Pueblos Mágicos
June 29, 2015
I’m sure my announcement last year of “I’m moving to Mexico” to friends and family mostly conjured up images of beaches and beer, the stereotypical image of an American on a Mexican vacation. I have to admit, when I arrived at the beach in Chacala, Nayarit – my first adult trip to Mexico at 18 years old – I did suddenly feel like I truly understood the Corona commercials. Surreally calm waves lapping on a deserted beach adorned by a lone palm tree scattered here and there, this was the Mexico I had always had in my mind. But, something that trip at 18 also showed me was the Mexico beyond the sand and cerveza. Just two weeks in and around Tepic, Nayarit, sparked a fascination and love for a Mexico beyond the resorted coast, and up into the mountains and through the valleys.
Over the rivers and through the woods, there waits una casa de abuelita. Hospitality is a Mexican specialty like none other, and though I’ve been living in Oaxaca City, there’s been quite frequent getaways that have brought me to other gems that have been smaller in size and population, but have shined just as brilliantly. In Mexico, there’s a town designation called Pueblo Mágico. A Pueblo Mágico is “a place with symbolism, legends, history, important events, day-to-day life – in other words, ‘magic’ in its social and cultural manifestations, with great opportunities for tourism.” It’s kind of like the Historic Main Street program in the US, where something culturally significant has been recognized, and thereby efforts arise for historic preservation and restoration. There are currently 83 designated Pueblos Mágicos in Mexico, but, honestly, I have yet to visit a pueblo where I wasn’t charmed by a whole lot of magica.
Roughly geographically, Mexico is a funnel shaped country draining south, the edges flanked by two massive mountain ranges: The Sierra Madres. One is designated East (“Oriental”) and the other West (“Occidental”), but where the funnel curves, the western Sierras become Sur and the eastern, Norte. As the width of the funnel pinches, here lies Oaxaca state, with Oaxaca City nestled in the dramatically flat and narrow valley between the Sierra Norte and Sierra Sur. There are three branches of the Oaxaca Valley, each with a principle Pueblo that have their own distinct charms.
Zapotec culture is prevalent throughout all branches (and throughout the state), but the Tlacolula Valley hosts a remarkable welcoming that foreigners find easy to engage with. There are weekly markets in many pueblos, but the Tlacolula Sunday market is by far the largest. This has become one of my absolute favorite Oaxacan activities, wandering around the crowded stalls selling vegetables, livestock, housekeeping supplies, pottery, crafts, prepared food . . . almost every type of thing for sale in the Oaxaca Valley can be found at the Tlacolula market. Memorable purchases here include comals to cook on, exotic fruit like mamey and tuna, and a traditionally embroidered apron (Zapotec women wear an elaborately decorated apron as a part of their daily dress, and its style is specifically indicative of the pueblo one represents).
Down through another branch is the Valle Grande, where you’ll find Zaachila and its lively Thursday market, similar in some ways to Tlacolula’s Sunday Market, but a bit less bustling and more calm and friendly. l spent my 29th birthday here, feasting on nieve and being serenaded by a few mariachis. In the Valle Grande you can begin to rise into the Sierra Sur, where spectacular mountain pueblos await. I visited San Mateo Río Honda with friends, staying in an adobe cabaña and spending the days wandering through pine forests peppered with rivers and waterfalls, and enjoying the sunset from a terraced vista.
On another road is Sola de Vega, where we were invited to a 60th birthday bash for a friend’s mother. I spent the weekend blissfully soaked in either fresh river water or mezcal. Sola de Vega is known for some of the finest mezcal you can find, made on small palenque and sold right on the site, never in stores. We visited one where the owner showcased to us the clay pot distillation process. Drop by drop, the potent liquor ekes out, perfumed with mesquite and wet earth. We enjoyed some samples on a roof terrace overlooking the hills planted with magueys espadin and tobala, and covered with palms and pines. Later on, we cooled off swimming in a dammed river that runs through Sola de Vega and out to the coast.
Over the Sierra Sur, the mountains drop down to the Pacific Ocean, and here lie the spectacular Oaxacan beaches. Off the beaten track from the resort towns of Huatulco and Puerto Escondido (which are far and away different from anything super internationally commercialized like Acapulco or Puerto Vallarta), through mangroves and estuaries, is the thin peninsula of Chacaua.
There aren’t any hotels or resorts here, and visitors can camp for free behind any of the seafood restaurants on the sand that line the beach, as long as you purchase one delicious mariscos dinner a day. Walking along the beach are others selling seafood treats like freshly gathered oysters, or the one-of-a-kind mussel tamale; the mussels are tucked whole into the masa and expand when the tamale is cooked, and there’s a unique pleasure eating it with your hands, the masa latent with the flavor of the seafood. At night, you can swim with the stars, phosphorescent plankton glittering the water below, the dark night sky with its brilliant stars above.
Back in the Oaxaca Valley, the third branch is known as Etla, and this is the one that I’ve frequented the most in my time here. Festive Etla is the site of all-night fiesta I wrote about, partying ‘til dawn for Dia de los Muertos. On more tranquil afternoons, Soledad Etla is where my friend and Spanish teacher, Lety, has her home, where we’ve passed time exchanging recipes for mole (Lety’s specialty) and chocolate chip cookies (oven use is a bit more exotic to the traditional Mexican cook).
Many pueblos hold a kind of double name, one word in Spanish and the other in Nahuatl or another indigenous language. For instance, Soledad Etla is named to honor the virgin de la soledad, a Spanish Catholic reference, while “Etla” is the Nahuatl name for the valley. The virgin Guadalupe is one of the most revered Catholic virgins of them all, said to protect Mexico and all of Latin America. It’s then appropriate that the Etla pueblo that honors this virgin, Guadalupe Etla, has been so formidable to my Mexican experience. It is here that I spent much of my time learning and participating in building a house with natural materials (see Eco-Material World).
Building the house in Guadalupe Etla brought me to get to know a wonderful group of people, Mexicans from all over Oaxaca and other states, as well as a few volunteer foreigners. In some ways, it was a motley crew of people from diverse backgrounds, but there’s nothing like collectively moving earth with your own hands to unite people. We were brought together in Guadalupe Etla, and then further off to other far away places in Mexico; with this cheerful group I recently traveled to the hometown of one of the Eco Constructores, a designated “Pueblo Magico”: Cuetzalan, Puebla.
Perched on a mountain in the Sierra Oriental, the majestic stone edifices of Cuetzalan overlook rivers of fog flowing around jungled hills. The historic center recalls cobblestoned streets of a French country village, winding alleys flanked by stone buildings topped with terra cotta tiled roofs. Cuetzalan is one of the wettest places in Mexico, with some of the highest rates of rainfall, and everything is coated in mist or moss, from the rivers and waterfalls to the ancient pyramids or natural caverns. There were many personal firsts experienced here, from spelunking to hand-making tortillas at my friends’ family home, magica flittering through the air, seemingly carried on the variably patterned wings of the countless butterflies that also call Cuetzalan home.
Sprinkled over the Sierra Oriental peaks back through Oaxaca state are more cozy pueblos with adobe cabañas, artisanal mezcal, distinct home-cooked meals, and even multiple basketball competitions. In Guelatao, the birthplace of everyone’s favorite Mexican president, Benito Juarez, I spectated an all-day basketball tournament, a marathon of games in different divisions with teams ranging from 10-year-old girls up to the 55+ male category. It seemed like near-entire pueblos came out for the event, toting banners and balloons to cheer on their community.
Benito Juarez is sometimes considered Mexico’s Abraham Lincoln: a generally agreed upon “good” leader who came from a humble background in an isolated rural area of the country. I’m sure Guelatao has changed considerably since the time Juarez grew up here, but it still seems quite remote, a world away from the countless other pueblos and cities of Mexico. Truth be told, it seemed like a remarkably unremarkable pueblo, unique but not necessarily more special than any other I had visited. Apparently, the magic it takes to make a great leader such as Juarez can come from anywhere in Mexico, as one is always bound to find beauty and inspiration in every corner of this land.