Monthly Archives: November 2009

Puebla Revisited November 2009

Puebla is growing on me!  This is the third visit this year and each time, it is a new discovery, a new food to savor, and a return to favorite spots.  I am traveling with my sister who lives in the Bay Area and this is her first visit to Puebla, so I get to play tour guide!  I arranged our stay at Camino Real Puebla, booking online using HotelsDotCom.  The rack rate is about $250 USD per night and we paid approximately $85 per night based on a 13.1 exchange rate.  This hotel is a former convent located two blocks from the zocalo and around the corner from my favorite restaurant El Mural de los Poblanos.  We have a lovely room that was likely a cell for nuns who occupied the 17th century space.  The décor is colonial with elements of the baroque.  The breakfast is an exceptional buffet.  This morning we had egg white omelets made to order stuffed with huitlachotle (mushrooms and organic corn) and cheese, fresh papaya, guava and orange juice mixed, delicious aromatic coffee,  chilaquiles with salsas verde and rojo, fork tender roasted pork, and black beans.  We started at 9 am and didn’t finish until close to 11 a.m.   Thank goodness this was going to be a walking day, and it turned out that we didn’t sit down to dinner until 5:30 p.m.

After visiting the Museo Amparo, that had an extensive exhibit on performance and political art, strong enough to bring us both to tears (artists expressing themselves about the disappeareds in Chile and Argentina, or the AIDS epidemic, or the environmental degradation of our planet), we hopped a cab needing lighter fare and made our way to Uriarte Talavera.  This was after we had spent a goodly amount of time ogling the beautiful work in Talavera de la Reyna shop that is part of the Museo Amparo.  Next, a taxi ride to the Exconvento Santa Rosa where the famed talavera kitchen is the last part of the hour-long guided tour.  The entry fee is 35 pesos each, and one cannot meander alone or take photos.  Today, our guide only spoke Spanish, so I’m not sure what would have happened if our understanding was more limited.

The Dominican nuns sequestered there in the 17th century took vows of silence and participated in the rituals of mortification of the flesh.  The superior slept on a wood platform without a mattress dressed in heavy, rough homespun wool year round, and wore a crown of thorns during the day.  Life was interesting then.

Then, we hailed a cab to the area near the new convention center.  Our destination was La Purificadora hotel and restaurant, designed by the famed Mexico City architect Legoretta.  This is a stunning contemporary space amidst historic Renaissance and Baroque buildings, a punctuation mark in spectacular city resplendent in Moorish influences.  This is where we had a unique and innovative dinner:  a trio of appetizers that we shared – tiny squash blossoms stuffed with cheese and deep fried in tempura batter, octopus in a spicy tomato sauce on a homemade tortilla , and an organic mesclun salad with truffle oil dressing served with avocado, grilled tomato, and fresh grilled baby corn.  For the entrée, Barbara had this chef’s version of the same stewed goat in tomato broth that we had the night before at El Mural.  This version was definitely different.  (The great chefs in the city prepare this special dish, Huaxmole or Mole de Caderas, once a year in honor of an ancient pre-Hispanic tradition.)  My entrée with a sea bass steamed over corn husk, topped with onion slivers, chopped red pepper, fresh nopal cactus, and spinach bits.  The sauce was a golden delicate scent of fish broth and cream.

After all this, we decided to walk back in the chill of the evening, strolling in sisterly arm-in-arm, as you soon women do together in Mexican cities, comfortable in their relationship.  It was about ten blocks back to the zocalo and it was a perfect night for strolling, brisk, cool, a bit breezy.  Lots of people were on the street and we felt no sense of being at risk.  Tomorrow morning, we will get up early, take the bus to Oaxaca for our final evening in Mexico before flying home on Saturday.

10 Puebla Favorites:

  1. Talavera de la Reyna (Museo Amparo or fabrica/factory in Cholula)
  2. Ex Convento Santa Rosa and the Talavera tile kitchen
  3. El Mural de los Poblanos restaurant
  4. El Camino Real Hotel
  5. La Purificadora Restaurant
  6. Talavera Uriarte
  7. Talavera Armando (request DO4 only)
  8. Strolling Cinco de Mayo
  9. Everything in the Zocalo, including the Templo Angelopolis
  10. Capilla de la Virgen del Rosario (incredible gold leaf and Talavera)

After Day of the Dead Reflection 2009

There is peace on the hilltop.  Below muffled sounds of drums, bass, voice, amplify across the valley.  A dog sleeps in the sun.  The gringa healer brings sighs of relief to stressed clients.  A breeze blows over the patio bordered by mature agave fifteen feet tall and equally as wide.  A birdsong adds refrain.  In the distance a cock crows and a dog barks.  Dog barks are incessant here.  Light filters softly through the bamboo wall surrounding the outdoor kitchen.  Muertos ends for this year.

In the cemetery, women whose faces are deeply lined, creases like arroyos and canyons, wrap themselves in wool, polyester, once fine now frayed and discolored robozos.  There is a chill in the air and a fine drizzle begins to fall accompanying the waning light of dusk.  Geraniums planted years ago are now robust, growing over the mounds of dead loved ones, enveloping them like a warm blanket.  Over there a family huddles beside the new concrete wall warming themselves by a small campfire.  The cemetery is expanding, new earth ready to receive both its humble and prosperous.  Death is the great equalizer, they say.

The gringos pass each other with meek smiles or nods, a silent signal to each other.  Of what?  Recognition as the “other”, in communion, in competition for ownership rights, the privilege of being the most connected or the one with the longest history here?  They forget that gringos are visitors and Zapotecs are the rightful heirs of this village.  This valley.  The abuelos nod as we pass in recognition and greeting.  Humanity is spoken through the eyes of women who speak only a few words of Spanish, if that, and in a silent instant tell the beauty and pain of their heritage.  The cemetery reminds us of a temporal life, of hope for a better future, of the value of relationship and the meaninglessness of acquisition.

As dusk descends and rain falls in droplets, the assemblage endures, covers themselves with plastic or an umbrella while the gringos with the expensive cameras pack up and leave.

Only the hummmm of the refrigerator sings to me now as I sit at the top of the hill overlooking the valley below, church spires rising to god’s infinity.  The refrigerator, an opening for abundance.

What surprised me was the abundance of flowers, the reverence for the dead, the celebratory acts of remembrance, the stylization of the calaveras (skeletons) — skulls, bones, skeletons in bread, candy, altar figures, candles, candles everywhere, tall, short, votives.  The mythical combined with the religious.  The blending of Catholic and indigenous practice, laughter and song, mucho mezcal, purple corn tamales, the sitting and visiting, how traditional Zapotec ceremonial practice takes priority over business and work.  Time is for giving to others.  Earl Shorris says that whomever controls time controls their destiny and the way of the world.

There is a rhythm and pace to Dia de los Muertos that goes beyond the parties, food and drink.  It is the giving of bread, chocolate, fruit and candles from the heart, tribute paid and received, an ancient tradition.  You bring six loaves of Pan Muertos.  I give you three to eat.  You bring chocolate, I give you hot chocolate to drink.  Then, I give you a package of other bread, fruit and chocolate to take home with you, symbol of lasting respect and friendship.  The ceremony is in the giving, the receiving, the memory, the tribute to the dead, the time honored traditions.  All this takes time.

Day of the Dead Teotitlan Del Valle 2009

The church bells sound at 3:00 p.m. signaling the time to light the copal incense burner and begin the festival meal as the dead find their way back to the cemetery via the sweet aroma and candlelight.  Federico lights the incense and puts the smokey charcoal in the center of the casa courtyard.  We sit down to a meal of morado (purple corn) tamales stuffed with chicken and mole amarillo, chicken, mole negro homemade by Lola, sweet rice mixed with onions and squash, salad, lots of beer and mezcal.  After the meal, Barbara and I walk to the Panteon (cemetery) just a few blocks from the house.  Here, the festivities are more subdued than the Xoxo extravaganza.  The cemetery is smaller and more humble.  The adornment on each tomb is relatively uniform, decorated with a partially segmented orange, hand-fulls of roasted peanuts and walnuts, candles, simple flowers.  Families also gather here in small clusters, talking, cracking and eating nuts, or in silent meditation.  The village band clusters in the center of the cemetery under an awning in front of the large permanent altar to the Virgin of Guadalupe and plays a mix of ranchero music, Mozart, and ancient Zapotec tunes.  This is mostly a horn group and the music is a strong punctuation mark to the more solemn ambiance of the environment.  We see many gringos with video cameras, tripods and still cameras with macho lenses.  This creates an air of voyeurism that is stronger for me than the experience at Xoxo where I expect this.  Because I know many people in the village now, I walk through the narrow paths separating the graves and greet them with handshakes, smiles and hugs.  I ask a local friend what the feeling is about all the gringos in the graveyard, and he says it is good for the village to have visitors because the economy has been so difficult this last year.  I wonder if this is a sentiment shared by most or if there is a feeling of invasiveness into a sacred rite.  This is always a question for me — the cultural sensitivity of being a guest in the village and how to move around with deference and respect for ancient traditions.

Mercado Abastos Crush: Muertos 2009

No words are necessary!

Muertos at Home: Mezcal, the Breakfast Chaser — Oaxaca 2009

The elderly couple entered the altar room bearing a basket of bread (pan), chocolate, floras de muertos (an aromatic small white wild flower) and a tall beeswax candle made in the village.  They lit the candle and replaced the new one in the large holder, careful not to let the flame extinguish.  Incense burned and the warmth of candlelight wrapped the room even though it was only 10 a.m.  They knelt in front of the altar where her dead father’s photo was the centerpiece, crossed themselves in prayer.  They then placed the flowers on the altar and the bread on top, adding another layer to the display of plenty.  They joined the rest of the group assembled around the table and Fede offered all mezcal and a toast to the dead.  What could I do but comply as a guest joining this intimate family gathering?  Yes, of course.  We raised the small shot glasses in salud (Spanish, to your health) and chisbayoh (Zapotec) to pay homage to the departed loved ones and to life.  This would be the first time that I have had mezcal as a breakfast chaser!

Around the table were aunts, sisters, cousins, godchildren, and their children.  Fede, Dolores and Janet gave each guest a plate of sesame breads and hot chocolate.  This was followed by chicken in mole and fresh tamales, and lots of conversation and laughter.  The little ones played games and loved “spin the top” — a lottery game involving taking and leaving roasted pecans from the center pot, depending on where your spin landed.  Janet explained that the tradition of games, bingo, lotteria, and shoots and ladders were typical for Dia de Los Muertos.

the intimacy of the celebration, the family gathering, the relaxation of visiting over time and the exchange of food is part of the authenticity of celebrating Muertos.  We are fortunate to be a part of the family and included in the festivities.