Travels with Hayley

Day 8 had not the most auspicious start – for the first time during this trip I had abandoned my standard black and navy uniform to wear a pale blue linen shirt – literally within minutes of putting it on a bottle of coke had exploded in wildly dramatic fashion, immediately reducing me to a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest. But in a stroke of luck I was in the middle of checking out so I had a suitcase full of spare clothes in my hand at the time – how often does that happen eh!

Breakfast this morning was consumed on the bus – I’d been to the bakery opposite which had Spanish tunes blaring out at 7am to start the day with a bit of Latin fever, and chose a couple of things from the huge variety on display. I watched the locals and established that you grab a metal tray and a pair of tongs from the counter then pile your tray full to bursting apparently – I felt quite restrained with my two pastries. I obviously looked unsure of my choices as an old lady in the queue kept reassuring me ‘bueno, bueno’ and pointing to them! I ate a little of both – one was like a biscuit with a sugar topping and a cinnamon centre, the other one was a very tender corn based (I think…) sponge, inside a kind of pastry shell – the lady had told me ‘queso’ so I assume it had some kind of cream cheese baked in? Both very nice and the rest saved for potential baked goods based emergencies later.

After an hour or so on the bus we arrived at our first stop, a deserted canal where we were to take a trajinera (the colourful boat I’d taken on the ‘hold a reptile’ day) to a local farm. The canals here are surrounded by chinampas, these are man made floating islands that they farm on. Mexico seems obsessed with building on top of water, what do they have against dry land?!

We cruised down the silent canel, watching the pelicans and coots swimming alongside us, listening to a little history of the area from the boat captain. We drank cinnamon tea and ate chocolate chip bread made from amaranth seed, a celebrated health food here. It was so beautiful and peaceful, I loved every second.

On arrival to the farm we met the lovely, smiley lady who ran it and were given a tour. It’s all organic and they grow loads of veggies that are familiar from home – enormous lettuces, corn, chard, coriander, beets, cabbage, broccoli etc (broccoli is also brócoli in Spanish – she’d be speaking in full flow rapid Spanish that I couldn’t follow at all and then suddenly ‘broccoli’ would be dropped in, sounds so funny!) but also some unusual ones that I’ve definetly never seen on a British allotment including a whole patch of cactus plants. These are mainly used in salads and are pretty good although I don’t fancy being the one that has to peel them.

We were also shown a herb called epazote that is apparently the cornerstone of Mexican cooking – it had a really familiar smell that we finally identified was bleach! They grow sunflowers too – I asked, was that to eat the seeds? She said no, just because they are pretty. My kind of lady. They sell their produce at the market direct to consumers, but there’s no organic premium – they just do it because they think it’s the right thing to do, even though it makes their life that much harder.

We had an early lunch eating from beautiful, traditional pottery, sitting outside right by the canal. On offer was a spinach soup complete with home made tortillas (should have been chard soup but as she said with a shrug – we’ve got too much spinach – so now it’s spinach soup! Waste not want not) with a tomato base – it doesn’t look like anything but it was so good. It’s been a bit lacking in veggies this trip and you have to be careful at places you don’t know with the salads so it was lovely to have something green.

Next was a small version of the rugby ball shaped stuffed breads that I’d bought the group at the market a few days previously. These were definitely better but the texture is still not my favourite, they’re very dense. Then a salad with a sweet dressing which I skipped as it was 11am and I was basically on my third meal of the day. Lastly a pre Hispanic dessert that consisted of ground up dried corn, cinnamon and sugar. They dropped a spoonful of the greyish white powder onto a tissue and you just lick it. I’m not sure I’m supposed to accept white powder from stranger in Mexico…but actually it was very tasty and the only high I got was from the sugar!

Quick trip to the compost toilet where we were quizzed if we needed a 1 or 2 before we went in, and back onto the boat for a game of Lotería. This is like bingo but it’s pictures instead of numbers and instead of a dobber you place dried corn kernels on the squares.

All was going well and it was getting quite competitive until a gust of wind came along and took out half the boards! Consequently we were all awarded a prize of a block of sweets made from amaranth again that looked like a Rice Krispie treat, or these very brightly coloured semi circular coloured wafers with a sugary filling and sunflower seeds, which are apparently a specialty of the region. No one being terribly hungry the coots got a feast and followed the boat, chirping furiously if the flow of snacks hitting the water slowed down for a moment! We continued the peaceful drift along the canal (no motorised vehicles are allowed on this stretch) until we got back to the bus.

2 hours and a nap later we arrived in Puebla and went straight out on a city tour for a couple of hours. We passed dozens of candy shops which the city is very famous for, and JJ bought some of the most iconic – cookies called tortitas de Santa Clara – a wheat flour biscuit with a paste made from sugar and sunflower seeds on top. As you all know, it’s very rare I meet a biscuit I don’t like, but this was too sweet even for me and went straight into the bin!

Talking of sweet, we made a stop at La Pasita, a tiny bar that makes their own liqueurs. It was such a lovely space, I feel sure it hasn’t changed much in the 100+ years it’s been there. We tried their most famous drink, a liqueur made from raisins that come with a cocktail stick of goats cheese in it! You take a bite of the cheese and then a sip of the liqueur. I have to say, it was utterly delicious, very sweet and kind of Christmas cakey and went so well with the cheese. If I drank at home and also didn’t have to drag a suitcase around half of Mexico I’d buy a bottle to bring back. They also had a dozen or so other homemade liqueurs and even an eggnog!

We carried on wandering around the town which feels like Mexico City but miniaturised, it’s incredibly pretty with brightly coloured buildings displaying beautiful ironwork balconies and decoration everywhere, even the doorframes have patterns and flowers painted on them.

I’ll have a better look around tomorrow as it was a bit of a whistle stop tour but we did have time to see a few nuns out for a stroll and go the cathedral which was possibly the most spectacular church I’ve ever been in. From the outside it’s very grey and sombre (or sober as one of the girls said, English not being her first language. I think I like sober better as a description actually!) but inside it’s full of gold and decoration. I just don’t know how to describe the scale of it except to say I leant back far enough to be able to see the ceiling and my sunglasses fell off the back of my head!

Back to the hotel and some of the others headed out for pizza but I just fancied a lay by the pool and a rest so had the classic traveller dinner of Ruffles crisps and Oreos (in all the countries I’ve been, there’s only been one – Cuba – that you couldn’t buy Oreos. And even they had a knock off version of them!) The pool, which had been serene and peaceful earlier, had been rented out to the local preschool and was absolutely full of tiny kids screaming and having a whale of a time. It was very sweet to watch. When it became too chilly to be outside (it’s a bit cooler here, we must be higher up), I went inside to get ready for tonight’s outing to Puebla’s wrestling stadium!

Being an aficionado on the old Lucha Libre by now, I gave a few of the others a quick lesson on how it works and the all important swear words as we pushed our way through the crush of humanity at the entrance to the stadium. The venue here is very much smaller than in Mexico City and we’d lashed out £14 each on decent tickets so were 6 rows from the front! You were close enough to see the sweat coming off the luchadors – although fortunately not close enough to feel it – note to everyone if you ever go, I wouldn’t sit in the front couple of rows…

We were sitting in the técnicos (goodies) supporters section, although I think my heart belongs to the rodos (baddies), if only because their supporters were so much louder and enthusiastic! I felt like I grasped what was going on a little more this time – there’s six fights and the participants get steadily more professional and athletic as the fights go on. If Arena Mexico City is the premier league of luche, I think Puebla would be more like league 1. The female fighters in Mexico City were very glam – I mean we’re not talking supermodels but maybe the girls that go into the ring between boxing rounds in skimpy shorts and hold up the cards? The ones here were more…you know those strippers you get in certain pubs that instead of sticking paper money in their g-string, they go round with a pint pot afterwards collecting loose change? Bit more like that. I was lucky enough to be so close that I could even see the thigh tattoos through their glittery tights…

No dwarf devil this time sadly, but still the somersaulting out of the ring, the crowd going absolutely crazy as their favourites came out, the same 80’s metal/glam rock vibe and the vendors walking around hawking their wares. On offer this time was candy floss, popcorn, huge tubs of crisps that they then poured hot sauce over (this is everywhere, even if you buy a normal packet of crisps at the market you can open them and they will pour sauce in) cups of cucumber sticks with spicy sauce to dip them in, beers, soft drinks, souvenirs, and 2 different gingham lined picnic baskets selling a mystery something and a tray of plastic cups of what looked like like coffee but solid – all of which are making me lose sleep not knowing what they were! Normally I would have just bought them all to see, but I wasn’t feeling 100%, I’d developed a bit of a cold and an upset stomach (feeling much better today, never fear) that I didn’t have it in me to cajole the rest of the group into helping me try them all! I’ll just have to come back again won’t I, nightmare…

The costumes were a riot of spangles, including one match where the guys wore the very skimpiest of sparkly underpants – sadly it was the older and somewhat – chunkier – fighters that chose this apparel. You can’t knock their confidence I suppose. My favourite were the rodos team that strutted on in full suits and ties before stripping down to their glittery leggings. Each match has 3 rounds with a 30 second break in between to pull up socks, adjust crotch cups etc. This lot used the time to flirt with the girls in the crowd and even kiss and take selfies with the ones overcome enough to rush up to the ring!

The black guy that was suited up and then stripped off to make his pecs dance was my favourite (who doesn’t love a pectoral flex) but I lost a smidge of respect for him when within 30 seconds of the match starting the opposition had him in a hog tied position and begging for mercy! At one point he got ‘injured’ and a medic rushed on with a back board – this is obviously part of the act as a great show was made of him being brave enough to overcome his (entirely invisible) injuries and show his manly strength by rejoining the fray.

As much fun as watching the performers was watching the crowds. This was a Monday evening and it was packed full, including children and literal babes in arms. Just from where I was sitting I could see 3 kids fast asleep (how?! It was deafening in there!) Families were enjoying picnics they had brought in including sandwiches the size of my face and everyone was screaming insults at the other side (I tell you, it’s quite disconcerting to hear a 4 year old shouting out ‘fuck your mum you pussy’ 😳) Grown men were sitting watching the spectacle going on in the ring while wearing full luchador masks (somehow even sillier then grown men that wear football kits) and people were at absolute fever pitch screaming the name of their favourite luchador/luchadora when they were victorious.

Leaving the stadium with the chants of olay, olay olay olay ringing in our ears, we made our way back to the hotel, ready both for a well earned sleep and more Mexican adventures tomorrow.

Lots of love always xx