While the first entry in the Mexico Chronicles inadvertently focused mostly on challenging and dangerous situations we encountered in Mexico, we wanted this post to reflect more on the connections we have made with the people here as we venture further into Mexico. Without a doubt we have found a country full of friendly, welcoming people who have made us feel safe and at home at every turn. Enjoy.
Boys’ Club (Steph)
Traveling remotely has it’s perks- peace and quiet, scenic views, no one trying to sell you anything, etc. But generally once we re-enter urban life we are ready for some more modern comforts like easy access to beer. Xilitla in the Mexican State of San Louis Potosi is nestled up in some high mountains surrounded by lush jungle. Entering this town after already driving for what felt like endless hours was a bit of a cultural driving adventure with our large rig and narrow streets which we hadn’t really encountered yet. After accidentally driving the wrong direction up a steep one-way road where I was laughed at by some locals, I was definitely ready to be out of the car.
Once we got to the main drag we enjoyed the hustle and bustle this beautiful town has to offer. The market was hopping, tourists were perusing the quaint shops, and restaurants were serving up local favorites. After a bit of wandering we decided it was about time we stop for a beer.
We would normally find a quaint restaurant to sit down for a quick one, but we had started noticing little saloon doors dispersed along the main street that were obviously more of a bar atmosphere as we could hear singing and general merriment coming from inside. We figured we should probably check it out. Now, in the states we are used to hopping into a bar if we only want drinks, I had been feeling a little guilty taking up space at the little restaurants when we aren’t planning to buy food, so this seemed like a great option!
James took the lead and pushed open one of these saloon swinging doors and was welcomed by a pack of thirsty Mexican men, wide eyed and stoked that some tall white gringo just peeked into their establishment. Immediately, these men waved and insisted he come on in with great enthusiasm which made their invitation difficult to turn down although James immediately took note, this was no place for ladies. The men inside hadn’t noticed me standing behind James at the door so as I entered the cantina smiles and side eye glances ensued.
Now, let me paint a bit of a picture. After not having been in a town for a while, I had decided to dress up a bit for our little walk. This included a top that shows off my entire back, a shortish skirt, and some dark lip stain. Walking into this cantina with men that looked like they just got off a hard days work in well worn clothes, cement walls with one fluorescent light in the middle of the room, and to top it off a not-so-faint smell of piss, I felt a little over dressed and a bit exposed to say the least. I was probably the first woman to enter that cantina in months or years.
We continued on and walked up to the bar, where the bar tender was nice enough to not bat an eye at me, and gave us two Indio beers. We took them and walked back to a little plastic table and chairs near the men’s bathroom- which I quickly noted, there was no ladies option. There was however a really nicely done collage of some beautiful naked and/or scantily clad ladies hanging up unceremoniously on the cement wall. At least it brought a little color to the room…
After settling in, we enjoyed a small mariachi quartet that was playing for the boys at the front of the room, and soon we were approached by one of the locals. Obviously this guy was toasted and wanted to strike up conversation to practice his non-existent english with us and buy us beer. We did the usual dance telling him of our travel adventure and gratefully refused the beer, which was difficult because he was very drunk and very insistent but we were planning to be one and done at this joint.
What felt like an eternity of drinking one beer passed and we finally felt like we had experienced this place to our maximum enjoyment so we decided to head out. As we walked past the rest of the crowd, we were invited from every corner to continue drinking with the dudes. We gratefully declined and exited.
A few doors down we found the quaintest of restaurants and decided we should stop, grab a michelada and laugh off what just happened. I didn’t feel guilty for one second for taking up space at this restaurant without buying food.
Experiencing Ancient Traditions: Temazcal (James)
Teotihuacan. A massive ancient city believed to be the first example of urban planning in Mesoamerica. It predates the Spanish, Aztecs, Mayans, and nearly everyone else. It is so old that it isn’t known what the people who built it called themselves, so they are just called the Teotihuacans. After traveling through San Luis Potosi and Queretaro we set our trajectory toward these giant pyramids.
Before exploring the archeological site we needed a base camp, which is how we discovered Rancho Viejo Teotihuacan. Rancho Viejo is a property owned by the Mother-Son duo of Julia and Omar, where they have a small circus school for kids as well as a camping area. Omar is a circus performer himself so we bonded pretty quickly with him over fire spinning, Burning Man, and other such silly things. We were starting to feel at home after a few days at Rancho Viejo when Omar invited us to a Temazcal ceremony at his friend’s house.
A Temazcal is basically a sweat lodge, similar to those used by various Native American groups. In fact, historically there is no difference. They are used throughout Mexico with slight variations: in San Luis Potosi they pair it with peyote, in Oaxaca they pair it with psilocybin mushrooms. In Teotihuacan they only pair it with incense, which was fortunate because the experience was intense enough without chemical enhancement.
Omar drove us to Josue’s house where the ceremony would be held in the early evening. It would just be four of us: Myself, Stephanie, Omar, and Josue. What we found there was both awesome and intimidating. Josue’s temazcal was underground, with the front shaped like a feathered serpent god’s head and the entrance through its mouth. Josue gave us a brief explanation of the Temazcal, laying out the relationship between his tradition and those of indigenous groups from Canada to Chile. At that, it was time to strip down and enter the serpent’s mouth.
Upon entering, my first thought was “it’s not that hot.” That’s when Josue closed the vent at the top. Okay, a bit hotter now. As he started to chant he threw cup after cup of water on the hot rocks, driving up the humidity as the temperature also climbed. We sat there for half an hour, pouring sweat as we listened to Josue chant and sing in various languages- Spanish, Nahuatl, Lakota, possibly more. After a round of songs we all laid on our backs and shared our thoughts on humanity, nature, and the universe. Finally Josue announced it was time to get out.
But that was only round one of three.
Two more times we crawled back into that fierce serpent, with Stephanie looking worse and worse each time. Two more times we sang, chanted, and spoke. Everyone checked on Stephanie periodically as it was obvious she was not handling the heat well, but she is a trooper and stuck it out. By round three the temazcal was hotter than any sauna I have been in, and we all laid on the floor in a futile attempt to escape the heat. At some point while laying on the floor I am pretty sure my body ceased to exist, evaporating into a puff of steam. In the darkness of that pit in the ground I started to visualize the scenes described in Josue’s chants. All I’ll say is that I’m glad we didn’t do this with mushrooms in Oaxaca.
After a thousand years in the temazcal Josue finally snapped us out of our trance by dumping cold water on us. What a relief it was to step out of the serpent’s mouth and into the cold night air. All day Omar had been describing the experience as a renacimiento (a rebirth), and I finally understood what he meant. Unfortunately, the journey wasn’t over for Stephanie and she spent the entire night battling headaches and nausea due to the extreme heat. It was hours before she felt like a human again, but she did manage to survive. Sometimes the most rewarding experiences are also the most unpleasant.
Trekking with Indiginous Locals in the Sierra Norte (James)
High up in the Sierra Norte of Oaxaca at around 10,000 feet above sea level there are a series of indigenous Zapotec villages known as the Pueblos Mancomunados (Commonwealth villages). These tiny villages are remote enough that they have maintained their independence and avoided natural resource extraction for centuries, making them possibly the most pristine area in Mexico. The villages and surrounding farms are connected through a system of ancient trails which provide ample opportunities for overnight trekking, and while many indigenous communities in southern Mexico are understandably wary of outsiders, these villages welcome visitors. After a week in busy Oaxaca City, the Pueblos sounded right up our alley, so we packed up the van and made the steep drive, gaining 5000 feet over just 14 miles.
As we climbed the air got cooler and cooler, and when we arrived in Cuajimoloyas in the late afternoon it was downright chilly. We arranged for a guide for the following two days and posted up in the van for the evening among huge pine trees. Based on the scenery we could have been in central Washington if not for the massive maguey (agave) plants scattered throughout the forest. Once the sun set the temperature plummeted and we became acutely aware of the elevation as we threw on warm socks and down jackets. The cold air and pine forest smells rejuvenated us and for a while we forgot we were in Mexico. We were also excited to try out our new Convert sleeping bag from Enlightened Equipment in some truly cold conditions!
The next morning we met our guide, Ivencio, whose name we spent an entire day struggling to remember. We hit the trail and started getting to know Ivencio, who speaks only Spanish and a bit of Zapotec. We figured hiking with him for a couple days would be a great opportunity for some intensive Spanish practice. Ivencio led us through the forest, pointing out interesting plants and their medicinal purposes, and generally telling us about life in Cuajimoloyas, where he also owns a small farm. At some point he casually mentioned that he had several siblings that died during infancy/childhood, which was a reminder of just how recently these villages were almost entirely cut off from the outside world and modern healthcare (Ivencio is in his early 50’s).
We hiked for several hours, passing through a slot canyon and climbing to a lookout where we could see several of the Pueblos. Eventually we dropped down into a meadow with a tiny fish hatchery, where we met Vidal. Like everyone we met in the Pueblos, Vidal was very chatty and wanted to learn all about our trip and where we come from. As it turns out, Vidal lived in Los Angeles for five years working in fancy restaurants (although he still speaks no English). We joked about how virtually everyone we meet in Mexico has deep ties to the USA- they have either lived there, or have a sibling/son/daughter that lives there.
That night we camped in the meadow next to Vidal’s hatchery. We enjoyed the tranquility of the area as long as we could but soon the temperature started to drop again and we retreated to our tent. I burrowed into the new sleeping bag, occasionally emerging to marvel at how cold it was outside. I was sure that it must be near freezing, and right I was as we woke up the next morning to a thick layer of frost on the ground. Frost. In Southern Mexico. In April. How wonderful! Fortunately the new down was up to the task and kept us alive and comfortable through the night. Thanks Enlightened!
We continued hiking with Ivencio for another day, climbing steeply to another viewpoint before looping backing to Cuajimoloyas. As we sat quietly enjoying the breeze and looking out over the mountains Ivencio would occasionally whisper “perfecto” and it occurred to me just how in love he is with his home. The people of this region still have a special connection to their land that has been lost in much of North America. They still walk the same paths and use the same farming techniques that they have relied on for generations. While we came to the mountains for scenery and solitude, the real value was in the connections we made with the locals who shared their beautiful home with us.