The Return

Santa in Tepa - Photo by Jon Ellis

Consider this a sort of epilogue because, to our nine months spent in Tepatepec, our return there this last December of 2023 was just that - an opportunity not only to reconnect with the people and the place, but to discover whether it still held the same thrall over us. 

Let me back up a bit first. Many of you have spoken to or seen us since our return on June 1st of 2023, but I still want to recap briefly our re-entry into the culture of the U.S. and our home here. It was both wonderful and difficult. After a journey from Tepa to Portland somewhat fraught with traffic and airline delays, we finally arrived back in our beautiful house at about 3:00 in the morning. The poor kitty had been in her carrier for 21 hours but she's a trooper of the highest order. She was a little confused at first to be back in the house that I'm sure she thought we'd left behind permanently, but she settled in quickly. To us, it was like Shangri-la with hot water on demand, water pressure, heat or AC as needed, dishwasher, washer and dryer, and all the modern comforts. Our renters had left it in good shape for our return and, once we sort of got it re-organized to how we like it, we were really happy to be here. 

All this doesn't negate the fact that leaving Tepa was excruciating. If it weren't for the fact that we had kind of had it with our house there and all the problems that went with it, we would have been even more loathe to leave. Let's just say I sobbed on the plane as we left Mexico. 

At least, I had the visit of my mom, my kid, and his girlfriend to look forward to later in June, and reconnecting with my cousins, aunt, and friends made it all that much better. Yet, how we missed walking down the street and receiving a friendly Buenos dias or Buenas tardes from everyone we met. We missed the marketplace and the kind vendors there, all the little stores we love and, of course, the food.  Shortly after returning, I bought a comal (tortilla griddle) and a tortilla press so I could make my own corn tortillas, and I'm proud to say I've pretty much mastered it. That helps. Plus, I learned how to make a few of the local specialties. 

However, as the year wore on, the longing for our sweet town remained strong. We started to talk about going back though it seemed a great expense and a long distance. Finally, around October, we made the decision. We would go for a week in December, rolling it into our Christmas visit to Tucson. Yes, it would be expensive, but we mitigated that a bit by booking tickets from Tijuana to Mexico City, and driving all the rest of the way within the U.S.

Southern Oregon

Mountain Fog in S. Oregon

And so, on December 7, leaving Lupita the cat with a housesitter friend, we set off in the Prius, bound for San Diego, equipped with a Songs to Sing Out Loud in the Car playlist that I'd made, and lots of other music and activities for the road. Jon drove the whole way, as he likes to do, and we made it to my sister's house in San Diego after three days and two nights on the road. 

Seeing Susan and my brother-in-law, John, there was great since they wouldn't be coming over to Tucson for Christmas. We had at least an evening and morning of holiday time with them, and we'd get another on the way back. They took us to Tijuana and we boarded our flight with no problems. One of the most exciting things for us about this trip was that my brother, Josh, was flying in from Singapore, where he lives with his wife, Ruth, to meet us in Mexico City. He had wanted so badly to come visit us while we were living in Tepa but didn't get the chance. He was determined to make it happen this time, even though it was just going to be for a few days. 

We finally tracked him down in the Mexico City airport but he had a baggage delay, so we went on to a hotel near the airport and he came later. The next morning, we hired an Uber to take us to Pachuca where I'd rented a car. Or so I'd thought. When we arrived at the Hertz rental car office, the gentleman there informed me they had no car for us. They had a reservation but no car. This was straight out of a Seinfeld episode. I found myself repeating practically the same words that Jerry Seinfeld so famously spoke, "...but...the word "reservation" means that you reserve the car for us!" Nope. Wasn't going to happen. So the guy called us a taxi, which arrived with a broken trunk lock and nowhere to put our luggage. Dismissing the driver, we finally flagged down a cab on the side of the muddy road that delivered us to the town of Bocamiño, just about 5 minutes outside of Tepa. My dear friend Anna had arranged to lend us her house there, while she and her family would stay at her mom's, and they met us with tamales for our lunch. Seeing her, her mom, and baby was a moment of sheer joy. They soon left us to settle in and, later in the day, we took a combi (since we had no rental car) into Tepa to give Josh a tour. It was like we had never left. Some of the townspeople I've been in touch with on Facebook,knew we were coming. Most did not and, when we stopped in to say hello, they exclaimed, "It's a miracle!" We got warm greetings and hugs, and all were excited to meet Josh, another tall, red-headed, light-eyed anomaly. We stopped by to see our old neighbors, who informed us our house has been sitting there pretty much exactly the way we left it. We'd offered to keep renting it for a lower price so we'd have a place to come back to, but our landlord had stubbornly declared, "It's worth more than that price!" Duh, because of us it's worth more than that. He also maintained he was going to sell it, and we'd briefly entertained buying it, but he could never get it together to get an appraisal. It's a good thing. We were done dealing with him. And so there it sits, becoming a victim of entropy like it had before we moved in and fixed it up. 

Later, we met Arlo and two of the Peace Corps workers, who have taken over for me at UPFIM, at Los Volcanes for the world's best tacos. (I've changed some of the aliases in this blog because I'm writing a memoir and I ended up choosing names closer to the real ones. Arlo is our young friend who runs the Gordita festival and took us to many baptisms and parties when we were here before). I knew one of the Peace Corps people quite well since she used to work at UPFIM's sister university, and we'd met and collaborated on several occasions. The other guy is new. Anyway, we had a raucous time, the six of us, eating and eating until we were stuffed. Upon hearing we couldn't rent a car, Arlo offered us his for the next day since his boyfriend was coming into town and he also has one. This was a huge relief since we wanted to go to a couple of far-flung places that day. And so we took Arlo home and returned to Bocamiño with the car. 

The next day, which was a Tuesday, we drove to a nearby town at the base of the hills to visit my indigenous friends Gabriela and Antonio at their modest home. She and I have been continuously in touch via Whatsapp since we left. I consider her not only my dear friend but also my tortilla coach. As such, she gifted me a better comal than the one I have, as well as a huge straw sun hat for Jon. I wish she wouldn't give us gifts. I brought some small things for her but they can't afford to buy us stuff. Jon graciously accepted the hat (identical to one she'd given me before we left), but we left it at Anna's house because we'd brought limited luggage. Gabriela tried to give one to Josh but I had to explain to her that he couldn't bring it back to Singapore. She doesn't understand things like suitcases and air travel and Singapore so she was a little sad about it. Promising to come back on Thursday for dinner, we went into Tepa for more exploring, and to enjoy the sight of little children dressed as 17th-century peasants coming and going from the church in celebration of the Feast of the Virgen of Guadalupe. Josh tried his first gorditas at the marketplace/food court and declared them excellent. 

After a siesta at home, which we all needed, we headed out to a hot springs called Te Pathé, on the road between Actopan and Ixmiquilpan. Sadly, it was a cold day - the kind we had almost the whole time we were in Tepa this time around and, so, though the water was nice and warm (not warm enough for Jon), the air was chilly, and we didn't linger there long. Instead, we headed back to Actopan to eat at El Itacate, our favorite spot for local and indigenous fare. It's a lovely little restaurant with outrageously good food and impeccable service. Josh was so impressed he declared it merited a Michelin Star! We returned Arlo's car to him when we got back to Tepa, resigned to deal with transportation for the rest of the week by combi and on foot like we were used to when we lived there, with the occasional taxi thrown in when we needed it. 

In The Mural Place

Guys Sitting

Wednesday morning we did hire a taxi to take us to the Mural Place, which we'd visited last spring. Josh was in photographer's heaven, snapping shots like a maniac. Of course, they all turned out fantastic. We then had lunch at a little spot called Meraki, and treated Josh to the best tacos dorados around. That afternoon we visited the university where I was supposed to meet Rico, my former supervisor, but he wasn't around. We finished the day with dinner at La Bottega, that one really nice restaurant in Tepa, determined for Josh to experience it for the good food, beautiful atmosphere, art, and architecture. 

He left early Thursday morning for the Mexico City airport in a taxi driven by our favorite taxista, Jesús, the guy who had given us such a remarkable tour of the mountains and rock formations around Actopan just before we left last year. Thursday afternoon, we hired a cab to take us back to Gabriela and Antonio's house. They had prepared a barbacoa for us, chicken, pork, and nopales buried in a pit in the ground lined with maguey leaves for an incredible flavor. It's a huge honor for someone to prepare a barbacoa for you in this region and, while, again, I wished they hadn't gone to the expense, it was a really special experience, eating the meat with fresh tortillas, right out of the pit. It was chilly out, so we went into the house after that and sat around eating a huge cake she'd bought, and chatting. We'd asked our driver to come back at 5:00, but he never showed up, so Antonio called a taxi driver friend of theirs who came around 6:00 to take us back to Anna's. 

Friday we met up with Rico, my former supervisor at UPFIM, Cristina, and a couple of other folks from the school for lunch, again at Meraki, where I had truly the best chilaquiles ever. Rico was the same Rico, though in his informal mode, which is great fun. I wish I could have spent more time with Cristina because she is one of my favorite people, but she's so busy with her PhD-ness it's hard to pin her down. 

Gorditas (above) & Pulque Vendor

Festival Candy

Saturday was the day everyone in Tepa had been waiting for, El Festival de la Gordita. It was just as epic as it was last year: the vendors, the artisanal products, the music and dance performances, and the food! For the first time I tried a gordita with a kind of mushroom which is the fungus that grows on unharvested corn. It's earthy and a little unusual but it grew on me (no pun intended). We ate our gorditas on a bench in the plaza since there was no room at the tables set up along the main street. After a day of wandering around, watching performances, and running into friends, we finally had a burger at the Casa Azul hotel and called it a night. 

Traditional Dancers

Sunday was a day of pure confusion. After greeting Gabriela and Antonio and hanging out with them a bit where they sell things at the tianguis (weekly street market), we went to meet our neighbors for lunch, but the place we'd decided on (Meraki again), was closed, though they'd said they'd be open. Trying to communicate with bad cell service, we finally understood that they wanted us to go with them to Ixmiquilpan for seafood. Really? Seafood in the middle of the desert? Besides, I was too hungry to endure the hour-and-a-half drive there and, anyway, it just wasn't in the plan. We had other things to do that day. Arlo had texted me, wanting us to come to his sister's birthday party and eat, but I'd already told him we had plans with our neighbors. Jon and I finally ate huaraches in the tianguis, then headed home to get our stuff organized for our departure the next day. Then, we heard from our neighbor again and it sounded like they wanted to have us come over to eat around 5:00. So we headed to their house, only to find that was not at all their intention. We gave them some gifts we had brought and chatted a bit, then left, wondering what we were going to do for dinner since we needed to eat something before Anna's posada at 7:00. Arlo texted again, telling us to come over for dessert. We did but, thankfully, his lovely mother heated us up some chicken mole from the birthday party, and we spent a wonderful hour with them, eating and catching up some more. He drove us to Anna's at seven, and we enjoyed our second year in a row of posada with them, which, if you recall, is a recreation of Mary and Joseph being turned away until they are finally offered refuge, complete with posole and tamales. It's a meaningful tradition which always moves me to tears. 

To sum up, one week was far too little in Tepa, especially because it's hard to wrangle people into such a limited schedule for getting together. I particularly regret not getting to see any of the teachers at UPFIM during our week there but they were out of school and had gone their separate ways. Anyway, Monday morning, Jesús picked us up at 9:30 for the three-hour drive to Puebla. Yes, I know, it was a splurge to take a taxi but we just couldn't face the bus, and remember, we had saved money by not renting a car, which we would have returned to Pachuca today. 

El Popo and Iztaccíhuatl, the Sleeping Woman

The drive was delightful, the scenery spectacular, and Jesús is just the best. I was particularly grateful that the weather was clear because we drove right past the two volcanoes, Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl, iconic symbols of México. El Popo, as they call it, was smoking - always threatening to erupt or at least cause an earthquake. 

We got to Puebla with no problem but, once in the heart of the city, Jesús's car was sideswiped by a delivery van. When he got out to assess the damage, the other driver apparently told him he had a gun so Jesús didn't press him for insurance info. The damage wasn't too bad, but we felt really awful about it since his taxi was brand new. When we got to the hotel, we tipped him generously but felt we couldn't make up for what he'd have to pay to get his taxi fixed. 

Enchiladas and Puebla Tunnel (right)

Once in the hotel, an elegant boutique inn in the heart of Puebla's historic district, we settled in for lunch at the restaurant as we were too early for check-in. We were stunned by not only how beautiful the interior of the hotel and restaurant were, but how great the food was. Definitely not your usual hotel restaurant fare. We each ordered a plate of enchiladas with three sauces, green, red, and mole. The sauces weren't exactly traditional, rather an upscale version of each and mind-blowingly good. Shortly after we finished lunch, the room was ready. We walked in to find a warm, inviting space - even sexy if you want to know the truth in the classiest possible way, with high ceilings, subtle chandeliers that kept the light low, a king-sized bed, and...a bathtub in the room! The bathroom had a rain shower and a heated floor. Oh my god, we so needed to be warm after a week of cold indoors and out. Later that day, we wandered to the Zócalo, as the center of the historic district is called in every major city, and saw the cathedral and the beautiful park next to it. We were determined to find the arts district but weren't able to pinpoint it before we got distracted by a nice restaurant where we had a version of Puebla's famous sandwiches: cemitas - various fillings on a crunchy bun. After that, we witnessed a Christmas light show on the side of one of the buildings in the Zócalo, then went back to the hotel for a delicious sleep. The next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast at the hotel, we were determined to find the parts of the city we had missed the night before so, like good tourists, we we hopped on a tour bus of old neighborhoods. We saw all that we had missed the night before, and got a good dose of the history of Puebla - even walked through an underground tunnel that the Mexicans used to defeat the French in the battle of Cinco de Mayo.  We had lunch at a marketplace because we wanted to try the more traditional mole. It was good, but, honestly, not as good as the hotel's. Later, after a rest, we went out and explored those same neighborhoods again, this time on foot, and bought some artisanal products in various street markets around town. We finished our day with more cemitas, this time at a more down-to-earth joint.

Zócalo Park & Sights Around Puebla

On our last day in Puebla, we toured the Museo Amparo (museum of refuge) and saw the most amazing collection of pre-Columbian and modern art, all in the same building. It was one of our favorite things about Puebla, which, apparently, has tons of great museums. We'll have to save them for another trip, but if you're looking for a destination in Mexico, Puebla should be high on your list. Maybe just one down from Oaxaca. 

After one run-in with a dishonest Uber driver, we finally found another to take us to Mexico City. It was a beautiful drive through mountains on a winding road while listening to the driver's choice of classic rock - somehow fitting. 

When we hit Mexico City, we ground to a halt in the general traffic jam that rules that city at most hours of the day, especially during the holiday season, and were in it for an hour and a half before we finally reached the Air B and B that a friend (Daiset) had let us use for free in the extremely hip Roma Norte section of town. Once we regrouped, we caught another Uber to meet Cecilia at a Sushi restaurant in a part of town about half an hour away. Seeing her and just chatting the evening away was the best. 

(The five photos in this section are at the Museo Amparo.)

The next morning, after a walk around that gorgeous neighborhood, we caught an Uber to the airport. The flight was uneventful and Susan and my brother-in-law met us in Tijuana right on time. We had another fun evening with them, then set out for Tucson in the Prius fairly early the next morning. It was raining, and the GPS led us an odd way, which took more time, but probably had us avoiding the mountain pass between San Diego and Tucson. About 3 hours from Tucson, the rain increased to the point of a deluge, the road and surrounding desert flooding, and lightning and thunder crashing all around. I looked on the map for a place to pull off and saw what might have been a town about three miles from us. It turned out to be a truck stop. We pulled in and made a run for the door. As soon as we entered, soaking wet, the lights went out. People were milling around wondering what to do as water seeped in under the door. Finally, the employees announced they had to close and, so, after begging a bottle of water from them (as there was no way to pay) Jon and I resolved to possibly spending the night in the car. Yet, about 20 minutes later, the rain let up enough to allow us continue on. We cranked the Songs to Sing Out Loud in the Car playlist at full volume and sang like two idiots until we got to my mom's house. The seven-hour trip ended up being eleven and a half. 

My story ends with the five blissful days we spent at my mom's in Tucson (photo left) with Josh, Ruth, Ruth's mom Janet, my nephew Tristan, and Jon, all of us in perfect harmony: taking long desert walks, cooking, and enjoying ourselves every minute. Yes, we still had a three-day journey back to Portland, but it was easy and even fun. (Photos below - Central CA.)

The question remains: does Tepa still have the hold on us that it did? I'm afraid so. I wished to God I hadn't had to leave all those dear people behind again. We realized that, if we go again, it will have to be for a longer time, and we'd need a place to stay more suited to our spoiled American sensibilities. Besides, we can't kick Anna and her family out of their house for so long. That is our next challenge but it's a ways off. All in all, it's nice to be home again. 

Final Farewell

This will be my last post, as we leave tomorrow. At first, it seemed we had all the time in the world here, and then it flew by so fast it took my breath away. My heart is heavy with the goodbyes, but full with the thought of seeing home and loved ones. We went through a transition as of late, and I think I can speak for both me and Jon in this. As we started to adjust to the fact, sometime in April, that we had less than two months left, we began to accept the inevitable. This entailed starting to pack. Yes, even as early as April. After we got back from Oaxaca, we took one big suitcase down from the shelf and slowly began adding things we wouldn't need here anymore, like winter clothes, and some of the items we'd been collecting to bring home for ourselves and for gifts. That sort of made it official. 

Then we relaxed into some of the activities we had planned for the spring. School started back up after Holy Week - sort of - meaning I didn't do much teaching in April since teachers were giving evaluations during the second week, and in the third and fourth any students who didn't have exams or work to complete had the time off. The teachers not so much, but there wasn't a lot for me to do. I attended a meeting or two, offered time for folks to come chat with me in English in the office, and tried to keep my writing workshop going. I'm afraid to say that was a bust. Carolina, the person who ran the workshop with me, got super busy, and, since most of the participants were her students, they were occupied with all the tasks she had for them. And so I finally decided that those who wanted credit for the workshop needed to submit their projects to me, and I would evaluate them one on one. Here is a link to the blog I created to showcase those works. Click on the links of writers' names on the right to see all the projects. I did my best to translate most into English, hopefully without losing the essence. There are not as many as I'd hoped, but those I received gave me a clear view into the female, Mexican, literary voice in this region. That voice is very connected to home, family, and friends. Even Carolina, a Ph.D. in Chemistry and one of the most brilliant people I know, for her contribution, wrote a small book of recipes, translated into English by me, and which will eventually include the hñahñu translation as well. In other words, it's a work in progress. 

Some of our dearest friends here - a
beautiful and loving family. 

In general, the submissions were quite moving. One young woman wrote about losing a baby, another wrote a memoir devoted to her small child, another a funny sort of gossip column about her and her friends, and yet another wrote the beautiful tribute to her deceased mother that I've spoken of before. Another began keeping a diary, but her entries were too personal to share. I've included the note she wrote, in which she talks about what it meant to her to have the opportunity to express herself like she never has before. To me, these projects indicate that home and community are of greatest interest to the women here, and I honor that. This differs substantially from what well-established Mexican female writers are publishing right now - much of which is focused on the border and other difficult issues taking place in Mexico. I appreciate that the women I've been able to connect with in this region are not looking so far afield. They are concerned with the love and safety of those around them. 

Before I share some of those other spring activities I mentioned, I want to talk a bit about Mexico and the realities of life here. I tend to enthuse about all that is wonderful, but it's important to remember the hard things as well. I have mentioned some of these topics before, but to go into more detail... 

Many children work - and I mean little children. I don't know if there are laws against it here, but if there are, they are not enforced. For instance, there are two small boys who strum guitars - without actually knowing how to play them - at the traffic light that connects the road to the university with a highway. It's a big, dangerous intersection, and they're out there all day, trying to collect a peso or two from the cars that stop at the light. I think their mother or older sister keeps an eye on them by selling candy. Other children work in the daily marketplace or the Sunday street market with their parents, learning how to loudly hawk their wares. Some of them, teenagers, are my students. They're making a living; that's ok. But the really young ones...are they in school? Definitely not the boys playing guitar at the traffic light. 

And the dogs. So many dogs. They wander the street all day, laying down anywhere they please in the heat, completely collapsed. Some clearly belong to someone somewhere, others are strays, especially the ones at the university. It's so sad to see a skinny mama dog, teats full, trying to find a meal. I wish they were at least spayed and neutered but most are not. You really gotta learn to harden yourself against it or you'd be feeding dogs all day and night, and making plenty of canine friends. They are very cute and sweet - not a one is aggressive - and I wish I could take them all home. 

Many of the taxi drivers, with grand biblical names like Melquíades, Ismael, and Jesús, speak of their experiences of having worked in the States: of pesticide poisoning from working in the fields, long separations from families, and the humiliation of being deported. Still, many would risk it again because the money is so much more than they can make in Mexico, driving a taxi or doing anything else. 

The poverty: it's easy to turn a blind eye to it, but many homes here are hovels or shacks. There are a lot of places sort of half-finished - even the nicer ones. So, while there are some magnificent homes and haciendas here and there, there are often little tumbled-down houses right next to them. Many people eke out a living however they can - often with more than one endeavor. The lucky ones have a stall in the market - I don't know how they acquired them - maybe they are passed on one generation to the next like the houses. The really lucky ones have an actual storefront, though they close at all kinds of odd hours. One thing is for certain, most people work their butts off day and night, and yet they find the time for plenty of celebration, and are filled with a love of life that is contagious. 

Hazards: holes in the sidewalks - some actual pits - and endless cut-outs for driveways that can be as much as a two-foot drop, overhead awnings that hang low, electrical boxes that jut out from walls at about head height, piles of gravel in the streets, unprotected construction sites: things that in the U.S. would be lawsuits waiting to happen. Here, you better just be careful because no one is going to pay for injuries incurred.

Cooking With Squash Flowers

Food: It's pretty cheap, at least from our perspective. You can get a couple dozen delicious, freshly-made corn tortillas for about 50 cents. There are tons of tortillerías, where the work is hot and hard, the tortilleras on their feet all day, but it's probably fairly lucrative as people buy them continuously. I thought the tortillas were a good, inexpensive source of nutrition for poor families until Carolina pointed out that if you have a family of six, you need at least sixty tortillas a day, which comes out to a little less than three bucks. That doesn't sound like much, but if you only make ten bucks a day, that's a lot of your budget going to food, and it's definitely not all the food you'll need. That's one reason people here rely on what grows naturally like nopal cactuses (prickly pear), squash blossoms, the malva plant, and the flowers of the maguey (agave), also home to small worms called chinicuiles that are much sought-after. Folks also eat crickets, grasshoppers, and ant eggs, which are delicious. I've tried the grasshoppers, but not the worms - I just can't. This is only a fraction of the local produce that comes directly from the uncultivated soil, and people in this region have been living off it for millennia. 

Our house: to have hot water we must turn on the boiler and light the pilot every morning. We turn it off after we shower so as to not waste gas. As a result, we do not have hot water all day on demand. And to have water at all, we need to turn on the pump a couple of times a day, but even that doesn't always do it. In general, the plumbing is iffy. Many of the lightbulb sockets don't work. The floor tiles are stained and a little uneven. The kitchen sink just sits on a metal stand. It's freezing downstairs in the winter, and hot upstairs in the summer. There is no water pressure. The occasional scorpion wanders in. 

Health: we both feel much healthier here than in the States. We often walk at least 5 miles a day and are feeling really fit. That said, we've both been violently sick to our stomachs more than once - obviously something we ate that wasn't well washed or that contained something we couldn't tolerate. Also, we had COVID in October for the first, and hopefully last, time. People here seem to age more quickly than in the States, and those our age seem older than us. Many people don't get vaccinated and diseases like Polio are still a thing.

The Beautiful Valle del Mezquital

This region: I believe I've mentioned it is called El Valle del Mezquital, or The Mezquital Valley, which covers about 2,700 square miles, and encompasses many small and larger towns. Though it is a fairly poor region, there are people who have thrived and gotten rich here, as people do everywhere, and in some areas, like Tepa, as I've mentioned, it's a fairly educated population. It is beautiful - not beautiful like the rolling hills of Tuscany, or the fields of France - not like the soaring Alps or Rockies, or the wonders of Asia, or the prairies with their amber waves of grain. It's partially high desert, partially irrigated fields of corn and other crops, emerald green under the intense sky. There are dramatic rock formations and lots of natural hot springs. It's out of the way and not well known by tourists, but it's a place I have come to cherish. It's rough and it's scrappy but stuffed full of history and the indigenous Otomí cultures that encompass many sub-cultures, especially that of the hñahñu. Everyone here knows a few words of the language, especially the greeting of Good Morning: Axajua! 

The green part is the state of Hidalgo and the
brown indicates where in Hidalgo the 
Valle del Mezquital is located.

And now for the fun stuff we've done in the past month or so:

We went to another magical town, called Mineral del Chico, in the mountains above Pachuca. Now, we've been to all three magical towns in Hidalgo. The pictures speak for themselves.

Mineral del Chico

Cecilia came to visit again, to do one of her sensational, motivational talks for the staff and friends of the fancy restaurant here, commissioned by the owner. We can't get enough of spending time with her though we only had her for 24 hours. 

Jon at Tlaco

Tlaco

For our anniversary we went to a place called Tlaco, where you can enjoy hot, naturally occurring mineral pools, another gem of the Valle del Mezquital. It's on the road to Ixmiquilpan, the last big town before Las Grutas de Tolontango, which I wrote about previously. That whole area is full of these hot springs, some more beautiful than others though Tolantongo and Tlaco are among the best. It was about a month ago that we traveled to Ixmiquilpan just to go to the tianguis - street market - because we were looking for a tablecloth and were told they had the best artisanal products there.  They don't, and we didn't find one. However, the trip back, via Actopan, was simply spectacular and now I'm glad we took the long journey with no resulting tablecloth because we got to see more of the glory of the valley.

Speaking of Actopan, on the American Mother's Day (because Mexico's is the 10th), we went to find some boots for me, as we knew of a shop there. I decided against the boots, but we ate at our favorite place in that town, El Itacate, a restaurant that features local and indigenous specialties like the foods I mentioned above. Jon even had a cocktail made of cactus fruit and mezcal, and we shared a gordita with escamol, or ant eggs. Everything was so, so, good. 

There was a huge parade in Tepa on May 16th, wherein all the teachers and students from every institution in town, including the retired professors, marched to celebrate Teacher's Day, which was the day before. Tepa's unofficial slogan is "Tepatepec, the Cradle of Education," which is completely apt. I took part in the parade, very impressed and inspired by the respect this place shows for educators. There were also dinners for the teachers two days in a row, and, at the one I attended, we were treated to wonderful Mariachis. When there are Mariachis at a party, you know it's a real party. 

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Lining Up for the Parade

On the 19th we went to a Charreada, basically a rodeo, in a huge horse arena here in Tepa. We thought there would be more pageantry, but it was really just a skills competition for local horsemen and women. Not that fascinating to us, but a valuable cultural experience. 

On the 20th, we threw a party for our friends here, to thank them for their friendship, generosity, and love. Our neighbors, also our good friends, helped us organize it, and a great time was had by all. 

On the 25th, taxi driver Jesús drove us into the mountains above Actopan to see the rock formations known as Los Frailes (the friars) up close. It was a gorgeous drive into forested peaks, topped by those amazing crags. Briefly, here's the sexy legend of Los Frailes, and another cluster of rock formations several miles off called Las Monjas (the nuns): A group of friars was traveling from the convent in Actopan to Mineral del Chico. A group of nuns was traveling from Mineral del Chico to Actopan. When the two groups met in the mountains, they indulged in some illicit activity. As a result, God turned them to stone, and charged them to watch over the Valle del Mezquital for all eternity. Uy.

At El Itacate - the hñahñu word for food

Getting back to our day: Jesús was so kind and attentive, explaining more interesting facts about the area, and finally delivering us to a gem of a lake, nestled into a small valley, just past the tiny town of San Jerónimo. We took a brief hike around the lake, enjoying the fresh mountain air. He then took us by his house where he gave Jon some crystals he had collected over the years, as they are both avid rock collectors. Sure, we paid him for his time and the ride, but there is no repaying such kindness. We vowed to keep in touch via Whatsapp - another friend from Hidalgo. Jon and I ended the morning with a delicious lunch at El Itacate. 

Our last Friday in town we had dinner with a couple we met at the Sunday tianguis several months ago, selling their wares of used clothing and tools. The evening they came over we feasted together on chicken with green mole, and lasagna - a combination that strangely worked. The two of them live a humble life but are so full of spirit and humor. When we'd come upon their little stall, we'd sometimes buy a few things and she and I would chat and laugh. She was so generous, always wanting to give things away to us. They are both treasures of the Otomí bloodline, lovely people who have become good friends.

The Daily Marketplace

Over the same weekend, Tepa came alive with a fair, complete with rides, and booths selling candy, pan dulce, jewelry, toys and more. On Sunday, the tianguis expanded around the fair, which had taken over the center of town. People come from the surrounding area for the tianguis every week, but the fair brought more folks streaming in. The celebration culminated in the anniversary of the daily marketplace, which is today, May 31st, complete with Mariachis, of course. The building has recently been renovated and beautified, and it's one of my favorite places, where we've gotten to know many of the vendors. 

Universidad Politécnica Francisco I. Madero

Monday, a woman who participated in my writing workshop virtually, Daiset, came on a last-minute visit with her partner Rina from Mexico City. It was a joy to meet them both in person, in particular Daiset because she and I had clicked from our first zoom call, and, in the interim, she has written some amazing stuff. Check out that blog link above to see only a small sample of her brilliance. 

Tuesday the school threw a farewell party for me - an entire catered breakfast complete with enchiladas, fruit, coffee and cake. Almost all the teachers I've worked with were there, as well as some of the administrators I've become close to. I will miss these people immensely. They are funny, smart, and extremely dedicated. I know we'll stay connected, though I almost broke down and sobbed after I said my final goodbyes and walked through the campus one last time. I've become very attached to the place. 

Last night we had a dinner of tacos dorados in the marketplace with our dear friend, Arlo, and another friend who is mentoring him as he begins the process of applying for a Ph.D. What a great night of conversation and wandering through the fair in Tepa.

Today, as I post this last entry, the final thoughts I'd like to share are of the ancient and deep mystery I feel throughout Hidalgo, and particularly in the Valle del Mezquital. You can sense it in many places in Mexico, but you have to be still, to soak it in. In fact, I had to be truly immersed in this region for these entire nine months to even begin to understand it. Beneath the charming or scrappy towns, bustling cities, and semi-arid land, I hear the ancestors speaking. They tell me this place is fragile and precious; it contains the heartbeat of venerable cultures that inform the way the population lives today; it needs to be preserved and honored; it possesses an enduring and majestic history that has produced a great and noble people. The culture has gotten under my skin, and the people have touched my heart beyond compare. I will be back - we will back. Until then, I will carry this place and its people in my heart. Adios Tepa, adios Valle del Mezquital, adios Hidalgo, adios Mexico. Te adoro. 

Los Frailes

Love Letter to Tepa

The daily marketplace - photo credit: El Morro de las fotos

Dear Tepa,

How can I find the words to thank you for all you've been to me, to us, these past eight months? When I first found out I was going to be placed in Tepatepec, Hidalgo, I was a little confounded. I immediately looked you up on the map to find that you barely existed there. I discovered a few photos, and you looked...cute, but very small, and very rural. So I visited you on Google Earth, and with Jon, roamed along your streets to see...yes, a very small and quiet town - clean though, and rather colorful - with a sweet little plaza in the middle and a very pretty church. 

Tianguis day

Nothing could have prepared us for the reality of how lovely you were. That first week we were staying at a small house on the university campus so we had to come to you to get supplies by walking that mile and a half, or taking the Combi. The first day we visited, we were pleased to find that you offered plenty of shops and one or two small grocery stores where we could get what we needed. The second time we came, we were met with an explosion of activity and color in the form of your Sunday street market - or tianguis. This was probably the first moment we fell in love with you. Everything was so fascinating, so alive - the people so friendly. 

The walk to school

Then, after we spent a couple of weeks in the misery that was nearby Mixquiahuala, we definitely realized how special you were and how important it was going to be to find a house within your environs and not in one of the other towns 20 or so minutes away that were, honestly, not so special. We were lucky to find our little house right near your town center, though it needed a lot of TLC, furniture, dishes and such, and our own artwork - all of it a labor of love. And all the while, we were exploring what you had to offer, feeling more and more grateful to know you. 

We were also surprised to learn, both through experience and word of mouth, that you are a progressive place, an open-minded community that is accepting of all. We wondered why such would be the case in this out-of-the-way rural town until we were told that you are a community of teachers. It makes sense with the nearby university, but, I mean, generations of teachers  - because the university was once a college that taught teachers. This is why your people have a fairly high education level in general, and why one finds so many deep thinkers here. This fact was made all the more clear to me one day when I witnessed a solemn parade of hundreds of middle-aged to older people, walking through the streets all dressed in white shirts and navy slacks or skirts. People on the sidewalk stood in deference as they passed. I asked who they were and someone told me they were retired teachers. To see so many teachers, respectful and respected, honored in that way, drove it all home: this place is different. 

The original university building.
The flag represents its name: El Mexe, which
means spider in hñahñu.

As I walk around your streets now, I'm just trying to soak you in so that I never forget anything. 

Every smell: ripe mangos, tortillas on the grill, freshly baked pastries, corn stalks burning, dust, lavender, clean meat markets, chicken roasting, tacos and gorditas and chicharrones.

Every sound: music coming from everywhere, dogs barking, vendors hawking, birds chirping, cars and machinery, construction, chatter, and thunder.

Every sight: the humble buildings, the tents of the tianguis, the colorful fruits and vegetables, the shining clean, new indoor marketplace, smiles, old faces, young faces, the modern and traditional builings of the university, trees (mesquite, palm, pine, cypress, jacaranda), fields, corn, sunflowers, alfalfa, lavender, cactus, hills, and sky.

Sprouting corn in the field

Every taste:

Candies made with the natural sugar piloncillo; all the fruits, roasted plantains, fresh gorditas, tacos al Pastor, chilaquiles, enchiladas with salsa verde, freshly squeezed orange juice, the excellent steak or caesar salad from the only fancy restaurant in town, and the very best food in the world: a fresh, hot corn tortilla right off the grill. 

Every person that I've come to love: each dear friend, the families who've treated us like their own, the little man with the wide smile who sells nopales, the lovely Beni who sells meat, sweet Rocío who sells nuts, Imelda the chatty salon lady, the kind women who make and sell tortillas, Doña Aurelia who cleans our house with such care, the people at the pharmacy and in the shops, Lorena with her little health food store, the Combi drivers, the lady who sells eggs, the gentleman and his family who sell sweets, the señor cleaning the town square who greets us every morning, the orange juice guy who taught us our first word of hñahñu, the teachers and students, and so many more. 

Wall of flowers

I will miss you beyond words, but it doesn't have to be forever. We'd like to have a place to come back to if it's possible to arrange that, and in which to welcome friends who want to visit as well. At the very least, you offer a nice, clean little hotel. The point is, you are such a wonderful place from which to strike out and see some of the marvels Hidalgo has to offer: the archeological site of Tula, the town of Actópan with its beautiful monastery, the Grutas of Tolantongo, the nearby mural town of Morelos, three of your state's Magical Pueblos, and much more. I hope that people also come just to see and experience you. But I hope they don't come with the attitudes of the typical tourist, or disrespect you in any way. You are not a resort town, where people order around the help (though they shouldn't) or expect the locals to conform to their foreign ways (which is obnoxious). You deserve the ultimate deference and respect. You are fragile. You must be preserved so that the people of your community don't have to adapt to the outside world. It's our job to adapt to you. 

Beautiful, sweet, vibrant Tepatepec - please never change. You are all you need to be. 

I love you with all my heart. 

Painting of Frida and Diego on a tree.