I had hoped to write today’s entry from the top of the ‘Santuario del Cerro Tepozteco’ (a sacred pre-Hispanic pyramid on a hilltop, which is one of Tepoztlan’s main draws, and which can be reached after a pretty steep hour's hike from the town centre). However, ‘el tiempo’ (the weather) conspired against me, and as soon as I got to the top it began to pour with rain.
That’s an understatement actually... Whole sheets of rain billowed down to the accompaniment of grumbling thunder for about half an hour, and I then had to cautiously tip-toe back down, trying not to slip and do myself an injury. Fortunately I made it in the end, chatting en-route to two good humoured Mexican brothers, who were currently living in California but back in their home-town for a family wedding. Talking to them made the rather treacherous descent a little more agreeable (and safer, I guess, as they were more familiar with the terrain). Anyway, I am now back in the casa, clean, warm and in good spirits. I hope I haven’t caught pneumonia, but if I'm harbouring a cold I reckon my current chile based diet will clear it up, as I will come to explain...
I don’t think the photos I took this afternoon quite do justice to the views from Tepozteco, which were pretty spectacular – even if the pyramid itself bit of a manky mildewed disappointment. My knowledge of early classic Mexican history is still kind of basic, and I didn't really want to to stand around in the torrential rain reading all the information about the story behind the site. However, from what I have gathered, the pyramid was built in honour of Tepztecatl (an ancient god of fertility) – and there is some kind of legend surrounding it concerning rabbits and a drink called ‘pulque’, which I have yet to try. I will give pulque a go, as apparently it is still drunk regularly by a lot of everyday Mexicans in small bars called ‘pulquerias’. I’m not sure how appetizing it will be though, as it is described in my guide book as being a milky, mildly alcoholic drink made from fermented cactus. Hmm - sounds a bit strange…
Mexican drinking is something that is evidently going to take a bit of getting used to, although I’m sure all it takes is some adjustment and an open mind. Over the past few days I have been slightly bemused by all the men I have seen drinking from large plastic pint-glasses with bright red foam around the rim. This morning I asked Socorro what it was and her response – as if it was as normal as taking sugar in your tea or coffee – was that it was beer with chilli sauce in it! I really can't imagine anything more gross, but the guys I was talking to this afternoon said it was only really like drinking a Bloody Mary. I don't know... For the meantime, I think I’ll just stick to the salt and lemon, which I’m actually really enjoying (the custom seems to be dabbing the former around the rim of the glass, and squeezing the latter into the beer). ‘Victoria’ is the local brew here (a little bit darker and more flavoursome than Sol or Corona) and it goes down very well served this way.
School and life with Socorro and her family continue to go well. We’re doing the subjunctive now with Paco (as well as getting a daily dose of left-wing Mexican political rhetoric from him!) and he likes to take us for strolls around the local area while teaching us. One of my pictures shows a little decorated fountain by a stream where he took us (I thought it looked very typically Mexican but can’t decide if the faces are funny or fearsome). Another shows him with my classmates, Alan and David. In the background of that picture is some maize – of which there are numerous, numerous varieties in Mexico. Here the corn cobs are enormous, making any that I’ve ever seen before (and I’m afraid that includes the ones you grow at home, Dad, delicious as they are!) look tiny in comparison. Taste-wise they are a bit blander and chewier here, though, so perhaps size isn't everything.
On the subject of food, this morning was probably my most interesting start to the day in Mexico so far. When I went downstairs to the courtyard for breakfast, Socorro grabbed her handbag and told me that we were doing somewhere different today. She took me down one of the nearby cobbled streets and into the backyard of a casa where a little old lady (slightly hunched over, and with a deeply lined face) was industriously moulding and patting small pieces of dough, then cooking them over a large flat griddle. All the while she was chatting away to a steady stream of customers all passing through onto her patio to buy these things to take away.
Socorro and I took a seat at a wobbly plastic tables and she told to me that we were going to have ‘gorditas’ (literally ‘little fatties’) for breakfast. Whilst pouring me a cup of hot cinnamon tea, she explained to me that these were oblongs of dough (similar to tortillas, but a bit thicker – rather like mini pitta-breads), stuffed with a variety of fillings, then flipped over and cooked on the hot-plate. I tried a ‘queso’ (cheese) one, and a ‘frijole’ (bean) one, whilst Socorro had hers with ‘avenas’ (a yellowish oatmeal mixture). She showed me how to split the gordita open and garnish it with a chopped onion and chilli mixture and the same crimson chilli sauce that evidently gets tossed into the beer as mentioned above. It was certainly a fiery and filling breakfast (my nose and eyes were watering by the end of it) and I’m only sorry I didn’t have my camera with me to take a picture of the elderly lady at her makeshift stove. Apparently, she has a reputation for making the best gorditas in ‘el barrio’, though, so perhaps there will be an opportunity for another visit before I leave here. I will need to watch out, however, lest I literally become a gordita myself!
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