| Jeff Poulter & Graham Tillotson: 3rd August 2004 |
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Puebla City to Oaxaca
Hello you faithful fellow travellers - Jeffrey's Fourth Missive - in Mexico!
After becoming an expert in changing tyres, Jeffrey has happily turned his attention to Mexican food and politics. Both, far more interesting and rewarding. Cheers, Mary
Puebla City
Hello from Puebla, a city of a million people 100km to the east of Mexico City. Itīs a lovely old Spanish Colonial town with many of the original buildings well preserved. Like so many old Mexican towns itīs all narrow one-way streets so navigating one's way around is tiresome. It took us two hours to find a hotel this afternoon even though it was one of four we looked at, all on a Lonely Planet map. We finally rocked up in a bit of a dump, but cheap. It has the mandatory single Mexican 40 watt light bulb, which glows dimly across the room from the beds, making it impossible to read at night. Or, come to that, during the day either.
Tonight we dined on pollo mole pueblona. Mole is the famous spicy chocolate and a million other ingredients sauce which is served over most of Mexico but, we were told in San Miguel, the best mole is the pueblan variety. It was delicious, over chicken, but a touch too rich for me. I won't be eating it again for a while. What it will do to my embattled bowel we'll find out fairly soon.
The food on this trip (with the exception of the States, of course, all boring shrimp and beef) has been really good. I'm almost getting my brain around the endless varieties of tortilla here in Mexico. There are dozens of names for the disc of unleavened bread. There appear to be four basic varieties, each with half a dozen names: they're either maize or wheat flour, droopy or crisp - and that's about the difference. They get filled with meat or beans or cheese, have tomato salsa poured over the top and cheese melted into it. And that kinda cracks it, the rest is menu writing. However, there are some absolute gems to be found, other than the delight of eating chicken which actually tastes like chicken oughta. Chiles rellenos, or stuffed peppers is delicious. Chiles al Nogales (or stuffed peppers) is equally good, although not the same: this one has pomegranate seeds sprinkled over the top.
Mexican Cooking
Also, while in San Miguel, I went to a Mexican cookery class. The Maestro,
Felix Rejes, showed us how to prepare Ensalada Nogalitos, which is cactus
salad. The cactus is the type that has big disc-like leaves. The leaves
must be harvested at dusk (I didn't quite understand why but I suspect
BS); they are skinned and julienned; then finely chopped tomatoes are added,
lots of chopped sweet white onions and handfuls of coriander. Liberal sprinklings
of olive oil and salt result in a delicious salad.
Next we made crepes stuffed with huitlacoche, which is a fungus that grows on the heads of corn during the rainy season. It is only available for a few weeks each year and is considered a major delicacy. This is difficult to believe when you see it in a dish: a wet mess that looks like mushrooms which have been left in a polythene bag for a month, mixed with blackcurrant jam.
To a frying pan with softened onions, more chopped tomatoes are added,
then the huitlacoche and a broad-leafed herb the like of which I have never
seen but which tastes peppery and salty. This mixture is heaped onto crepes,
ronned and placed on a baking dish; a light cheese sauce is poured over,
more grated cheese sprinkled over the top and then browned in the oven
Tastes fantastic.
Thirdly we created a dish from a huge pile of zucchini flowers. Usual starting procedure: olive oil, chopped and onions and tomatoes, add the flowers and allow them to wilt. Add grated white cheese (very much like mozzarella) and spoon into hot tortillas. Yummy.
On our final night in Puebla I sampled another local special, Moles Verde,
which comes like a green soup and tastes like a vindhaloo, very hot and
sour. The greeny bit is made from the ground seed of some plant (payan?)
which clearly, is closely related to the nuclear waste plant. Normally,
a decent dose of Mexican chile asserts itself upon the taste buds after
about the fifth mouthful. This stuff, however, stands on no ceremony and
is about as subtle as an American president. Wow! Deep within the dish
one comes across broad beans and pork but they are really incidental to
the main show. I expected this mixture to have the same effect upon by
beleaguered digestive system as a supersonic Brillo pad, but no. The following
day, cured!
Oaxaca
After Puebla we arrived in Oaxaca (oh-way-ca) yesterday. Apparently we
arrived at just about the right time: there are elections for Oaxaca State
governor here today and for the previous month there has been a ban on
the sale of alcohol. Mind you, that didn't stop two guys getting kilt and
seven more put into hospital at a political "rally" here a few
days ago. Although Oaxaca is beautiful city, the State is the poorest in
Mexico, with loads of native Indian groups (seven languages) at the bottom
of the heap. Consequently there's plenty of political activity and the
folks get a little excited. It was, after all, here that the Zapatistas
began the 1994 revolution and there are still a couple of towns a few miles
north of Oaxaca where the Mexican army doesn't go and the Zappos rule.
To make a change we've found a really nice hotel, albeit slightly more expensive than Puebla (but still within budget!) so we are settled. We intend to stay here for a couple of days and mosey around. There's an enormous market the periphery of which we walked last night, and I'm looking forward to spending an hour in there today with a camera.
The bikes are still running well and we have had no trouble now for some time, so let's hope the gremlins are in the past. When Flip came out she brought three new inner tubes (of the especially tough off-road type which are unavailable in the USA) which have taken up all our spare luggage space but, as ever, we haven't had to use them yet. I hope we never do.
Last night in Oaxaca
Last night in Oaxaca was fascinating because yesterday was polling day.
The town square was festooned with banners, mostly written in red paint
on bedsheets but one was a large and ominous black with white lettering.
There were several exhibitions of photographs, cartoons and posters extolling
virtue and poking fun and generally being libellous. Just about every union,
workers group, co-operative and nutters various, held gatherings, read
speeches and regaled the good folk with their messages. It was all very
loud: competing parties had stadium-size PA's and used them to the full,
mostly with patriotic tub thumpers. Couple this with the usual cacophony
of six or eight street bands and musicians all playing at once on different
parts of the square and you get a general idea of major aural assault.
At the several voting points around town, mostly hotels, there were long, long queues around the block and away, patiently awaiting their turn to vote. Bear in mind the volatility of politics in these here parts and the fact that only last week in this town two were killed and seven hospitalized, I admire the people's spirit. I would like to show it to the whiners in the UK who don't, or can't be bothered to, vote. These folk die for it.
I mislead you yesterday when I said that the Zapatistas started their revolt here in 1994. It was, in fact, San Christobel where we hope to be in a few days time. Even so, politics certainly rocks here. Yesterday afternoon it started to rain and it continued to do so into the night. Did it dampen spirits? Not one iota. They carried on partying and just got wet. Bear in mind that the state has been dry for the month up to and including the elections, so I can't even ascribe their enthusiasm to alcohol. One party, Neuve Fuerze Oaxacana (New Oaxacan Power) seemed the best organised. They had lots of supporters in matching red polo shirts, an oompah band marching through the sodden streets like Hamlin, and a truck parked in the main square, powering an excitable chap on a giant PA system. He reminded me of a Latin American football commentator at a World Cup Final in which his beloved team scored a goal every thirty seconds. So the effect was fifteen seconds lead up and fifteen seconds GOOOOOAAAAAARRRRLLLLL! Each phrase and diatribe contained at least one "Oaxaca" or "Oaxacan" shouted as a goal, to corresponding cheers from the crowd. As a rabble rouser, this boy was good, winding up the Oaxacans into chants, cheers and jeers. Although I understood hardly any of what he said, his delivery reminded me of the advice given to Richard Crossman by Harold Wilson when Richard was new to politics but had to appear on the stump. "When someone ask you a point of policy you donīt know the answer to, Richard, just shout '..a socialist policy!' with emphasis on the socialist, and then move on quickly to the next question."
Then the candidate, Senor Ulises, stepped up to the mike, promising sweeping victory throughout the state, to rapture and rhythmic pumping up and down of umbrellas. As ever, when the politician gets on the mike I can understand what he says: he keeps it nice and slow and enunciates clearly so that every dummy in the place (including me) could understand what he said. When the football commentator got the mike he gabbled and bedlamed away incomprehensibly (to me, anyway). My overall impression, it must be said, was that this occasion bore scant resemblance to a Libdem meeting in Camden, bless 'em.
I don't know what time the polls closed but Graham and I left them to their festivities around 10.30 and went to bed. Today Iīm keen to check the papers to see who won, if the count is in yet. I put my money on Ulises and Neuve Fuerza. They won the noisometer hands down.
Jeff 04.08.04 |
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