TAPALPA CHARACTER (S)

This is my third post about Tapalpa. Our fourth visit there. This time we went to escape the Ajijic heat. We were not disappointed. 81 is not as hot there somehow. Our visit took on a new “character” this time since we had our pup Tumi with us. AND since we were the first visitors to a new rental listing on the quieter end of town.

The word “character” has numerous meanings according to the web. In this case we’ll consider it “a distinctive trait, quality, or attribute”, “of or relating to one’s character”, but also “a distinguishing feature”. Let’s take a look.

The character of our rental charmed me at first. If I looked past the broken doors, construction materials, dismantled hot tub, etc. etc. My, what it must have been 154 years ago! (A wall plaque dedicates the original structure in 1867.) And it’s much quieter there. An occasional dog bark, or marching band or political announcement. But night time is quiet. I relished it. As long as I stuck to “the path” through the two story partially dismantled, partially remodeled structure, the center that holds it together, it was OK to be there, at least temporarily. Tumi was satisfied with the yard out back, even though he had to pick his way around boards and brush. Ben took on the morning task of firing up the wood stove to take the chill off. Upstairs the bedroom (great bed!) adjoins a private steam room/shower to warm us up before we headed downstairs. There’s no sneaking around upstairs. You can’t miss the broken, creaky beaded pine flooring with holes in it at the doorway. Is this safe? We’re tired. We adapt.

Once we established a routine we took off to join Elena for a tour of her family’s land. Once a professional “ballet folklorico” dancer living in Mexico City with her architect husband, Elena has come home “because I LOVE nature!”. We wandered past her family barn, authentic adobe (over 200 years old), past the milk cows, up the mountainside to the wide vista at the top. But only after stopping halfway up for a snack of veggies, Tajin (a delicious blend of mild dried chilis, dried lemon peel and salt) and lime. Complete with stools for Ben and I to sit on, being almost twice Elena’s age. She thought of everything. We talked about so many different things. Her English is near perfect, though she apologizes, as any polite Mexican would, she explains. Her smile, her energy, her “joie de vie”, in Spanish “alegría de la vida“, is strikingly evident. We waved goodbye, happy to have met her.

The next day we visited Gaby at her tiny corner restaurant “La Cuachala” where she and her mujeres cook up the best regional “fast food” in town. We discovered her place 2 years ago and head for it as quickly as possible anytime we’re in town. The classic Mexican brown clay pots painted with small yellow flowers and stacked on matching pedestals are filled to the brim (if you’re early enough) with hot, spicy, delicious meat and vegetable fillings for tacos and fajitas. The familiar and satisfying slap, slap of handmade deep yellow corn tortillas greets you at the door. Salsas sit in small brown bowls in front, just under the new (to us) plexiglass shield separating us from the kitchen. But beyond the smell and taste of the food what drew us in was the wide smile Gaby gave us as we wandered in tentatively. I showed her a picture from 2 years ago, taken with her daughter Gaby and the smile grew even bigger. She is calm, poised, and patient. She doesn’t mind that I struggle with Spanish. She smiles and gently corrects me when needed, replying in broken English when she can. We ate there 4 times during the week and brought leftovers back to Ajijic. We hated to leave this little corner of delights. We look forward to seeing her again.

Two years ago, wandering the streets looking for treasures, we stumbled on a little alleyway with rather more “exotic” shops than the other streets, eventually coming to a sign announcing the premises as “La Sandunga Sabe: Cocina Oaxaqueña” restaurante. Oaxaca is widely known for its amazing cuisine so I was excited! In Tapalpa?

And so we met Martín and Cristina. The small restaurant of about 8 tables greets you with graffiti walls bracketed by pictures of iconic Frida Kahlo, accompanied by words of wisdom written in Spanish. Martín is full of energy, racing back and forth between the minuscule kitchen and the entrance to greet a neighbor who announced that his dog Luna, whom he’s just “shooed” home, was missing (then found). As I stepped back to speak with him I saw the cardboard box with a small white perrotito (puppy) and its parents, just before the petite Mexican niña arrived to whisk the pup away. Martín is obviously a part of the neighborhood. “Why did you leave Oaxaca?” I asked. “It was the elections.” I left it at that.

The food was amazing. Unlike anything I’d had anywhere since we visited Oaxaca 2 years ago. Tlayudas stuffed with meat, onions & Oaxacan cheese. Oval shaped memelitas sprinkled with veggies, meat and cheese, strong café de olla straight from the brown clay pot, steeped with cinnamon and a little sugar (cone shaped piloncillo) – muy rico! – and chocolate caliente foamed to the brim. Yum! (I was so excited I forgot to take pictures!)

Martín has few customers. Most of the tourists in Tapalpa are from Guadalajara with little interest in cocina reginal Oaxaqueña, regional cooking of Oaxaca. He’s thinking of moving to Chapala. “Vamos! Vamos!” I shouted. Come on! Come on! We hope to see him there, though it’s lovely to find him tucked away in this quaint little corner of Tapalpa.

After a week there, topped off by a night of nearby band music and cohetes (fireworks), we decided we were done. Ready to head home. A day earlier than planned. I was proud of us, for taking it in stride, for finding ways to enjoy our crazy accommodations. Sitting in the living room on the old Mexican couch that morning, I realized how grounded I felt. How even in the midst of this deconstructed mess the stone, tile, wood stove, huge carved wooden supports (vigas), even the dark wooden entry doors with their sturdy thick 7″ metal key, combined with the knowledge that the structure is still standing after 154 years in this beautiful little mountain village, gave me a sense of solidity and strength. Ironic. But combined with the lovely character of the people and the town, twisting our way down the mountain I knew that we had just had another wonderful Mexican adventure!