I am now on my last day of my visit to the state of Queretaro, Mexico. I lived at Privado de Cedro (Cedar St), numero Dos Cintos Cinquenta (250), Jurica Campestre (the suburb's name), the home of my brother Mark and his wife Lynda. I have relaxed and felt alive. Was it a dream or was it real? People go about their daily lives in this extraordinary place, with old stone buildings and not just a few protected buildings, but the whole downtown of Queretaro, the entire village square of Pena de Bernal. I saw so many plazas and town squares that were all preserved and yet still in use. There is no rush here. People walk, I assume to work or to visits, they sit in the Plaza for lunch and have their shoes shined. I spoke with a taxi driver who spoke with pride that new construction was not allowed in colonial Queretaro. San Miguel de Allende was the same way, with picturesque plazas with manicured trees and fountains lined with colorful tiles. I have so many pictures of narrow streets, and stucco walls, wooden doors or decorative gates. But best of all was entering through the doors into a special world, where each of the courtyards seemed to be just beckoning my arrival. Some courtyards were restaurants and Mark and Lynda knew which were good ones to go to. The courtyards also lead to museums that occupied old convent buildings and plazas lead to ancient churches, many built in the 1700's with architectural detail that amazed me that it was possible so long ago to build things so beautifully. Inside the buildings the ceilings were high and the walls were thick and the interiors were cool and refreshing. Many ceilings had open wooden rafters and others were covered with paintings or ornate tiles. No place was crowded. We took our time and appreciated what we saw. I could not believe I have never heard anything about this part of Mexico and the wonders that exist here.
I am typically not much of a shopper, but even I had my days where I shopped until I dropped. Vendors lined the streets and there were stores tucked away in little crannies of buildings. In one, I saw a sleeve of a sweater that looked interesting to me and I asked the vendor if there were others (otros?). She pulled out more and more, more styles, more thicknesses of wool, some with zippers, others with buttons. When I put on one of them Mark and Lynda looked at me with smiles. The shoulders exactly fit my shoulders; the sleeves were long enough for my arms. It came to just the middle of my hips. I bought it for the equivalent to $20 American dollars. It was 100% wool and thick wool at that. It was great entertainment to browse, to view the stalls packed with housewares, clothes, jewelry, pottery, metalworking, textiles, all hand made. It was so colorful, the pottery glazes, embroidery, and weaving. I even spoke a little spanish. I held up an item and asked "Quanto?" (how much?) I relearned my numbers, venta (20), trenta (30). When I got confused the vendor would tap out the numbers on the calculator. I like to collect things that I can use as Christmas ornaments. There were so many wonderful things for sale for only the equivalent to $2 or $3 American dollars.
The sites were both spectacular and also outside my realm of experience. I must describe the monolith in Pena de Bernal. There are only two others that are larger in the whole world, one is the Rock of Gibraltar, and the other is in Brazil somewhere. I could see it for miles away as we drove there. Mark and Lynda have climbed it, but with my back, it was most magnificent for me just to view it. Mark and Lynda knew just the restaurant to eat at and just the table to sit at so the arches of the window framed the monolith. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. A sense of comprehension suddenly came over me of its sheer immensity when I figured out the specs I saw that moved slowly across its surface were people. But on the drive there, I saw my first donkey in real life, carrying its load with a man leading the way. There was a goat in the back of a pickup truck. And there was a dead horse at the side of the road on the way back. And still the town square was exquisite. It had a real well, and benches built into the stone retaining walls around all the plantings in the town square. Views down the narrow streets had old fashion gas-type lamps with electric in them now and the view down the street framed the sight of the distant monolith. There was great goats milk caramel in this town. Quaint is not a complete enough work to describe all this.
I felt so fortunate to have my guides Mark and Lynda. I learned to ask for a bottle of water (botillia de agua) sin hielo (pronounced yellow) (without ice). After a few days, I became accustomed to the driving. It is just a different kind of normal. Roads that seem like they are under construction with a last coat of asphalt still to come, in fact, are really done. That is as good as it gets. A old truck with a goat in the back really does share the same street. The dotted lines in the roads are only advisory; sometimes there are two cars abreast, sometimes there are three cars abreast. People cross anywhere; a 4 lane highway is no problem to them, the people just move a bit quicker. And there are speed bumps everywhere. The signs may be advisory, but your speed is definitely controlled. The bumps make you slow down and for what purpose? In one section it appeared to be just for the purpose of being sure we got a good view of the street vendors' wares. But there were the same type of green highway signs that directed us to the cities and towns we wanted to travel to.
Mark knew the overlook to turn off onto that gave us a view of the city of San Miguel de Allende. It looked like a playset from the distance. The cathedral stood out in the center and glowed in the sun light. I saw crocked arrays of stucco homes and the lines of the streets broke them apart. Then we drove down into the city which was deep in the valley. We drove down steep, narrow, streets that were paved with river stones. We parked the car and walked to the cathedral where there had just been some sort of harvest festival. The courtyard had their cultural equivalent to parade floats. There were poles the size of telephone poles that were held together with sticks and covered with colored cactus petals and corn husks and even 2 liter (maybe larger-not standard) pop bottles still full of orange crush. I don't know how it was possible that people carried these immense decorations. There were spent fire crackers everywhere. The cathedral was unbelievable. It was at least 15 stories high with many separate spires; all intricately designed and carved. It was an absolute marvel of construction and built in the 1700's. As we walked down the narrow streets to go shopping I caught a view of the cathedral framed by the narrow streets and it reminded me of the fantasy castle at Disney World with its multiple spires, only this one was real and still in use.
I am typically not much of a shopper, but even I had my days where I shopped until I dropped. Vendors lined the streets and there were stores tucked away in little crannies of buildings. In one, I saw a sleeve of a sweater that looked interesting to me and I asked the vendor if there were others (otros?). She pulled out more and more, more styles, more thicknesses of wool, some with zippers, others with buttons. When I put on one of them Mark and Lynda looked at me with smiles. The shoulders exactly fit my shoulders; the sleeves were long enough for my arms. It came to just the middle of my hips. I bought it for the equivalent to $20 American dollars. It was 100% wool and thick wool at that. It was great entertainment to browse, to view the stalls packed with housewares, clothes, jewelry, pottery, metalworking, textiles, all hand made. It was so colorful, the pottery glazes, embroidery, and weaving. I even spoke a little spanish. I held up an item and asked "Quanto?" (how much?) I relearned my numbers, venta (20), trenta (30). When I got confused the vendor would tap out the numbers on the calculator. I like to collect things that I can use as Christmas ornaments. There were so many wonderful things for sale for only the equivalent to $2 or $3 American dollars.
The sites were both spectacular and also outside my realm of experience. I must describe the monolith in Pena de Bernal. There are only two others that are larger in the whole world, one is the Rock of Gibraltar, and the other is in Brazil somewhere. I could see it for miles away as we drove there. Mark and Lynda have climbed it, but with my back, it was most magnificent for me just to view it. Mark and Lynda knew just the restaurant to eat at and just the table to sit at so the arches of the window framed the monolith. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. A sense of comprehension suddenly came over me of its sheer immensity when I figured out the specs I saw that moved slowly across its surface were people. But on the drive there, I saw my first donkey in real life, carrying its load with a man leading the way. There was a goat in the back of a pickup truck. And there was a dead horse at the side of the road on the way back. And still the town square was exquisite. It had a real well, and benches built into the stone retaining walls around all the plantings in the town square. Views down the narrow streets had old fashion gas-type lamps with electric in them now and the view down the street framed the sight of the distant monolith. There was great goats milk caramel in this town. Quaint is not a complete enough work to describe all this.
I felt so fortunate to have my guides Mark and Lynda. I learned to ask for a bottle of water (botillia de agua) sin hielo (pronounced yellow) (without ice). After a few days, I became accustomed to the driving. It is just a different kind of normal. Roads that seem like they are under construction with a last coat of asphalt still to come, in fact, are really done. That is as good as it gets. A old truck with a goat in the back really does share the same street. The dotted lines in the roads are only advisory; sometimes there are two cars abreast, sometimes there are three cars abreast. People cross anywhere; a 4 lane highway is no problem to them, the people just move a bit quicker. And there are speed bumps everywhere. The signs may be advisory, but your speed is definitely controlled. The bumps make you slow down and for what purpose? In one section it appeared to be just for the purpose of being sure we got a good view of the street vendors' wares. But there were the same type of green highway signs that directed us to the cities and towns we wanted to travel to.
Mark knew the overlook to turn off onto that gave us a view of the city of San Miguel de Allende. It looked like a playset from the distance. The cathedral stood out in the center and glowed in the sun light. I saw crocked arrays of stucco homes and the lines of the streets broke them apart. Then we drove down into the city which was deep in the valley. We drove down steep, narrow, streets that were paved with river stones. We parked the car and walked to the cathedral where there had just been some sort of harvest festival. The courtyard had their cultural equivalent to parade floats. There were poles the size of telephone poles that were held together with sticks and covered with colored cactus petals and corn husks and even 2 liter (maybe larger-not standard) pop bottles still full of orange crush. I don't know how it was possible that people carried these immense decorations. There were spent fire crackers everywhere. The cathedral was unbelievable. It was at least 15 stories high with many separate spires; all intricately designed and carved. It was an absolute marvel of construction and built in the 1700's. As we walked down the narrow streets to go shopping I caught a view of the cathedral framed by the narrow streets and it reminded me of the fantasy castle at Disney World with its multiple spires, only this one was real and still in use.
And then there were all the wonderful things that I ate. We ate our way down many narrow streets lined with vendors. There was bread that was sweet like pastry, some with cheese filling. There were roasted pecans with sweet glaze and there were cooked then rebaked beans combined with peanuts and covered with chili powder. There were goat milk caramels and creamy vanilla ice cream. There were fresh potato chips sprinkled with lime juice. The hot chocolate was really liquid chocolate. And these were just the snacks. The sit down meals were really events. Cocktails, for me were margaritas or rum and coke. They served us fresh hot taco chips, pickled vegetables with a creamy dipping sauce. There were fresh radishes sprinkled with chili powder. All of these before the waiter even asked for our order. And of course salsas, tomato and cilantro and another salsa verde. All the times I ate out there was a magnificent spread of these premeal treats. For a supposedly light lunch I had a baked pastry filled with provolone cheese and topped with tomato type sauce and then I had a bowl of creamy black bean soup poured over bread sticks like croutons and a cilantro paste. At another meal, I had stuffed chilis, one stuffed with meat and walnut paste and another stuffed with cheeses. For another meal I had tacos where the filling was served at the table in a volcanic rock that stayed hot for longer than an hour. It was filled with grilled prickly pear cactus, shrimp, baked cheese, grilled chicken and beef all in a tomatilla sauce. And I must tell you that tequila shots followed by clamato is something that cannot be described. It must be experienced. Each meal was at least 2 hours. In one we were serenaded by our own mariachi band and we sang along to Jaun Ton Amera, and La Bamba. At another it was guitar and congo drums that played oldies and latino tunes. To top it off in Mexico, they really know how to do chocolate cake. It was pure decadence. A huge meal for the three of us, with 4 margaritas and two beers was only the equivalent to $60 American dollars including the tip. Like my brother Mark, I enjoy my meals. In this area of Mexico, the restaurants really know how to pace a leisurely meal. Lynda told me a story that she ate our once and did not know you have to ask for your check. They do not just bring it to you. When you are fully done, you will ask for it.
So here are my few pieces of advice to people who travel here to Mexico. Remember that the hot in chilis and peppers is in the veins and the seeds. I took one really big bite of seeds and then I took the sour cream from Mark's potato, and the cheese off of the refried beans. I drank water and ate radishes while my eyes watered and I laughed so hard the muscles behind my ears hurt. Not all bites of chilis are equal. Also beware that you lose more water at the high altitudes. Water normally boils at 212 degrees. For each 500 feet in altitude it boils at 1 degree less. So at 7,000 feet it boils at 198 degrees. You lose more water when you breath and when you sweat. So keep drinking water even if that means finding more bathrooms. I did experience quite a spell of dizziness. Never pass up a good bathroom at a nice restaurant. And Pemex gas stations always have good restrooms. When faced with a choice of a 3 peso bathroom and a 5 peso bathroom, chose the 5 peso bathroom. Let go of all your preconceived notions. Mexico is very clean. There are more people sweeping up the streets than there are at Disney World. Go ahead and try even a word or two of Spanish. Everyone I spoke to was tremendously supportive my attempts to use their native language. I felt totally immersed in another culture, while being only a two hour flight out of Houston. The trip was easy with Lynda's notes. I even saw Mark and Lynda waiting on the other side of glass doors as I made my way through the line at the international customs station. I have never travelled to Europe, but now I feel like an international traveller. I had a great time. See my pictures. Anne
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