“Blood is heavier than water. The surface of this beach used to be covered in blood, turtle blood,” explained our boat captain, a former fisherman, as he pointed to a sandy beach just down the coast from where we’d launched in Mazunte, Mexico.

He continued, pointing, “See the ramp? It was used to send the turtle meat up for processing. We would take all the meat from inside the shells. Everything was used. Sometimes we processed thousands of turtles a day. The meat was then sent inland. That’s where the money was.”

But that was then, and fortunately this is now.

For the sea turtles of Mexico’s Pacific Coast, as well as for its people, this sad backstory comes with a happy ending — in the form of a little turtle like the one above having a chance to survive to full term, hatch into the world, and with a little help, make its way into the wild as nature intended.

From Turtle Harvest to Turtle Preservation

In Mexico, turtles were big business. If the turtle eggs themselves weren’t harvested, grown turtles and every last bit of their physical being were.

In response to declining turtle populations, the Mexican government placed a ban on turtle eggs in 1971, but it was largely ignored. An official ban on the harvesting of turtle meat and eggs followed in 1990, this time with greater enforcement. And although it’s impossible to put a full stop to turtle fishing, the turtle slaughterhouse has shut down and there are steep penalties for people caught trading in turtle meat.

During the transition, however, the Mexican government took into consideration those whose livelihoods depended on turtle fishing. In addition to helping families set up guest houses for tourists, the government encouraged turtle fisherman to offer turtle tours – for travelers to witness turtles swimming freely in the ocean — as an alternative and more sustainable means to a living.

These days, that same coastline where the ground was covered in blood now plays host to local families and tourists enjoying a day at the beach.

One bay over from where the turtle slaughterhouse had been located, the Mexican National Turtle Center (Centro Mexicano de las Tortugas) in Mazunte now offers tours to school groups and educates them about sea turtles and the principles of ocean conservation.

From turtle harvesting to turtle conservation in a little over a decade. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

The Egg: Protecting Turtles from the Beginning

The center also monitors where various species of sea turtles lay their eggs and moves the eggs to protected areas along the beach. When the eggs are ready to hatch, the center then organizes “turtle liberation” (liberation de las tortugas) events at various beaches nearby.

When a turtle liberation takes place, they post signs around town announcing the time and location of the event. Everyone is welcome to participate – to learn firsthand about sea turtles, support the center with a voluntary donation, take a brand new baby turtle in hand, and release it to run free into the ocean.

Our Turtle Liberation

Just far enough back from the pounding waves of the ocean at Playa de Ventanilla, our turtle liberation organizer drew a line in the sand for us all to stand behind. He explained the conservation work of the center that helps protect sea turtles, from the moments when the adults deposit their eggs on the beach to when the babies are set free into the water.

Our organizer held up a large turtle shell, with the skull attached. “We found this two months ago. All the meat had been taken. People still capture sea turtles for meat. Our work is not finished.”

Then he went around with the basket of baby turtles, perhaps a hundred or more, to be released. They were tiny little things, crawling on top of each other, squirming to be free.

We could each choose one.

It was an oddly emotional event. In seconds, we developed an attachment to the baby turtles we’d chosen. They were so small, but surprisingly strong. Their instincts clearly led them; they wanted freedom to make their own way.

When we looked out at the water, the waves were so big and rough. They were more than we could take on. As tiny as our turtles were, we worried about how they’d ever survive.

But once we set them on the ground, they scampered toward the water with all their might. We were giddy, like proud parents, as we watched them disappear into the waves and swim away.

This would be the swim of their lives.

Not all of their brothers and sisters found the same initial fortune, however. Some hit the waves at the wrong time, were tossed about and landed on their backs in the sand. We took turns turning the lost turtles right side up, perhaps a little closer to the water to give them a head start on their life in the wild. After twenty minutes or so, all the turtles were in the water, the sun had set and we found ourselves on a natural high.

Sure, we had seen beautiful turtles in the museum earlier that day, but taking part in the launch of a baby turtle’s life into the wild was an entirely different experience. From blood on the beach to turtle liberation, an opportunity had been seized amidst challenge.

The following day, during our boat tour, we saw dozens of giant turtles swimming about, catching a breath at the water’s surface. Up, gulp, and back down. Large and graceful, they’d seen a few years.

We can only hope that when you take your boat ride someday, you’ll get a chance to see our turtles.

—-

Planning a visit to the Mexican National Turtle Center and a Turtle Liberation

If you are planning a trip to Oaxaca and the Pacific Coast, and especially if you have kids, consider paying a visit to the Turtle Center and timing your visit with a “turtle liberation.” Your kids will love you for it. And you will love it, too!

Because of the diversity of sea turtles in the area, you’ll find different species laying eggs throughout the year. We were in Mazunte at the end of March/early April and there were liberation events almost every day. However, we’ve been told that May to July is the high season for turtle hatchlings.

Don’t pay attention to touts selling “turtle liberation” tours for 100+ pesos. This one is easy to do yourself. Check in with the Turtle Museum (preferably at the beginning of your stay in the area) and inquire about planned turtle liberations. The schedule and location will depend on the condition and quantity of the hatchling baby turtles.

Our event was at 6PM on Ventanilla beach, just around sunset (also a spectacular photo opportunity). A collectivo or taxi from Mazunte to the road that goes to Ventanilla (2 km) should cost 5 or 10 pesos ($0.40-$0.80). From there you have a pleasant walk for 1 km. For a ride that gets you down to the actual beach, plan to pay a little more (e.g., 40 pesos/$3.20).

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 25 comments

One part impressive grandeur, another part illuminating detail, Palenque exists in multiple layers and feels like a never ending dig. It consists of a complex full of classical Mayan structures on one level — palaces, temples, living quarters, funeral chambers and elaborate chunks of stone once carved with Mayan glyphs — and features a mysterious, differently-styled almost subterranean jungle world beneath.

And this is only what you are able to see. It’s estimated that the visible bits of the site represent only 10% of what’s actually there. Upon stepping foot on Palenque’s grounds, you can almost imagine this figure an underestimate.

The panorama below was taken from the edge atop the Palace and features the uber-grand Temple of the Inscriptions, a funerary monument built for K’inich Janaab’ Pakal, a ruler of Palenque during the 7th century.

Enjoy!

Panorama: Palenque Mayan Ruins

For best panorama viewing results, press fullscreen (four arrows) and navigate around with your mouse.

Articles About Mexico

An Amazing Scene We Were Forbidden to Record: An Indigenous Easter Celebration in Chiapas

A Long Weekend in Riviera Maya: 14 Memories

A Yucatan Afternoon in Four Courses (or, How I Finally Found My Puerco Pibil)

When the Walls Danced: Living Through an Earthquake in Mexico

More Photos from Central America

Central American Food

Nicaragua Photos

El Salvador Photos

Antigua, Guatemala

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 10 comments

This was no ordinary Catholic church, nor was this an Easter celebration like any we’d ever seen.

The last photo we were allowed to take.

Unfortunately, photos and video were strictly forbidden inside the church and during the procession, so you’ll have to take our words for it.

Inside San Juan Chamula Church

Inside the church, the air was thick with incense — as in enough incense to power Christianity for the coming year. The floor was strewn with long-needled pine branches, adding to both the aroma and the heightened sense of a connection with nature. Clearly, we were in the territory of Catholicism merged with indigenous Mayan traditions that predate “the new world.”

Along the walls, statues of various saints — some doll-like, others the three-dimensional equivalent of icons in ancient cave paintings — were ensconced in decorative wooden crates and draped in local herbs and flowers as if to suggest that they were torn between heaven and earth. Others wore mirrors around their necks, some say to deflect evil spirits, others say to protect them from cameras that sap their powers.

The church in San Juan Chamula was established in 1522, only 30 years after Columbus had set sail for the new world. The unique blend of practice suggested that the members had adopted European-style Catholicism rather begrudgingly. We were awestruck by the result: animistic, indigenous, spiritual, and religious all roiled into one.

The only lurking hints of modernity: bottles of soda clutched by a few churchgoers and an LED blinking star that looked as if it belonged in a cheap casino, somewhere off-off strip. The folks running this church took a page out of the “let’s embrace ancient traditions and throw in a touch of flash while we’re at it” in selective effect in temples throughout the world.

There were no pews. Instead, a flow of squat locals plodded through the center of the church, bumping through a few far-too-tall gringos as smoke plumes curled to the ceiling. At the foot of each of the saints, a group of indigenous women and children communed with friends and relatives in prayer. They lit candles and shared bottles of Coca-Cola, their apparent elixir of choice.

Deep inside, the altar was mobbed. As far as we could tell, there was no priest, just more crowds of villagers, including women with black stone chalices stuffed with giant incense embers smoldering away. One woman waved her smoking cup in large sweeping motions. Thankfully the church was constructed mainly of stone, for her moves otherwise would surely have burned us all to the ground. In this place, the air was so thick and the oxygen so thin, divine apparitions came easy.

Heavy and ethereal, earthbound and cosmic. We stood amidst it all for several minutes, absorbing the scene with all our senses, wishing at times we’d had some sort of “blink camera” just to capture it.

But in all the activity we felt like interlopers, as if we were intruding.

The Procession

Emerging into the open air and church square carried with it freedom – the freedom of oxygen and freedom to the wider world where we stood out as gringos just a little bit less. We retreated to the far end where we sat on a curb platform that traced the edge of the church courtyard.

We absorbed the early morning visual: indigenous Tzotzi men in furry woolen white capes, others in black, clusters of Tzotzi women with market day purchases bundled in tow, babies slung to their backs, and little kids chasing one another like they might just about anywhere else, bugging their mothers for ice cream money.

As the church clock approached noon, the sun cooked us and the surrounding air to baking hot. A weak honk from the ice cream cart punctuated a stillness descending. People were set to hang out on the church square for the day, it seemed.

We figured it was time to go. So we got up.

Then something stirred.

Local boys began a frantic sweeping of the sidewalk behind us. More men and boys followed behind them, laying down a blessed carpet of sorts, scattering pine needles and branches across the cleaned squares of ground at the courtyard edge.

A group of men dressed in white capes marched into the gazebo nearby. Men in black woolen capes and colorful headwear followed. They stood at attention, the sheaths of their ceremonial swords pointing out.

In a matter of minutes, more guardsmen gathered, sealing off the courtyard archway entrance. Those who were in the courtyard were in, us included. Those outside had to watch over the walls.

Audrey took out the video camera and began a slow pan. A group of men in wool coats descended. “No photos! No video!” I’m surprised they didn’t take the camera. This was serious. She put it away and apologized.

It turns out that the men in white were local law enforcement, a citizen police force.

Then crowds, saints and clouds of incense billowed forth from the church.

Seconds later, another stir. A couple of men yelled to one another, “Photo, photo!” and pointed outside the walls. A young blond woman, not exceptionally tall, but taller than anyone around, was besieged, swamped by angry men in white capes. They inspected her camera, buttons were pressed. Footage was certainly deleted.

The men in white, confident they had put an end to it all, returned to their post on the gazebo.

As three bell men atop the church began stroking the bells, men carrying brightly colored flags adorned with more saints and apostles emerged from the church. As if to animate the spirits in those flags, they bounced their staffs ever-so-slightly as they made their way to the blessed arch, right in front of us.

Colors abounded. The saints, now outside, were brighter than before. They were further draped with greens, fronds, and herbs. The colors were vibrant, anything but somber — a little like Christmas meets Mardi Gras.

The sounds, a cacophony. One part celebration, another part lamentation, it sounded like the beginning of the war. Some blew bugles, others rang bells. Others still stroked boxy wooden indigenous instruments, bits and chunks dangling. Some lit fireworks in the courtyard, while others set off what could best be described as “a cannon in a can,” noisemakers that literally shook the earth as they went off. Some observers made as much noise as possible while others remained perfectly silent. Taking our cue from the indigenous girls around us –-they were old pros at this — we plugged our ears to protect our eardrums from the deafening sounds.

As the saints approached the arch, something occurred to us: We were among the very few – if not the only – foreigners in the courtyard crowd near the blessed arch. We were certainly privileged to witness this, completely by chance, with a virtual front row seat.

We had also realized that once the procession began, we were back to being ordinary human beings once again. There was no longer any attention paid to us, all eyes were on the event, in all its mayhem.

Young men sat atop the arch and tossed bunches of flower petals on the saints, bringing the crowd to a climax. When it was all over, women and children frantically collected the blessed petals and scooped them into burlap sacks and wooden buckets. Good luck at home for a few more days at least.

Some might say, “No photo? Then it didn’t happen.”

Not from where we were standing.

—–

Editor’s note: The text of this article was adjusted from the original. The sentence “Then crowds, saints and clouds of incense billowed forth from the church.” was moved to more accurately report the sequence of events.

Getting to San Juan Chamula: Collectivos (minivans) run frequently from near the main market in San Cristobal de las Casas to San Juan for 10 pesos ($0.80). Sunday is a particularly good today to visit because it is the day of the weekly market and we’ve heard that processions are a regular event, even when it’s not Easter. Our advice: find a place on the church square to sit on the curb, try to blend in and then wait for everything to happen around you.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 20 comments

Ours might feature an open stretch of coast, no crowds and a few small establishments — the type of place where if you wake up early you may even have the entire beach to yourself.

And this is what we found in the laid back town of Mazunte along Mexico’s Pacific Coast last week. Open the panorama to see for yourself.

Panorama: Mazunte Beach on Mexico’s Pacific Coast

For best panorama viewing results, press fullscreen (four arrows) and navigate around with your mouse.

Articles About Mexico

A Long Weekend in Riviera Maya: 14 Memories

A Yucatan Afternoon in Four Courses (or, How I Finally Found My Puerco Pibil)

When the Walls Danced: Living Through an Earthquake in Mexico

Panorama: Swim in a Cenote – Yucatan, Mexico

More Photos from Central America

Central American Food

Nicaragua Photos

El Salvador Photos

Antigua, Guatemala

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 13 comments

1. Walking along the beach in late afternoon.

This is a simple one: water and long horizons have a calming, relaxing effect on me. Add to that the smell of saltwater and the humidity of the coast and you have my happy place cocktail. So the first thing we did when we arrived? Take a long walk along the beach.

2. Psychedelic jellyfish.

The specimen that washed up to our feet is known as a Portuguese man-o-war. Amazing to look at, but dangerous to touch.

3. Drinking champagne on deck under a full moon.

When we mentioned on our Facebook page having to fend off a cockroach on Valentine’s Day, one of our fans encouraged us to take a “real vacation.” In this moment, champagne flute in hand, it felt as though we had fulfilled her wish.

4. Ogling the size of the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza.

Some things never change. The wealthier they are, the bigger they build. Same went for the Maya. Even cooler than the size of Chichen Itza’s El Castillo is the fact that if you clap loud enough along its side, the sound will bounce off the pyramid stone and echo back to you like a bird call. Someone’s clever.

5. Yucatecan lunch at a ruined hacienda.

I’ve already gushed about how excited I was to finally eat puerco pibil and to discover the genius of blended roasted squash seeds, so I won’t bore you by telling it all again. If you have an opportunity to eat a local meal at an old hacienda where vines and trees grow in and around the ruins of old buildings, jump on it.

6. Jumping into a cenote.

Before this trip, I had no idea what a cenote was or why swimming in a collapsed sink hole might possibly be considered inviting. On this score, I’m uninformed no more. You might even say I’m a cenote convert. It’s remarkable how the water inside of one stays so clean and cool. Don’t believe me? Just see for yourself here.

7. There’s more to Yucatecan food than tacos and enchiladas.

Traditional Mayan recipes take a modern twist at Yaxche Maya Cuisine in Playa del Carmen. This brought us in touch with dishes like turkey stuffed with minced meat and simmered in a burnt pepper sauce, conchinita pibil (young pig slow cooked in sour orange and achiote sauce), and cheese stuffed with ground pork and kol (Mayan white sauce). And Mexican wine? We found it surprisingly good. We favored the Chardonnay overall, but among the reds the Cabernet Sauvignon left us pleasantly surprised.

8. Back street Cozumel food tour with a human touch.

Most visitors to Cozumel never make it off the main street. But that’s where Cozumel Chef’s food tour takes a different approach. Emily Egge brings together not only a progression of local dishes, but she puts a local human face on this otherwise tourist town. Among the fun small plates we kicked off our afternoon with: breaded shrimp tacos served with fiery habenero hot sauce.

And that human touch? Our Cozumel day ended with the owner of a family run seafood restaurant singing with his daughter in his arm in the late afternoon.

9. Bicycle ride down the jungle road at Coba Mayan ruins.

In contrast to Chichen Itza where shade is at a premium, the Mayan ruins at Coba are located smack in the Yucatecan jungle. Rent a bicycle or hire someone to cycle you around the grounds. It’s downright pleasant.

10. Climbing to the top of the pyramid at Coba.

Most Mayan ruin complexes forbid tourists to climb to the top. Of course, this is completely understandable if the goal is preservation. Having said that, it’s pretty cool to be able to climb a Mayan pyramid to the top. Just don’t look down until you made it all the way. Ignorance is vertigo’s worst enemy.

11. The quintessential perfect white sand beach of Tulum.

When we consider an ideal beach scene, Tulum definitely competes for top honors. White sand, fabulously blue water, not overrun, no giant resorts or heavy development along the beach. Just beautiful.

Don’t you wish you could sit back with a cocktail here and spend the rest of the day? I know I do.

12. Ceviche and grilled seafood orgy.

I suppose this photo pretty much says it all. If it’s a fresh seafood fix you seek, check out Ana & Jose’s beachside restaurant at Tulum. We kicked off with ceviche towers, moved onto octopus carpaccio, then ended with the seafood mother lode. I never thought I could really ever fill up on fresh fish and seafood, until that day.

13. Tulum ruins without the crowds.

When we announced on our Facebook page that we were visiting the Mayan ruins at Tulum, one of our fans warned us of the crowds. However, arrived in late afternoon and not only was the heat backing off, but the light was soft and the people were few.

14. Relaxing in the bubble spa.

Need I say more?

—

Disclosure: Our trip to Riviera Maya was provided by Visit Mexico and we stayed at Blue Diamond Resorts outside of Playa del Carmen. As always, the opinions expressed here are entirely our own.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 32 comments

A place that feels wide open with blue skies, ripples and cascades that all say “jump in.”

Then you do.

And you realize that the water is much colder than you expected.

But that’s ok.

Because that’s what refreshing means.

Panorama: Hierve el Agua in Oaxaca, Mexico

For best panorama viewing results, press fullscreen (four arrows) and navigate around with your mouse.

Articles About Mexico

A Yucatan Afternoon in Four Courses (or, How I Finally Found My Puerco Pibil)

When the Walls Danced: Living Through an Earthquake in Mexico

Panorama: Swim in a Cenote – Yucatan, Mexico

Panorama: Santo Domingo – Oaxaca

More Photos from Central America

Central American Food

Nicaragua Photos

El Salvador Photos

Antigua, Guatemala

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 9 comments

Our neighborhood here in Oaxaca is usually full of noises. Horns, sirens, beeps, megaphones. The gardeners chopping, the tamale guy chanting, the gas truck tooting, the water guy whistling, dogs howling. It’s the city’s soundtrack of life.

Tuesday, around noon, we heard a different sound. Audrey and I had just come off giving a 90-minute online webinar. We were grateful to execute our presentation in unusual and relative silence.

Then minutes later, it happened.

It sounded as if a siren blared from a truck just outside our front window.

Are the elections coming? Maybe it’s an overzealous tamale guy on a bicycle with a megaphone.

A few seconds later, the siren went off again. Ominous.

Audrey laughed, “Imagine if this happened ten minutes ago in the webinar?”

Seconds later, a rumble began that felt as if a tractor trailing were driving past our front window.

Then, another siren.

The truck didn’t go away, the house shook further.

This was something bigger. Maybe the truck was about to come through the front window.

The rumble grew further still; it twisted.

Trucks do not do this. And, they do not make trucks this big.

The Space Shuttle, maybe?

Our front window grates wobbled, glass inside. The back door, heavy and wrought iron, swung back and forth, slamming into the jamb. Our huge dining room table began to vibrate, the hutch began to sway.

“My, how stunningly flexible these walls are,” I thought, mesmerized by how they seemed to wave around me.

At the same time, the ground began to shift, moving back and forth under our feet. The back door continued to slam.

After a few seconds it dawned on us: this was an earthquake! And those sirens, they were the citywide seismic alarm that gave us a few seconds before the shaking began.

Although we would eventually understand that the motion came from the earth, it was as if someone had grabbed the house from above and shook it from side to side in an attempt to pry it loose from its foundation.

Audrey and I turned to one another: “What’s that thing about standing in a doorway?”

You know those horror film characters who wait too long, who just don’t have the sense to get out before it’s too late? That was us. But nothing made sense because the earth was moving.

The earth is not supposed to move.

I’m certain I’d received earthquake training somewhere along the way, but I found it easy to dispense with the rational as I stood there transfixed by the walls dancing around me.

“Audrey, grab the keys. Let’s go!”

The whole thing transpired in 30 seconds, maybe just 15. I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. When the shit comes down, time perception bends.

“Let’s get the hell out of here! Forget the keys. Let’s get out of here! NOW!”

Run for Your Lives
We ran out the front doorway, spent a split second in questionable safety under the arch, then hopped further across the courtyard to another doorway and out into the street.

In the middle of the street, clear of anything that could fall on our heads save a telephone pole, we just felt safer. We spun around just like we might if we were in a film about an earthquake. It’s silly, but that’s what you do. You look around and you try to figure out what is going on.

Meanwhile, the ground continued to shimmy. It felt like it was bubbling. The road felt like rubber.

Is this thing ever going to stop?

On the Street
When you fear for your life, you leave everything behind. Your shoes, your laptops, even the keys. Everything. All that matters is that which is living.

We were outside. We were safe, unless of course the ground decided to open up. You don’t really don’t know what’s coming. The uncertainty is the most terrifying bit of all.

The street filled with people; everyone staggered out from their homes, mobile phones in hand.

A group of women down the street crossed themselves.

Our landlord’s maid, probably in her 60s, stood fully composed in the doorway as the ground continued its boogie.

Audrey turned around, “Es tipico?” (Is this typical?)

“Si,” she gave a nod. Her hands came up even to the ground, then down. “Calm,” she suggested with the motion. We obviously looked shaken.

“Pero, muy fuerte,” she continued. But, very strong.

Another woman stuck her head out from next door, “Muy fuerte.”

A hound dog pup rounded the corner at full speed, freaked out.

Capturing the humor in the moment, Audrey remarked about our landlord, a dentist with an office in town: “Let’s hope he wasn’t drilling in someone’s mouth.”

Settling Back
The good thing is, everyone appeared to be OK. News reports seem to suggest that the damage, at least in Oaxaca, is surprisingly limited. We could hear a few things crash and fall here and there, likely dislodged during the quake. Amazing, really: it was a 7.4 magnitude earthquake, centered 100 miles away and very shallow at 12 miles deep.

Now I understand why all the buildings here are squat, one and two stories.

As I write this, the tamale vendor chants his “ta-ma-le, ta-ma-le!” like clockwork through his megaphone as he rides his bicycle down the street.

Things have returned to normal, at least for the moment. We value these sounds.

It’s not an earthquake alarm, and that’s all that matters.

–

For those of you wondering, we haven’t seen Malia Obama (President and Michele Obama’s daughter) during her spring break trip to Oaxaca. If it weren’t for the fact that the earthquake coincided with her visit, we probably would have never even known.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 8 comments

Under a shade tree, a couple of local women teamed up on making hand-made tortillas. One worked the corn dough masa into rounds while the other turned them on a wood-fired tin griddle called a comal.

She worked the dough, and smiled.

Julia pointed to a small fire pit in the ground nearby, from which a red sauce bubbled out over banana leaves. “That’s the puerco pibil,” she foreshadowed the day’s main culinary event.

Puerco pibil!

My eyes widened and I did one of those secret happy dances inside. To appreciate why, you’d have to understand that my relationship with and pursuit of puerco pibil runs deep.

Over six years ago when we lived in Prague, we watched Once Upon a Time in Mexico, a film starring Johnny Depp. In it, Depp’s character Agent Sands, obsesses over puerco pibil, seeking it out and ordering the slow-roasted pork dish anywhere he can get it. Along the way, he tastes a puerco pibil so good that that he decides he must shoot the cook in order to “restore order to this country.”

This got my attention. I wanted to know the dish for myself.

Robert Rodriguez, the film’s director, details how to make it on the DVD. Armed with his instructions, I held out hope for making my own puerco pibil. However, the departure for our around the world journey got in the way, a fiasco ensued, and I almost missed my train to Dresden due to a failed attempt to offload the unused pork butt.

My curiosity about a dish that was immortalized by Johnny Depp in a low-budget film would finally be satiated.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Old Hacienda, New Tastes

In its heyday almost a century before, this hacienda was an active cattle ranch. Today, the grounds are lush, thick with vegetation, much like a jungle. A dirt track road from the main highway takes us ten minutes through brush and the occasional sisal plant, only to remind us how Mother Nature can so quickly undo the hard work of man and reclaim what is hers.

When we first arrived at the hacienda, we did so sun-kissed from a morning visit to Chichen Itza. The heat of the Yucatan is strong, almost brutal around midday. The shade of the hacienda was precisely what we needed.

To chase our thirst, our hosts served a sour orange lemonade restorative — a little tangy, but not quite sour like the fruit’s lime-like appearance might suggest. Our elixir goes well with a shared plateful of vegetables and fruit surrounding a shallow dip mound of chili pepper, salt, dehydrated lime and sugar.

Orange slices and chili pepper? Who would have thought?

This is how it’s done in Mexico.

Dzikipic: Complex Simplicity

From the veranda formed by an old stone house whose roof had collapsed, our Yucatecan culinary journey continued to something called “Dzikipic.”

Say it with me, ten times fast.

Oh, oh, oh. Simple and complex in turns, Dzikipic is a traditional Yucatan dip made from ground squash seeds blended with tomato and a collection of herbs and spices. A taste experience and comfort I wanted to wrap myself up in. To top it off, the presentation is knockout simple, served in a halved pepper, top still on.

This is culinary transcendence.

I make this promise to myself and to you: this recipe is coming soon. I’ve become a fan of anything made with roasted squash seeds, but this vies for top of the charts and inspires me to leap into the kitchen.

Puerco Pibil: The Real Deal…Finally

So you might be wondering: “What is puerco pibil again?”

Puerco pibil (or conchinita pibil) is a traditional Yucatecan dish of slow-cooked pork — preferably pit roasted and wrapped in banana leaves. The pork draws its flavor from being marinated then roasted in a sauce made from sour oranges and achiote that works to tenderize the meat to the point that it falls from the bone. (The Once Upon a Time in Mexico DVD recipe from Robert Rodriguez, by the way, also calls for a shot of tequila for taste and further tenderizing.)

So after six years of waiting, how was it?

Beautiful. Pork, moist and tender, flavorful; the sort of thing that melts in your mouth and leaves you admiring the combined taste sensation of citrus, spices and heat.

The whole thing was simple yet lavish in a way. Black beans, guacamole, a sour orange and red onion splash, pico de gallo and finely cut habanero peppers all served to round out the table.

Dessert: A Dip in the Cenote

Full up on puerco pibil, our group waddled from the grounds of the hacienda down a steep stone staircase into a lush, tropical scene reminiscent of a movie set – a cenote, a 30-meter deep sinkhole, tendrils descending to the surface of the water, another 60 meters deep. The air within the cenote was cool, yet exceptionally humid.

The water was dusted with a layer of limestone erosion from the cenote walls. It didn’t look that enticing, but Julia assured us: “Once you jump in, the dust will vanish. It’s clean. Just try it.”

Blane, the bravest of our group, just about jumped right in. The surface of the water suddenly cleared, revealing the depth and the life of the water below.

The rest of our group poured in. The cool water served as a fine finish, like a secret, our own private lagoon for the day.

I felt as though I’d completed one small circle of a larger journey. I’d come all this way and waited all this time to try puerco pibil, but unlike Johnny Depp, I felt no need to shoot the cook.

—–
Disclosure: Our trip to Riviera Maya was provided by Visit Mexico. As always, the opinions expressed here are entirely our own. Special thanks to Julia Miller and Alfonso Morales of Catherwood Travels for organizing such a wonderful afternoon at the Xochempich Cenote.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 20 comments

What is a cenote, you ask?

It’s a formation resulting from the collapse of limestone bedrock that exposes the groundwater underneath. You might even call it a freshwater sinkhole, but that label does a disservice to the natural beauty of one. Cenotes are characteristic to Mexico and Central America.

We happened to catch this one in Mexico’s Yucatan province. It was just about perfect for a late afternoon swim.

Open up the panorama and see for yourself.

Panorama: Xochempich Cenote in Yucatan, Mexico

For best panorama viewing results, press fullscreen (four arrows) and navigate around with your mouse.

Articles About Central America

The Golden Plantain Awards: Best of Central American Food

The Golden Plantain Awards: Central America’s Best and Worst

Central America: Immigration Stories

Are We Too Old to Be Climbing Volcanoes?

More Photos from Central America

Central American Food

Nicaragua Photos

El Salvador Photos

Antigua, Guatemala

Disclosure: Our trip to Riviera Maya was supported by Visit Mexico. As always, the opinions expressed here are entirely our own. Special thanks to Julia Miller and Alfonso Morales of Catherwood Travels for organizing such a wonderful afternoon at the Xochempich Cenote.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 12 comments

And here’s what we learned: that the end of the Mayan calendar cycle doesn’t mean the end of the world, but rather a new beginning, a new calendar cycle.  Think of it as a fresh start.  

So if you’ve been panting about the coming of the end of days, perhaps it’s time to breathe a bit easier.

Known affectionately as El Castillo (the castle), the Temple of Kukulkan is the largest of the Mayan pyramids at Chichen Itza. On each of the equinoxes, the light cascades down its staircase making it look as though a serpent is gliding its way into the ground.

But it’s plenty cool, even if it’s not the equinox.  Check it out in the panorama below.

Panorama: El Castillo at Chichen Itza in Yucutan, Mexico

For best panorama viewing results, press fullscreen (four arrows) and navigate around with your mouse.

Articles About Central America

The Golden Plantain Awards: Best of Central American Food

The Golden Plantain Awards: Central America’s Best and Worst

Central America: Immigration Stories

Are We Too Old to Be Climbing Volcanoes?

More Photos from Central America

Central American Food

Nicaragua Photos

El Salvador Photos

Antigua, Guatemala

Disclosure: Our trip to Riviera Maya was supported by Visit Mexico. As always, the opinions expressed here are entirely our own. Special thanks to Julia Miller and Alfonso Morales for sharing their deep knowledge and passion about Maya history and culture with us.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 11 comments