We got back in the car and the rain, which until now had been a steady Manchester-style drizzle, suddenly got all tropical monsoon. Once in a while we caught a glimpse of mountains through the thick mist, but for the most part we concentrated on negotiating the hairpin bends through the mountains. Abruptly, a town came into being around us, with 'tiendas sindicadas' (unionised shops - an interesting concept) lining the streets and streets that narrowed down as if they were breathing in to fit through a slender gap between the buildings. Just as we were starting to think about finding a parking space, market stalls started to throng the street on either side of the car, and hitherto leisurely shoppers were forced to the side of the road as we rolled down over the cobbles...
I have to confess that my main priority at this point was lunch. I mean, local colour and culture is lovely, but my stomach comes first... But we decided to be good visitors and have a quick gander at the 500 year old Dominican church before attending to our appetites. We wandered up the path, umbrellas aloft, and I was all set to admire some saints' chapels and then declare that I wanted to eat, but then we got caught up in a wedding. Andrea and José Armando were just at the ring exchange stage, and we couldn't resist loitering at the back for a few minutes to watch.
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| The wedding venue |
After all that trouble getting there, lunch was bliss. Small problems like a leaking roof soaking my plate didn't distract us from margaritas (apart from our dutiful driver, who stuck to fruit tea), taquitos, tortilla soup and mole sauce. There was even a lady doing embroidery outside the loos whose sole job seemed to be pulling the lever to work the paper towel., without any expectation of a tip. Maybe if what you like doing most is sitting doing embroidery, having to get up once in a while to work a paper towel roll isn't such a hardship?
After lunch Other Friend suggested we go off to a bookshop-cum-cafe, a very popular combination here in Mexico, it seems. I was captivated in the garden by the exotic trees - a squat palm in the middle of the garden confirmed the tropical setting, and citrus trees were dotted at the far end of the garden. I don't think I have ever seen a lime tree before, but a quick sniff of the blossom and a mental comparison to expensive lime blossom-scented shower gel (I knew my escapade to L'Occitane's factory on Airline would come in handy someday...) confirmed what it was. I do worry slightly that after many years of teenage rebellion refusing to take any interest in plants, I am now turning into my parents. If I show signs of wanting an RHS membership, please can someone take me aside and have a quiet word?
We trundled along hilly cobbled streets, replete with puddles and potholes, to our last stop, Other Friend's childhood home. But en route, a couple of makeshift bollards were blocking the road. Other Friend was having none of it, and demanded an explanation for the blockage from the heavyset guy loitering at the side of the road. He replied with a neckless shrug that he was just there to look after the wedding guests, and it clicked that we had stumbled across the venue for the reception for the wedding we had glimpsed earlier. Other Friend was unperturbed by the diffidence shown by us wimpy foreigners, and she strode out the car to move the bollard out the way. We slowly drove past the reception, which had overdressed guests tottering along in heels, bored-looking men and quite a few bodyguards hanging around - whose wedding needs that level of security in a peaceful village in Mexico, I wonder? Interesting as it was, I was pleased when we passed the bollard at the other end of the street and arrived at Other Friend's house. The plant fascination continued, this time seeing sacks of red berries that I initially thought were cranberries. Other Friend laughed and said that they were her mother's homegrown coffee - once the (unseasonal) rain stops, they need to be dried in the sun, then the berry flesh picked off and the beans roasted. Amazing - I have only ever seen coffee growing in the hothouses in Oxford Botanic Gardens before.
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| As fresh as coffee gets |
Driving back to DF (as the city is known by the 'chilangos' who live there), the astonishing mountains revealed themselves. We were high enough up - around 2400m - for cloud to be blanketing the bottom of the valley, with stark rockface looming up either side above. It was very strange, almost like we were in a plane looking down at the clouds. If it had been in England there would have been a layby for people to take photos every 200m, but here in Mexico people are made of less easily impressed stuff, so we had to make do with startling vistas once in a while while driving.
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| A less misty view from the road above Tepoztlán |
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