The Ugliest Church in the World

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unexpected Celebrations

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

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

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

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

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.