Snapped this on the plane a few days ago, while flying home to Mexico City.
Travel
A weekend in Ixtapa and Zihuatanejo
One of my best girlfriends from college came to visit last week.
I kept offering food to her and she kept eating, so over the course of a few days in Mexico City, she tried atole, tlacoyos, gusanos, mescal, pulque and tacos al pastor. After we had sufficiently ran around town and stuffed ourselves, we jetted off to the beach.
It fell to me as Mexico ambassador to come up with a good beach location. I didn’t have a lot of time to plan — been launching this thing called Eat Mexico — so after some quick thinking, I decided on Ixtapa/Zihuatanejo.
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Homemade chicharrón, and puebleando
A few weeks ago, Crayton and I went puebleando for the first time. “Pueblear” is a Mexican word meaning “to travel to little towns and hang out.” There isn’t really an intinerary with you’re puebleando — you just get in the car and go. When you get to a town, you sit and hang out. Maybe buy an ice cream and people-watch in the square. There is absolutely no pressure to do anything.
We ended up in Zacatlán de las Manzanas, a pleasant, colonial-style town in the northern part of Puebla state. Accompanying us were our friends Jesica and Erik, and Jesica’s parents. They’d been to Zacatlán several times before, and so our first stop was at a panadería to buy some special pan de Zacatlán. They’re soft white rolls or empanadas stuffed with a crumbly, savory, almost cottage-y cheese. (This is also one of my new favorite phrases, because it has so much rhythm. Try saying it: PAHN de zah-caht-LAHN.)
I loved trying the bread — and to be honest, we bought a wee bit more than the local bread; also donuts and conchas and a muffin stuffed with cream — but the best part of the trip happened while we were walking to the church. On a little side street, a man stood in front of a huge cauldron of bubbling pork fat, making homemade chicharrón.
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Eating in San Francisco’s Mission District, and beyond
I’m not sure if I mentioned this or not, but I’m in San Francisco this week, visiting a good girlfriend.
Of course, much to the chagrin of my now-tight jeans, I’ve been doing some fabulous eating. A few days ago, I took a food photography course with Penny de Los Santos, which gave me an excuse to wander around the hip Mission District and shoot everything that struck my fancy. Here are a few images from that day, and some of the other amazing things I’ve eaten while I’ve been here.
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More on the FIL in Guadalajara
I’ve got a short piece on my experience at the FIL up at Publishing Perspectives, a website that covers international publishing. Check it out!
Mercado San Juan de Dios, and other cool places to visit in Guadalajara
I know I’m getting to my Guadalajara wrap-up kinda late, but better late than never, I guess. First off: If you’re ever in Guadalajara, you absolutely must visit the Mercado San Juan de Dios. It’s three stories (!) of food stalls, produce, meat, jewelry, leather, boots, pottery, kitchen items.
A few other spots I’d recommend if you’re ever in GDL:
1. Casa Vilasanta: A small, clean hotel with free high-speed Internet, gorgeous patios and a communal kitchen. It’s also really cheap. I paid the equivalent of $30 USD a night.
2. Casa Bariachi: A group of new friends and I were looking for a place to catch live mariachi music on Tuesday night, and our taxi driver referred us here. I’d feared it would be touristy, but it wasn’t — it was actually pretty awesome. A mariachi band played partially on stage, and then amongst the crowd. Everyone else there was Mexican, and they sang along when they knew the words. We each had a bandera or two of tequila and split a few desserts. (Highly recommend the coconut ice cream.) Prices aren’t super cheap, but they’re reasonable.
3. Loncherita: A cute, Mexican-kitsch place with mini tortas smothered in salsa (they’re called “loncheritas” here), and Guadalajaran microbrews. We ordered tostadas de marlin and pata, one loncherita a piece, and a burrito stuffed with panela. Everything was good — above average but not insanely fantastic. That’s fine with me. I’d go back again for the drinks and ambience.
4. Zapópan: A suburb about 8km north of Guadalajara with a quaint plaza (that’s it in the picture above), a cool little museum — where I caught the fantastic “Phantom Sightings” exhibit, showcasing Chicano artists — and narrow, colonial-type streets. I ate some tacos de carnaza at the market there, and wanted to explore more, but I didn’t have time. Next time.
More pictures below!
Mercado San Juan de Dios from the outside -- it sits next to a big plaza
Puya chiles are similar to guajillo chiles, but hotter
These arbol chiles were grown in nearby Yahualica. Interestingly, the other arbol chiles for sale came from China.
Among the many strands of Christmas lights for sale in the back market area
More Guadalajara pictures, if you’re not too tired of looking at them, after the link…
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Wrap-up of the FIL in Guadalajara
I’ve got a post over at The Dallas Morning News’ books blog with a few highlights of my time at the FIL. Missing it there already. Although, you know, it’s good to finally not feel exhausted.
I have a few more pictures to share of Guadalajara, but I’m too tired to do anything today, so I’ll get to it next week. You’ve got to see Mercado San Juan de Dios, which is three stories tall and has everything you’ve ever wanted, and things you never even knew you wanted. (Like paper lanterns printed with poinsettas!)
First impressions of Guadalajara — pretty women and cleanliness
In a cab on the way to the FIL yesterday, the cabbie asked where I was from. I said I lived in Mexico City, but I was originally from the United States.
“How’d you guess?” I asked him. “My accent?”
“No,” he said. “You’re too pretty. The women from Mexico City generally aren’t that pretty.”
Of course it was a line. I know plenty of beautiful women in Mexico City. But then I realized… wait, the women I’d seen on the street in Guadalajara really were attractive and stylish. In fact, if we were in Mexico City, I would have placed them as Condesa residents. But these Guadalajarans stretched across all barrios — from the Centro down to the Expo Center. This cabbie was right. Pretty, hip Jaliscienses seemed to be everywhere. Was it something in the water? Or the tortas ahogadas?
Guadalajara also seems very clean, probably because it’s so much smaller than Mexico City. I don’t see as much trash in the gutters or smell as many foul sewer-type smells. The guesthouse where I’m staying, Casa Vilasanta, is full of plants and spotless. Here’s the view from my window.
First day at the FIL: Ray Bradbury, L.A. surrealists and Mexico City Noir
*Ray Bradbury, right, sits with his biographer Sam Weller, via videoconference at the Feria Internacional del Libro in Guadalajara
Before I get into Ray Bradbury, I must tell you how freaking kick-ass this event is. Thousands of people, hungry for books and literature, spend hours buying books, and discussing writing and literature. And this year they’re talking about L.A., a city close to my heart. It’s truly heaven.
Yesterday, in between browsing books about Chicano culture in L.A. (a subject I’m so intrigued by, I’d love to have my own Chicano-L.A. library someday, possibly as an ethnic companion to the Man Room) — I caught Ray Bradbury via videoconference in one of the event’s salon rooms. Maybe 200 people were there, and about a third of the crowd looked like young students, maybe late high school or early-college age. The girl behind me squealed when Bradbury’s face appeared on the screen.
I haven’t read a lot of Bradbury’s work, but I do respect the man as a legend. He’s 89 now and slightly hard of hearing, but he conveyed warmth and personality. He joked with the crowd, telling us he wished he could tango with everyone after the panel ended. He somehow managed to sounded humble and matter-of-fact when he mentioned that he pounded out the first version of Fahrenheit 451 in nine days, on a rented typewriter inside a library. A classic — nine days!
When asked about the secret to his longevity, Bradbury said he surrounds himself with love. Anyone who doesn’t believe in you, he warned the crowd, should be dismissed from your life.
“Tell them, Ray Bradbury told me to fire you,” he said, jutting a plump finger at the screen. “Get outta my life.”
I loved him. He also drank wine and ate crackers during the Q&A portion with the audience.
There’s really so much to see and do here, it’s hard to pick just one event. It’s like trying to choose a band at the ACL festival. Yesterday, after Ray Bradbury, I checked out a panel on surrealist writers of L.A., most of whom said they hated the title “surrealist.” (They’re loosely defined as writers who reject the traditional forms of writing, either by including fantastical sequences, playing with fonts and graphic design, etc.)
After that I browsed some more books, and headed to a discussion of a new book called “Mexico City Noir,” a series of short stories about crime and violence in el D.F. Bought a copy and can’t wait to read it, especially because one story focuses on the most dangerous street corner in Mexico, as deemed by local police. (It’s in Doctores.)
Today I’m headed to a Q&A with Cheech Marin, a discussion with award-winning LA Weekly food critic Jonathan Gold, and possibly a panel entitled “Los Angeles in a Tequila Shot.” Should be fun. Will be back later with more!
Lazing by the beach in Pie de la Cuesta
Joy and I had planned to stay at an upscale Acapulco hotel this past weekend, but at the last minute we ditched it in favor of staying in Pie de la Cuesta, a quiet, rustic stretch of beach about six miles northwest of Acapulco proper. The surf there is too strong to swim in, but you can sit under a palapa, drink a beer and gaze at the ocean. Plus the rooms pretty cheap. It’s pretty popular with Mexico City residents.
There is one road from Acapulco to Pie de la Cuesta, and it’s only two lanes wide. Consequently, the cab ride takes anywhere from 40 minutes to an hour. (To go six miles!) True to friends’ tales about Acapulco, the drive wasn’t exactly pretty, except for the occasional flashes of the sea in the distance. Buses and taxis crowded the roads and belched exhaust. Car mechanics and tire-repair shops lined the streets.
One thing I absolutely loved, though, were the tricked-out pesero buses. I was so obsessed I kept taking pictures of them. (The photos below represent maybe half of my tricked-out pesero-bus collection.)
We stayed at Villa Roxana, a clean, simple place with a pool, a small restaurant and air conditioning. We paid 600 pesos a night for two double beds, the equivalent of about $46 USD. I thought it was worth it: We had air conditioning, a ceiling fan. While the water wasn’t hot, it was warmish. The beach was about a two-minute walk away — we had to cut through the neighboring Villa Nirvana, a pretty place owned by two Americans.
We spent Thursday night watching the sun set into the water. Can’t ask for a better setting to ponder what you’ve been grateful for.
On Friday, we took a boat ride around the Laguna Coyuca, a large, lake-sized body of water nearby. It was absolutely beautiful — serene, quiet, full of wildlife. We saw pelicans and baby wildcats, and we stopped at a small wildlife preserve and saw iguanas, crocodiles, a javelina and a deer. Plus we trolled through a mangrove forest, which had eerie, thick roots that grew downward and sideways.
One of the boats docked at the Laguna Coyuca
Some of the odd-looking mangrove trees we saw on our nature walk
It really was a short visit, and I’d love to go back with a group of friends. Next time, though, I’d want to find out a little more about where to get fresh seafood, and fresh fruit. I was a little disappointed with the options near Pie de la Cuesta — canned-tasting ceviche at Tres Marias, overcooked fish at Coyuca 2000, and even canned mushrooms on our pizza at Vaymas, supposedly an upscale resort. Maybe my standards are too high. I was reading “My Life in France” the whole weekend, and salivating over Julia Child’s visits to the French countryside.