Research
05/06/2009 at 22:50 from (47.525054, -122.048447)
For all the time I've spent scouring the internet for the best spots and information about our trip, nothing compares to 30 minutes spent having a hearty discussion with the best kind of expert: a former local.
Today, after work, I climbed aboard the bus and took up my regular spot at the front (I dig the leg room). I cracked open my Spanish textbook and dug in. It wasn't long before I was joined by a smartly dressed gentleman and, as I struggled to comprehend the tome on my lap, he leaned over and asked,
"¿Estás estudiando español?"
Rodrigo, as it turns out, is from México City and a keen lover of travel. We didn't even make it through formalities before he was peppering me with questions about our trip. I tried to respond in Spanish as best I could, but quickly resorted to English to cover more ground.
And man, did we ever cover some ground. We touched with broad strokes on Latin culture, language, customs, and people as I tried to extract from him recommendations on where to go and what to see. Rodrigo offered up his advice and opinion freely, and before I knew it, I was jotting down place names and directions as quickly as I could, barely able to keep up with his generous enthusiasm.
From intimate lagoons near Catemaco to out-of-the-way spots in Oaxaca, he rattled off a litany of places that we absolutely cannot miss and sights we would need to see. Before long, though, it became clear that we had ceased to talk about people and places and had moved on to that true passion of humans everywhere: food.
Rodrigo began to list, with increasing fervor, his favorite dishes (in approximately regional order).
"When you're in Guadalajara," he said, "you have to try the birria."
"What's birria?" I asked.
"It's goat soup. Very strange, but very, very good!" he exclaimed, with an odd little smile on his lips.
He pressed on before I could ask for details.
"Of course, the tequila there is famous, but you also need to try las tortas ahogadas."
Tortas ahogadas, he explained, literally means "drowning sandwiches", and that's just what they are: sandwiches dunked in a flavorful sauce.
He then moved on to Puebla. The mole poblano (which originated there) is the area's most recognized dish, but he also insisted we taste the chalupas and chile nogada if we really want to experience poblano cuisine.
Guerrero, he said, is famous for its posole (a stew made with corn) and pescado a la talla.
"While you're there, don't miss out on the oysters (ostiones) and big clams (almejas grandes)!"
México City has, in his opinion, the best tacos in the whole country, and he encouraged us to brave the street food because the reward is too delectable to miss.
When it comes to Veracruz and Campeche, he said, "¡A mí me gustan todos los mariscos!" This is, for those who don't espeak espanish, a ringing endorsement for any seafood we can find there.
Mérida has panucho that we can't miss, while the tamales in Chiapas are top shelf. While a bit more bizarre, he said that the escamoles (ant larvae), gusano de maguey (Maguey worms), and pulque (fermented Maguey cactus juice) of Hidalgo are equally delicious.
Oaxaca, which appears to be his favorite state, is also home to Rodrigo's favorite dish, mole negro. He also told us to head straight for "el mercado de comido" (the food market) and treat ourselves to the best charcoal-grilled meat on the planet.
As we stepped off the bus, exchanged business cards, shook hands, and parted ways, I realized that, without even leaving the country, the mere idea of travel has already introduced me to a fascinating fellow adventurer and new friend. And my rumbling belly reminded me that this trip will be as much a feast for our stomachs as it will be for our other senses.
Goddamn am I hungry.