Warm memories of Mexico

It’s been cold this winter. Polar vortex cold. So when I stepped into Nostalgia Latin Market on Kerr street, it was a wee escape to the tropics. Two women were talking in Spanish. Shelves full of Mexican canned good, spices, dried chiles, and other interesting looking products. Fresh made tamales cooling in a basket. 

I left with some chicken tamales and salsa verde, and knew I would return. On another visit I started talking to the convivial owner. He tells me more about some of the unique Latin and Mexican products he stocks. They offer cooking lessons too. I ask him where he grew up. “Guadalajara, though I spent a lot of time in Puerta Vallarta”. We both look to the grey scene outside the window. I know what I am thinking, and then he says it: “It’s about this time of year when I’d like to go back.” 

Buena idea!

He asked me if I had visited Mexico. I admitted very little, mainly two all inclusive trips to the Maya Riviera. Almost as an afterthought I remembered my trips to Puebla. “Ah, Puebla,” he says. “These table cloths are from Puebla.” The beautifully woven cloths are a myriad of bright colours: deep red, fuchsia, orange, bright yellow. They give the space a festive vibe.

I left the colourful little oasis feeling energized … and with a can of tomatillos (green tomatoes), corn tortillas and queso cotija (a Mexican cheese similar to feta) for the Chicken Chile Verde I made a couple days later. 

Inspired by my trip to Mexico on Kerr street, I started searching for photos from my trips.

My first visit was in 1987. My Dad took my brother and I to Akumal on the Mayan Riviera. We biked along a largely undeveloped coast and snorkelled with brilliant coloured tropical fish.

After a long hot bus ride through the jungle we arrived at the ancient Mayan city of Chitzén Itzá. The sun was beating down with such force Dad bought us straw hats for our tour of the extensive grounds. My brother and I were fascinated with the brutal ball sport where the players had to shoot a hard rubber ball into an impossibly small hole (up high!) while not letting the ball touch the ground  (without using your hands!). If I recall, whether you were captain of the winning or losing team, it was an honour to be sacrificed to the Gods at the end of the game.

We also visited the Mayan ruins of coastal Tulum, cooled by ocean breezes. I don’t recall much from our tour but I enjoyed haggling at the market. I still have the bracelet I bought. It’s decorated with cut pieces of luminescent shells. I came back from that first trip to Mexico and immediately swapped my high school computer class for Spanish class. No regrets there!  (Despite the dour look on my face, I really enjoyed the trip, I was not a sparkly teenager. It is nice to see my brother’s smiles!) 

When I was planning a beach vacation with my husband and daughter 30 years later, I picked Akumal again. Instead of Mayan ruins, we put on hard hats to visit the world of underground cenotes, exploring sinkholes and caves with stalactites, and floating in the silent waters. But mostly we spent the days alternating between fitness classes, the swimming pool, beach, and devouring guacamole.

My two trips to Puebla in 2003 were altogether different. Puebla is a beautiful city with colonial buildings and fine gastronomy but I was not there for sightseeing. It was for work. Puebla was the host city for negotiations of a free trade agreement of the Americas. It would have been like NAFTA with all 34 nations in the Americas – spanning  from Canada to Argentina to the Caribbean. An huge collaborative effort. 

My commute to the office was a scenic walk along a cobbled street. There I joined other delegates in a windowless boardroom. We sat around tables set up in the shape of a large rectangle so we were facing one another, our country name on a placard in front of us. Two screens displayed the draft text of our chapter in English and Spanish. It was edited simultaneously as we agreed on new wording or submitted text for discussion. It was one of the best projects I ever had. Though tedious at times as we debated the meaning of every word and phrase, I loved being part of the collective process.

On my first visit to Puebla, some thoughtful group organizer arranged a visit to some local sites.  We climbed down a spiral green metal staircase into the centre of a hollowed out geyser (which from the outside looked like a pile of rocks) and toured the archeological site Cholula. Much of the site was not visible above ground, the great pyramid partially hidden in a hill, other ancient buildings embedded in the earth and dark tunnels lurking underground. I also had my first taste of mole in Puebla, that dark and complex sauce made from a crazy number of spices, chiles and chocolate.

My second visit was in August 2003. I only remember the date because it coincided with the big Eastern seaboard blackout (Ottawa was without power for several days).

I remember our final day of negotiations. When the Chair arrived in the morning, she looked at all of us around the negotiating table and joked she was impressed everyone made it. It was a late night, one of the few I got swept into the Latin beat of the night. I even ‘danced’ the meringue (and by danced I mean expertly led around in quick circles by someone who knew how to dance). It was a joyful night. Celebratory even. We had made good progress during the week. The text was far from completion but we were headed in the right direction. 

We didn’t know it would be the last time we would see each other. The whole negotiating process sadly came to a halt by the end of 2003. The ambitious agreement never to be.

I am glad I went out that night in Puebla. 

These are memories I haven’t thought about in a very long time. Whenever I look back on past travels I always feel grateful for the experiences. They are enriching in different ways, ways I am not always aware of at the time. 

I would love to visit more of Mexico someday. In the meantime, I am lucky I can return to the vibrant Latin grocery store only a few kilometres away. Especially on a chilly winter day.