I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been invited to serve as a committee member of Real Heroes of Mexico, a group that “believes it’s vital to showcase the positive news and goodwill efforts taking place in Mexico, especially those who are making a difference.”

I was invited by The Mexico Report founder Susie Albin-Najera to serve on the committee, and am proud to serve alongside a a group of people who are as passionate about Mexico as I am.

We’ll be sharing stories of overlooked people in Mexico who are doing good. I invite you to follow along and learn about the real heroes of Mexico at The Mexico Report.

Know someone you’d like to nominate? You can do that here.

2010 in Mexico

Forward:   In August, Jimena Navarrete won the Miss Universe pageant, only the second win for Mexico in the contest’s 59 year history. And in September, despite cancellations of celebrations in a handful of cities, including beleaguered Ciudad Juarez, Mexico City’s grand bicentennial festivities went off without any serious or noticeable hitches (though not without considerable expense).

Backward:  Continued narcoviolence and the attendant media reports about it, coupled with growing doubts, both at home and abroad, about the wisdom and efficacy of Mexican President Felipe Calderon’s aggressive strategy for managing the persistent problem.

These were the stories, good and bad, that dominated Mexican and international news reports in 2010.

But in a three-week period spanning the middle of November and the beginning of December, two significant good news stories went largely unnoticed, especially by international media. Mexico City’s Mayor, Marcelo Ebrard, was named the World’s Best Mayor by City Mayors Foundation, a global think tank, and UNESCO inscribed Mexico’s traditional cuisine on its List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Chef Enrique Farjeat

UNESCO, the educational, scientific, and cultural arm of the United Nations, is charged with many responsibilities, among them, declaring and inscribing physical sites and structures on its World Heritage list. Mexico is home to 27 such sites, including Chichen Itza. Among the lesser known functions of UNESCO is that of inscribing intangible elements of regional or national culture deemed so valuable that they are considered treasures of global culture at large. Forms of dance and dress, traditional musical instruments and songs, sports, rituals, and even medical procedures have been adopted by UNESCO as intangible elements of human heritage, but it wasn’t until Gironella, founder of the Conservatory of the Culture of Mexican Gastronomy, convened a group of colleagues, including Farjeat, to present a proposal that UNESCO had ever considered a country’s cuisine for inscription.

The idea was so novel, says Farjeat, that UNESCO was unable to even consider Mexico’s proposal when it first made its case for inscription five years earlier. “At the time, they didn’t have any criteria to even make a determination,” says Farjeat. “We helped them establish criteria, and they asked us to make a video, to present visual evidence to support the extensive written proposal we had submitted.”
 
Though its initial application was declined, the Mexican team was encouraged, and committed itself to fulfilling UNESCO’s request. In addition to producing the requested video, Farjeat and his colleagues had to make a challenging decision: How to narrow the proposal a bit by determining which region’s food was most representative of Mexico’s diverse culinary traditions? “Ultimately, we chose Michoacan,” Farjeat explains, adding that while UNESCO’s 2010 inscription acknowledges and honors all Mexican cuisine, it highlights the role of “the Michoacan paradigm,” characterized by the use of the clay comal for cooking tortillas.

When the video was done and the focus of their proposal more honed, Farjeat and the Mexico team submitted its revised package to UNESCO and prepared to travel to Nairobi, where proposals would be deliberated and decided upon. Farjeat’s task was to handle procurement and logistics, ensuring that the equipment, the ingredients—and even two cooks from Michoacan—made it from Mexico to Kenya intact and fresh for their performance.

And what a performance it would be.

Vegetables at a Mexican market

 
But this being Mexico, the performance seemed fated to encounter serious obstacles, challenges that might even put its inscription in jeopardy. For Farjeat, in particular, the days and hours leading up to the presentation before the panel of UNESCO judges were some of the most tense of his life. “Practically everything got held up in Customs,” he remembers, ticking off a list of ingredients that sat languishing in the corner of an airport warehouse. He imagined avocados and tomatoes softening to the point of rot, and the variety of cheeses he’d packed going rancid, the red, white, and green, Mexico’s national colors, a not-so-subtle metaphor of disaster.
 
Not only that, but the clay comales hauled across three continents broke, leaving Farjeat with a daunting dilemma: How would he replace his goods and his gear in sub-saharan Africa? “Even though Nairobi’s a capital city and it has a wonderful market, it didn’t have the ingredients we needed,” he explains, mentioning, among others, chipotles, corn husks for tamales, the corn fungus called huitlacoche, and chapulines, roasted crickets. After consulting with the host hotel’s chefs, Farjeat dispatched a team of scouts to the local market with a detailed list and the mandate to buy anything and everything they could find that would help Mexico pull its performance off.
 
“I wanted pork, chicken, shrimp,” he says, mentioning the items he thought would be easiest to replace. What the team returned with might have made a chef with less experience and less determination declare the challenge impossible and the inscription lost. Farjeat shows me a photo of an enormous fish with row upon row of teeth marching deep into its throat. “What is that?” I ask, leaning closer to the photo. “You tell me,” he replies, putting his hand over his mouth and shaking his head as if the fish had just been presented to him. He laughs. “What craziness.”
 
But what was there to do except pull it all together into something presentable? The Mexican team was fortunate to have Farjeat at its logistical helm; he excels in moments of tension. He called the cooks together and made the challenge plain. He explained the ingredients as best he could; then, they rolled up their sleeves, and got cooking.
 

 
The fish was stuffed with achiote and doused with orange juice and put on a charcoal grill. “People came by to take photos of the fish; ‘Look at the Mexican fish!’ they said,” Enrique recalls. The two cooks from Michoacan made tortillas on their new metal griddles. “They loved them so much they insisted on taking them home even though we had to pay airfare for them,” Enrique says.  
   
Somehow, in spite of all the challenges–the unfamiliar ingredients, the broken equipment, the small workspace, the sudden uptick in the number of plates they were told to prepare at the last minute–Farjeat and the Mexican team pulled it all off. When I ask him about the moment of the announcement of Mexico’s inscription on the intangibles list, he pauses for a long time and clears his throat. When he finally speaks, he is visibly emotional. His smile is big and genuine, his eyes are a bit wet, and his mind, well, it seems far away.

He remembers that the room erupted in applause. Proceedings had to stop while other delegates surrounded the Mexican team to offer their congratulations and take photos. And later that evening, Farjeat could finally sit down, put his feet up, and drink a celebratory tequila.
 
*
When the Mexican delegation returned to Mexico, it was not, as they might have expected, to national acclaim and congratulations. Several days after their return from Nairobi, a press conference was held in the Sor Juana Cloister, the hub of Mexico City’s efforts to document its gastronomic history. Eighty members of the press were there, according to Farjeat, but overall, he felt that the event was post-climactic. “The impact hasn’t been as great as we’d hoped,” he says. The story made the newspapers, of course, but the press then moved on.
 

Churros at St. Regis, Mexico City

A young man shows off his charreria skills.

It’s been a busy summer and fall, with back-to-back trips: Hawaii, Catalunya, Belize, and Mexico. After my next trip–Amsterdam and Zurich–it will be time to hibernate for a bit so we can catch up on editing photos, querying story ideas, and writing articles for which pitches have been accepted.

One of those stories will be a guide to Guadalajara, Mexico’s second largest city. I was there for the Pan American Games, but also managed to spend a memorable Sunday enjoying some of the city’s most beloved traditions: charreria (roping) and toreo (bullfighting). Both are alive and well and show no signs of disappearing; respect for tradition alongside the desire to embrace the contemporary is one of the many reasons why I love Mexico.

Where have you been lately, and what have you loved about it?

"Don't you want to smile?" I asked these newspaper vendors.

For “developing” countries and cities, hosting the Games is also a serious financial responsibility. Though Guadalajara, like most hosts before it, has used the Games to create some permanent sport installations that will benefit locals long after the Games end, the cost of doing so has been exorbitant. The final tally of $750 million greatly exceeded the original estimated budget of $250 million. “The Pan American Games could leave [the state of] Jalisco in a complicated economic situation,” concluded the Milenio newspaper.

Event organizers and federal, state, and municipal governments all try to convince local stakeholders that the Games will be a boon. The image of the city, maybe even the country, will improve. And so, importantly, will business.

That’s what they say, anyway.

It’s Saturday night and the restaurant of a boutique hotel in Guadalajara’s Centro Historico is empty, save for the hotel’s owner, the bartender, and myself. “It’s never this dead on Saturday night,” the owner says, the bartender nodding in agreement. “The problem is that people think the traffic is too bad, so they’re staying away from this part of town. And even though there are more than 6,000 athletes here, they’re all staying at hotels [near the PanAm venues]. There are very few tourists.” He shakes his head.

Although the PanAm Games are barely underway, the hotelier’s frustrated observations have been shared by many of the people I’ve talked to “on the ground.” Taxi drivers seem to be universally pissed about the Games. “There are 11,000 of us in Guadalajara,” one driver told me, “and only 3,000 of us got the credential that allows us near the venues.” “So what?” another driver said, when I asked about the credential. “I’ve got one and it doesn’t make a difference. The security checkpoints won’t let me in. The Games have been terrible for business.”

Whether the Games will ultimately benefit small business owners and independent operators in tourism sectors remains to be seen; the Games conclude on October 30.

Guadalajara inaugurates the 2011 Pan American Games

“Que tal Guadalajara?” I ask the taxi driver as we leave the airport en route to Del Carmen Concept Hotel, where I’ll be staying for the next three nights. I was last here in 2008, updating a guide to Guadalajara for Gayot, and I’m wondering how the city has changed since then.

“Uuf,” he replies. I wait for elaboration, but it’s slow in coming and vague when it finally arrives. “It’s changed bastante,” he says. I want him to say more, to say how it has changed and to analyze those changes from his place behind the wheel, but he refrains, which may be smart. When your city is hosting an international sporting event in a time when your country is under intense scrutiny, perhaps you can’t afford to be overly free with your opinions. Either that, or he just prefers the quiet.

The taxi driver won’t have much of that this week; today is the opening of the Pan American Games and everything is motion and buzz. Runners are sporting the flame in the traditional relay; as I approach the city, the flame is approaching it, too. The country’s biggest names in music– Vicente Fernandez and Alejandro Fernandez– are surely warming up their vocal cords in preparation for their performances tonight.

My press credential for the Pan Am Games

And I’m among them.

For the next three days, I’ll be covering the Pan Am Games for this site, as well as for Matador.

I hope you’ll follow along. I’ll also be on twitter, checking in on foursquare and Gowalla, and posting photos on instagram and flickr.

Have questions about the Games? Please leave them in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer them.

Everything I’ve read to date about the Museo Soumaya has left me dissatisfied… not the facts, which are what they are (a museum housing 66,000 or so pieces of art acquired by Carlos Slim, the world’s richest man), but the assessment of the collection (“tragic”); Slim’s style of collecting (“more of a bargain hunter than an aesthete”); the building in which the museum is housed (“like an oversize mushroom thought up by Magritte”); and even the neighborhood itself (“the slick establishments paving the way are just enough to make you forget you’re in Mexico”– as if Mexico can only be slick or poverty-ridden).

Everyone’s entitled to his/her own opinion, of course, and here’s mine: the collection may seem random (Dali, Rodin, Mexican masters), but I prefer to think of it as the reflection of diverse interests. Who but an absolute art snob cares, anyway? There are some incredible pieces in the collection and you don’t have to look hard to find them; check out this intricate piece, made entirely of rice paper (except the frame, obviously) in 1883:

There are pieces in this collection I haven’t seen the likes of anywhere else, and that’s particularly true of the religious art.

I mean, take a look at this version of Eve, literally coming out of Adam’s rib:

The curation is excellent, particularly in the gallery exhibiting 20th century Mexican painting, where thematic preoccupations are grouped together in a way that’s logical and obvious without being redundant and boring.

Bottom line: Who cares about Slim? It’s about the art.

For more photos from the Soumaya, check out this gallery.

Acapulco as seen from above

At the end of March, I went to Acapulco for the first time in my life; I was a guest of a PR firm, invited to the city for the annual Tianguis, a travel and trade show.

I’d heard about Tianguis from some other travel writers, who painted it as a long weekend bacchanal (and for some people, the description is not inaccurate). I was there to meet local tourism board officials, PR firms, and outfitters to scope out potential collaborations.

Though it’s not a city I’d hurry back to (to me, it’s got a worn, cheap, and slightly sad feel, similar to Myrtle Beach, but with a much more complicated backstory), there were some moments outside of Tianguis when I experienced genuine pleasure, and when I found a story interesting enough to make me wish I’d had just a bit more time there.

One of those stories was the cliff divers of Acapulco. When told we’d be going to see the cliff divers, I quickly developed a mental image of what the scene might look like.

But because I also fully expected a cheesy, overly touristy scenario, I didn’t do any advance research and didn’t give the excursion much thought until we were actually there, in the dark, watching the water below us froth and churn wildly.

I wasn’t prepared to take quality photos, I wasn’t prepared to ask for an interview afterward, or even to take the names of the cliff divers as they posed for photos and asked for tips after their jumps from the cliff face, and I went away disappointed in myself, but not in the show. If you ever find yourself in Acapulco, I definitely recommend that you make time one evening for the cliff diving show.

Back in December, Lola Akinmade invited me to participate in the Tripbase Best-Kept Travel Secrets Project. Time got away from me and I never followed through.

Earlier this week, Katie Erica, the writer who started the project, invited me to participate- again- so this time, I won’t let her down!

The idea behind the project is to crowd-source an epic list of travel writers’ favorite places, preferably places that are “secret.”

Now you can argue whether sharing “secret” places is a good idea, as the excellent writer David Page did in the article “Travelers’ Omerta: Is There No Place We Should Keep Secret?” It’s a valid question and one that leads to important reflections.

But the places where I travel aren’t really secret. They’re pretty much in plain view for everyone to see and visit… they simply choose not to.

So here are my three “best-kept travel secrets” and my defense of why you should visit each of them:

Mexico City, Mexico

If I could have any job other than the one I have, it would be a full-time evangelist for Mexico City.

Seriously, this is THE most exciting city on the planet, and if you know me or read my writing regularly, you know I don’t use words like “most” or “must-see” frequently.

I will spend my life trying to write a more persuasive, poignant description of Mexico City than David Lida, but until then, I’ll simply cite him with gratitude for articulating my exact feelings about “el DF”:

“I had been utterly seduced by the constant sensations of contrast, surprise, even tumult.”

“[I]t has absorbed and swallowed all the centuries of its history, yet most of them are still in evidence in some regurgitated form on the streets.”

“Mexico City is constantly improvising a new invention of itself.”

I could go on and on, but do yourself a favor and read Lida’s book, First Stop in the New World: Mexico City, The Capital of the 21st Century. Start reading his blog. And then, put Mexico City on the top of your travel list.

And once you’re there, make sure you witness the daily flag ceremony in the Zocalo. Go to a lecture at Casa Lamm and then visit their restaurant for an overpriced but totally worth it martini (try carambola). And throw yourself into a visit to Mercado San Juan like it’s the most important thing you’ll do all year. Just don’t forget your camera.

CUBA

First, understand this: Cuba is not closed.

It’s very much open for tourism and business and even if you’re an American you can go there.

I explain how in “How to Travel to Cuba and Why You Should Do It Now.”

I guarantee that you’ll come back from Cuba a changed person, one who has begun to understand what a complex nation it is, one that exists outside of all the polarized rhetoric about it. And if you don’t, well, I’ll take you out for dinner and we can talk about it.

What should you do while you’re there? I’ve written about some favorite Havana attractions for TravelMuse and favorite nightlife spots for Matador.

3. Mompox, Colombia

You’ve got to be determined to get to Mompox. You have to cross a river in a sketchy boat, then take a motorbike or sturdy vehicle to this UNESCO World Heritage site.

But if you do, it will be worth the effort, especially if you plan a visit of a week or longer.

Colombia’s legendary river, the Magdalena, runs right through the town, which is rumored to be the inspiration for novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s imaginary town of Macondo. There’s not a raucous nightlife here, or dozens of museums, but there are lots and lots of stories.

If you visit, book a bed at Matador contributor Richard McColl’s La Casa Amarilla, which Francisco and I tended for a month in 2008.

**
What are your favorite travel “secrets”? Share them–or not!–in the comments.
**
And be sure to check out the blogs of these writers, who I’m “tagging” to participate in the Tripbase project:

Hal Amen: WayWorded
Donna Arioldi: Prepare for Crosscheck
Megan Hill: See.Write.Live.
Reeti Roy: Clickety Click Click
Michelle Schusterman: MusicTravelWrite

I saw them crossing the river with my own eyes. No one stopped them.

In fact, they crossed two rivers en masse: the Hudson and the East Rivers. They came from everywhere– the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island and even New Jersey– to celebrate Mexico’s Independence Day in New York. Some were wearing traditional clothing and hats; others carried flags or red, white, and green striped ribbons, the colors of the Mexican flag. There were the churro sellers and the flag and hat vendors. In the background, a mix of ranchera and other types of popular Mexican music are playing and shouts of “Viva Mexico!” resound. It’s an important day for those gathered here: it’s the first official parade celebrating Mexican Independence Day in New York!

The border isn’t Tijuana anymore, but the Barrio, where the greatest concentration of Mexicans can be found in the city. Their presence is easy to see. Businesses carry typical names like “Mi Pueblana,” “La Lupita,” or just post a sign that says “Mexican products sold here.” The Mexican population has grown here in recent years, and they’re the third largest immigrant group in New York after the Dominicans and Puerto Ricans. They work in every neighborhood, doing all types of jobs: restaurant work, construction, cleaning, child care, truck drivers, to name just a few.

This year, they marched for the first time along Madison Avenue to celebrate their home country’s 199th year of independence. Although it wasn’t very well publicized, the event was well organized and the presence of Mexican Americans was impressive.

According to its organizers, the goal was to parade down the 5th Avenue like other immigrant groups do. For them, it’s a sign of recognition and an assertion that they’re here to stay. Long live Mexico!

**

Los vi cruzar el río con mis propios ojos sin que nadie los detuvieran. De hecho cruzaron los dos ríos en masa: El Hudson y el Río del Este.

Llegaban de todas partes– Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island y hasta de Nueva Jersey– para festejar el día de la independencia de México en la ciudad de Nueva York, algunos con sus trajes típicos y sombreros, otros con banderas y llevando cintas con colores patrios.

Se ven los vendedores de churros, banderas y sombreros.

En el trasfondo una mezcla de música ranchera y de todo tipo que salen a grito desde las gargantas abiertas de los altoparlantes. Gritos de Viva México! se escucha por todas parte. Es un día muy importante para ellos; es su primer desfile en la ciudad de Nueva York!

El borde no es Tijuana, sino El Barrio. Aquí se encuentra la mayor concentración de mexicanos y se nota con claridad su presencia. Los negocios llevan por nombre “Mi Pueblana,”“La Lupita,” o simplemente le agregan un cartel que anuncia:“Se Vende Productos Mexicanos.” La populación de inmigrantes mexicanos en Nueva York ha crecido en los últimos años.

Es la tercera después de los dominicanos y puertorriqueños. Y ya se hacen notar.

Es muy común verlos en cualquier barrio de la ciudad trabajando en todo tipo de áreas, restaurantes, construcciones, limpieza, cuido de niños y choferes de camiones de entrega, para mencionar solo los mas significantes empleos que estos nuevos inmigrantes ocupan.

Este año marcharon por primera vez la Avenida Madison de esta ciudad. Aunque no muy concurrido aun, estuvo bien organizado y se pudo ver la presencia en masa de los residentes de origen mexicano.

Según sus organizadores sus metas son desfilar por la 5ta. Avenida de Nueva York, como lo hacen los otros grupos de inmigrantes. Es para ellos un signo de reconocimiento y dejan saber que aquí están para quedarse.

Que viva México!

I wanted so much to like this film–first, because it was made in and about Mexico; second, because the shots were steady and lovely; third, because the plot seemed to have so much promise; and fourth, because the characters–the narrator, in particular–were so interesting.

Yet as it plodded on, each scene became increasingly unbelievable. The sins of the father, for which he was trying to atone, continued to accumulate; as they did, he failed to learn any of the lessons that the consequences of his actions were intended to teach him. Predictably, and in accordance with biblical precedent, the sins of the father were visited on his children–over and over again; they died one by one in needless accidents, all trying to transact repentance on behalf of their father. Eventually, the only child left is the narrator–the most fragile of the children, and the one who was never expected to live. The father, never having overcome his hubris and profoundly flawed interpretations of God’s will, hangs himself from the beams of a church he and his children have spent years building.

There is no happy ending, which is fine, but there’s no growth either. It’s a Mexican tale endowed with a mythic sense of Greek tragedy.

Sometimes the provocation of incredulity works, especially in Latin American cinema, but credibility and faith must either be restored or some other payoff must eventually be rendered.

In the case of “Desierto Adentro,” neither happens. The film may well take a place alongside other contemporary Mexican movies that have been similarly preoccupied with religion, sins, and the theme of taking responsibility for the consequences of breaking moral and social taboos (I’m thinking, for instance, of “The Crimes of Padre Amarro” and “Y Tu Mama, Tambien,”) but if it does so, it will be thanks to the skillful camera work and the raw beauty of the film’s backdrop, not for its script.