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Mexican Colonial Style
April 20, 2004 - On
the eight-hour bus ride from Veracruz to Oaxaca I met a retired fellow from
Arkansas who wore his long white hair in a ponytail and used the e-mail moniker
El Viejo Gringo. He was in a mood to chat; I was not. But as we glided up steep
mountain ridges covered with giant cactus, I found his colorful stories far more
entertaining than the Spanish-dubbed reruns of "Hawaii Five-O" on the
bus's TV screen. El Viejo had just spent two months in a
Veracruz hotel so cheap that I had thought it was a house of ill repute when I
passed it during my stay. He was planning to change buses in Oaxaca, and not
linger there an instant longer than necessary. "Too many gringos," he
said, waving his hand dismissively. "Too expensive." Oaxaca was, indeed, full of Americans. At
times during my six-day stay there in February, I felt as if I'd wandered into
an adult version of college spring break or semester abroad. From groups on an
Elderhostel learning tour, to retired couples pausing to visit museums, ancient
Zapotecan and Mixtec ruins and take a cooking class, to baby boomers immersed in
intensive Spanish courses, I ran into folks from home at the turn of every
colonial cobblestone street. (Oaxaca, founded in the 1500's, has some of the
richest Spanish colonial architecture in the Americas.) At first this didn't make me happy at all.
One travels to a foreign country, in part, to have a vacation from one's own. On
my first morning I ambled out of my room at the guest house Las Golondrinas,
through a Mexican patio garden dripping with potted geraniums and fragrant
citrus trees. The air was crisp, the sky azure; Oaxaca, tucked into a mile-high
valley surrounded by dry, rugged mountains, has a year-round springlike high
desert climate. But then, slipping into a seat at a small table in the garden
breakfast area, I nearly got up and fled back into my room when a boisterous
chorus of "Well, hi there! Where are you from?!" rose from the
American guests nearby. When I got over being a grouch — and
moved my breakfast from the guest house to Del Jardin, a very Mexican outdoor
cafe facing the busy central public square, or zócalo, I soon discovered the
bright side of Oaxaca's popularity. Because it receives so many visitors, Oaxaca
is well organized for them, and almost embarrassingly easy (and inexpensive) to
explore. On my first morning, it took me only about five minutes to find the
office of the Cooperative Society of Community Museums, two blocks from Las
Golondrinas. Besides helping more than two dozen indigenous villages build and
maintain town museums, the society takes small groups of travelers out to the
Zapotecan and Mixtec communities for day trips. The travelers, with a local
guide, visit weavers, potters and other artisans, take hikes into nearby
mountains and fields, visit the museums, and eat lunch at a village house. While I could have hopped on one of those
noisy Oaxaca buses and gone to an outlying village myself, visiting a community
with an invitation and a local guide seemed like a far better way to learn about
Oaxacan Indian culture — and, at a cost of about $20, including lunch (all
tour profits go directly back to the villages), a great deal, too. At the office
I signed up for a visit to Santa Ana del Valle, about nine miles east of Oaxaca
city, for later in the week. Even easier was finding my way into
Oaxaca's legendary cuisine. That evening, as I finished the last bites of a
scrumptious plate of chilies delicately stuffed with squash blossoms at El
Naranjo restaurant, a woman I took to be the chef (she was) came to my table and
asked me how I liked my meal. "Fantastic," I gushed. "I
would love to learn how to cook like this." Without further ado, I suddenly found
myself enrolled in Iliana de la Vega's Oaxacan cooking class for that coming
Saturday morning ($44). Figuring I'd arranged enough organized
activity, I set about the serious work of aimlessly strolling around town. Away
from the main tourist area — which includes the Cathedral of Santo Domingo,
the expensive Camino Real hotel (housed in a converted 16th-century convent),
and a narrow pedestrian street called Alcalá lined with pricey shops — Oaxaca
is a more down to earth, typical Mexican city. On side streets, schoolchildren
in uniform romp, market vendors struggle with huge baskets of vegetables or
heaps of the woven wool rugs — tapetes — that Oaxacan artisans are famous
for. Again and again, I returned to the zócalo, always abuzz with activity,
from children tossing enormous balloons in the air to the local orchestra
playing Verdi. Even more of a treat was Oaxaca's public
food market, just off the main square. It held treasure troves of goodies, some
I recognized (like shiny black candied figs), and some I did not (heaps of
pungent dried chilies of every size and color, and mounds of dark paste, the
bases of Oaxaca's famous moles, or sauces). Smells I understood mingled with
unfathomable ones, and I couldn't wait for my cooking class, which I hoped would
unravel some of the market's mysteries. Which it did, and in a way I hadn't
expected. For, among my 10 fellow American and Canadian students at the Naranjo
cooking class was Phil, who introduced himself to us as "a chef from a
Berkeley restaurant." Figuring that "Berkeley restaurant" was
modest code for Chez Panisse (it was), I struck up a conversation with him as we
all chopped tomatoes and tomatillos in Ms. de la Vega's restaurant kitchen, and
discovered that he had prepped extensively for his exploration of Oaxacan
cuisine, and was carrying a thick file of tips and info from other chefs he knew
who'd already made the pilgrimage. Meanwhile, Ms. de la Vega led us through
the many stages of preparation of a Oaxacan chile relleno, from preparing the
shredded pork stuffing to the right way to blister and peel the skin of a dark
green chile poblano. It may be a while before I attempt such a heavy and
intricate dish in my home kitchen, but I will certainly whip up a batch of salsa
made from slightly toasted chiles de aguas that Ms. de la Vega demonstrated that
morning. And, with the cooking finished came the highlight of the class — for
me, not lunch (although it was delicious) but a guided trip into that formidable
market, where Ms. de la Vega explained the fine points of distinguishing a chile
ancho from a chile pasilla (the pasilla is smoked, smaller and darker), and
guided us to some of the friendlier vendors. Later, over tequilas at La Purísima, a
pleasant new rooftop restaurant with a view of the Cathedral, Phil shared some
of his kitchen files with me. On his recommendation, I visited El Topil, a
little restaurant, for lunch, where I had a quesadilla that knocked me out with
its classic, simple flavors: a handmade corn tortilla and local string cheese
topped with an epazote leaf (which tastes like a cross between mint and
coriander). Poking my nose into the open kitchen to compliment the cook, I found
that Doña Carmelita Hernández Pacheco had been preparing these quesadillas at
El Topil for 16 years. After only a few days in Oaxaca, I was
beginning to feel like a seminar participant, too. It was a feeling that
intensified as I met my Museo Comunitario guide, Rosa Sosa Ignacio, early one
morning in front of her office. Along with a couple from New Zealand, we boarded
a crowded public bus, then transferred to another for the hourlong ride out to
Santa Ana del Valle, a Zapotecan village that had once been a suburb of the
ancient Zapotecan capital, Monte Albán, whose ruins I had visited the previous
afternoon. Upon entering Santa Ana, with its tidy
houses, neat flower-filled square, and simple white church, its altar awash in
vases of gladioli, I felt as if I had walked into one of the fantasy villages in
a Gabriel García Márquez novel. In the square, Rosa passed us on to José Rodríguez,
our village guide, who took us up a dirt road leading from the village. Soon we
were in a vast, dry high plain filled with agave plants and scrubby trees and
shrubs. The air grew cooler and thinner, as José explained how each of the
shrubs and plants figured into the local economy — some were medicinal, others
used to make the vegetable dyes for the weavers' wool (Santa Ana is renowned for
the artistry of its tapetes) — and described the way the village of 2,000
people is run, as a cooperative of volunteer leaders and committees. Returning to the village, we visited the
home of a master weaver named Primo, who demonstrated making a wide wool blanket
on a loom that reminded me of a pipe organ — and that required a similar
intricate coordination of hands and feet. Finally it was time for lunch: homemade
sausages, rice, plate-size handmade tortillas, and a sweet, thick soup made from
squash, served in the home of the village school principal and his wife. José
mentioned that visitors can stay in peaceful Santa Ana, either in the simple
guest house or with a family. I asked what it might cost, and our host, the
school principal, piped up, "I charge about 25 pesos a day." That's
$2.70. I would have jumped at the chance to enjoy
an idyll in this friendly village, if only time allowed. Instead I made a note
to send an e-mail message to the one person who I knew would most appreciate a
pointer to an inexpensive Mexican place with few, if any, fellow Americans:
"Dear Viejo Gringo . . ." Visitor Information I spent $79 a day on food,lodging, and
activities during six days and nights in Oaxaca. Transportation There are no direct flights from the New
York City area to either Veracruz, the first stop on my Mexican trip, or Oaxaca.
I bought an open-jaw ticket through
www.onetravel.com
that routed me from J.F.K. to Veracruz, with a change of plane in Cancún, then
returned from Oaxaca, with a change in Mexico City. The round-trip fare was
$749. I traveled the eight hours from Veracruz to
Oaxaca in a first class bus for about $23 one way. The bus, a reasonably
comfortable air-conditioned model with a Mercedes engine, is operated by a
regional company called ADO (pronounced ah-day-oh, for
Autobuses de Oriente), whose number in Oaxaca is (52-951) 515-1703; it's
probably easiest and best to check the latest schedules and fares in person at
the station. Hotels I inspected about six Oaxaca guest houses
in the $35 price range, and Las Golondrinas, Tinoco y Palacios
411, (52-951) 514-3298, impressed me as the best value. Its 27 rooms are all
different, arranged around several small garden courtyards. Mine had a main room
with a double bed and wardrobe, an alcove with a desk, and a private bath with
shower, sink, toilet but no tub. The room was dark, however, and I was disturbed
by noise both from the street and from chatty fellow guests in the courtyard. On my last night I treated myself to a stay
in the somewhat faded but still grand Marqués del Valle hotel,
Portal de Clavería, Centro Oaxaca, (52-951) 514-0688, fax (523-951) 516-9961, a
period 1940's gem with Deco and Art Nouveau details that boasts a ringside view
of the zócalo. My spacious room overlooking the square, with two double beds
and private bath, cost $68.55 (reflecting a 15 percent discount for paying
cash). The Posada Catarina,
Aldama 325, telephone and fax (52-951) 516-4270, newer and not as beautifully
landscaped as Las Golondrinas, has similarly tidy rooms, a friendly management
— and a location somewhat protected from street noise. I was quoted $38 for a
single room with bath. Moving somewhat more upscale, I also like
the newish Hotel Calesa Real, García Vigil 306, (52-951)
516-5544 fax: (52-951) 526-7232, which has standard, spacious hotel-style rooms
arranged around a pretty courtyard with a little swimming pool. I was quoted a
rate of almost $100, but that instantly dropped to $57 as soon as I mentioned
the word "descuento." Restaurants At El Naranjo, Valerio
Trujano 203, (52-951) 514-1878,
www.elnaranjo.com.mx,
whose chef and owner puts a modern spin on traditional cuisine, my chilies
stuffed with squash blossoms were elegant and flavorful; with a glass of tequila
and an appetizer, dinner was about $17. El Topil, Plazuela
Labastida 104, no telephone, is an informal place with classic, flavorful food.
My lunch of garbanzo soup and quesadillas filled with string cheese cost $8.45. The cool, flower-laden terrace of La
Purísima, Allende 208, (52-951) 501-0927, with its stunning view of
the cathedral and mountains, is a good place to be at sunset. I had a big
appetizer platter that included sausages, pressed beef, cheeses and chilies and
two expensive tequilas for $22. Breakfast of coffee, fruit, and toast at del
Jardín, one of several cafes facing the zócalo, cost around $5. Activities The cooking class taught by Iliana de la
Vega at her restaurant, El Na ranjo, cost $44, including materials, a huge
lunch, and a tour of the food market. Reservations are suggested. Tours of local villages are arranged
through the Sociedad Cooperativo de Museos Comunitarios del Estado de Oaxaca,
Tinoco y Palacios 311-312; telephone and fax (52-951) 516-5786, www.umco.org. My
day in Santa Ana del Valle, with lunch, cost $20. Village stays can be arranged. Monte Albán is about two miles from
downtown Oaxaca. A round-trip taxi cost about $13 (including waiting time); the
entry fee is $3.90. |
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