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.
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!
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.
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!
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:
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...
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.
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.
We love to cycle and we love to eat. Fortunately these two things go well together. Lately we've been doing this in both Greece and Mexico. I try desperately not to buy books or handicrafts, but they always make their way into the plethora of unnecessary goods I carry with me. I always have room in my panniers for one more hat.
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