Bumps on the Road in Oaxaca

Oaxaca -- I know it's a lousy photo, but it's the only one I managed to grab in the situation.

I went on the road a couple of weeks ago, leaving Mérida by bus and passing through Campeche, Tabasco and Chiapas. There I changed buses and went on to Oaxaca, where I spent time with my friend Victoria in Juchitán.

One day we decided to drive through Tehuantepec and up to Salina Cruz, about an hour away, for a seafood lunch. We were nearing the port when abruptly traffic on our side of the four-lane highway was stopped behind several large tanker trucks blocking both lanes of the road. At least a hundred vehicles were inextricably caught in a jam.

People from vehicles ahead began jumping out and waving at the rest to back up, and started chaotically shuttling cars, making three-point turns and driving back down our side of the divided highway, against traffic. Accustomed to the tactics of civil disobedience in the area, they didn't want to waste time and chance getting stuck in the blockade. The backed-up traffic and milling people, what we'd first thought was an accident, was in fact una manifestación, a demonstration, and everyone not involved wanted to get out of the area as quickly as possible. We maneuvered the car and followed the others, with lots of flashing of headlights and honking of horns, back against traffic flow.

We drove with the rest onto unpaved side roads in an improvised bypass around the blocked area. At one point a man had placed a log in the rutted dirt track, apparently trying to charge a toll. Choking on dust, we tail-gated a pickup as it blew right past the guy. Eventually we emerged again onto the highway, just beyond the far end of the roadblock, and continued on our way to the beach.

Suddenly a similar sight loomed ahead. Large rocks and more large trucks in the highway formed another blockade, this time with a good-sized crowd milling around. We pulled into a U-turn niche in the median and sought advice from some men standing there. "We just want to go down to the restaurants on the beach," Victoria said with a calm smile. They nodded and pointed us to a side road that took us away from the highway and down to the sand. "As long as you don't want to head down the highway," they said.

On the way home, we had similar adventures as we again passed the blocked areas. Interestingly, no police were visible at any time during the afternoon. One friend said it was probably a move on part of the government to avoid any excuse for a confrontation, given recent history in the region, but it left ordinary folks who happened to be caught in the situation in a no-man's land as far as law-enforcement was concerned. However, the whole situation seemed calm, with volunteers directing traffic, and the general public taking the situation in stride.

Even so, I decided to ignore my instincts as a one-time photojournalist, which hollered at me from within to record this event. I left the camera out of sight. No sense getting more involved than I wanted to. Taking out a camera meant running a risk that someone might think I was taking pictures that could be used by authorities to identify participants. I grabbed the shot above as we sped by one of the roadblocks, with the milling crowds safely behind. There was little point in messing with an otherwise pleasurable and interesting day. We had a very nice, long lunch and I dipped my big toe in the Pacific Ocean here in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.

We later learned the demonstrations were organized by local fishermen who are in conflict with Pemex, the Mexican national oil company, which has a large tanker-loading operation in Salina Cruz.

There were more bumps in the road on this trip, but I'll save them for a future post on traveling by bus in Mexico.

Living Here: The Power of Relationships

One of the most satisfying aspects of Mexican culture, to those integrated enough to appreciate it, is the nature and power of personal relationships. A while ago I was strongly reminded of this.

One rainy afternoon I was far from home, riding a combi van in the countryside, when I received a desperate call. "I have been accused of something terrible. This could land me in prison. Please come help."

That was all he said. It could have been the weak cell phone connection, but it sounded as if my good friend Juan may have been crying. Then I heard background noises and abruptly the call was disconnected.

I had an idea of what the issue was because Juan recently had mentioned a very uncomfortable situation in which he had haplessly and unavoidably become involved. The accusation against my kind, honest and gentle friend was ludicrous; it appeared he was being made a scapegoat.

I had no choice. I got off the combi at the next town and boarded another that started me on an overnight journey back to Mérida.

The next day was a Friday, and soon after I arrived home, Juan and I sat down at my kitchen table to figure out what to do. It was obvious that he needed the advice of a lawyer, so I made a list of people I knew who might refer me to someone trustworthy.

On the top of my list was Diego, an attorney whom I'd gotten to know some years before when we'd been in a class together. I deeply respect Diego's integrity. I'd socialized occasionally with him and his wife back then, but to be honest had not done much to maintain the friendship over the years. So although I knew Diego was my best bet, I was a little reluctant to call him out of the blue and ask for help. But the situation was urgent. Juan needed to be informed about his rights, he needed support and a plan, and he needed these things by Monday. I rang Diego's cell number and left a message. Then I started communicating with other contacts on my list.

I had almost given up on Diego when he rang the next day. He apologized profusely for not calling me back sooner, explaining that he and his wife were out of the country and not able to check messages frequently. But he told me to call one of his associates in Mérida and gave me a cell phone number.

I called. The attorney interviewed Juan over the phone for about an hour and finally asked him, "can you come down to the office in about fifteen minutes? I'm the criminal specialist, but we've got several issues here and I want to bring in another associate."

The reception area and halls of the law office were dark, hot and stuffy. It seemed that Diego's law partner had opened up on a Saturday afternoon just for us. After we'd talked for a bit in an air-conditioned office, the other attorney arrived. They proceeded to spend two hours asking questions, discussing points of law, drafting documents and developing a strategy to help Juan resolve his problem. They were serious and professional, but also cracked the occasional joke to keep the atmosphere from getting too heavy. They put us at ease. I liked them both.

When we were wrapping up, the attorneys offered their cell phone numbers to Juan, with a reminder that he could call "24 hours a day" in case of new developments or if he had questions.

I asked if we needed to set up a billing account with the firm. Both men smiled and one said, "Oh no, you are Diego's friends. Don't worry about it." They stood, shook our hands, and as we walked out reminded Juan that they would be in touch next week.

So we'd had a two-hour meeting with a pair of good attorneys who had responded immediately to my call. They came into work on a hot Saturday afternoon to give legal advice to Juan, the friend of a friend of their friend and law associate. They had placed themselves on-call 24 - 7.

For friendship. Do not mention money.

And this is not a rare occurrence in Mexico. It is not unusual at all. In fact, the power of relationships is often what gets things done, especially in business and politics. Someone looks you in the eye and says, "You've got my support, amigo," and things start to happen.

This system not only gets things done, it deepens and strengthens relationships. I think it goes back to colonial times, when there was no body of law to protect ordinary people. People found support and a safety net in their family and social network, so these ties became extremely important. These relationships are nurtured over a lifetime. They remain crucial to this day. The workings and essential nature of these friendships are aspects of the culture which we foreigners often do not understand.

Of course this is not the end of my story. Quite possibly some day, Diego or one of his associates will ring me and say, "I wonder if you can help me out with something." And I will say, "Sure, amigo, you can count on me. I'll be right over."

This is a true story. Names and details have been altered to protect privacy. 

Food: El Rojo of Querétaro

One of the really nice things about living in Mexico is that if you like local cuisine you can eat out frequently without spending a lot of money. There is plenty of delicious food available at reasonable prices for those who know where to look. The institution of the cocina economica, budget restaurants which provide low-priced, home-cooked meals, is common throughout the country. This food ranges to excellent quality, but at the price of 25 to 50 pesos per serving (roughly two to four U.S. dollars), it's not fancy.

I enjoy eating out daily, so I have become fairly proficient at finding good food for few pesos, even when in unfamiliar areas. The general rule for finding tasty, economical food is to go to working-class neighborhoods away from high-rent districts and tourist zones.

However occasionally I find an affordable eating place that bends the rule. One of those is El Rojo, in Querétaro. I visit Querétaro fairly often, and over the past couple of years this tiny restaurant has become my very favorite budget eating place in all of Mexico.

El Rojo is a real "hole-in-the-wall," just a niche behind a door in an ancient wall, with about ten tables inside. It is located in one of the nicest neighborhoods in the centro historico, just steps from one of Querétaro's most-loved parks. Nearby are many high-profile eating establishments that charge several times the price yet may not surpass the creativity and quality of the cuisine at El Rojo.

The menu features regional fare along with Italian and Japanese dishes. The interesting part comes when the chef occasionally mixes ingredients and styles of the various cuisines.

On a recent visit, I started with a wonderful cream of chile poblano (pictured above) garnished with drops of cream and black seeds. The main dish was a pepper-style beef, served with refried beans and rice, and a salad of cucumber, carrot and tomato on a bed of lettuce, sprinkled with a very Japanese sesame-ginger dressing. This was accompanied by fresh handmade tortillas and washed down with an endlessly-refilled glass of fresh melon water.  It was a satisfying and delicious meal.

Another day, lunch started with sopa de huitlocoche, corn fungus soup. Huitlocoche is a traditional Mexican ingredient. The main plate consisted of huarache de nopal, a tender grilled whole nopal cactus leaf (instead of the traditional masa dough), covered with grilled pork, cheese, onions and cream. This came with tortillas, beans, rice, and a green salad with tomatoes and a delicious honey dressing. Guayaba juice was the drink of the day. Although it's not on the menu, they threw in a serving of rich vanilla ice cream sprinkled with fresh-ground dark-roast coffee. It was a superb lunch of traditional ingredients combined in a creative fashion.

The table coverings and napkins at El Rojo are cloth. The tableware and utensils are hefty. The ambiance is bright, eclectic and modern, and everything is scrupulously clean. The kitchen is in front; you can peek in to see what's cooking and say hello to the chef as you enter.

This is a family business. The young chef, Aaron Saavedra, is assisted by his mother, who waits tables, and an older gentleman who I have not met but who appears to be the chef's father or another relative.

It looks to me like El Rojo is only a sideline. The family's associated catering business, Dojä -- Cocina de Inspiración, which is run out of the same kitchen, boasts a large international menu. I get the impression that while catering pays the bills, El Rojo is a labor of love and perhaps a place to experiment and try out new dishes on a small but appreciative clientele.

A complete lunch, everything included, costs about what a cocina economica would charge, 50 pesos, or less than four U. S. dollars, but rarely are budget restaurants this interesting or this nice. El Rojo/Dojä is located at Avenida Vicente Guerrero #2-C, just steps from the corner of Calle Madero and shady Jardín Guerrero. El Rojo opens only for the comida, afternoon meal, at 2:00PM on weekdays, and closes when the day's two-choice menu is sold out, which is usually by around 4:00PM.

I mentioned that El Rojo is my favorite budget restaurant in Mexico. I guess I'd go one step further. It's probably my favorite restaurant regardless of price. It's well worth a visit if you find yourself in Querétaro.

Living Here: Waiting Around

Cancún Airport, Terminal 2

Cancún Airport -- I've been traveling a lot, and inevitably that means I spend time waiting around. I've found ways to minimize wait time, but occasionally am attracted by a bargain airfare that includes a less-convenient itinerary. I don't look forward to waiting, but I've found that such time isn't as heavy on my hands as it once was.

Take the trip I am in the midst of right now. Due to the nature of early-morning bus schedules and to avoid arriving late for morning flight out of Cancún, I took a bus from Mérida at midnight, arriving in Cancún around 4:00AM. This gave me some hours to kill before I needed to be at the airport.

So I did what I often do in this situation: I walked across the street from the Cancún Terminal to the Sanborn's restaurant, which is open 24 hours. After a leisurely breakfast and a long linger over coffee (which fortunately is pretty good there), I returned to the terminal and caught the half-hour shuttle to the airport.

As I write this, I still have quite a bit of time to wait, but it isn't bothering me. I watch people, walk around, read, and in this case, work on a blog post. Sometimes I find myself chatting with interesting people.

I think that living in Mexico has taught me patience, particularly with things I can't control. Waiting is something we just have to do. I try to make the best of it.

I don't believe that "time is money." It's much more valuable than money. I've also absorbed the fact that being "productive" or busy doesn't necessarily equate to virtue, so I am perfectly happy to be alone with my thoughts, or quiet my mind and drift for a little while. I don't feel like time spent waiting is "wasted" time.

An advantage of having plenty of time when traveling is that delays or occasional long lines don't bother me. I have little cause to worry about missing my flight. I can let others cut in line if they are running late. No sweat.

Passing through a busy destination like this one gives me plenty of time to observe people who are stressed, rushing around on their vacation, tensely glancing at watches and making phone calls while waiting in airport lines. I am happy to have left a lot of that way of life behind.

Cancún Bus Terminal, 4:00AM

"Good Mornin' America, How Are You?"

I had an enlightening experience in June. I was in the Baltimore/Washington, D. C. area, getting ready to head home to Yucatán with a three-day stopover in Florida on the way south, when I was told that for medical reasons I should not fly. My head was so congested and ears so plugged up that I could barely hear. The abrupt changes in pressure during plane travel would cause pain and possible damage to my hearing. I would be able to fly soon, but not in time to catch my return flight to Florida. I needed to give my medication time to clear things up.

Penn Station, Baltimore

After checking into options, I decided to take Amtrak's Silver Meteor train back to Florida, which would give my ears a few extra days to recuperate before my scheduled onward flight to Mexico.

Unexpectedly, I really enjoyed the trip.

The interesting part is that I haven't enjoyed traveling in the U.S. much in years, but generally have a good time doing so in Mexico. Sitting on the train for about 22 hours gave me plenty of time to reflect on this.

In the early afternoon I left Baltimore's old Penn Station on a local train for Washington, where I spent a few pleasant hours with my cousin Kim, who lives there. At 7:30PM the Meteor pulled out of Union Station headed for Miami, with perhaps fifteen stops along the way.

The train originates in New York. I boarded in the District of Columbia with backpack- and camera-toting tourists, families, dignified old ladies in big hats -- a diverse and cosmopolitan mix of people.

I was prepared for an endurance contest and at first my worst fears were confirmed: as a last-minute passenger I'd been reserved an aisle seat, and that was my only choice. The train was full. So much for slouching against the window and getting a few hours of decent sleep.

And my seat-mate did not make things easier. He was a young guy who, I realized after a few minutes, has some health and possibly developmental challenges. He spilled drinks on himself three times in the first couple of hours, and each event involved me getting up and standing while he pulled his huge bag out of the overhead bin, propped it up on the (my) aisle seat, and looked carefully and at length through what seemed to be all his worldly possessions for a change of clothes.

And that was just the start. The details aren't important here but I'll report that my dreams of a good sleep were not fulfilled. And through it all the guy was so very likable, apologetic and polite that it was impossible to get annoyed with him. So I patiently smiled a lot, and realized that most of the other nearby passengers, witnesses to our little dramas, were doing the same.

That's pretty much the way it went. I enjoyed the trip for a couple of reasons.

My fellow travelers and the Amtrak employees I met were nice people. It was a mellow, helpful and friendly bunch. On the train you can get up and move around, go to the cafe car, take a walk. From the windows you see small towns and peer into back yards. You can view forests, lakes and fields of the countryside. You witness happy welcomes and occasional sad goodbyes of passengers at stations along the way.

Train travel is sedate and human-scale. I liked my trip on the Silver Meteor because it shares many of these attributes with bus travel in Mexico, which I happen to enjoy and do frequently. Human contact and a sense of the country is something we miss when we travel by plane and along sterile, homogeneous interstate highway corridors in the United States.

On the train, I learned something about the country. I grew up thinking that reasoned problem-solving, respectful disagreement, civil discourse and willingness to compromise are needed for a society and a democracy like ours to function. I haven't a great deal of recent experience with life in the lower-48 United States, having spent just about all of the past thirty-eight years in Alaska and Mexico. The screaming, hate, name-calling, disinterest in facts, rudeness and raging emotionality I see on current U.S. television, talk shows and web site comments often makes me wonder if I know my country at all at this point in my life.

The people I met and the things I saw on the Silver Meteor weren't like that. I realized that despite extreme challenges and severe problems, The United States of America could be in slightly better shape than I'd thought. And it's greener and more beautiful than I've noticed in a long, long time.

Friends: Backgammon Dates

In general, I don't like to have too much on my schedule, and I manage to keep my calendar pretty flexible. I am not one of those who needs lots of events on my agenda to feel useful or happy.

Diane and a curious observer

On the other hand, it's nice to have a little structure to the weeks and a few regular events to look forward to. One of the things I do every week is play backgammon with Diane. These sessions are regular, but never routine.

Typically we select one of several venues in Mérida centro, and meet on a weekday morning for a couple of hours to drink coffee, sometimes eat something, and play. We frequent several downtown cafes and restaurants, and have been known to venture up to Progreso to play at the beach. On occasion we meet for a session in the evening. That doesn't change the action much, except that at night we trade coffee for beer.

We have played the game together weekly for more than two years, except for when one of us is out of town.

And speaking of that, in June I had a problem. For a month, Diane was care taking a waterfront home in Bacalar, Quintana Roo, a good five hours by highway from Mérida. So, addicted as I am, I took the bus to Bacalar for five days of pure backgammon, punctuated by daily swims, good meals, and some exploration in the area. Not to mention lots of hot, strong coffee in the morning and a cold beer later on, as usual.

Bacalar back yard: a spectacular backdrop for a multi-day "BG" marathon

Since backgammon is not terribly well-known in the Yucatán, we occasionally find that curious waiters, children or passersby want to watch or know more about the game. Only once in all the time we've played together has an experienced player asked to sit in on a game, and that was a European who lives in Oaxaca. He played one game with Diane, and then reluctantly returned to his family, waiting for him at another table. He was a pretty good player. We exchanged email addresses; the next time I am in his part of the country I will look him up for a game or two.

Sometimes when I am intensely involved in a particularly close match I become so engaged that my surroundings recede into the distance, and all else is forgotten for a brief time. The world is reduced to myself, Diane and the game board. Recently when this happened I was surprised that the cafe had filled with customers around us while we played, and I hadn't even noticed. When I get into the flow of backgammon this way, I know I am having a good time and my brain is getting a good workout.

Diane and I went for a period of months recently during which I hardly ever lost. I began to feel badly about it, but must admit (a bit guiltily) that I did enjoy the winning. Back when we first began playing I was years out of practice and lost most of the time. So when the winning streak started I felt that I finally was getting my game back. Diane was a good sport, though, and didn't complain much.

Then just recently the tide turned and she started kicking my behind around the block. The game is always unpredictable and always interesting. And in my mostly appointments- and schedule-free life, it's something engaging "to hang my hat on." I like that.

Blogging: Writing From Mérida

My friend Joanna van der Gracht de Rosado, author of one of my favorite blogs, Writing From Mérida, sent me an email not long ago.

Joanna had a technical problem that resulted in a large part of her blog, consisting of hundreds of posts, being inaccessible to her and lost. So, although she was able to salvage some of her old material, she is re-starting her blog at a new URL. I told her I would do what I can to help readers find her at the new address.

Joanna writes on a wide variety of topics having to do with Yucatán and Mexico. I've read interesting articles and commentary on arts and culture, history, politics and current events, issues concerning women, as well as notes about holidays,  food, family life, worthwhile causes and a host of other topics. But her posts typically revolve around aspects of writing or intercultural living.

A Canadian who some time back became a Mexican citizen, Joanna has published an interesting book, Magic Made in Mexico, which tells her story of nearly four decades living in this country. She writes honestly about the challenges she faced as a young foreign woman coming to Yucatán, meeting her husband-to-be Jorge, making a home and having a family, building a career and with Jorge founding a successful college. Along the way she has experienced successes and difficult times. From all this Joanna distilled many valuable lessons about intercultural living and making dreams come true. She has a fine way of interpreting Mexican life and culture for those of us who have less experience living here.

Joanna also is a tireless mover behind the annual Latin American Bloggers Conference, held every November somewhere in Southeast Mexico. It was through the conference that we became friends.

Even if we weren't friends I still would read Joanna's blog. It is an informative and thoughtful resource for people, particularly English-speaking foreigners, living or interested in Mexico. So by all means, if you didn't click on it above, check out Writing From Mérida now.

Living Here: Annual Storm Rehearsal

The patio in a tropical storm, 2007

We're watching the approach of tropical storm Ernesto, forecast right now to touch the continent a good distance southeast of Mérida, probably as far south as Belize, early on Wednesday.

No one is concerned at this point that Ernesto will amount to a significant emergency in Mérida. Most likely we will just have some rainy days and a bit of wind. However, Ernesto is noteworthy because it's our first real tropical storm warning of the year. At some point in the earlier stages of every hurricane season an event occurs that makes us realize that it's time to check our storm readiness. Ernesto is that take-notice event of 2012.

We did have a brief windstorm in April that brought hurricane-force gusts to Mérida, but that was an oddity, over in less than an hour, and unconnected with hurricane season, so didn't cause too much excitement about storm preparedness.

An April windstorm was too early to cause much excitement

This morning after checking the weather news, I made a new list of things to check, do, and buy.

Today I am pruning and cleaning the yard, roof and terraces of debris and objects that might blow, be damaged by wind or impede drainage. I'm also making a mental inventory of things like planters and outdoor furniture that will need to be secured in case of high winds.

Tomorrow I'll shop to bulk up the larder. I will buy mostly food that doesn't depend upon refrigeration and that can be readied and consumed, if necessary, without the use of electricity or the stove. I don't eat a lot of prepared foods, but canned tuna, hard cheese, fat-free tostadas, along with fruit and vegetables that keep well are at the top of my list. I also will make sure I have at least a week's worth of purified water on hand.

I've checked my supply of candles, matches and batteries and made a short list for the hardware store which includes spare batteries, tape, some rope and wire. I also today pulled out the sheets of plywood I salvaged some time back to protect the front door and windows. I think tomorrow I will have time to measure, cut these to size and check the fit, and then number them so they can be installed quickly some day when we have a real hurricane.

On my list for the eve of the storm, in this case Tuesday (if anything develops) is to charge the cell phone and radio, to make sure I can stay in touch if the house loses power. This is the day to check the gas level in the car and top it off, if necessary. Were a real storm getting close, this would be the day I would hang the plywood, tape glass, gather up the rags, squeegee, mop and buckets, and secure things around the property.

At that point there won't be much else to do but stay close to home and wait to see what happens.

And after this dress rehearsal, I will be mostly ready for whatever may occur during the rest of the hurricane season, which extends until the end of November.

Travel: Making Connections in Mexico City

Mexico City -- After many years traveling primarily through Cancún on trips between Mérida and the U. S., I've begun to pass more often through Mexico City. Although it can be a nail-biter, I've discovered that it has advantages.

First, when I tote up the long hours spent shuttling between Mérida and the Cancún airport, going north by first heading west through Mexico can be quite a bit quicker. Another time advantage is that you can arrive at the Mérida airport sixty to ninety minutes before flight time rather than the two to three hours officially required at Cancún.

While you will spend more time on planes when going through Mexico City, without having to take the Cancún bus, you get to your destination quicker. Even when traveling to Florida -- just across the pond from Yucatán -- the flight west to Mexico City and then back east again, waving "saludos" to the Yucatán as you fly overhead, takes perhaps five hours less than a Cancún departure if you factor in the Mérida to Cancún bus ride and longer airport waiting time.

Second, prices can be competitive. Over the winter months I found cheaper tickets going through Mexico than through Cancún, when bus fares and transfers to the Cancún airport are factored in. Summer prices are up, but I am hoping that they will slide again this fall.

The downside is that sometimes itineraries through Mexico City (on AeroMexico, for instance) leave one hour between arrival time there and the scheduled take-off of my connecting flight. Mexico City airport is large and has two terminals, so making tight connections can be hectic. I guess it is possible to ask for longer connection times, but this would negate part of the time saved by going through Mexico City.

I definitely recommend that Mérida friends heading north try Mexico City as an alternative to Cancún. However there are a couple of things to keep in mind when making a connection in Terminal 2.

The first bottleneck is security. Sometimes the lines are long.

Then there is Immigration. If you live in Mexico and have an FM2 or FM3 residency visa, you have to stop in at the Instituto Nacional de Migración (INM) module in the airport of final departure from Mexico to get your exit document stamped. The INM desk is usually efficient, but sometimes you have to wait. If you hit a long security line and then have to wait at INM, you can miss your connection. If you have a tourist visa, you've already got your paperwork (you turn it in to the airline at the departing gate or check in) and don't have to worry about this part.

On my last trip there was another wrinkle. When I arrived in Mexico City with an hour to connect, security was pretty quick. However when I got to the INM desk about 8:30AM, no one was there, the computer screens were dark, and there was nothing, no papers, no sign, and no indication that the post was even in use. An information monitor indicated that my flight was boarding. It's a long story, but after a frantic fifteen minutes I finally found someone to stamp my paperwork so I could board my plane.

The other critical factor is the timeliness of your first flight. If you arrive late into Mexico City, it may be difficult to make a tight connection. On this one all you can do is hope.

Considering all this, I still prefer the Mexico City route to Cancún and the bus. Here is what I recommend, if you decide travel from and to Mérida through Mexico:

First, if you prefer to avoid stress, are not fast, or travel with children or the elderly, find an itinerary that gives you plenty of time to make your connection in Mexico City. Two hours should be sufficient to run the gauntlet, hit the restroom and get to the gate before your flight starts boarding. You're still way ahead of the game, time wise.

If you do find yourself on an itinerary with a tight connection, minutes count. Request aisle seats in the front of the plane on your first segment and travel light so you can get out of the plane quickly.

Once out of the jet way in Mexico City, walk fast. You can gain a few minutes' advantage by quick-walking in the long hallways between your arrival gate and the security area. If it's crowded smile and say, "con permiso," and people will make way.

After passing security you have more walking to do. Do not yield to the temptation yet to go to the restroom or stop at Starbucks. First make a beeline for the Immigration desk (walk on the moving walkways) with your completed immigration form in your hand.

If you have done all this, you've done your part. When I once missed my connection, AeroMexico was nice about re booking me on the next available flight. And actually, although I spent two extra hours sitting in the airport, the trip was still shorter and more restful than the Cancún alternative.

For Mérida residents, traveling abroad through Mexico City instead of Cancún is not always the best choice, but given these considerations it definitely is worth checking into.

Wanderings: The Hills of Querétaro

A horse grazes along the edge of a cornfield, Tenasdá, Querétaro

San Ildefonso Tultepec, Querétaro -- Every summer I spend a few weeks here in rugged high country of the Municipality of Amealco, along the southern border of Mexico's Querétaro state. I come to the area to teach, but always have free time to explore and enjoy the countryside.

The weather is changeable and the air a bit thin in this place more than 2600 meters (8500 feet) above sea level. The earth is red, and during the summer rainy season the land is green. The verdant hills and mountains, fields and forests loudly call an observer's attention. However I also find myself lowering my view. Everywhere there are wonderful things at my feet.

At this time of year, dozens of species of flowers are visible along roads and trails.  Sometimes one solitary bloom is all I ever see of a particular variety.

Other types of flowers grow in vast colonies that carpet the ground with yellow, pink, red, purple and blue. The blooms may last a few days, or as long as a week or two. Later-flowering varieties replace those past their prime, so the color patterns are constantly changing.

Other flowers grow in small clusters. This is interesting country because although during this season the land can be waterlogged and muddy, the area also experiences a cool, desert-dry winter when grays and browns are the dominant colors. Cactus and other plants common to arid climates are common.

The nopal, or prickly pear cactus grows well here, and this is the season when the tunas (fruit) ripen, offering a sweet treat to passers-by willing to deal with the large nail-like spines on the leaves and tiny hairlike needles found on the tunas themselves.

I was tempted by this cluster of perfectly-ripe tunas, and picked a couple for myself and my companion. I enjoyed the delicacy, but paid for it afterward, spending about ten minutes pulling the tiny spikes from my fingers.

Tender young leaves of nopal also are good eating. With spines carefully shaved off and the leaves diced or cut into strips, nopal makes a nice addition to salads and cooked dishes, with a flavor and texture slightly reminiscent of asparagus.

Several varieties of champiñones (mushrooms) pop up around here during the dampest days. I saw these growing under a fallen log. Not being an expert on mushrooms, last week when I spotted them I took nothing more than this photo.

However, when I came into the city of Querétaro Friday for a weekend off, I found myself dining on tacos of champiñones a la mexicana (local mushrooms fried with tomato, onion and green peppers) and sauteed nopal at a local restaurant.  

I have been trying to improve my diet by eating more natural and vegetarian foods. I'd had flor de calabaza (squash flower) tacos a few days ago. Perhaps the unfinished business of wild nopal and champiñones had stayed unconsciously on my mind all week.