Discovering Malinalco

Malinalco is a small town about two hours southwest of here, and our friends Brendan and Joy have raved about it for months. Up until this past weekend, they’d gone three times already, staying at a rental house with a lush garden.

We finally joined them this past weekend.

And wow.

The town was framed by these lumpy, odd-looking mountains, covered in trees. And everything, and I mean everything, was blooming. Wildflowers sprouted up over the sides of the road. Bougainvillea draped over the sidewalks. Dozens of potted succulents sat in people’s front yards, spilling out of their pots and inching toward the ground.

We spent Dia de los Muertos there, and while there wasn’t a ton going on, we did walk to a 17th-century chapel in our neighborhood on Sunday night.

The bells had clanged all day on Sunday (literally: ALL DAY), and we wondered what was going on. So we walked up into the churchyard around 9 p.m. and found the bell-ringer sitting at a table, a rope wrapped partially around his foot. He was ringing the bell that way: lifting his foot into the air, and pulling the rope with his arm.

A different man, who wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, offered us atole and a “tamalito” from a basket. We took and ate and drank, and asked them about their traditions. (Meanwhile a drunk man in the background get yelling, “Preguntanles!” like he wanted to ask us a question. No one paid him any attention.) Turns out for Dia de los Muertos, church volunteers collect small donations of fruit, bread, or squash from the neighborhood. On the evening of Nov. 1 — that very same night we were there — they’d start ringing neighbors’ bells around 11 p.m.

We thanked them and left. Sure enough, around 11:30 p.m. that night, they rang our bell. We gave them oranges and some bread we’d bought at the market that day.

It was a neat experience that could have been the highlight of the weekend. But then on Monday, the three women in our group decided to get spa treatments at a bohemian place on the outskirts of town.
They had a labyrinth and a gift shop that sold yoga pants and incense.

I had a 90-minute hot stone massage, where I pretty much melted into the table. Afterward, Joy asked me what it was like, and all I could say was, “Uhhmm… good.” My brain was too mushy to do any real thinking. (The best part: the massage was on sale for less than $60.)

You wouldn’t necessarily think a town in the middle of nowhere would have good restaurants, but somehow, it’s worked out that way.

The day we arrived, Joy and Brendan took us to one of their favorite spots on the square, where we had some fabulous-looking panuchos (a Yucatecan dish where tortillas are stuffed with beans, and topped with spicy shredded pork); and almond-crusted trout in tamarind sauce, and Jamaica flower-stuffed chicken.

I really didn’t want to leave. Alas, all good times must come to an end, so here I am, back in DF. But since I somehow lead an extremely blessed life, I’m traveling again today: Off to Taxco for a night with some girlfriends.