"Ni la tierra ni las mujeres somos territorio de conquista"
Yes, the apellation 'pueblo magico', now with over 130 members has been overplayed. But you can't argue with the sense of magic in the air.
In the mountains of Morelos, Mexico lies the town of Tepoztlán, nestled up to a powerful towering mass of volcanic basalt sierra. The rocks maintain their Nahuatl names, like Tlacatepetl, Tepoztecatl, Cuaxohualoltzin, Topiltzin, Ehecatepetl, Tlahuitepetl...
To the north, over the mountains sprawls Mexico City, at 1,750 metres above sea level some 500 metres higher altitude than Tepoztlán; to the south the land slopes off past the Valle de Tepoztlan through the tierra caliente eventually to the sea and the Pacific Ocean. Now, in May, the hottest month, the temperature reaches a steady 30 - 32 degrees by day, dropping to a more comfortable 15 - 18 by night. In the dark, the warm winds pick up, whistling through the trees, freshening up the sultry air. Until the much-anticipated rains arrive around July, the heat is dry (although there was a brief, refreshing shower last night). And yet, the vegetation is mixed, the crops varied. Amazing crops grow. This is land bathed in eternal Spring. In a month or two, the landscape will explode in buds and blooms in many shades of iridescent green. The mountains will turn from hazy tan to lush verdancy.
Living on the Atlantic Ocean in a tiny village of fifty inhabitants, we have escaped for a few weeks at least to soak up the hustle and bustle of a small Mexican town on market days, and even busier weekend days when chilangos descend en masse escaping the city. It is a sharp yet refreshing contrast. In Little Lorraine at this time of year, the energy of the sea and the wild coast drive us; we love the sound of Spring peepers in the pond, waves breaking on the beach, and lobster boats leaving pre-dawn on their daily harvest mission. Here, the mountains and people energize us with their hearty embrace. Sleep is gently stirred, and sometimes rudely disturbed, by roosters crowing, dogs barking, neighbours chatting, church bells chiming, bursts of loud fireworks announcing birthdays, fiestas, and God knows what else.
The Friday organic farmers markets are a joy to behold. The produce and goods on offer are freshly picked, mixed, brewed, baked, and squeezed. Oranges, limes, figs, mangoes, wild berries, spinach, lettuce, carrots, beets, breads, cheeses, smoked meats, kombucha, fruit wine, medicinal herbs, skin creams are eagerly snatched up by happy faces, generous with bright eyes and radiant smiles. In the evening as the sun goes down, we walk around the corner to Piantao and seat ourselves outside in a charming garden looking up at the expressive rockface. Giovanni serves us fresh empanadas de carne and the best prosciutto, arugula, shaved parmesan pizza. Chef is Sergio - Sergio Pezzutti, an amazing artist who paints hauntingly evocative figures, depicting the angst of modern existence. After dinner we view his gallery with him.
wFrom Argentina, Sergio and family have settled in Tepoztlán after fifteen years in Cancun. It is good to meet such creative souls, who inspire with their flashing eyes, their warmth and vision.
Another day it was time to belly up for some authentic pre-Hispanic dishes at Cuatecomate, a busy food stand slap-bang in the middle of the daily Tepoztlán mercado. Don Hancel introduced me to the tlaltequeadas - I chose two each of the squash blossom, chaya leaves with carrot; beetroot with Castilla rose petals; hibiscus flower, celery stalks and toasted oatmeal to take home.
Tlaltaqueros at Cuatecomate market stand
A committed omnivore, I also wanted to try one of the meat dishes. On offer were iguana, armadillo, wild boar, rabbit, snake, and venison. The venison in a spicy red salsa with nopal leaves and fresh tortillas was amazing, washed down with guanaba juice. To make this a more genuine pre-hispanic dining experience, pulque would have been a more apt accompaniment. Pulque (an alcoholic beverage made from the fermented sap of the maguey plant), widely sold and consumed here in Tepoztlán, comes next. It was banished by the conquering Spaniards to make way for beer, but the spirit, like the religious symbols, could not be eradicated! Then, of course, we have the tequila and mezcal in all their varied guises....
