Bizcocho is a generic Spanish name for variants of buttery flaky pastry and some cookies. In Ecuador, this little town of Cayambe, less than an hour north of Quito, makes the most tasty bizcochos ever. Every bite of these buttery biscuits and every crumbling edge of the golden snacks traces its origins to the initial waves of Spanish settlers that invaded Latin America.

↑ Bizcochos and the baker’s daughter who insisted on being in the picture

I happened to visit this town by chance. After visiting the Equator at the Quitsato Mitad del Mundo, I was told that in order to reach Otavalo by bus, I needed to go to Cayambe and take a different bus there. While walking in Cayambe, I was astonished to see nothing but golden biscuits virtually all around me, so I curiously popped into one of the stores.

↑ I have no idea how stores distinguish themselves from others. What’s the competitive advantage? Does it average out? What’s the effect of a blue sign v/s a green one?

Typically served with the Andean speciality queso de hoja (string cheese) or dulce de leche (milk sweets), these treats are excellent with jams and marmalade as well. Perfectly complimenting a cup of cafe con leche (black coffee), the snack was just the right thing to have after I returned from a daytrip. I tried Bizcochos in numerous places in Ecuador, but none of them were as delicious.

It’s kinda bizarre, but there are rows after rows of stores selling bizcochos, making me wonder what happened to all the grocery stores and hardware stores and barber shops. Cayambe is popular for its bizcochos, and almost all Cayambeños (people of this village) are involved in baking these goodies.

Early in the morning bakers all over Cayambe wake up to mix wheat flour, sugar, margarine, yeast and a bit of salt. Then, they let the dough rise for about an hour before they begin kneading and stretching it to cut it into little pieces that are neatly lined on baking sheets. On average, a bizcocho shop bakes between 1,500 and 2,000 pieces a day, so you can get warm, out-of-the-oven bizcochos any time of day. – Viva guide

↑ Bizcochos. Freshly stacked, ready to go.

I asked the owner to give me 30 bizcochos which I brought back to the hotel as presents to my friends, like a pirate who had discovered a booty. Oh how popular I became that evening…

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↑ Flag lowering ceremony in Merida. I like these ceremonies and my disappointment over the cancellation of this ceremony in Mexico city’s grand plaza was partially compensated here.

You don’t need a taxi

Flying from Mexico city early in the morning, I was greeted to the laid back life of Yucatan on a Sunday morning. The airport was practically empty; I honestly don’t know where all the people from my plane disappeared. It took me a while to find some official-looking guy, but he simply turned out to be a store attendant. Anyway, he, and few others after him, insisted that I should take a taxi to the city as there is no bus.

Whatever.

I walked out of the airport to a gigantic parking lot that was filled with parked tourist buses, a sight that I never saw in Mexico city. Beyond the lot was the main street which, I hoped, had buses. It did, and led me straight to downtown.

Downtown Mérida

↑ Around the central square

Mérida (मेरीदा) has a nice central plaza (called “Plaza Grande”) with a Mexican flag flying high. On sundays, some streets around the plaza are closed for vehicular traffic, which, I understand, was adopted to boost tourism in the city. Instead, the entire plaza and its surroundings turn into a pedestrian mall, with a stage setup for shows, a food lane with tons of yummy greasy fast food and buskers, vendors and other entertainers who flock the plaza. Buses pass through the streets on mysterious routes but its easier to catch a bus to neighbouring towns from the central bus terminal.

↑ Merida’s quiet downtown street

Most tourist attractions are spread around downtown so you could see them all in a day depending on your interest. There are numerous sights located at some distance from downtown. There is something to see everywhere… at the street corners, there are these signs that were installed by the Spanish rulers to teach people Spanish to the native population.

The pastel green building seen above is the Palicio de Gobierno, housing provincial government offices. The grande paintings inside the palace told some of the most compelling stories I had ever seen in a painting. These paintings were the work of Fernando Castro Pacheco and it took him 25 years to make them. Each painting tells a story about the Maya contact with Spanish colonialists, and how the life of the native population changed due to the arrival of the Europeans.

I need a place to sleep, and my stomach feels funny…

↑ Back to the colonial era

Ever since I was forced to sleep in a barn in Nazareth, Israel because I was too lazy to look for a place to stay, I got generally better at scouting and reserving a place before lunchtime. Life, in general, becomes much easier if you know that there is a place you can go to and the end of the day. Remember to quote that.

However, my Couch surfer host cancelled on me at the last minute and I couldn’t find anyone else who’d take me. I tried my luck till 8pm, but nothing. So now I was at the mercy of hostels which, for some reason, were full.

That’s when I heard it. Gentle rumbling sounds from my tummy; sounds that I feared. I checked hostel #1 – it was full. I kept walking while the activity in my stomach intensified. Now it sounded like ferocious ocean waves hitting rocks on the seashore, except that it was nowhere as pleasant. I needed to find a place NOW!

Sweating profusely and with an exasperated expression on my face, I plopped my backpack on the desk of the next hostel.

“Please tell me there is space!!”
“Let me look.” Ofcourse, the guy was in no hurry.

Meanwhile I was getting frantic. I told him I had an emergency.
“The toilet is over there, señor, why didn’t you tell me?”

Before he could finish the sentence, I threw my backpack on the floor and sped faster than the Flash superhero.

↑ Merida’s quiet downtown street

Later, looking pitifully at my exhausted look and my limited ability to focus on the surroundings, he said very kindly:
“Okay amigo, we have 1 space in female dormitory. Do you want it?”

“What? It’s not upto me, did you ask the girls there?”
“Yes, there are two girls there with the same condition as you, and they don’t mind.”

So, I got to sleep in a female dormitory that night, but most of my time was spent in a special little private room attached to it.

↑ I ate at one such carts. Mexican food is delicious.

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Viveros de Coyoacan

My excursion began with Jeruen, a gypsy Filipino blog-friend, from the Viveros subway station on the olive line. We walked to the sprawling Viveros de Coyoacan (Nursery of Coyoacan) public park which was quite busy on this saturday morning. I guess the health conscious folks show up here on weekends to purify their lungs as the air quality in the park definitely felt superior. Folks were jogging along the perimeter of the park on a running track that was covered in red soil. There were two things that stood out – firstly, people were running in anti-clockwise direction which, I don’t know why, usually confuses me and secondly, there were tons of signboards everywhere aimed at regulating the behaviour of the park’s 2,500-3,000 daily visitors. Just for the record, we were well-behaved for the rest of our trip.

↑ Entrance to the beautiful Viveros de Coyoacán park and nursery. Island of fresh air and calmness in Mexico city.

Once you pass the running track on the periphery, the interior of the park gets interesting because it has a gigantic nursery and recreational area. There are subdivisions – from tropical plantations on one end to cacti on the other. The park produces about one million saplings that are used to ‘green’ Mexico City. Then there was a small arena where people were simulating bull fighting – a guy wearing horns was chasing the guy who was provocatively waving a red cloth at the bull. In other spaces, people were practising karate, yoga, sword fights and other activities that involved intimacy and tongues.

↑ It was kinda neat to see so many people jogging on a saturday morning.

Mexico city is noisy, crowded and chaotic; but there is a noticeable push towards transforming the city into a greener, sustainable and socially progressive place. Lot of the initiatives that I saw there during my brief visit seemed very strategic and worthy of replication (and when I say that, I am talking about Mumbai).

Santa Catarina

Exiting from the park after replenishing our oxygen supplies and inhaling tons of dust in the process, we walked over to the adjacent neighbourhood which was in stark contrast to downtown Mexico City. People were smiling, kids were skateboarding, mamas were chatting in a park and artists were gathering outside an artsy cultural center. Overall, the village was quite intimate, casual, quiet and did not conform to my stereotype of Mexico city at all.

↑ This neighbourhood has quite a character, clean stone streets and brightly painted houses.

Walking through the Santa Catarina neighborhood was quite interesting because the streets were full of old architecture that the locals seemed to have taken for granted (ofcourse, that’s normal). On couple of occasions while I stood in front of a carved wooden banister affixed on a spiral staircase or a twisty wrought-iron grill at a balcony, passer-by’s looked at me suspiciously. The last time this happened was when I was walking through Puebla’s historic centre which is full of colonial buildings. I think I give a similar look to tourists who take pictures of murals on Toronto’s streets.

↑ There are large number of old buildings in this neighborhood with beautiful facades, balconies and window stills.

↑ You can actually sit on these benches!

Plaza del Centenario aka Jardín del Centenario was our next stop. It’s a leafy square which was once the centre of Coyoacan village before it was gobbled up by the rapidly expanding urban sprawl of Mexico city in the past century. There is an exciting strip of restaurants along the side street but that did not excite us at all because the food in such places is usually overpriced and too sanitary.

↑ Statues of coyotes in the central plaza in Coyoacán

Colonia del Carmen

What we were looking for was the Mercado Coyoacán or the Coyoacan market. Jeruen read somewhere about this place and when I walked in to scenes of meat and animal carcasses hanging from hooks and unclean floors in dingy corners of the market, I was very skeptical. Nevertheless, I settled down at a booth that served Tostadas, praying earnestly that I be spared from the revenge of Montezuma, an exotic name for traveller’s diarrhea.

↑ By far my most favorite Mexican dish. Tostadas have a crispy fried corn tortilla as the base and you can ask for chicken, pork, beans, mushrooms, etc. It will come topped up with avocados, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese and cream.

The next time I visit Mexico city, I’ll be sure to check out the Frida Kahlo Museum painted brightly in blue. I hope you enjoyed this tour of the neighbourhood.

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Given that I am not a long-duration traveller, I usually read about the places I want to visit and plan ahead so that I know exactly how long to stay there. But sometimes these calculations, based on other people’s opinions (guidebooks or blogs), are way off – obviously because different things appeal to us. Take Taxco, Guerrero for example: Originally intended to be a half-day stopover, I was caught unprepared as this little town charmed me into staying there for three days.

↑ Narrow cobblestone streets and noisy beetle taxis that zoom up and down the steep slopes.

It all started when I impulsively got off the bus in the middle of the beautiful Sierra Norte mountain ranges before Taxco. The view of the mountains as they were being lit up by the rising sun plunged me into an introspective, albeit blissful mode. Eventually, a combi (mini van) stopped to pick me up and as it snaked through winding roads to the outskirts of the town, the smile on my face widened.

Scattered across a number of hills in the middle of a long chain of mountains, Taxco was a silver mining town in the 16th century that reached its zenith under the Spanish colonialists. The silver from here reached as far as the Philippines. Now the silver is gone but one can find endless rows of stores selling expensive silver jewelery and weekend markets bustling with cheaper bargains but impressive work nevertheless. With the exception of one main (noisy and dusty) road in the corner of the town, the rest of the place has small cobblestone streets with medium to steep slopes. The town has somewhat of a touristic feel to it, yet it thankfully maintains a delicate balance lest it convert to a tourist trap.

I enjoy small towns like this – their uneven terrain and irregular street layout evokes a fuzzy sense of being free from flat grid-lined cities. Be it a skyscraper in a small Himalayan town or the absence of electricity in an Andean village or an old structure I see someday on my future Crete holidays, I can’t remember ever being let down. Every time I hiked up a street and turned around a corner, I found something new and unexpected, like a little chapel or a girl selling handicrafts or a lane full of fruit vendors.

↑ Taxco and its neighbourhood alleys. Most lanes are one way streets.

By the time I hiked to the highest point in Taxco, I realised that it was almost the end of the day. Predictably, statue of Jesus Christ overlooking the entire valley. It shouldn’t have taken me that long to reach up there but then the route was very pretty and very confusing (good luck asking for directions). The whole city is neatly preserved 17th or 18th century colonial Spanish town with a plaza here and a fountain there. From the top, the soaring twin belfries of Templo de Santa Prisca appear to overwhelm the otherwise little buildings and houses around the town. The walls of most buildings are whitewashed while the roofs are dark reddish brown. From the highest point, the town looks like an artist’s canvass – reddish white with deep blue sky and brown-green mountains around.

↑ Pinkish-red Cathedral of St. Prisca with decorated bell towers and facade where the Fiesta de San Sebastian was held the next day

Meanwhile the planner in me had already been efficient. Thanks to couchsurfing, and by the time I got back to town, I had a place to crash and an invitation for a party.

My couchsurfing host was one of the sweetest persons I had met. The next morning he gave me a tour of the town on his scooter. It was kinda scary but fun to sit at the back, grabbing the seat, tensing my legs and hoping I wouldn’t fall while the scooter sped through the steep slopes. I indulged in a lavish huevos rancheros breakfast, ate pork tacos at a stall operated by a big transsexual lady, followed by a large serving of panqué (pound cake). On the last day I took an excursion to the Cacahuamilpa caves to checkout the wonders inside the earth.

Over drinks, with some newly made acquaintances, my host spoke wisely about his life philosophy:
“If I were to die today, I want to die as a happy man.”

Cheeziee! Nothing that I hadn’t heard before but as we sat on a rooftop patio, overlooking the town which was turning bright orange at sunset on that crisp evening, drinking our palomas, never did the words make more sense. It’s funny what alcohol does to you, eh?

Pozole

↑ Rojo (red) Pozole stew and Tostadas

Pozole, meaning ‘foamy’, is a ritually significant traditional stew that has been around since the Aztecs. It has corn, pork or chicken and gravy made from chili peppers and garnish – lots of it. In Taxco, its customary to have Pozole on Thursdays. My host took me to a restaurant and after eating posole for the first time, my love for Mexican food doubled.

Taxco didn’t have an a-list tourist sight such as a grand museum or a Mexican pyramid or a colonial clock tower, but more often than not, it’s more pleasurable to “feel” a place than to “see” it… isn’t it?

Have you found yourself in such situations before? And how long did you end up staying in that place?

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Have you tried the famous “Pastes” of Pachuca?

↑ Pachuca city at night, viewed from “El mirador,” the lookout point. The clock tower is brightly lit in purple.

Pachuca, the capital of Hidalgo province, is a small city about 1.5 hours north east of Mexico city. The clock tower at the city centre (reloj monumental) is very pretty at night. Lonely planet says the following about Pachuca:

“The charming, brightly painted town center is visible for miles around, although growth in recent years has sadly led to far-from-lovely urban sprawl developing beyond the candy-box houses of the old town.”

My stay in Pachuca was surprising and comfortable since my basic needs (food, clothing and shelter) were met in an unexpectedly wonderful way – my couchsurfing hosts cooked for me, I bought a shirt from a market stall and then I was introduced to ‘Pastes’, the local specialty.

↑ Pastes for breakfast

Pastes

Pastes are semi-circular turnovers made with pastry crust and are very similar to the Indian baked samosa. These were adapted from the Cornish Pasty, introduced by mining workers from UK. Pastes come with various fillings – sweet or savory. I tried pastes with several fillings: mole verde (green sauce), mole roja (red sauce), pineapple, apple, potatoes and refried beans; my favorite being mole verde and pineapple. I ate as many Pastes (पास्तेस्) in Pachuca as I could…

I thought this was funny: While Pachuca’s markets were full of places selling Pastes, once I got out of this city I found it impossible to find them. In fact, a couple of people I met in Yucatan had never tasted them!

↑ Main market on ave Miguel Hidalgo

Hanging out with CS hosts

I reached Pachuca in the evening, straight from Teotihuacan. It was an unplanned trip and I had nothing with me – no change of clothes, no toiletries, nothing but a camera, bottle of water and a book. I was supposed to arrive the next morning but I thought of taking my chances and calling my couchsurfer host from the bus station. He was surprised to hear me, but fine with the idea of letting me crash the night before.

It was an obviously gay house! I liked how thoughtfully decorated and kept it was, but I felt very embarrassed to walk in covered in a layer of sweat and dust. My hosts pampered me with hospitality though and even cooked dinner for me. After that, we jumped into a car to checkout the places around Pachuca. The first stop was at the lookout point (El Mirador) which carried a glorious description in the guidebook but was quite disappointing in reality. From the mirador, Pachuca looked sprawling, but not flattering at all…, not even when I went there the next afternoon. Ah well, sometimes the places in the guidebooks are hit and miss.

↑ Cathedral.

Exploring more of Pachuca city

Most of the attractions of the town are located in the historic center and can be covered on foot. My favorite part was walking in the Mercado Juarez and along the main drag east of the central plaza. I bought things like a shaving razor, soap, a tshirt etc. and ate more Pastes. I also found some beautiful handmade clay mugs – a young lady was sitting at the corner with a number of ceramics spread out on the rug in front of her. The story of the mugs was nothing new – the price of similar items in a souvenir shop at the central plaza was about 200% higher. I felt very satisfied and proud of my accomplishments. Never before had I experienced so much joy for 3.5 dollars.

↑ Central plaza with the clock tower (Reloj monumental de Pachuca).

Streets in the central zone are crowded, especially during rush hour when the mini vans compete with each other on a one lane road. Occasionally there is a dog or two, a beggar or kids who will stare at your camera, but without all that the place would have felt fake. A store was broadcasting English audio lessons on the street, and it was quite funny because before going to Mexico I listened to Spanish audio lesson of a similar format. The first time I walked around there, the tape was teaching how to say numbers in English. When I came back after a while, it was playing this lesson on the speaker:

lección 5: frutas
mango = mango
apple = manzana
orange = naranja
pineapple = piña

…super! That’s how I learnt how to properly ask for a pineapple pastes. Earlier, I wanted an apple filling and I had to draw a picture of an apple to illustrate that – much to the amusement of the lady working there!!

↑ Clock Tower.

So, if yo have time on your hands to spare when you visit Mexico city, do pay a visit to Pachuca. There are a couple of museums and cathedrals in the historic centre, a nice plaza with a clock tower, but nothing extraordinary. The neighbouring El Chico national park is an excellent place to hike and camp. Pachuca is one of those places where you’d go just to ‘feel’ a small Mexican city, relax, walk around and do nothing.

And if you haven’t already, you should definitely try some Pastes.

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Spotted on a sunny day in Paro, Bhutan

The national dish of Bhutan is Ema Datshi – Chillies and cheese. The Bhutanese take immense pride in their cuisine and eat food that’s quite spicy (even for my Indian palate)!

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It was about 4pm and I was starving. I did start looking for lunch around noon, but then I went wandering around the Kremlin and the next thing you know, three hours went by. I decided to go to check out GUM, previously a soviet department store now a swanky mall, that flanked the north side of Red Square.

Considering how pricey GUM is (its like a museum of expensive brand stores – a window shopper’s dream) I was a bit skeptical of this restaurant. However, in Sochi, I had eaten in its sister concern – Stolovaya No. 17.

Canteen at the GUM

“Stolovaya Number 57″ simply means “Canteen No. 57″. In soviet times, these were government run restaurants where people could go for a hot meal, “ofcourse, after enduring long queues,” added a friend later.

While the restaurant I went to in Sochi was full of babushkas, the Moscow one was full of hot devushkas. But since nobody is paid to smile, and its not in their job description, and they don’t get tips, don’t expect a north American “how may I help you?” look.

Me: Привет, как дела? (Hello, How are you?)
She: Blank stare (I was glad that Russians are not the only ones that get confused by this question. Indians too!)
Me: Скажите, пожалуйста. Это говядина? (Tell me please, is this beef?)
She: Hе знаю. Cпросить ее (Don’t know. Ask her – pointing to a babuskha who was standing at the corner, supervising.)

Anyway, waiting in line and watching all the food made me salivate. The total bill, which you discover at the end, was quite large. This place is not a cheap eat but still its quite affordable by Moscow standards. There was a babushka at the cash register – probably those young blonds didn’t know how to add? She was using a calculator to my surprise (in Sochi, they used an Abacus!!)

Salads (with cranberries), Mushroom soup, grechka (buckwheat), oily chicken rice, chicken kievskaya, bread, some drink and dessert!

How apt to say ‘my plate is full’. I met a Muscovite couch surfing friend in the middle of my feast. “I didn’t know this place existed!” he said.

Thus, I ate to my heart’s content in a Soviet style canteen, and let out a loud burp proclaiming a satisfying supper. Go here if you go to Moscow.

Restaurant: Stolovaya No. 57
Location: Third floor of GUM, Red Square, Moscow.

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Coffee beans

Who knew so many kinds of coffee existed? And this is only one of 3 rows.

More pictures of St. Lawrence Market.

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More than vodka, I felt that Russia was obsessed with tea

Tea and Coffee stand

While strolling on a random street in St. Petersburg, I came across this interesting store, a variation of which, in retrospect, I’ve seen almost everywhere in Moscow too. It’s labeled as “Чай” (Chai / चाई) and “Кофе” (Kofe / कोयफ्य), or “Tea” and “Coffee” and offers a large selection of the two drinks.

Samovar in train

When I traveled from Moscow to Sochi by train, there was an industrial Samovar (Самовар / समोवर), a unit to make boiling water, in the compartment. As soon as the train departed Moscow, everyone, young and old, grabbed their mugs and lined up at the samovar. It was very interesting!

Fresh and hot, at a cafe owned by the friend of a friend.

Fantastic!

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Relic of the soviet era, this canteen serves a delicious meal in a minimalist setting.

After spending hours visiting the Arboretum and walking back to Sochi town, I was pretty exhausted and I went to this restaurant – Stolovaya No. 17 – for a late lunch. Stolovaya (meaning ‘canteen’) is a chain (run by government?) and there is another one (No. 57) is in Moscow. During the days of Soviet era, people formed long queues, waiting for their turn to get a cheap meal. The restaurant houses a kitchen (which you can see from the outside) that is full of babushkas talking to each other loudly, busy doing something while you hear constant cling-clang sounds of steel pots and pans in the background.

People stand in a queue while babushkas serve you what you ask for.

Nobody will greet you at the door, you are supposed to grab a plate and stand in that queue next to a big table filled with trays of food. You pick what you want from the options you have. Grab some meat, vegetables, salads, bread and even some desserts before you finish picking up your glass of tea. “Лимон?” (लीमोन?) you will be asked if you want a fresh slice of lemon in your tea. Finally, and here’s the most fascinating part, the babushka at the cash counter will look at your tray and announce loudly the food you have. Another babushka sitting next to her, with her head bent over a wooden Russian abacus, will rapidly move the beads with both hands. As soon as the sound, which I like, of banging wooden beads on wooden frame is over, your total will be announced, “сто сорок шесть рублей пожалуйста.” (one hundred and forty six Roubles please). I kept asking her “Сколько? Сколько?” (how much? how much?) since I am not so quick with numbers, until she waved the receipt on my face.

Russian Abacus, used to calculate the bill. The last time I used an abacus must have been over 20 years ago!

You will then be handed Aluminum cutlery, ONE napkin, and then you must immediately proceed to the dining area without lingering at the counter to take pictures of the abacus, or else you will be yelled at (guess how I found that out). The dining area, that smells like floor cleaner, has plastic chairs, rickety iron frame wooden tables with covered with plastic cloth on top (that almost smells like old plastic, you know, with an oily smell – very common in government restaurants in India) and plastic flowers to make the dining experience lively.

So I really don’t know what class of people eats at this (or such) restaurants, but everyone, visitors and employees, were very curious to watch every move I made, every breath I took. Oh god, and we are trying to be subtle..

The grand dining room.

I was delighted to experience this post-communist restaurant, and henceforth I am going to claim that I had an authentic experience of dining in a Soviet-era restaurant.

Finally, that’s what I got. I was starving and I enjoyed every bit of my food.

Delicious food. Bread, chicken breast, vegetables, salad and soup. Don’t go by the colour of the borscht – you WILL NOT get even remotely spicy food anywhere. But all the food I had was extremely tasty, including the hard bread. I queued up once again to get some dessert and burped to my stomach’s content.

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