San Pancho Vida

A Night in Mascota: A Horror Story with Good Food

I sat at the table on the terrace at Travis and Allen's and dialed the number of Mesón de Santa Elena. My plan was to stop in Mascota, Jalisco, on my way back to San Pancho from Ajijic, and spend the night at this charming inn I'd seen on a previous day trip, and had heard wonderful things about since.

"Lo siento, señorita, pero el hotel está lleno el noche del 12," apologized the sweet voiced reservationist. Full up. Semana Pasqua, the week following Easter, was apparently a popular one in sleepy Mascota.

Fooey. On to Plan B. Did I have a plan B? Not so much, really. Cruise the internet, find another Mascota hotel was the best I could do. I came across one. A rudimentary website, but looked pretty. No online reviews whatsoever in English. One nice one in Spanish. How bad could it be? It had a restaurant and bar downstairs and internet access and king size beds.

I called the two Mascota phone numbers listed on the website. Nothing happened. So I called their "Guadalajara reservation line" and a woman answered. Quite personable, delighted to help. Was pretty sure there was a room available but could she get back to me? Sure. She did. I reserved. I had no idea I should've had other kinds of reservations.

I left Ajijic Thursday late morning, as the drive was not punishing as far as Mascota. Travis and I checked the map. My plan was to take a slightly different route back, still connecting to the highway that passes through Mascota and then on past San Sebastián and on to Puerto Vallarta.

I drove west along the lakeside to Jocotepec and climbed aboard the new bypass and the highway to which it leads, one of the weirdest stretches of road I've yet driven in Mexico. It is perpetually under construction and has seen no discernible improvement since I drove in on it last fall.

I followed road signs, which have quite a sense of humor here in Mexico. Not like the old Burma Shave signs, which were meant to be funny. More like the cosmic joke type of humor, meaning you usually don't know where you are, where you've been, or where you're headed.

But I managed, with only one tiny detour that turned out to be kind of fun. Then I stumbled onto the two-lane road I sought, connecting highway 80 (which goes on to Barra de Navidad) and highway 70 (the one to Mascota), which was littered liberally with sugar cane, drifts of debris piling up on the shoulders. It was pocked with ragged potholes torn by the tall and absurdly overloaded cane trucks, so was slow going. Fortunately, it was short.

In around four hours, I pulled up in front of my Mascota hotel, Mesón del Refugio, "Inn of Refuge" or "Shelter Inn", perhaps. It wasn't too prepossessing from streetside, but Mascota is an understated town in the classic style: stark and modest facades behind which lie the flowered and fountained courtyards of beautiful old homes.

Inside, the hotel was inviting enough, with a second story veranda encircling the lower courtyard and a wide staircase leading up the the second floor rooms. I found a young woman in the office inside the main door who knew just who I was and happily received my 500 pesos, which she put in her pocket.

I came to believe that evening that the owners of this hotel are in Dubai or Mittagong, that the hotel is actually closed, and that a flock of indifferent teenagers has moved in and is pretending to operate it.

The room was okay, not that different from others I've stayed in in other towns. Spacious with a flat hard bed, a wardrobe with four plastic hangers, a bathroom with a surprisingly large glass walled shower. One towel. One hand towel. One roll of toilet paper. Two tiny bars of Rosa Venus soap. That was it for the amenities, but I carry my own. And a plus -- a tiny terrace overlooking the street.

I checked in with Allen, letting him know I'd made it safely, and opened my computer. Nada, even when I used the internet access code I'd received from the teen downstairs. Nada on the veranda outside the room. Nada downstairs by the office. The teen was nowhere to be found.

I took my car around back to the grass lawn that is the free parking. Pretty back there. Photogenic, even.

I schlepped my bag up the back steps, where I met another teen, this one listlessly making beds in one of the rooms, who I had to call because the key they'd given me would not open the door they'd given me. She was perplexed. The thing is, this wasn't one of those ATM-card type keys that you take down to the desk and have re-programmed: this was an immense two-pound iron skeleton key. Turned out the hardware which the key is meant to turn in order to open the loose latch holding the double door shut had slipped down into a cavity in the door. I fished it out with my pocket knife, found the giant hole for the giant key, turned it, and put my bag inside. 

"What time does the restaurant open?" I asked. She looked at me in some mystification. "There's no restaurant here," she responded. What is that downstairs? I wondered, first to myself and then aloud. "Oh, there's no restaurant any more," she said. "But there's coffee and tea and a microwave available in the kitchen near the bar." Thank heaven for small favors, I thought. I asked for a restaurant recommendation, and she directed me to a restaurant whose signs I'd passed on my way into town. I locked my door (ha!) and left to explore late afternoon Mascota.

Mascota is a farm and ranch town, the center of a broad agricultural valley that has been inhabited since well before 800 B.C. This is the approximate date of burial sites excavated by Dr. Joseph Mountjoy of the University of North Carolina Greensboro, who I had the pleasure to meet in 2005 at one of the excavation sites in the hills just outside Mascota...but that's another story.

So anyway, I was hungry. I found the recommended Restaurant Navidad on Calle Profesor Juan Diaz, a block off the plaza.

The ambience is about a step up from a particularly nice school lunchroom.

But I was greeted immediately and cordially and presented with a long and fascinating menu. I ordered a beer. It was icy cold, accompanied by a gratis plate of one of Mexico's great little munchies, sliced cucumbers and jicama with lime juice and chile powder. There was also a bowl of the best peanuts I ever ate, plump and fresh, lightly roasted with a bit of coarse salt, fragrant with the red chile in the bottom of the bowl.

I noshed as I perused the menu. It wasn't easy to choose. This is not your typical Mexican restaurant and it most certainly is not fusion. Patitas de Cerdo -- Pork Hoof. Chingadera -- Nachos with Meat ("American Style"). Gringa Botanera -- Quesadilla on a Flour Tortilla with Cheese and Sliced Carne Asada.

Finally, I was torn between Milanesa de Cerdo and Costilla Dorada. Milanesa is usually a chicken preparation in which the chicken is pounded, breaded, and fried, and can be very good (or very bad), but I hadn't seen it before with pork. Costillas are ribs. I asked Oscar Nuñez, my waiter, for his advice. 

We eat a lot of pork here, he told me. It's about all we eat, he laughed. The milanesa is delicious, but the costillas are pork short ribs done country style and you should try them.

So I did.

"¡Es mucho!" I exclaimed when he brought it. But I ate the whole thing.

The ribs were simmered to fall-off-the-bone in a divine spicy salsa. The frijoles, which I always taste but seldom eat, as they are often bland and runny, were rich and thick and flavorful. The price of this platter? Fifty-eight pesos, well under five dollars.

And when I pushed it away, stuffed and happy, I ate a few more peanuts just for the memory, while I read the menu some more.

The back page of liquors was astonishing: Raicilla Tequila Cerro -- Moonshine (that's really what it said). Remy Martin, Hennessey, and Courvoisier at 95 pesos (around eight dollars). J & B at 73 pesos and Chivas Regal at 98. Believe me, one seldom sees this assortment of libations in a country town in Mexico. I didn't have any, but still.

I bid adios to Oscar, who invited me for breakfast at 7 o'clock, and walked off a tiny bit of my dinner.

"Peace is the respect for the rights of others." Benito Juarez

This is a monument to a local Catholic priest who was killed during the Cristeros wars of the 1920's and made a saint in the year 2000.

As I read this, I heard a rather loud but not unpleasant church bell, very nearby. It turned out it was right over my head.

See that rope on the left? Here's what it was attached to:

I wandered back toward the hotel, camera in hand.

I read for a while in bed: Mexico, Biography of Power by Enrique Krauze. Then I read for a while longer, as my window opened directly over a huge inflated play structure in the street swarming with loud chubby kids on vacation from Guadalajara, whose parents saw no reason to put them away before midnight. Then I read some more, as the few guests in the hotel partied until 2 a.m.

There was no internet in the hotel while I was there. There was no hot water that night. There was no hot water the next morning, either, as I attempted to shower away the bleariness from lack of sleep. You really don't want to know the state of the laundry room into which I blundered in search of an adult human. I will not, in case you've recently eaten, describe the condition of the kitchen or the microwave at the guests' disposal, which I didn't even want to use to boil water for the tea bags I'd brought along. The guests' coffee maker in the ex-restaurant had spiders in it. I can't bear to tell you the rest.

After a two-second cold shower, I packed up and carried my bags down to the car. I stopped in the office to see whether the girl from last night still had any portion of my 500 pesos left in her pocket. I was considering mugging her for it. She wasn't there. A gangly teenage boy, both perplexed AND mystified that there'd been no internet nor hot water, didn't know where the girl was and waved vaguely in the direction of the street. 

I left. The drive back was curvy and country and glorious in the early morning light.

Mascota is lovely. Go, if you can. I'll go back for sure. You already know where I'm eating next time. There's an awfully lot on that menu I didn't have room to try...and those ribs are worth a second meal.

Of course you know where I'm not staying. I suggest we both wait until there's a room available somewhere besides the Mesón del Refugio. Shelter House, indeed.

 

Ajijic 2: Easter Eggs, Pickles, and Other Fine Things

Besides passion play processions and pealing church bells, Easter weekend in Ajijic brought families to the lakeside for picnics and play.

Over in the plaza, this makeshift booth featuring a Christmas tablecloth offered the Mexican version of the Easter egg for kids.

Apparently, the eggs are blown through a rather large hole which is then covered with tape--but not before the eggs are filled with tiny multi-colored confetti. The idea, of course, is to throw the eggs and break them. The result, of course, is that the confetti finds its way into every sidewalk crack and embellishes every paving stone and cobbled street in town for weeks. And why not?

On Tuesday after Easter, Travis took me to one of Ajijic's several local markets, this one held in the new shopping mall which is really not too populated much of the time but is certainly hopping on market day.

I bought a jar of those hot dill pickles, some heirloom tomatoes, and a giant loaf of divine wholegrain bread (which Travis and I split) to take home.

So many different things can be grown in the Ajijic climate! Not including Wael, the guy in the checkered head wrap, who was grown in Egypt. We didn't buy anything from him, only because we'd eaten at El Faraon, his restaurant, a few days previously. We especially enjoyed his tabouli and baba ganouj and the tzatziki and Egyptian flat bread, most of which he was selling right there at the market.

Actually, that's not really why I'm publishing this next photo. It's for Char. And others of you, too.

There are lots of other gorgeous things to look at around Ajijic and Lake Chapala (which is the largest freshwater lake in Mexico, did you know that?).

Egrets and purple jacarandas...

...cypresses and Norfolk pine...

...the hills across the water, the giant lake itself... 

...and the half moon in the daytime sky.

This last photo is just to remind you to take the time to have some fun this week.

Next week, we'll visit Mascota, an old-fashioned country town where I spent the night on my way home. I'll tell you where to eat...and where not to stay. 

¡Hasta luego!

Good Friday in Ajijic

I headed out on a little jaunt last week to spend some time near Lake Chapala. I had a dual purpose: to catch up with my amigos--Travis, Allen, and Rafi the Giant Puppy--and to witness a different celebration of Semana Santa from the "let's go camping and party" mode at the beach.

I left on the Thursday before Easter, the drive taking only half an hour longer than usual, as the majority of drivers were headed the opposite direction--away from the cities and toward Puerto Vallarta and the Riviera Nayarit. From my side of the road, I witnessed very long lines waiting at the cuota's tollbooths and at a particularly tedious series of topes (speed bumps) on the way out of Guadalajara.

But the drive was a breeze, all in all, under overcast skies the whole way, which began to leak about two minutes after I arrived in Ajijic. It rained the whole evening, the first rain since a surprise February downpour. I wrapped myself in every warm thing I'd packed and sat and talked with Travis for hours, Allen being in Oklahoma for his mother's birthday for a few days.

The following day was Good Friday, so Travis and I walked up to see what was happening at the big church. People lined the street leading away from the church gates, as the spacious churchyard was already packed, gates closed, standing room only inside for the performance of the Passion Play.

After standing in the sun for a while, I noticed the gate open just enough to let out this rather large soldier. The crowd perked up noticeably.

And the procession began.

We followed the crowd through the cobbled streets of Ajijic.

With the help of a gesticulating traffic cop, we crossed the two lane highway and began our climb up the hill to the site of "The Crucifixion". 

As always in Mexico, vendors awaited the approaching crowd with refreshing drinks and a snack or two.

Our hope was to beat the procession and the majority of the crowd up the hill, but somehow, as quickly as we'd walked, we didn't. We turned the corner and saw that half the town was there ahead of us. 

I squeezed my way through and was handed up onto a dusty ledge by a strong young fellow who noticed my camera in hand, so was able to shoot a few photos of the procession arriving on the mount.

Unfortunately, the spectacle of the crucifixion itself, which I'm told goes on for hours in the afternoon sun, was out of my line of sight and inaccessible due to the crowd. So we wandered on back down the hill, catching some lovely views of Lake Chapala below us...

...and this perhaps fitting symbol, an ancient cactus still bearing fruit.

Next week: more on Ajijic, and the road trip through Mascota and the Sierras back to the beach.  

Through Different Eyes

I've had a full house here at Casa Luz de Luna lately. Among my recent visitors was John Sullivan, a good friend from Vashon Island, Washington, who came to San Pancho for the first time with my sister Denise. We all had a lovely time lazing at the beach, visiting Greg at the Blue Pig, doing New York Times crossword puzzles, talking 'til late, and playing countless games of Mexican Train dominoes. 

John roamed the house with his camera several times and took a slew of photos, which he generously shared with me. I thought it would be fun to share them with you: some views of the casa, now with a bit of age and use on her, through another photographer's eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(That last photo is of Dinah, the house lizard, keeping an eye on yet another visitor.)

This week is Semana Santa, the week leading up to Easter and a major holiday period here in Mexico. Our beach is filling up with campers and families on vacation. There will be music and dances, processions and pageants and celebrations throughout Mexico. I'll keep my camera at the ready and hope to have some photos for you next week.

Meanwhile, thanks to John for this week's pictures. Happy Easter and happy spring to you all! (And Feliz Cumpleaños to my son, who turns 26 today ☺)

 

                                                                All photos by John Sullivan

 

Crocodiles, Mangroves and Birds! Oh, My!

It so happened a couple of weeks ago that both my son and my brother Greg's son were able to visit at the same time for an entire week. Greg suggested we do something I'd wanted to do for ever so long: drive up to San Blas and take the "Crocodile Tour". We caravanned northward for two hours to a big parking lot just south of San Blas. From here, launches await to take the curious up a marvelous river through mangrove swamp to see what there is to see.

While most of the rest of us beelined to the baño, Greg did an excellent job choosing our launch driver and guide. Joel speaks English and is both knowledgeable and sincerely fascinated by the wildlife he docents, especially the birds. We climbed aboard with sunscreen and bug repellent and hats and cameras, and off we chugged into this unique local ecosystem.

Someone spotted our first crocodile nearly immediately, a youngster basking on a log.

Next we saw a bright red crab, which seems to me an inauspicious color for something living in the midst of hungry wading birds, but what do I know.

Really, though...

Some of the birds were more difficult to spot than others. This snail kite seemed not at all concerned about her visibility.

There was other showing-off going on too. Although Joel told us this guy was just drying his wings, he went on and on and seemed pretty vain about his display.

Here's some of what we saw: great egret, cattle egret, snowy egret, snail kite, green heron, great blue heron, boat bill heron, green kingfisher, limpkin and white ibis. I'm not sure which photos are which: when our heads weren't whipping around to see a bird Joel or one of us had pointed out, we spent our time peering deep into the mangrove roots looking for another discovery. I didn't really take the time to take notes.

This shy guy is a boat bill heron.

Joel told us that the mangroves will close up over the river without constant pruning and trimming, which the boat drivers do in their spare time.

We saw another juvenile croc and a much bigger one that was too submerged to photograph well on our forty-five minute journey upriver. Also some other stuff. Turtles...

...some nifty huts on stilts, built when they filmed a movie in here some years back...

...and bromeliads growing in the mangrove trees.

Then we reached our lunch spot, a restaurant at the end of the river from which one can walk to the crocodile sanctuary if it isn't closed, which it was. Fooey. The lunch spot was lovely, with a big swimming hole bordered by an underwater fence to keep the crocs out. Isn't that considerate of them?

That means it's prohibited to swim in the crocodile areas, in case you didn't know. Ya think?

People swam and splashed into the water from a rope swing. We didn't, but you could if you wanted to. Instead, we chose to eat and drink on our one-hour break. I've heard people say the food there is marginal, but we all agreed that it was quite good, especially given the captive audience.

After lunch, we puttered back, Joel still slowing in interesting areas where might lie some creature to inspect. Then we saw him, partially submerged: a ten-foot crocodile, armored and spiky and with a really big mouth. I'm thinking maybe an underwater fence isn't enough to get me into that water.

The trip cost us around ten dollars a person, plus lunch and beers at the restaurant. We didn't need the gentle reminder painted in both Spanish and sort-of-English in the prow of the boat to remember to reward Joel for his friendly and interested commentary along the way.

By the way, Joel recommends starting early in the morning for the very best bird and creature watching. But we were happy enough with our midday excursion, and I bet you would be, too.

                                                                            All photos by R Butler or me