-pocketed vests, hiking boots, and either a laptop or obscenely large camera. Service is slow and smile-free.

Climbing to Oventik was pretty darn steep, but there is more than half the ride to San Cristobal left. The steepness eases off, but the climbing continues past Chamula ladies in thick furry skirts who are unfazed by our presence. They sit stoically, scarves piled atop their heads, watching their sheep. Occasionally one of them kneels with a small loom weaving the wool from the same sheep that graze nearby.

I wave and no one waves back. It is the only place in Mexico where we are almost invisible in our bright colours and spandex. We've warned the group that nearing San Cristobal it is strictly taboo to take pictures of the very interesting costumes and customs that we will cross paths with. The locals will take your camera. Sometimes the language barrier and the temptation prove to be too much. Fortunately these revelers were only half in the bag and were in good enough spirits to demand money in return for the camera offense of one of our fellow cyclists:

Carnival Jitotol

2009-03-01T11:48:00.000-08:00

It has rained the better part of the day only occasionally clearing to briefly offer up some rewarding view in exchange for all our hard work. Imagine if, when you finally roll into town and settle in to your humble digs in this far away Mexican mountain town, you see something like this go by your window:

Naturally you are intrigued so you follow it to the main square where the whole town has gathered for this final day of carnival. The costumed revellers mill akwardly about the centre of the town's square in front of a live band that has set up especially for the occasion. There is no commercialism here. Pure fantasy and tradition and one man with fireworks on his back.

The Ugliest Church in the World

2009-02-23T05:15:00.000-08:00

Today I sit in my cheerful room in La Loma Hotel in Pichucalco waiting out the rain before we embark on our three day stretch of cycling through the mountainous backroads of Chiapas. I try not to let my mind panic with the hypothermic memories from last year's last day of riding through increasingly chilly and steep altitude into our final destination: San Cristobal, Chiapas. It can't possibly happen twice, or can it? Basil and I look at each other and shiver with the thought. Rain! Rain! Rain! Get it all out of your system so that we might properly enjoy today's glorious ascent to Tapilula - and please be done by 8am. Looking through my window at the ugliest church in the world, I opt to say a little prayer to Chac, the Mayan God of rain.

Taken on a sunny day, this is a photo of what Discovery Channel deemed the "Ugliest Church in the World". What does that look like sticking up from the back right hand side?

Bikes for Tihosuco

2009-02-22T15:48:00.000-08:00

My intrepid pal Elisabeth likes to pop in to visit us a few times a year. Sometimes we are honoured with a whole week of her company over our shortest of bike tours, but usually it is just a few days. This trip was a birthday visit and we had an entire weekend between tours to have a speedy adventure in the Yucatan. This season's adventure was a 70km bike ride to Tihosuco.

Two of our fellow cyclists decided to leave their bikes in Mexico with the hope that they might improve somebody's life. After some thinking, I came up with the "Caste War Museum" in a small town close to the border of Yucatan and Quintana Roo States. Three years ago Basil and I were more than pleasantly surprised by this little community museum and it's multi-faceted director Carlos. In our exploration we passed through this friendly town and were taken to its museum to learn the entire Mayan story of Mayan resistance to the European invasion from the beginning to the ultimate culmination of the Caste War which started in the mid 1850's and trickled on into the first two decades of the 20th century. This museum tells the story of it's people by it's people and it is a true treasure.

The exciting part is that it is so much more than a museum. It is a gift to the children of Tihosuco. Carlos focuses a great deal of his attention on maintaining a strong connection between the elders and the youth of his village. He has spearheaded a project with the elders to record their knowledge of medicinal properties and applications of the local plants. Out of this has arisen a small handicrafts shop with a large branch focused on the sale of locally produced medicinal teas, soaps, and oils. Another project brings the elders into the museum at least once a month to share stories and legends with the children of the village. Recently a UN project donated some radio equipment to them which allows them to broadcast these meetings for the whole village to enjoy and now plans are in the works to set up a small radio station. These monthly meetings have also evolved into a video project that has recorded the Caste War memories of each of the village elders.

These are just a few of the ambitions of this community, and along with all of these things, they are also prepared to host visitors on extensive day trips sharing traditional knowledge in a variety of ways including: guided trips through the forest, the corn fields, traditional music and dance, traditional meals, and even homestays sleeping in a hammock in a Mayan home.

On our more physically challenging 3 week tour around the Yucatan two years ago, we slept and ate in the homes of some of the families in Tihosuco. We were the second group to be hosted by this community and it was a remarkable experience. With this in mind, I knew Carlos would be the man to find an excellent future for our orphaned bikes. So, we pedalled them there to give them to him and to enjoy a day learning about the past, present, and future of Tihosuco. We were rewarded with a song about a flirtatious lady cyclist.

World's Best Eggs

2009-02-21T20:43:00.000-08:00

When I was a little girl I fell madly in love with boiled eggs. In those early days I think it was actually more about playing with the funky egg cups and smashing the empty egg shells with the back of my spoon than it was about the eggs, but eventually my love evolved to encompass poached eggs, eggs benedict, eggs florentine, and once I left home and started to travel it became all about the Italian fritatta, the Spanish omelette, and then one day a guitar playing chum named Lionel dragged me to breakfast at some British friends of his in a grotty little apartment in Madrid. We were all starving students and they apologized for what they had to piece together. I was handed a plate that contained a fried egg, a heap of acelgas (boiled greens), a spoonful of fresh tomato sauce, refried black beans, and a fried banana. To me it was a strange looking breakfast, but, as I quietly blended each of those flavours together in my mouth, I felt my concept of breakfast and eggs shaken up forever. Many times thereafter I dreamt of the flavours from that strange breakfast.

Eight years later, I found my way to Mexico where my tastebuds learned how to really appreciate an egg. Huevos rancheros, a la mexicana, chilaquiles, en salsa verde, they're all delicious, but the King of all egg dishes has to be: huevos motuleños.

A corn tortilla smeared in refried black beans, topped with a fried egg and fresh tomato salsa. This is then topped with another bean-slathered corn tortilla and a fried egg with more tomato salsa. This is sprinkled with chopped ham, peas, cheese and, last but not least, fried plantain is placed on the side. I couldn't believe my eyes or tastebuds when my dream breakfast from Madrid 8 years prior, appeared at my table only this time with a whole lot more style.

I've since discovered that this fusion of Mayan and Lebanese cuisine was invented especially for Governor Felipe Carillo Puerto at a Motul restaurant owned by a Lebanese man named Jorge Siqueff. Today his family still owns a restaurant in Merida called Siqueff on Calle 60 between Calle 35 and Calle 37. The setting is peaceful and the eggs are phenomenal.

Hydrate or Die...or at least cramp up and feel like crap for a few days

2009-02-16T19:52:00.000-08:00

It's sizzling hot out there. You find yourself craving sickly sweet drinks. For the distance you've gone, and the terrain you're riding, you're unusually tired. Your brain feels sluggish and your legs feel like lead weights. You're dehydrated!

In Mexico the fridge is always full of Coca Cola, and often you can find some brand of sport or energy drink, but there is also a much more natural alternative to help you stay hydrated while on the go in Mexico. Basil (my beau) promotes it as "Basilade" to our riders who join us every year for a little bit of riding in the sun...

Suero Oral - (unflavoured electrolytes in powder form) are available for free at all public health centres (Centro de Salud) and artificially flavoured ones are available at some pharmacies. It comes in little envelopes (see photo above) filled with the correct balance of electrolytes to rehydrate an infant suffering from severe diarrhea. We use it as a preventative measure adding one or two ice cream taster spoonfuls to a bicycle water bottle. Now an important and often overlooked step in our home made gatorade is to add in a little sweetness to assist in absorption. Some people add a little juice, or a little world class Mayan honey (the brown stuff in the bottle in front of my water bottles), or a little sugar, and a little something else for flavour...I went through a little Matcha phase (that's what is in the circular tin in front of the water bottles featured above), but a truly local choice is Jamaica or Hibiscus flowers. I've posted about this fantastic little flower before, but above is another picture I took of some drying by the side of the road. A few of these flowers along with some honey and some salts is DeeLish and good like cranberry juice is for a ladies pee parts which is always helpful for when your chamois is smooshed up against a saddle all day! While this beverage is traditionally served cold here in Mexico, as your bottles heat up throughout the day you can pretend you have been invited into an Egyptian home for some hot hibiscus tea. Hot or cold you can't lose with tasty sweet-tart hibiscus.

In pharmacies you will also see plastic bottles of liquid Pedialite which is also used for rehydration, but it has a terrible artificial taste and once opened must be kept cold which is a problem while bike touring. The powder works well because you can mix as you go. This brings me to another important point, you really don't want to over do it with the salts too many can cramp you up and make you feel as bad as if you cycled around in 37 C heat all day without any salts at all. You just need a little bit. Experiment - it is a very personal balance. Some people need half a taster spoon and a ton of sugar, some people need two heaping taster spoons and a little bit of sugar - we're all different! Listen to your body and you'll learn your own recipe.

And two last things about keeping those muscles feeling good by staying hydrated in the heat:
1. Do not keep your Basilade drink longer than 24hrs. It will go bad. Mix as you go...
2. Rinse your bottles and let them dry EVERY night! The tropics are a breeding ground for bacteria and fungus. If you do not rinse your bottles then you will be ingesting a jungle full of bad guys.

Canela

2008-12-26T04:55:00.000-08:00

Part of our falling in love with Oaxaca led us to rent a short-term apartment in the centre of Oaxaca a stone's throw from Santo Domingo. Part of our falling in love with our little apartment on Callejon Hidalgo comes from our visits with the neighbourhood street dog - Canela.

Canela is very tired. She spends her late nights and early mornings in the doorway across the street from us. She has a little make shift corrugated metal wall to protect her from the wind. She spends her late morning to early afternoon flaked out in the sun in my doorway or on the street and she spends her late afternoons and evenings around the corner in front of the taco shop. It's a pretty hard life and she needs to sleep a lot.

Although she remains a street dog, she has been adopted by two older ladies in the neighbourhood. One offers her doorway as a safe place to sleep, and the other buys her food, vet visits, and weekly clean t-shirts to keep her warm in Oaxaca. It's a hard life, especially on Christmas and New Year's Eve when the fireworks are continuous. No self-respecting dog can maintain a state of calm in the face of nearby explosions and Canela is no exception. With every inch of her being she feels obliged to chase every single celebratory explosion in every single direction and the next day she pays dearly for it. She can barely walk and must sleep the whole day with no visits to my doorway or the taco stand.

Night of the Radishes

2008-12-23T10:20:00.000-08:00

Mexico is loaded with strange and wonderful festivals, but one of the strangest I ever did see was on a night in Oaxaca two days before Christmas. This night is known as the Noche de Rabanos or, "Night of the Radishes". Centuries old this folk festival is said to have been inspired by a local friar as a marketing gimmick to encourage people to buy produce at market. In the late 19th century it became an annual celebration that, for a few misty hours on the late afternoon and evening of December 23rd, occupies central square in Oaxaca City.

On December 18th freshly harvested monster radishes produced especially for this festival are turned over to a select group of artisans who set to work carving fantastic scenes entirely out of a collection of otherwise under-appreciated vegetables. Line ups are long and security is stiff to get in to admire this unusual art form.

Central de Abastos

2008-12-22T11:39:00.000-08:00

For a nearly Pre-Colombian shopping experience one must visit the Central de Abastos. Okay, I exaggerate a teensy bit, but for such a big city, this market is very indigenous and filled with an infinity of exotic scenes and strange foodstuffs to gawk at. This market is a looooog way from your local grocery store or farmer's market. Go well rested, with an empty belly, and a good chunk of time to meander the maze of corridors that make up this massive market.

Itanoní

2008-12-21T10:31:00.000-08:00

A modest presentation of the real McCoy.

Shamefully criollo (original) corn is exceeding difficult to find on your table when dining out in Mexico. Restaurants mostly serve up tortillas made with Maseca corn flour which comes from American GMO corn that floods Mexican markets, but not at Itanoni! Criollo corn from small scale local producers is the main event at this humble, but artfully crafted little eatery. The corn is ground into dough which is shaped into a variety of antojitos which are prepared on a comal while you watch. Curious palates come here to learn to appreciate the subtlties of the varieties of this ancient miracle of agriculture which took place in Mexico over 9000 years ago.

Falling in love with Oaxaca

2008-12-20T18:35:00.000-08:00

Unexpected Celebrations

2008-12-19T10:20:00.000-08:00

Every time we are in Oaxaca I feel like there is a celebration lurking around every corner. What are the fireworks for? Why the parade? What is the loud speaker for? Is that house playing music for the whole neighbourhood?

I really don't know. I can't possibly know. Sometimes I can broker a guess, but in Oaxaca, and in Mexico in general, there are thousands of reasons to have a parade, fireworks, mariachi, and various other noise making, people gathering events. I love rounding a corner and bumping in to any one of these unexpected celebrations.

The Backroad Home

2008-12-18T06:09:00.000-08:00

I am so happy for Mexican toll roads.

The creation of toll roads absorbs many of the self important drivers and leaves the beautiful rambling backroads for us! And there are few examples of this that are finer than the ride that eschews the straighter, flatter, less scenic, and more highly transited "autopista" to Oaxaca City in favour of a twisty ridge.

Leaving Nochixtlan I look back and marvel at the wide open eroded landscape that the ridge I'm climbing up seems to yawn into existence. As Nochixtlan grows smaller in my mirror, and the dry, pastel landscape continues to broaden, I can't help but wonder if the first Spanish Conquistadors felt at home when they layed their eyes on this land.

Reaching the top of the ridge we are rewarded with what I consider the ultimate in bike touring: a ride that offers two views for the work of one. Riding this ridge for over 50 kilometers, through forgotten villages, and past shepherds tending to their flocks, it seems impossible that we are so close to the state capital. Traffic is minimal and hand painted signs lecture us about the damaging effects of carelessly disposing our trash. We are not looking forward to the crazy rush of the city.

Teposcolula & Yanhuitlan

2008-12-17T15:52:00.000-08:00

Pedalling higher and higher towards Oaxaca City we come to the town of Teposcolula which houses a startling open chapel built to preach Catholocism to the local Mixtec population. The the size and design of the atrium that is fenced in the front of the church testifies to the sizeable concentration of stone working talents that that this region once had. Extensive excavations are ongoing around town. Several significant burial sites have been unearthed along with the foundations of the sophisticated Pre-Colombian settlement that must have drawn the original attentions of the Spanish. The museum is well worth a peek.

And then there is the terrifyingly massive Dominican fortress that is Yanhuitlan and I say that because - wow! there is little else here. As you approach through highly eroded terrain, the massive church that looms over the empty village of Yanhuitlan, leaves you feeling like something has gone terribly wrong in this place. In the early 1500's the area around Yanhuitlan was one of the heaviest concentrations of Mixtec Alta people and highly populated Yanhuitlan was the governing kingdom. Cantera quarries were in full swing and the talents of Mixtec stone masons translated easily into the building of one of the most daunting Mexican churches I have ever seen. It is an eerie feeling to stand in the atrium of a church built on such an important ancient ceremonial centre and feel such unsatisfied anticipation.

A local man once told me that the church never hosted its expected numbers of converts here as, along with the arrival of the Spanish, more than half the population was killed off by disease. My little old man source tells me that the population demise ocurred bfore they were even done building the church.

Hamburger Heaven

2008-12-16T19:09:00.000-08:00

Do you see this man?

He makes the BEST hamburger in Mexico and, coming from a sworn hamburger hater - that is no small statement. This symphony of hamburger takes place most nights on the Tlaxiaco square starting about 6:30pm. First the patty goes down on the plancha, and then a flurry of hands and spatulas and knives artfully move the buns, the pineapple, the bacon, and the ham with two cheeses. The flurry continues as avocado, tomatoes, chile, onions, ketchup, mustard, and mayonese annoint the dream burger, and eventually the whole show gives birth to the most sinfully delicious street meat. Who wouldda thunk all those elegant years ago that "Little Paris" would go on to earn the status of hamburger heaven...

Little Paris

2008-12-16T15:51:00.000-08:00

At over 2000 meters, the city of Tlaxiaco or "Paris Chiquito" is the chilly market centre of the Mixtec Alta. Wandering the sprawling reaches of the market is entrancing even on non-market days, but when the market is on full, the maze doubles in size and chaos.

There is little evidence of Tlaxiaco's elegant past other than in the name Paris Chiquito or "Little Paris" which is still marked on the combi's that transport people between Tlaxiaco and Putla. In about the mid 1850's this little town earned it's nickname because of the lively commerce and cultural events that passed though this town. The local elite dressed in all the latest Parisian fashions of the time, they imitated French customs, ate French cuisine, and spoke the language. When you walk around Tlaxiaco today it seems hard to imagine all of this taking place here in a town that feels so far away from Oaxaca City nevermind Paris.

The Triqui in Me

2008-12-14T18:22:00.000-08:00

The morning is heavy with humidity. Putla is just waking up as we climb our way out of this chaotic little market center and into the thick of triqui territory. The air gets crisper as we gain altitude. We pass some people walking a donkey heavily laden with firewood. Suddenly, in the rolling expanse of green mountains that unfold around us, I see a startling blaze of red. As we nudge closer I see that it is a woman donning one of the most impressive and heavy weavings that I have seen anyone ever wearing. The colour is my favourite, so I instantly feel a camaraderie toward this Triqui lady in red.

I wonder what it would be like to be one of these hearty Triqui women who live in such remote places, but often travel great distances to sell their wares in markets all over the state. Someone once told me that these people were historically so disagreeable toward their Mixtec brothers that they were forced into some of the remotest regions of Oaxaca where they still live today. Conversation with these ladies reveals a taste of their fierce spirit that continues to be handed down through the generations.

After climbing for 50 continuous kilometers we learn that they have some of the best views in Mexico, and we can see that they are still very much a culture connected to the magic that inhabits these mountains. We see it in the symbols that are woven into the fabric of their incredible red overcoats. The thought of the generations of useful knowledge they must possess from living so close to the land that sustains them makes me feel silly and ashamed of the bloated world of wanton overconsumption that my people have created and are inflicting on the world.

Mixtec Lowlands

2008-12-13T06:14:00.000-08:00

In the lowlands, the people are as gentle as its geography. As we climb our way back up to Oaxaca City, the diversity of ethnicities that inhabit the territory we cycle through is reflected in the textiles we see.

Santiago Jamiltepec

2008-12-12T14:32:00.000-08:00

It seems like an easy day out of Puerto Escondido. The road rolls gently along. A little extra push on the downhill is enough to propel you up the the neighbouring hill. Slithering along through lagoons and cattle ranches, the shade is cool and energizing. After a long rest on the beach you feel ready to take on all of Mexico, but this feeling slowly dwindles as the day heats up and the gently rolling terrain dries out. As you rest up with a cold drink in hand at the bottom of this day's "big climb", you might wonder how, with so many mountain ranges between Oaxaca and this point, this day is often deemed "the toughest" of the tour. But once you near the top of the never-ending searing hot 10k climb you understand.

Thankfully, the warm welcome of Santiago Jamiltepec is all embracing. Walking around the center you are likely to cross paths with barefoot spotlessly dressed Mixtec men and women who have come in from more rural areas to buy sell and trade.

Who is Guadalupe?

2008-12-12T14:16:00.000-08:00

What can I say, this most seriously styling Virgin IS the Queen of Mexico.

Puerto Escondido Bound

2008-12-10T13:33:00.000-08:00

3 days of pedalling with pilgrims has prepared us for the beach especially as things heat up with our considerable loss of altitude. A great deal of this day is downhill, but it still manages to take most of the day and incorporate an impressive amount of steep cycling. We generally arrive in Puerto Escondido just before sunset, and there is no better way to cool a cyclists weary legs than a long soak in some world class surf. Naturally, world class surf draws world class surfers, and fans of surfing, and, for some pop culture reason, a lot of Italians. This is okay as it introduces some unexpected variety to our regular run of delicious Oaxacan cuisine. We load up on pizza and pasta and spend a few desperately anticipated lazy days at the beach.

Juquila

2008-12-09T12:06:00.000-08:00

The loudspeaker near the church calls people to mass, to the public phone house to receive a call from a loved one, or to meet their group at a speciied location. The 8th of December is Juquila's day and crowds crush through the area under the maze of tarps that make up Juquila's serpentine market of religious mementos, artisanal sweets, household items, and other goodies. This serpentine market leads to the church courtyard which is packed with devotees who have come to request a miracle of the Virgin. Inside, the pews have been removed from the church and people stand shoulder to shoulder gazing upon the tiny icon who stands on a platform high above the crowds. The faithful have journeyed from far and wide for this opportunity to attend mass and make their personal request of the miraculous Virgin of Juquila. Parades seem to explode out of nowhere. Juquila is a colourful whirl of tradition and celebration. Try not to get lost in the chaos!

Patience is a virtue

2008-12-09T05:24:00.000-08:00

Even after the sun is up it takes a while before the rays break over the steep mountains that surround Juchatengo. In spite of this, the wood fires are burning and the stacks of sugar cane and coconuts are readied for a day of receiving pilgrims. Most traffic on the road is pilgrim related and while spirits are high most heads are down working hard at conquering the final big climb before Cerro de Vidrio.

You think the hard work is over when you reach the junction at Cerro de Vidrio, but there is still more to come once we turn off the main road. Yes, it is downhill into Juquila, but, after the daggers that were furiously hurled at us from the exhausted eyes of our first pilgrimage group, we learned that the part that proceeds the downhill should be more accurately described as a little more severe than the flippant "rolling up hill" label we originally gave this section of road. So, it's a continued tough ride up some suprisingly steep segements before this ride finally drops down dramatically into a carnival of religious activity that can be almost as challenging to wade through with a fully loaded bike as it is to pedal it over the mountains that brought us here. Any feedback on this from past riders???

Sweet and Simple

2008-12-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

The road through Sola de Vega bustles with pilgrims. It is barely daybreak and the many temporary eateries that have cropped up to service the raging hunger of so many cyclists and walkers are already open. The shops are brimming with oranges, mandarins, sweet breads and cookies - all favourites of the pilgrims. Bike shops, shoe repair, pharmacies, and corner stores are open 24 hours in this otherwise quiet village that, for a few weeks every year, is swallowed up by a river of pilgrims making their way to Juquila to ask for a miracle or to complete a promised return visit to the tiny and highly revered dark-skinned Virgin of Juquila. Many pilgrims have cycled and walked through the night to get to this desination. Some travel carrying large crosses and sacred pictures to be blessed and returned to needy homes and businesses.

This is no easy journey. The trip to Juquila is mountainous. The trip away from Juquila is among the steepest paved roads that we have cycled in Mexio. This morning a spritely young group of single speed cyclists is taking a break before they continue uphill away from Sola de Vega. They eye us with all our strange gear attached to our bikes and our fancy lycra clothes. We eye them with their unencumbered single speed bikes and their blue jeans. It is a treat to be on a road where bikes outnumber cars and where it is not uncommon for people in cars to hand out oranges, sandwiches, or water to the cyclists or hikers they pass. There is a certain contagious energy that arises from sharing this mission with so many others.

Sola de Tlayuda

2008-12-07T20:02:00.000-08:00

Making our way out of the Valley of Oaxaca toward Sola de Vega always seems easier than it really is at the beginning. Climbing starts gradually and rolls along gently eventually becoming one continuous hot 10km climb that promptly descends 14km through some of the best Mezcal country in Mexico. In celebration of day one I drown my hunger in Oaxaca's answer to pizza, the tlayuda. I wrap my hands around this plate-sized, crunchy, corn tortilla that has been smeared with refried beans, asiento, and topped with tasajo (beef), stringy Oaxaca cheese, tomatoes, avocado, lettuce, and baked over a charcoal fire. It might be my fierce post-ride hunger talking, but this little eatery easily makes the best tlayuda I've had yet.

Sirens sound as large numbers of pilgrims make their way past our roadside table, through town on their way to or away from a visit with the miraculous Virgin of Juquila a few long mountain ranges away. We prepare to turn in for the night to rest up and join the wave of people making their way to Juquila.

Alebrije Love

2008-12-06T14:43:00.000-08:00

When I was 18 I remember wandering around a large department with a $50 christmas gift certificate from grandma. I wandered around for a long time not seeing anything that even remotely interested me until I hit the bargain table where I saw four chunky, wonderfully imperfect, cobalt blue bottles made of blown glass. It was love at first sight and I bought all four.

Maybe I identified with their rough, but solid presence. Maybe I was drawn to how real they felt compared to my overly processed middle-class Canadian world. I'm sure grandma hoped I would buy something more practical like towels or sheets, but I was 18 and I couldn't see beyond these beautiful crudely crafted blue bottles. When I got them home and studied them closer I saw a sticker that would change my life forever "Hecho en Mexico".

My next serious Mexican love was alebrijes and alebrije love eventually takes you to Arrazola, Oaxaca. In Arrazola, some 50 years or so ago, a man named Manuel Jimenez who had started out making masks for Dia de los Muertos decided to use his wood carving talents a little less traditionally and started carving and painting fantastical creatures. These creatures quickly became widely acclaimed throughout Mexico and the world of museums and collectors. Today the town devotes itself to the making of alebrijes.

Green copal wood from female trees is favoured for its softness and lack of knots. It is roughly carved first with machete and then the finer details are worked in with smaller knives. Limbs and tails are often added after the wood has had time to dry and harden in the sun. After the sculpture is sanded, women customarily add the finest details by painstakingly painting these critters with electrifying patterns and impossible colour schemes.

The only problem with visiting Arrazola as a bike tourist is the difficulty in transporting alebrijes of any consequence by bicycle.

Tejate!

2008-12-06T12:41:00.000-08:00

So there is chilate from the costa chica made of rice, cacao beans, cinnamon, and sugar and then there is the cool cacao based Oaxacan beverage that out cools the coolest of all cacao based beverages: tejate.

What makes tejate so special?

For me, it's the fluffy, foamy, goodness that floats on top. Basil says it's cacao butter, but I say it is the truly unique ingredient - cacahuaxochitl, or rosita de cacao, which is a flower that comes from a tree found only in San Andres Huayapam. The subtle details of this beverage making process is a culinary art form whose proud tradition has been passed down from mother to daughter for generations.

The cacahuaxochitl flower is ground up on the metate along with toasted cacao, cinnamon, and mamey seeds. This is mixed in with previously boiled and ground down corn and wood ash. A doughy mass is formed to which water is slowly added. The masa is laboriously blended by hand, wrist, and forearm into a liquid with a slightly earthy and amazingly rich and creamy, all-natural, non-dairy foam. Served chilled, with a little sugar water, in a lively painted gourd cup, one taste makes it easy to understand why it was considered a pre-Hispanic drink of the gods.

Sold in markets all over Oaxaca City and in close neighbouring towns, it is difficult to walk past the giant seductively foamy ceramic bowls without having a gourdful.

God Bless Grapefruit

2008-12-05T23:00:00.000-08:00

We have delved further into the question of sheep (oveja) and lamb (borrego) and it turns out that in Mexico they do indeed say borrego for both. In Spain they don't and who the heck knows what they do in all the many other Spanish speaking circles.

This brings up so many other confusing questions, but for now I'm inclined to focus on citrus: why are limones and limas totally different things in Spain than they are in Mexico? I would love to know who is getting it backwards and why.

In Spain, a limon is a lemon and a lima is a lime. In Mexico, a limon is a lime while a lima is some other citrus fruit altogether and I have yet to see a lemon here. If you're in the Yucatecan part of Mexico, then (to add to the whole citrus mix up) a sweet orange is very commonly called a china (a mayan word) and less commonly a naranja (Spanish) naranja agria, however, is a sour orange used to marinate some delicious Yucatecan meat dishes. The good news for me is that, so far, a grapefruit is a grapefruit is a grapefruit – toronja. I'm partial to this Spanish word as it always has and always will make me think of Toronto which is where I spent a good chunk of my happy and less confused young adult life . I'm thankful that the toronja hasn't entered the great citrus debate. Bless you grapefruit for being so straightforward and delicious.

Feeding Basil's Pet

2008-12-05T13:11:00.000-08:00

Basil bikes with a pet. It lives in a jar and feeds on milk.

This means that the quest is on for finding milk everywhere we go. We are always either finding milk or finding how to store milk and timing feedings just so. It really doesn't affect me much other than being dragged into a variety of shops looking for milk and occasionally helping out by washing out the milk glass. However, I have witnessed and enjoyed some interesting milk related interactions; the most recent one being here in Oaxaca.

We walk into a fancy organic food shop. Basil spies dairy products in the fridge. He sees a knowledgeable looking fellow standing nearby who seems related to the store. In flawless Spanish he asks if they have sheep's milk. Stunned, the man says tells him that nobody has this kind of milk in Mexico and that such animals are only used for meat and wool here. Basil informs the man that it is found in large quantities all over Greece. Quite surprised the man says that their animals give so little milk that only the farmer could enjoy such a thing. He goes on to explain that the udders are so tiny that they are very difficult to milk. I can't help but giggle when he starts to make very tiny yet defeated milking gestures. We all shrug and Basil and I head off to breakfast.

Basil continues to ruminate this conversation over in his mind and, hung up on the thought of tiny unproductive sheep udders, he eventually looks up his word for sheep: borrego. He is humbled to learn that his flawless Spanish can still get him into trouble. He confesses to me that he learned that he was in fact asking for lamb's milk! After a good snorty laugh we then wonder what the heck the organic food guy was on about? Can you really milk a lamb? Or was he just running with Basil's false claims?

Chilate Goddess Guadalupe

2008-12-03T16:29:00.000-08:00

For years I thought Zihuatanejo had one of the most pitiful markets for a city its size. That was until I discovered the REAL market in the farthest reaches of Zihua's sprawling web of market streets. The real market is where all the bits and pieces of what's in season or being freshly prepared in the hills of Guerrero are gathered to sell. What took us there and continues to bring us back to this special street is Guadalupe the Goddess of Chilate.

There are countless ancient beverages prepared all over Mexico and bit by bit we are learning about the subtle nuances of each one. Chilate is a popular refreshing beverage prepared along Mexico's Costa Chica which lies to the south of Acapulco. Thanks to Guadalupe we became acquainted with this rich and nourishing drink in the back alleys of Zihuatanejo. Her chilate is made of ground rice, cacao beans, cinnamon, and sugar. The key to a good chilate is producing a lovely fatty foam of the cocoa butter which really comes out when repeatedly pouring it from on high. The end result: icy cold and dee-lish!

Gracias Guadalupe Goddess of Chilate!

I love Bizihuanas

2008-12-02T11:30:00.000-08:00

The "best" bike shop in Mexico happens to be in Zihuatanejo. I might be exaggerating a little as I have far from seen all Mexican bike shops, but I have seen a good many. And, while it's true, I have most recently found the "best stocked" bike shop in Mexico to be in Oaxaca City, the "best" bike shop in Mexico continues to be in Zihuatanejo.

In the spring of 2007, Alejandro significantly amplified his business offering full service repair, a wide of inventory, and mountain bike rentals and tours of all levels. While he has or can get most anything a cyclist might need or want, the most valuable part of his bike shop is his gifted mechanical ability, quick smile, irresistible personality, and his charming wife Lucy who quietly provides the glue that holds the whole show together. Together they are quickly growing the sport of cycling in the Ixtapa/Zihuatanejo area.

If you're in the Zihuatanejo area, stop by Bizihuanas to say hello. Alejandro speaks fluent English and is well-versed in road cycling, mountain biking, and bike touring. His shop can be found at 39 Calle Cuauhtemoc which starts out as a pedestrian street and runs up from the sea-side basketball court (which doubles as town square). Walking in this direction he is on the left hand side. Tell him Cactus Flower sent you.

Arriving Zihuatanejo

2008-12-01T22:00:00.000-08:00

From surfer's paradise in Playa Nexpa to Shark Attack zone between Troncones and Playa Linda, surfers arriving to this stretch of Mexico have much to dream about and be wary of.

In Lazaro Cardenas, the local cycling representatives hosted us in a lovely taco feast and then joined us on the early part of our early morning ride out of town. Eli brought along his cycling gifted, long-legged son who dreams of being a downhiller. We enjoyed their company for the first 20 kms before they turned back to their daily routines and we turned forward doing our best to stay ahead of the heat. Our efforts paid off. Before we knew it we were admiring the coconut groves of Playa Linda and meandering our way over one last seemingly endless coastal hill into the hustle bustle of my former home Zihuatanejo

Views of the Pacific

2008-12-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

Down zee hill, over zee bridge, uuup zee hill (deep breath in) down zee hill, over zee bridge, uuup zee hill...

This is how Len summarized the 96km ride between Maruata and Nexpa. Now, Len wasn't feeling well and so, for him, this day lacked a little of the regular sparkle it usually has, but his words do accurately describe the see-saw start out of Maruata. However, what he doesn't describe is the explosion of white flowers of the bocote trees which fill the all encompassing forest that engulfs this sinew of Highway 200, he doesn't describe the magpie jays that race alongside as you rhythmically plod along, the scurry of startled lizards in the scratchy dry leaves that fill the shoulder, and the buzz of a full band of roadside cicadas that wax and wane their enthusiasm like baseball fans doing the wave at Yankee stadium. He also neglects to highlight that this day has some of the most arresting views of the Pacific in Mexico.

Anti-Club Med Maruata

2008-11-30T19:05:00.000-08:00

Ah, Maruata...

Paradise for many and hell for more precious travellers. If the hotel makes your vacation, then Maruata isn't for you. If outstanding wild beauty and living with the natives intrigues you then Maruata throws you in whole hog. Staying in simple palapas (thatched roughly hewn wooden structures) in the midst of Nahuatl (Aztec descendants) homesteads you are likely to meet Grandma having a bath at the pila (local wash basin) on your way to a reluctant rendition of a western bathroom.

Maruata is well outside capitalistic and mainstream Mexico. Her beaches are stunning, the rocks worthy of a good scramble, and boat trips take you up the remote coastline. With a tiny amount of luck you might see grey whales migrating, or sea turtles mating, or manta rays jumping. A ramble up Maruata's longest beach is sure to reveal countless turtle tracks leading to sandy nests jam-packed with eggs. A conservation program works hard to save these vulnerable critters. Even with the extra effort of humans they estimate that 1 in 100 turtles born makes it to reproductive age.

Check the refrigerator in town for a tasty all natural yoghurt drink from the interior of Michoacan state. Don't hesitate to buy a litre and if they have mango buy two.

El Faro

2008-11-29T13:19:00.000-08:00

There is a place that I like to go to when I need to drift away from where ever I am. For me it is the perfect place to get completely away from it all and fortunately it is not an imaginary place, but a real live place that I have had the pleasure of visiting several times. This place calls itself El Faro after the lighthouse that sits atop the far end of her gloriously golden beach. 3km of cement road whisks you away from highway 200 to a ramshackle collection of cinder block houses and palapas and two or three corner stores filled with mistreated produce and a huge assortment of packaged goods, but this is not what you come for.

You come for the unspoiled chicle sand that slopes dramatically down to tall waves that break hard and pull you into a steady tumble if you don't time your entrance into the water just right. Once in you are quickly rushed by schools of surgeon and goat fish or carefully inspected by darting sargent majors. Pay attention to the whirling pools of yellow foam that upon closer inspection reveal themselves to be thousands of tiny prawn-like creatures.

You also come to visit with Angelita and her family who graciously produce delicious hand-made tortillas while Guero the yellow-headed parrot looks on. Life is slow and simple.

Queen of the Court

2008-11-28T21:05:00.000-08:00

It would be easy to breeze on through La Placita (The Court) without batting an eye, but you'd be missing a bike touring gem: La Reyna (the queen) Hotel the home and hotel of Humberto and Maxine. What makes this a gem? Humberto used to race bikes back in the 60's and the yearly visits of our little band of cyclists along with the many other bike tourists who make their way down the Pan Am every year has revived his passion for cycling. He has a wall devoted to his adventures and thoroughly savours his occasional visits from bike tourists. Together with his wife they run a quirky and lovingly maintained little hotel. There are always plenty of interesting fowl pecking their way around the yard and Maxine has my dream outdoor kitchen.

Ask Humberto to ride with you down the coast a distance and I'll bet you he can't resist...

Sandstone Guadalupe

2008-11-28T19:34:00.000-08:00

Heading straight away from Tecoman across the flat hot Colima coastal plain, lime trees give way to banana trees, the state of Colima gives way to Michoacan, and hot flats give way to growing hills. Our trip takes a turn into a much more remote stretch of coast.

Past La Placita the land is ejido land. It is communally owned by the Nahuatl people (descendants of the Aztecs). All decisions about the lands are made by the community. For over 100 km development is little more than some small scatterings of palapas (thatched structures), small cinder block buildings, and a few randomly supplied corner stores. Life is focused mainly around the sea and on the weekend and holiday crowds that rush to the beach to escape the chilly interior of Mexico. Life moves at an entirely different pace here. Our first sampling of this is having a sloooow breakfast while lounging under an enramada at Playa San Telmo. This little beach is home to one of my favourite Guadalupe shrines in the country.

November brings the eagle, sting, and manta rays in close to shore and at this beach they are always active. This year while swimming the manta rays were soaring below and leaping out of the water all around us. It's not exactly a comfortable feeling when the waves are rough and the visibility is less than clear. Always shuffle your feet on entering and leaving this beach it gives any stingrays that might be resting in the sand the warning they need to clear out of your way.

Breakfast in Paradise

2008-11-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

The road to Paradise winds lazily away from the Manzanillo toll road through forgotten coconut groves. Traffic is light and unhurried and sometimes lingers curiously behind us just to observe the circus of pasty pink cyclists on heavily laden bicycles making their way through their land. With any luck, while relaxing after breakfast, you might get to see Ferdinand the mellowest bull in Mexico out for a morning stroll on the beach.

Camarones a la Diabla

2008-11-26T13:35:00.000-08:00

One of Basil's favourite and much anticipated dishes comes from the Manzanillo market. Above is a photo of the ultimate shrimp feast after a hot and meandering bike ride into Manzanillo's bustling centre past her lengthy resort strip and impressive container-filled cargo port. In spite of being Mexico's largest port, Manzanillo ranks in the top 5 for cleanest beaches in the country. It is also the sailfish capital of the world, but we come for the swimming and the shrimp.

Try Tejuino

2008-11-25T19:47:00.000-08:00

There is a deliciously refreshing corn drink sold in markets along the coast called Tejuino. It's base is corn masa (the same stuff that makes up tortillas) it is then mixed with water and raw sugar, boiled to a thick consistency and lightly fermented. When preparing it to drink it is mixed with ice, water, lime, chile and a dash of salt. The key in preparing many pre-hispanic beverages includes pouring the beverage from on high several times to aerate it. The end result: some of the planet's best gatorade! Look for tejuino vendors in Barra de Navidad and kick back, relax, and rehydrate...

Viva La Revolucion!

2008-11-24T11:41:00.000-08:00

Who doesn't love a parade? Not me, they're often too much like a long commercial, but the spontaneous creativity of Mexico has taught me otherwise. I have grown to love the impromptu parades that crop up in unexpected places at unexpected times for saint's and schools and carnival and whatever else. I remember a parade I saw in San Cristobal on one of my early visits to Mexico, it was after Christmas and I was waiting for Basil outside a shop when the shortest, fastest parade I have ever seen went by. It consisted of five scenes on the backs of flatbed trucks: live Baby Jesus in his manger with Mary and Joseph looking on, Frosty the Snowman, live three wise men with very frightened live horses and sheep, Santa Claus in his sleigh, and live Jesus being crucified with terrified looking sheep tied to the base of the scene. The five trucks went by so fast that I was left speechless. The birth and death of Jesus all in one short parade, now that's intense.

Ever since that fastest, shortest parade, I look forward to crossing paths with Mexican parades and on our rest day it was a parade for Dia de la Revolucion that pulled me from the comforts of my room. Everyone in town was out to relive the revolution. You just never know what to expect from a Mexican parade and this one did a great job of including everybody.

Barra - ahhhh...

2008-11-23T16:11:00.000-08:00

As you make your way south along highway 200 you crest a hill and cross a series of speed bumps to find yourself in the town named for Mexico's revolutionary great, Emiliano Zapata. This region is particularly loyal to it's revolutionary figures as nestled up along side Emiliano is a town named for his compadre to the north, Francisco "Pancho" Villa. It is befitting that we stop here for breakfast the day before Mexico's "Dia de la Revolucion" or Revolution Day.

The town of Emiliano Zapata has a little known secret...there is lady who makes some of the best hand-made tortillas on the coast. The family's grandson is playing in the secret which lies behind our table in a heap on the floor. Behind that heap sits a pile of empty cobs that once held that heap and somewhere way behind that grows the family tended milpa or corn field that is the source of it all.

Coconuts and crocodiles's make up our next stop before our long lingering climb and descent into our much awaited rest day in Barra de Navidad.

Peter's Pearl of the Pacific

2008-11-22T07:08:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Peter, who was being pushed to the extremes of guinea pigdom by his exuberant first-time guide, Punta Perula was discovered. Remote and dusty this town is perfect for lazing under palm fronds and eating the best shrimp ceviche you will ever find. If you aren't in the water chasing dolphins or manta rays, Mariscos Chee Chee is the place to be.

Richard Parker Lives Here

2008-11-21T05:06:00.000-08:00

What goes up, must come down and after climbing up to the refreshing climes of El Tuito a lengthy descent is exactly what awaits us the next morning. Dripping green forest gradually recedes giving way to gentler and drier terrain as we slide in early to our destination.

Have you ever read The Life of Pi? If you have, then please see the title of this blog entry. If you haven't, you should it is a delightful book, but I'm afraid I just ruined the end. Hopefully you're like me, and you will forget that you ever read this post long before you pick up the book.

So, now that you have re-read the title of this post, you must be wondering where is "here"? Why Tomatlan, of course! And, while I'm not certain that the creature mentioned in the post title lives in the actual house shown above, I am certain that he lives in the Tomatlan area, and what a lovely area it is to live in. We are the farthest inland that this tour takes us, but we are also well off the beaten track. It is not uncommon to see men riding through town on horseback or to find a donkey tied up outside a shop. These are not for tourist show they are hard working beasts.

When the first Nahuatl groups arrived to this area in 1324 AD they found an abundance of tomatoes and so named the area "Tomatlan - the place of tomatoes". These early tomato-eaters had no idea how these "plump things with navels" would eventually take European cuisine by storm when the Spanish would introduce it to European markets in 1540. Initially Europeans viewed the tomato with great suspicion, many believing it to be a poisonous devil fruit, but by the 1600's it was popping up in recipes all over Spain and Italy. Just imagine Italian or Greek cuisine before the ever-present tomato crossed their kitchen tables!

Life is sweet-O in El Tuito

2008-11-20T19:49:00.000-08:00

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We leave Puerto Vallarta making our way along the water and then eventually inland along the Rio Tomatlan. Most of our first day is spent climbing though the canopy of pulsating green forest that spills down the surrounding cliffs to frame the edges of this ancient route. The first settlers to this area in the late 16th century did not settle in the lowlands that make up what is Puerto Vallarta today, but rather in the much more comfortable highlands that are the Valley of El Tuito. This makes for a full day of climbing up to almost 1085 meters. Compared to Puerto Vallarta, El Tuito is cool and bug free - a settlers paradise.

It would be easy to give this charming little town a miss as its centre is located a good 20 minute walk away from the main road, but what lies at the heart of this little town is a friendly colonial centre whose buildings are mostly painted with washed colours derived from local clays.

Welcome to Puerto Vallarta

2008-11-19T14:07:00.000-08:00

There is just something really special about Puerto Vallarta that I haven't felt in any of the other resort destinations that we visit. Each one has its own distinct vibe, but the vibe that is PV is one of quality and grace. Now, the side that I know is, of course, not the mega high-rise and insular resort side, but rather the cobbled, low-rise, economical, and gritty side. Nothing is ever quite perfect in my Mexico and that is where the beauty lies, in the perfectly imperfect.

The thing that always overwhelms me about arriving in Puerto Vallarta is how lusciously green it is. The view from where I could grab an internet signal in our hotel looks like this:

As I wander around the cobbled streets of the old quarter poking into interesting gourmet shops, galleries, and boutiques, I always catch myself thinking, "I could live here". It helps that the supermarket is full of obscure necessities like maple syrup, tahini, blueberries, and pomegranite syrup. Sure there is the same level of tourist trash, but pomegranite syrup! Need I say more? Good food comes to you on a skewer on the beach.

While munching on BBQ'd shrimp I like to watch the well-oiled parasailing outfit at work. It is so scientific that I've almost caught myself considering giving it a whirl (something I would never ever ever do in our former home town Zihuatanejo)

This trip I was blown away by the quality, and variety of sculptures that line the fully repaired board walk which was considerably damaged in late 2002 by Hurricane Kenna.

Beside the Lake

2008-11-17T14:52:00.000-08:00

Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing on the breeze

There is a magical ride that takes you out of Patzcuaro along the lake around Janitzio Island. The road passes through farmlands and small adobe villages Tocuaro. We like to visit the workshop of Juan Horta Castillo and sons to see what new designs they have created each year. The village of Tocuaro specializes in fantastic original masks made using traditional Purepecha designs which are used in local festivals the most notable being the devil masks from the pastorelas. Horta's masks are ranked number one in Mexico and are faithfully selected for use by Mexico's world-class Ballet Folklorico. Sadly, we learned that Horta's tradition is now fully in the hands of his five sons as he passed on shortly after our last visit two years ago.

This hypnotic road continues to meander lazily past Tocuaro for a full 52 km alongside the lake to our base in Quiroga. Donkeys, herds of cattle, and horses provide more traffic than automobiles. For our last day of riding, the mists slowly burn off the lake, we munch our way through a market in Erongaricuaro, and I quietly slide into yet another case off empty nest as our gang slowly flys the coop back to their lives beyond the borders of Bike Mexico. It's nothing a serving of carnitas (roast pork) on the square in Quiroga can't soothe.

Pretty Princess Patzcuaro

2008-11-16T17:23:00.000-08:00

At the bottom of our descent from Santa Clara, we are met with more cobbles which lead us through Patzcuaro's traffic laden squares and to our temporay home in Hotel Valmen. Red and white buildings topped with terracotta rooves ramble down to Lake Patzcuaro while the island of Janitzio floats dreamlike in the distance. There is a gentle charm to Patzcuaro that is reflected in the landscapes we have cycled through in the surrounding Meseta Purepecha.

Yellow Brick Road

2008-11-15T08:59:00.000-08:00

Reaching the high point of the tour, just outside of Sevina, the group sailed down to Lake Zirahuen for a little rumble over some serious cobble-stone, some hand-made tortillas by the lake, and one of my favourite little stretches of road. In an attempt to lend a mystical quality to the ride, Basil calls it the yellow brick road. It's not yellow and it doesn't lead to the emerald city, but it does lead to a town specializing in something almost as precious.

Four tracts of handmade brick gently roll away from the cobbles of Zirahuen over emerald pastures that gracefully sweep away from the lazy morning mists of Lago de Zirahuen. At the end of this 12km traffic free journey you are rewarded with a visit to one of Michoacan's many colonial gems the copper capital of Mexico: Santa Clara del Cobre.

Copper use in the Meseta Purepecha has Pre-Colombian roots and this village has been a copper town for many centuries. Passing through the showrooms and workshops it is obvious that the talent has been fostered throughout the ages. Sinks, wall hangings, range hoods, head boads, bathtubs, intricate vases, pots, and jewelery, these hand-hammered pieces are individual works of art. I always leave wishing I had a home to bedeck with copper everything. It is not unusual to find foreign artisans studying the art of copper smithing and it is well worth a visit to the copper museum to view the collection of award winning pieces that this village produces

After the Party

2008-11-14T08:47:00.000-08:00

When I was fifteen I participated in a student exchange that took me to Venice, Italy. It was a wonderful and overwhelming experience full of images and feelings that will stay with me for the rest of my life. One such image comes to me from a day trip I took to Verona, with guidebook in hand I wandered into the ancient Roman Arena and much to my surprise I learned that Pink Floyd had just held a concert there the night before. I was told that the place was a mess and perhaps not worth a visit. I peeked in anyway to behold a truly awesome sight; a living ancient place.

The aftermath of the concert left this otherwise stony monument littered with concert flyers, tickets, cigarette butts, food wrappers, cans, and bottles. Red metal chairs were still in place for extra seating on the floor of the theatre. The shadows of men backlit by the afternoon sun scrambled over elaborate scaffolding disassembling the stage. I could almost feel all the spectacles from across the history of this public place echoing within its walls. I was enraptured by the renewed magic of this place. Recent events always have an energy that lingers.

Seeing the cemeteries of Mexico bustling with family members cleaning and decorating tombs, and preparing food to share with relatives and ancestors, is a remarkable experience, but there is something resoundingly peaceful about passing by the jovial decorations left in these burial grounds after the celebration has passed and everyone has gone home. The gates may be locked, but the place still sizzles with the electricity of the lives and the dramas that made up the event.

Hermoso Huipil

2008-11-12T20:48:00.000-08:00

When pedalling from village to village some of the most defining handicrafts we see are their textiles. Michoacan offers a rich selection in its traditional blouses (huipiles), shawls (rebozos), and blankets. Thankfully limited pannier space prevents me from buying everything I see or, by now, I'd be able to supply a small museum.

Have Guitar will Cycle

2008-11-11T14:15:00.000-08:00

The collection of personalities that come together to tour with us is second only to the actual experience of cycling the lesser known roads of Mexico. Travelling through Paracho, the guitar making capital of Mexico, this time we were blessed to have the company of two guitar aficionados. Carrying guitars with them on their bikes certainly peaked the curiosity in the small towns we made our way through.

Layers of the Onion

2008-11-10T14:10:00.000-08:00

Markets are a passion of ours and this year Basil did a lovely job of arranging our tour to pass through several towns on market day. We always enjoy revisiting old flavours and discovering new ones and it never ceases to amaze us how something new always reveals itself to us that is absolutely everywhere, but that, somehow, we have never taken notice of. Our wise host Alfred, of Macan Che Bed and Breakfast in Izamal, once expressed this phenomenon as "peeling away of layers of the onion". The whole onion may be visible, but there are many very fine layers to savour. This is exactly what travelling or living in a foreign place can be. The beautiful thing is that, if you are open to it, it applies not just to browsing through markets, but to all aspects of the life that surrounds you when you are away from the confines of what is familiar to you. A person can only absorb so much new information at one time and new layers seem to reveal themselves only when you are ready for them and what an honoured treat it is to discover the layers of the onion that come together to make Mexico.

The markets of Michoacan are a wealth of flavours. Some of our favourites are in Paracho, Tarecuato, and Nahuatzen. All for very different reasons. Paracho is large and lively and we have come to look forward to their very popular atole de cajeta, prepared fresh fruit, and simple, but hearty coarsely ground blue corn cookies .

Tarecuato is small. Black and blue shawls abound and the variety of atoles (corn based warm beverages flavoured with an incredible combination of fruit, nuts, seeds, and other tasty flavourings) changes with every visit. I hope to one day find myself in the area for their Atole Fair that is held there every year on the Saturday before Palm Sunday.

Nahuatzen is another market favourite of ours. Part of it might be the rolling pastoral vistas that carry you to this peaceful little town, an part of it might be the gentle sweetness of the vendors, but mostly it is the sheer quality of excellent fruit and veg and other edible options. One of my favourite fruit choices this visit was mispero an exotic, small, round fruit that grows on trees and is known in asia as loquat or chinese plum. It is best when the thin skin is peeled off and the light orange grape-like fruit is sucked off the four smooth pits tucked away inside it.

Popsicle, Popsicle

2008-11-09T19:30:00.000-08:00

Mexico has the BEST popsicles in the world. A chain of refreshing popsicle shops called Michoacana can be found across the country. The beauty of these popsicles is the fresh fruit and milk they are made with. Any fruit that grows in Mexico is mixed with water or milk and turned into a popsicle. Mango, papaya, tamarind, pineapple with chile, lime, mandarin, strawberry, guava, thankfully the list seems endless.

Mega Pots

2008-11-09T17:38:00.000-08:00

With the Volcan de Paricutin as a backrop, the tiny village of Cocucho, Michoacan teeters atop a steep ascent from any of the three directions you approach it. After your long climb the town doesn't seem like much until you zero in on the massive earthenware pots that grace the doorways of many roughly hewn Cocucho homes. Behind these homes are simple workshops, with no potter's wheels or elaborate kilns. The stunning pots that emerge from these workshops can stand up to 1.5 meters in height are shaped entirely by the hand and are fired individually in a wood pyre that is heaped on top of it. Originally used to store corn, valuables, and (it is rumoured) the dead, many of these pots are collectors items fetching up to US$1500 when purchased outside the village.

Diablitos de Ocumicho

2008-11-08T14:39:00.000-08:00

Well above the strawberry fields of Tangancicuaro, but barely at the beginning of a lengthy climb to Cocucho lay the steep streets of Ocumicho also known as Purepecha inferno. The town specializes in fantastically painted hand-shaped clay devils in any situation imaginable. Our favourite is, of course, the cyclist devil, but they come in elaborate scenes from the last supper to the dentists office.

Rebozo Purepecha

2008-11-08T11:52:00.000-08:00

High cheekbones, broad mouths, long slender noses, and tall slender frames wrapped up in cobalt blue and black striped shawls are the sure mark of a Purepecha woman. The shawl or rebozo is a critical multi-use tool. It carries everything from children to firewood, keeps you warm, hides missing eyes, and looks elegant.

Dance of the Little Old Men

2008-11-07T11:03:00.000-08:00

One of the most hilarious folkloric dances of all Mexico comes from the Meseta Purepecha.

As Europeans settled in the Americas the original inhabitants, in this case the Purepecha, were astonished by the rate at which they aged. A popular mask was quickly developed representing the face of an old white man. This mask was adopted into a pre-conquest dance in which young athletic dancers pretend to be little old men intermittently taken over by the spirit of music and dance.

Milky Michoacan

2008-11-06T22:30:00.000-08:00

I have no idea if the cow is a dairy cow or not, but the gorgeous fade from brown to black mesmerized me enough to stop my bike. Can a cow be majestic?

The state of Michoacan loves its milk and it is possible to still find milk delivered all natural, unhomogenized, unpasturized to people's doors. One day, while out wandering around Quiroga, I stumbled across two gentlemen on horseback with their morning milk that they were taking in to town. I wished I had a jar to take some back to Basil to offer up for our kefir, but, even though I do like to collect them, I'm not in the habit of walking around with empty jars.

Instead we had to settle for one of my favourite Michoacan treats: the energetico! The energetico is a big cup with layers of fresh seasonal fruit and yoghurt topped with any combo of nuts, amarynth or chocolate sprinkles.

avocados & blue agave

2008-11-06T22:24:00.000-08:00

Agriculturally rich Michoacan is the avocado growing capital of the world. Between Angahuan and Zamora we cycle past thousands of avocado trees. Nearing the north of the state and the border with Jalisco state (home to tequila and blue agave) we start to see sharply ordered fields of proud blue agave.

Streetside breakfast

2008-11-06T21:27:00.000-08:00

Creamy beans, handmade tortillas, fresh salsa, nopal cactus salad, grilled beef, onions, peppers and nopal paddles beckon me from a streetside grill in the Zamora market. I quickly change my mind from a breakfast of Mexican style eggs to anything from the tasty grill beside me.

chongos

2008-11-05T20:09:00.000-08:00

Painfully sweet curdled milk that squeaks between my teeth as I chew is not my idea of a dessert, but they love to make it in Zamora and Basil looks forward to sweeting himself out on the stuff whenever we pass through the area.

Hibiscus Gatorade

2008-11-05T13:16:00.000-08:00

In Tinguindin,Michoacan there is a lovely hotel called Meson de la Calle Real. Inside this hotel is one of the most lovingly maintained little gardens of any small Mexican hotel I have visited. Moments after having dropped my dried hibiscus leaves into our morning concoction of water, honey and hydration salts, I was delighted when one of our group pointed to the beautiful deep red blossom that had opened up to greet the morning. Hibiscus: a tasty, sexy bud.

Adios Angahuan

2008-11-04T12:39:00.000-08:00

The beautiful riding through quiet backroads keeps bringing us back to Angahuan. While the volcano is definitely an attraction, the time spent admiring this unapologetically indigenous village is the real star of this stop.

Volcan de Paricutin

2008-11-03T11:53:00.000-08:00

14 kilometers from the town of Angahuan sits the world's newest volcano and the only volcano whose entire life cycle has been recorded from birth to death. Most folks who've made their way out this far head by horse or by foot to check out the church or to the lookout to see the volcano from a distance. If you have the time, the most rewarding activity is to rent a horse and make the trip out through the volcanic ash filled fields to the base of the volcano where you can climb up over the lava past the steam vents to the top of the 424m cinder cone that literally rose up out of Dionisio Pulido's corn field between 1943 an 1952.

Blue Corn Heaven

2008-11-03T10:21:00.000-08:00

Many, many generations ago somewhere in Latin America one of the greatest miracles of all agricultural time took place when some attentive soul decided to favour a grass with a few hard to use kernals. Over time this grass gained more and more kernals gradually transforming into an ear of corn and, eventually transforming into the mainstay of a host of Latin American diets.

In Mexico, this staple takes many forms, but the most universal is the tortilla. In Angahuan, this pancakesque miracle is often derived from blue corn which is an increasingly rare treat. One of the most beautiful places to sit and enjoy tasty treats shaped of ground blue corn dough is at the foot of the lava engulfed church of San Juan Parangaricutiro.

Authentically Angahuan

2008-11-02T21:15:00.000-08:00

Angahuan is tucked safely away from the reach of the Paricutin Volcano. It is an unusual destination. While the volcano draws international and Mexican tourists, the village clings fiercely to it's Purepecha roots. Alien to foreign ears, the daily news is droned out in the Purepecha language three times a day over the village loudspeakers. Horses are the main form of transportation that makes it's way up and down the cobble and dirt streets. Negotiating the manure, and dirt and cobbles can seem treacherous at times. While making your way through town keep your eyes peeled for anyone selling blue corn tortillas and eat with Mercedes at Restaurant Angahuan.

Dia de los Muertos

2008-11-02T18:13:00.000-08:00

Some very useful advice prepared us for the reception we would receive when we paused at the cemetery outside Pomacuaran on our route to Angahuan. As our troop of cyclists wandered through the festivities dressed in spandex and cycling shoes the celebrants welcomed us into their event by piling our arms high with tamales, chayote, gelatin, bananas, pan de muerto, and bottomless bowls of piping hot pozole. Attending the Mexican celebration of the dead and seeing first hand the universal beauty of the homage paid to loved ones who have passed on, I can't help but wonder about the solitary way we handle death in our own culture.

Pedalling into the Night of the Dead

2008-11-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

Pedalling around the shores of Lake Patzcuaro we quickly made our way away from the big tourist draw of Janitzio Island. On the night of November 1st, far away from the tourist crowds in the Purepecha village of Cheran, we made our the cemetary to take in the Noche de Muertos celebrations only to discover some serious overcrowding.

Cempasuchil

2008-10-31T19:03:00.000-07:00

Cempasuchil is the flower of the dead. The markets are teeming with heaps of giant marigolds waiting to adorn the altars or "ofrendas" to loved ones who have passed on. Ofrendas will also consist of photos of the dearly departed, fruit, drink, bread, and sweets along with objects used by them in their daily life. People start to prepare altars in their homes, schools, and work place several days before the actual event.

Remembering Patamban

2008-10-30T18:26:00.000-07:00

On the last Sunday of every October the tiny village of Patamban, Michoacan celebrates the festival of Cristo Rey. People come from far and wide to watch the village build their fresh floral and coloured sawdust carpets over the cobbled route that the saint will travel in the hands of the priest. The timing wasn't quite right for us this year, but the spectacular memory of our last visit is still fresh in our minds.

Garbanzo Green

2008-10-30T18:06:00.000-07:00

The electrifying green of fresh garbanzo reflects the verdant carpet that winds itself amongst the display of wildflowers that spray the roadsides of michoacan state with pulsating life. Sold in makets and busy street corners, garbanzos come boiled or grilled and covered in the holy trinity of mexican flavour enhancers: salt, chile and lime. After your first taste of fresh garbanzos you won't be able to resist and you will quickly sport the mark of the fresh garbanzo. Proceed with caution and be within reach of soap and water before you dig in.

Fall into Mexican Spring

2008-10-29T12:51:00.000-07:00

Every fall we escape the cold of the north by heading to Mexico to begin our new touring season with Bike Mexico. Over the years, I have come to count my years in terms of touring seasons. Having been north to spend a few months resupplying on gear and gizmos, we arrive in Mexico with a mess of shiny new stuff and some slightly improved reflections on Mexico, bike touring, and life in general. It only makes sense to me that what follows is a new year.

It is a confusing time, however, because even though the calendar is drawing to a close and our hemisphere is gearing down for winter, it is also post-rainy season, which means that the Mexico that I have come to know and love is ablaze with endless wildflowers and shades of green. Having grown up in Canada, a green landscape stuffed with wildflowers means summer is coming. In Mexico, it means just the opposite, instead of giving way to summer, it gives way to fall and, in Mexico, along with fall comes one of Mexico's most beautiful celebrations: Dia de los Muertos.