Nowadays, people still do that (mostly inebriated college students on spring break) but they run the additional risk of being poisoned by the water or abducted by the drug cartels.
The highest on my must-see list is Oaxaca. City, sure. State, most definitely. Problem is, both sit next to (or inside of, depending) the Beltrán Levya cartel's territory. But oh, my stupid side twitters, wouldn't it be worth the risk? For this?
For the record, that's the Ethnobotanical Garden at the Temple of Santo Domingo in the city of Oaxaca. I don't know what "ethnobotanical" means, but I don't much care, either. This isn't the first time I've run across odd names in foreign botanical gardens.
There'd be lots to keep me busy in Oaxaca de Juárez (that's the full name). I could wander in and out of any one of the numerous churches that dot the city, like the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption, or the Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church.
I could stare into the waters of the Atoyac River, or people-watch in the Alameda de León plaza.
I could sample the delicacies of the Mercado Benito Juárez.
I might head south, out of the city, to the fishing towns by the Pacific, dive for octopus with the locals, and sample some of the best seafood and mole sauce Mexico could offer me.
Perhaps I'd wander through the countryside, snacking on chapulines (fried grasshoppers with chile).
Maybe I'd climb the Sierra Madre, replete with three-day beard and crumpled fedora, looking for treasures like Indiana Jones or Humphrey Bogart.
I'd round the whole day off with a clay mug of Oaxacan-style hot chocolate, with some pan de yema (egg bread) on the side.
And for the late nights and las fiestas, there's always las señoritas and the local mescal.
That and much more.
I'd just have to duck the cartels.
3 comments:
I like Mexico. One of my joys was driving the rented Volkswagen through the jungles to the Mayan temples. My wife was fluent in Spanish, so we would stop in hamlets all along the way to talk with as many people as we could. We were amazed at these poor thatched roof houses in these poor villages...but they all would have well tended and beautiful flower gardens in front of their houses.
The further inland we traveled, the more Mayan and less Spanish was spoken. I felt as if I were entering a Holy Realm of a truly ancient and noble people.
Now I am too chicken to travel to Oaxaca. But if you go I will travel vicariously through you.
Oh -- I suspect my latest post will result in quite a lot of conversation from you.
That does sound romantic (in the adventurous sense) - driving a VW through ancient jungles and lost temples. How splendid that you took a polyglot along with you...to be able to converse with the locals! Such stories and insider information come to you that route. Quite a juxtaposition, too, the poor houses and the rich gardens...
I can only imagine what that must have been like, the linguistic shift from Spanish to Mayan, the entry to a Holy Realm, as you so poetically put it. I must try that myself someday, perhaps retrace your very footsteps (and tire tracks).
Glad to hear you didn't fall foul of any cartels. I'll let you know about Oaxaca.
This is where being Barbadian helps. Noone wants to kidnap me :) I hope I get to Mexico some day. Oh, and being fluent in Spanish helps. If you're fluent enough, people often just assume you're from some other part of Latin America.
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