Day of the Dead: It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Expect  a lot more photos from me in the following weeks, as this is my third time to celebrate Noche de Muertos (or, alternately known as Dia de Muertos, De de Los Muertos, Day of the Dead) and I LOVE IT.

Today I went to the Mercado Jamaica — Mexico City’s gargantuan flower market — to pick up some zempasúchitl (marigolds) and the brain coral-like flores de terciopelo (cockscombs?)  Total cost: 30 pesos, or about $2.20. Check out this great photo slideshow to get an idea of show sprawling this mercado is.

When I got home, I made 5 bouquets from the two big bundles of flowers, including the centerpiece to my ofrenda, or altar:

You know you live in Mexico when you have spare calaveritas (mini sugar skulls) in the pantry, and whip them out for the altar.

Each marigold bloom is huge. I bought the type with more shredded like petals, but they have many varieties for sale. This weekend the flowers will bedeck altars, the cemeteries, and the entrances to peoples' homes, a way to welcome and guide back their dead loved ones.

I had two quesadillas at the mercado after buying my flowers. One had huitlacoche (corn fungus -- it's delicious!) and the other, continuing with the flower theme, was stuffed with squash blossoms.

These exquisite flores de terciopelo look great juxtaposed next to orange. Fuchsia and orange: so Mexican.

Of course, Halloween is popular here, too. Costumes and themed pinatas were for sale, like this witch, who waited on a bench while her owner had lunch.

It’s a Rough Life, Visiting Gorgeous Spas in Mexico

Once, while on vacation a few years ago, Brendan looked over at me swinging in a hammock and sipping a beer, and said “you’re so hedonistic when you’re on vacation.”

At the time, I really wasn’t participating in anything all that indulgent, but he was right: I’ll go the extra mile if it involves pleasure and beauty.

Hence, I like getting massages in pretty places. And Mexico is basically perfect for that, no?

The massage last year in Puerto Vallarta during a steamy rainstorm wasn’t so bad, and I enjoyed the Thai Massage at Mision del Sol in Cuernavaca, and I’ll never forget the avocado hair treatment/neck massage at Cabanas Copal…but none of those (nor the others) so far, have topped Ollinyotl Spa in Malinalco, Mexico.

Let’s let the photos speak for themselves:

Circles are the main architecture element at the spa. (You can click all of these for larger versions.)

The entrance to the labyrinth.

Chrissy, who visited us this past week from New York City, went with me to Ollinyotl. We got one-hour Swedish massages for 500 pesos each ($38). Then we sat under the hot Mexican sun in the labyrinth, soaking up the amazing good vibes that emanate from the place. This is definitely a photo to click on to view the large version!

New age-y drum music is piped in, and when you lie on the ground in the labryinth, the sky takes on a fish-bowl perspective. It's transcendent, as silly as it sounds.

They have yoga classes here - right here in the middle - and I hope to take one when we return to Malinalco for Day of the Dead. In the center, it echoes. How great is that for chatting om namah shivaya?

Yours truly in heaven.

Get here before its discovered. We were the only patrons at the spa on a Saturday afternoon. Otherwise, no, I don't normally take so many photos.

The Little Miracle on My Patio

On our Mexico City apartment patio, we have several geraniums, two weird succulent plants, and a very productive chili pepper plant.

Those are the survivors, anyway. We’ve managed to kill a few plants, too.

Amazingly, a week or so ago, I noticed a little green sprout in one of the cast-off pots that I had shoved into the corner and forgotten about. I had no idea what the little sprout was (it’s growing in a pot that used to contain basil), but surmised it was a weed that had shown up because the rainy season meant it was getting watered frequently.

But now, it doesn’t look so weed-like:

Anyone know what flower this is?

Adios, Rainy Season

Photos: We Visit Latin America’s Largest University, UNAM

The soccer stadium (go Pumas!) is also the '68 Olympic stadium.

Jesica, one of my good friends here in Mexico City, happens to be a tour guide with a degree in art history. Meaning, when you hang out with her, you not only have fun, you get smarter. A few days ago, I  mentioned that we hadn’t yet visited UNAM, Mexico City’s enormous university (the biggest in Latin America, and perhaps the world). The campus is in the south of the city, and itself is the size of a small city. So, she said, vaminos. And we did so today, turning it into a little mini-road trip in her convertible Tracker.

We attended the Orquestra Sinfonica de Mineria (the symphony — and I loved it. Does this mean I’m getting old?) at Sala Nezahualcóyotl, had lunch at the famed Azul y Oro (named after the colors of UNAM, blue and gold), then walked around a sculpture garden that contained — to my glee — lots of nature, and well, sculptures by Sebastian.

Jesica and Brendan hike down to the big blue M.

I was actually entertained during the entire symphony. It's really quite amazing.

It was one of those typically perfect days. 365 days a year, it rocks.

A bee doing what she does best.

"I'm a fat lizard sunbathing."

A poblano pepper stuffed with spicy pork and fruit, covered in a walnut cream sauce, and doused with pomegranate seeds. It's a rough life.

A Mondrian-style home sits behind a pesero.

Mexico City’s Rainy Season Is My Optimal Living State

There is a reason millions and millions of people live in Mexico City, it’s very hospitable to human life. Everyday is basically perfect — I can’t remember a single day in the last two years where the weather was truly bad. It just varies a teensy bit in temperature, humidity, wind and sun levels throughout the year, thanks to its high elevation in the tropics (it’s the best of both worlds).

Right now is the rainy season, which is my favorite. The humidity is a bit higher than normal, making it easier on the skin and the lungs. The temperature never gets higher than 75, nor lower than 55. The sun shines all day, while clouds slowly build in the late afternoon; it sometimes rains at night. The air is clean, crisp and comforting. You can wear a sweater or a tank top and be comfortable either way. Meaning, it’s an absolute paradise (while lowland Mexico is a steam room this time of year).

Plus, stuff blooms. Like crazy.

The center of a very very large bloom, spotted in the park today.

Not as close up. Any guesses?

It's the giant bloom on a 20-foot banana tree!

Beach After Beach After Beach…and Still Going

In one of my favorite books, “In Search of Captain Zero,” author Allan Weisbecker explains how, for some people, there is nothing quite like being in the exact inexact spot (thanks to tides) where land meets sea. There’s the land, and there’s the sea, but where the two meet…well…what else is more haunting?

“Yeah,” I remember thinking as I read the passage. “Right on, man.”

If not already obvious, it’s a book that appeals to surfers, those who appreciate the surfer lifestyle (<– me), oceanographers/marine biologists or wannabes (yep, me)…and those who grew up on the beach, moved away from the beach, but try to get back often (<– si, si, yo)..

I’ve got lots purty beach photos — hundreds? — from my travels. And I’ve never met a beach I didn’t like, but I’ve grown to love the Pacific Coast the best. It’s the one I now dream about at night, in other words.

Let’s work our way up from the Southern coast of Mexico, all the way up to California, shall we?

Bahia de la Luna, Oaxaca

Mazunte, Oaxaca

Acapulco vista by day (photo by Betty)

Acapulco, later (photo by Dora).

Somewhere in Michoacan

Manzanillo, Colima (and a closed beach umbrella)

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

La Jolla, California, and its harbor seals (also beach lovers)

The long staircase to the lighthouse, Point Reyes, Calif.

Your host, happy to be here, roots and all, Point Reyes seashore

Way Off the Beaten Path: The Coast of Michoacan, Mexico

House rental in Caleta de Campos, Michoacan

After our trip to Patzcuaro last weekend, we headed southwest to the Pacific Ocean. Sandwiched between the resort areas of Puerto Vallarta and Acapulco, the long, craggy coast of Michoacan is largely undeveloped. It was, so far, one of the most sparsely populated areas I’ve visited in Mexico, especially along the coastline. It is one of the many stretches of Highway 200.

There are a few really good surf spots here,  such as Nexpa, but otherwise the area gets few tourists passing through. Most guidebooks don’t even mention it — even though it consists of more than a hundred miles of beaches. Of course, this piqued my interest – what would it be like?

Turns out, when traveling with a Shih-tzu in a small rental car, this meant good things and bad things.

The beach at Nexpa, a popular "left" point break.

We were able to find a great surfer’s house to rent for a couple of nights in Caleta de Campos, a town big enough to have roasted chicken and cold beer, but not much else (the town, in all honesty, was horridly ugly but had incredible views of the ocean).

If there was one person I wished I could have traded places with during my trip, it was this girl.

Who needs whales when you have a rock with a blowhole? (OK, OK, I need whales...they arrive in the winter, so I always seem to miss them.)

The sun rises behind the lighthouse, Caleta de Campos.

Charlie and I try to cool off, but it was difficult.

The drive was espectactular (but often stomach-churning) and about as remote as it gets. Suddenly a pristine beach would come into view, and you’re several hundred feet above it, watching the waves roll in, and not sure if there’s any real path to the beach from the tiny, two-lane highway that has so little traffic. In the back of your mind, you’re thinking: my car could be robbed while I’m frolicking in the Pacific, unknowingly becoming the lead actress in an American Express Traveler’s Checks commercial. The area is still quite well-known as a drug smuggler’s paradise, mostly due to its remoteness, which is why this paranoid thought kept popping up: Would the smugglers turn Charlie into a mule?

We didn't really see a clear path down to this beach; there may not have been one.

Just a typical view from the road as you drive along Highway 200.

But, as with everywhere in Michoacan, the people were generally friendly. We’re also eternally grateful to two of the state’s residents, who got us out of a really bad scrape. Yep, turistas’ nightmare: We managed to get our car stuck in the shimmering white sand (we were aiming to park in a tiny spot of shade for just a few minutes so we could leave Charlie in the car, if needed, while we walked on a beach). We had a few initial moments of panic when we realized we had driven about 4km from the Highway 200, and hadn’t seen anyone in mucho tiempo.

After assessing that yes, we were indeed f’ing stuck in the sand, we grabbed some metal roofing sheets left on the beach and stuck them under the tires. Then watched them sink under the spinning tires. All while Charlie sat, head tilted, inside, perplexed.

Once this failed to work, my panic manifested as such: I threw all our valuables in the trunk, put Charlie in the front seat so he could be shaded, and forced us to spray down with sunscreen, in case we had to walk miles and miles to civilization. Of course, that was all incredibly unnecessary (whew, whew, sweat-wiping-away wheeeeeeew), as there were a few small houses off the tiny beach road, and two men chatting in the street — one was sitting in a truck, hallelujah!

As we walked up, he waved good-bye to his amigo and started to drive off, causing us to start running, screaming “Senor! senor!”  Once we reached the two men — looking I’m sure like the two goofiest gueros to ever drive through Michoacan — we mustered our best “please, for the love of Maria, help us!…” en espanol as we panted.

Problem solved. They unstuck us, and I even chatted up one of the men about how beautiful the beach was, how badly I had wanted to see it, how Chilangos suck compare to Michoacanos, etc. Of course, once unstuck, we were in no mood to sightsee and we immediately got in the car and hauled ass north to the highway, and to the lovely beach city of Manzanillo, where we stayed two nights before heading home.

Best irony of the moment? It was Playa La Llorona — crying woman’s beach. What we missed. (And you may wonder: Why is it called this? Well, as it turns out, not because of some scary ghost story involving a dead crying woman rising out of the espuma, or a  pale turista lamenting her sand-sunk Dodge Attitude and sunburnt skin, but the cute noise the sand makes.)

Had we not had Charlie in tow with us, (and had we rented a 4×4) we perhaps would have stayed at least one night in one of the uber-rustic cabanas between Caleta de Campos and Manzanillo (perhaps here in Maruata, which I’m now kicking myself for not stopping and visiting), where I imagine we would have felt like the only souls on the planet, under very bright stars. But it would have been incredibly humid, mosquito-prone and we’d pine for cold beer — so we’d only stay for one night.

Manzanillo, where there are hotels, and air conditioning.

Overall, do I recommed this drive? Yes, but be prepared to fill up at every Pemex station you see — there aren’t many. Be prepared to stay in “one-star” lodging. Be prepared to see an extraordinary amount of poverty (wooden shacks, at best, for most people here).  Bring food and snacks for spontanous beach stops, especially if you’re traveling in the off-season when most places are closed. And  for the love of Maria, stay out of the loose sand.

(More on the hidden beaches of Michoacan, en espanol.)

Come With Me to Patzcuaro, Michoacan

So, I’ve got a new favorite place in Mexico: Patzcuaro, in the state of Michoacan. It’s about a 4 to 5 hour drive west of Mexico City, located just south of Morelia, the capital of Michoacan (which is supposed to be lovely, too, but we didn’t have time to visit).

Normally, I’m a beach girl and most of my favorite Mexican places involve the ocean and the creatures that inhabit within. But Patzcuaro takes the cake for:

1. Best little Mexican town, for architecture

I’ve been to a lot of “colonial era” cities in Mexico, meaning they were built soon after the conquest and still have a lot of traditional and very old Spanish architecture. They’re adorable, by and large, but after you’ve visited a few, they do start to look all the same (what’s that? Another Italian Coffee Company in a historic hacienda building? Great). Not with Patzcuaro, with its supremely maintained architecture. It’s also relatively flat, so it’s not a killer city to walk around, like equally cute but incredibly steep Taxco. We stayed at squee-worthy La Casa Encantada, which, btw, has half-off their room rates through July, so get it while it’s cheap.

Every street in Patzcuaro looks like this.

Our room at La Casa Encantada (included a kitchen).

2. Best little Mexican town, for arts and crafts

Patzcuaro and its nearby small towns operate under a unique system set up by a Spanish priest hundreds of years ago. He taught the local indigenous communities to individually specialize in specific trades, a practice that exists today. Many of these crafts are for sale in the stores that line Patzcuaro’s main plaza, but it’s also fun to get out and explore the actual towns where the products are made.

In Santa Clara del Cobre, as just one example, you can find copper galore:

At the National Copper Museum

More shopping:

Pottery for sale in Tzintzuntzan -- which means 'place of the hummingbirds' in Purepecha.

3. Best climate, ever?

Simply driving around the countryside is gorgeous. It’s hilly, green, and because of the elevation, not too hot, and not too cold. I’ve heard Michoacan contains many areas considered “most hospitable to human life” and you really feel it when you’re there, because you don’t want to leave.

Blue skies, green trees, the open road...

4. Fantastic bodies of water nearby!

Rare for Mexico, this is a lake-filled region. The most popular is Lago de Patzcuaro, which contains several islands, all swarmed by visitors come Day of the Dead, especially Isla Janitzio. Instead of visting it, we took an off-the-beaten-path tour of two other islands, Pacanda and Yunuen, where the indigenous Purepecha people live.

After spotting a sign for "eco-turistico" stuff, we turned left and headed to shore.

Gregorio talked us into a boat tour, and we visited two islands. We were the only people out.

It was so quiet here we almost heard our brains thinking.

(If you’re interested in a very unique lodging experience on Pacanda, contact Gregorio Campos who operates tours of the island and has new cabanas on the island, too, at 43-4104-2511. He’s already booked for Day of the Dead but the rest of the year he’s less busy.)

Besides Patzcuaro, there are several other lakes that are supposed to be better for swimming — deeper, cleaner, etc.

All this, gleaned in just TWO DAYS I spent there! Suffice it to say, I’ll be back.

Delightful Isla Mujeres Mexico Rocked My Socks

So before my amiga Sue-Lyn moved back to Chicago this week, we took a quick trip to Isla Mujeres, in the Yucatan. I love spur-of-the-moment trips, especially when they involve perfect turquoise-water-and-white-sand beaches, swimming with whale sharks, and half-off the price of an incredibly fun bed-and-breakfast, Casa Sirena!

I’ve already blabbed about the awesomeness of whale sharks, now it’s time to blab about Isla Mujeres. The little island — only about 7km long — is located off the coast of Cancun, but has somehow escaped the predictable and aggressive tourism found on the mainland. Sure, there are overpriced trinkets and bad food for sale along the island’s most popular beach, Playa Norte, but there’s also a refreshing hippie vibe to the place. (This may have been helped by the fact that many tourists have been scared away from Mexico because of the swine flu, leaving behind people like me, who don’t give a damn. Also, a new pet peeve of mine: Locals who won’t talk in Spanish with me when I visit touristy areas.)

A few Isla Mujeres must-do’s:

1. Eat lunch (I recommend the sopa de lima and shrimp cocktail, with a limonada) and then soak in the pools at zen-inducing Zama Beach Club.

2. After watching a rainstorm roll by, walk to the end of the pier at Zama, and dive in.

3. Rent a golf cart — hands-down the best way to get around the island. The top speed of 20 mph means you’re forced to “take it slow” and take in the sights. Definitely do a loop across the entire island. The windward Caribbean side — with its higher cliffs and land stripped of trees, thanks to all those hurricanes — has a stark beauty all its own. And it’s just sorta absurd to cruise around in a golf cart.

4. If you don’t go visit the whale sharkies (which will probably include a coral reef visit after the swim), then schedule a snorkel trip. There are several options on the island, like the overpriced Garrafon park or the next-door and much cheaper Garrafon de Castilla beach club. It’s a little downtrodden, but for $50 pesos, the price can’t be beat. The reef is pretty beat up in this area, but I did see elk coral, a grouper, barracuda and a huge queen parrotfish.

5. Or, pay a little bit more and take a boat trip to the reef north of the island near Isla Contoy, which is protected and in much better shape.

6. Eat traditional Yucatecan food at El Charco’s, located in the neighborhood where most Isla residents live.

7. Or, if you’d rather just drink beers, swim in calm shallow water (that seems to stretch across all the way to Cancun) and take in a little sun, then head to Playa Norte and rent a couple of beach chairs and an umbrella for 80 pesos or so. You may have to fight off some annoying beach vendors, and the food will be mediocre, but one can’t deny how pretty it is.

Dream Fulfilled: Swimming with Whale Sharks

A whale shark fishing for plankton, near the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico.

You know how some kids plaster their bedroom walls with images of dinosaurs? Or cartoon characters? Or boy bands?

Me, it was whale and shark posters — I even owned a bumper sticker that said “I Love Whales” long before I could drive. I devoured every issue of Ranger Rick from front to back. I knew who Eugenie Clark was. I spent 5 years volunteering for the Texas Marine Mammal Stranding Network.

But as I got older, I got a little lost on my life path and switched college degrees from marine biology to nursing to journalism. Part of my problem was math — I made a D in pre-calculus my freshman year and couldn’t imagine sweating through calculus class (a requirement for biology majors, something I think is atrocious and really unnecessary) nor some of the more advanced chemistry classes. So I let myself be persuaded by comments I’d get on essay papers, such as “A+, please consider joining student publications.”

All told, I’ve so far had a great career, first as a journalist, now as an online editor and consultant. And while my career is not always so thrilling (countless hours in front of a computer is not as adrenaline inducing as scouting the Pacific Northwest for pods of killer whales) it does pay the bills pretty nicely (probably a lot better than a marine biology degree would have) and so, in some ways, it’s letting me fulfill those dreams I had as a kid.

Case in point: This weekend, when I swam with a whale shark in the Caribbean Sea, north of the Yucatan Peninsula.

The whale shark species is at least 60 million years old, and the world’s largest fish (and of course, the world’s largest shark). It grows as long as a school bus. It’s endangered, as many sharks increasingly are because of the ridiculous demand for shark fin soup. Unlike most of its brethren, the whale shark is docile and harmless to humans. It’s got a big, gaping mouth that it uses to suck in plankton, and it moves slowly and gracefully, unconcerned with everything around it, a luxury for most animals, but not the whale shark. Beyond that, not much is known, because no one started researching the whale shark intensely until the 1990s.

As with any blow-your-mind experience, it’s hard to describe what Saturday was like. First we went out in a group of boats with certified whale shark guides, rounding up and over the Yucatan Peninsula’s eastern corner, to a wide shallow area where whale sharks congregate each summer.

The guide then stands on the top of the boat, searching for the tell-tale brown shadow and scurry of smaller fish who hitch rides around the shark (their momentum could power a wind farm…). As the plankton rises to the surface around mid-day, so do the whale sharks…..you can spot them from the surface, their 6-foot-wide mouths gaping open:

How they look from the surface when they are eating. A snorkeler is on its right side.

Sue and I gearing up to “dive in.”

It all happens very fast. It’s suddenly your turn to go, and boom, you slide into the water, and start paddling hard.  Once you reach the shark, you’re captivated, if not hypnotized. Time stops, sounds go away, and there you are, moving slowly with a whale shark (he does all the work, you just go along for the ride).

When you swim next to them (or often, above them, since they like to swim downward after eating), their big gills puff in and out.

My friend Sue-Lyn and I each got to swim three times.  I was lucky enough to be on the last team to go out, and because the other boats in the area had left, it was even more peaceful. The shark did a looooong swim in one single direction, and I was sucked into his vortex, swimming along his right side, until the guide grabbed my flipper, signaled it was time to go back to the boat, and forced me to end my incredibly awesome day. (But then we went snorkeling at a nearby reef, so the awesomeness soon started all over again…)

Mexico, as far as I could tell, does an excellent job strictly regulating the tours — rules were enforced, and the shark spent most of his time with us eating plankton (he seemed a little oblivious of us, really) something a stressed shark won’t bother with. Our shark was tagged #827 as part of the research program.

To see the full fabulous slideshow (including coral reef photos), see Swimming With Whale Sharks on flickr.

Communing with Giant Trees, Other Tourists

It’s always been a dream of mine to see the redwood forests in California, and I finally got to do so yesterday. However, we chose to visit the forest closest to San Francisco — Muir Woods National Monument — which, even on a crappy weather day, was basically swamped with humans. It’s a mere 12 miles from the city, a fact both amazing — what a lovely treasure to have so nearby — and detracting — tour buses swarm the place by mid-morning.

So, in our effort to have a quiet moment with the trees, we rashly took a hike up and away from the main path, without a map, not much water, no food, and absolutely no rain gear. After several soggy miles (and constantly drenched eyeglasses), my love of the trees turned into grouchiness, and I demanded we go back, quickly.

So we did, but it was still worth it, and next time, I’d like to go back to the really big redwood forests on the Oregon border, and camp, well-prepared.

The trees are magical, and I couldn’t help but talk to them and even pet them. Yes, I’m crazy. Do I care? No.

The slugs are as surprisingly huge as the trees.

I couldn't help but think of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.

I am relieved that we humans somehow managed to leave a few of these trees standing for future generations.

Iguanas Everywhere, Just the Way I Like It

In spite of the presence of billions of Canadian tourists, the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico still has lots of live lizards. (Let’s not mention the iguana roadkill I kept spotting last week, nor the several times we had to stop in the middle of the road to let an iguana pass, much to the annoyance of other drivers…)

"Does my butt look big?" This iguana was crawling over the Mayan ruins in Tulum. He could easily eat my dog as an appetizer.

This one has obviously been to Handsome Iguana Modeling School.

This spry little one spent a lot of time trying to scare my sister-in-law. He frequently appeared out of nowhere, claws at the ready.

Another lizard species we spotted often was the gecko. This 6-incher hung around while we drank beers on the patio. Brendan still likes to tell the story of when he first moved to Corpus Christi, Texas. Being a native Minnesotan, he didn't know what these creatures were, and when spotting one in his apartment, smashed it to bits. Since geckos eat mosquites and are otherwise harmless, we South Texans revere our geckos. Although he now admits they are "benevolent creatures," his story is still horrifying.

Fat butt iguana and gecko photos courtesy of Suz Walsh.

Whirlwind Traveling – This Week, The Yucatan (Otra Vez!)

Two weeks ago I was in New York, visiting my officemates and hanging out with old friends.

Last week I was in Texas, helping my mom sort out a really complicated medical situation. When I’m less angry at the medical system in Corpus Christi, I’ll write more about this. For now, suffice it to say, I’m fuming mad at doctors in South Texas. What gives, doctors? No humanity left?

Anyway, I must cut myself off before launching into a full tirade. Tomorrow I’m headed to one of my favorite places in the world: Tulum, Mexico. Located on the Caribbean Sea two hours south of Cancun, Tulum is an eco-resort sort of place. Hut-style cabanas instead of mega-hotels. No golf courses. Instead, yoga classes.

If a picture says a 1,000 words, then here’s my 1k.

A view of the Mayan ruins from a snorkeling boat, Nov. 2004:

Photo Tour: Beautiful Malinalco, Mexico

We spent the long weekend (it was a holiday here on Monday) in Malinalco, Mexico. We rented a house for two nights, and when not reading on the patio, we spent time exploring the local pyramid — picturesquely situated on a hill above town — and buying fresh produce at the market. We also explored an avenue south of town flanked with dozens of trout restaurants — they keep the fish in cages in the stream that runs by the street, and cook them up fresh for you.

A couple enjoys the view from one of the ancient pyramids perched above town.

A tree with pink blossoms stands over the town.

I take in the view (I have to force Brendan to take photos of me, otherwise I am absent from all trip photos.)

Brendan on the many-stepped climb uphill to the pyramids.

The house we rented for the weekend. The dog was in love with it, of course.

Charlie enjoying the warm tile.

The garden is less than two years old. The owner told me there's a saying in lush Malinalco: If it doesn't grow, it's because you didn't plant it.

Our purchases from the town market. You don't want to know how cheap and delicious this produce is.

I am really tempted to try this -- the view must be incredible.

To see more photos from our trip to Malinalco, go to Malinco, Mexico Flickr album.

If you’re interested in renting a house in Malinalco, here’s one.