Mariachis of Mexico

My swooning turned out to be the beginning of a bout of food poisoning and I spent the remainder of my 3-day stay in Guadalajara, on the bathroom floor  in my budget room at the Hotel San Francisco Plaza, which fortunately for me, was very clean. Although my stomach problems subsided and I left Guadalajara without seeing my mariachi again, the memory of his songs stayed with me. A decade later I still get weak-kneed whenever a mariachi sings.

Puerto Angelito and Playa Manzanillo share a bay

My challenge has always been which songs to request.  This week, at Playa Manzanillo in Puerto Escondido, two roving troubadours (they’re not officially mariachis because they’re not wearing charro suits) strolled up to our beach umbrella.

Mariachis at Playa Manzanillo, Puerto Escondido

Javier’s song choices were Guatemalan so we appealed to our lounge chair neighbours from Mexico City and   came up with a playlist of canciones that were sad, political and wildly romantic. There were even a few cumbias perfect for dancing in the sand, especially once the waiter served a round of  mescal shots. My favourite canciones de amor  were Para Siempre, Urge (Vicente Fernandez) and Maria Isabel.

Anyone else have any swoon-worthy mariachi songs?  Let me know…I’d love to add to my playlist.

Tidal pool perfect for swimming -- it's still there

Chickens ran freely across dirt streets and rooms with air conditioning were a luxury. While my then husband slept off the effects of  a 5-day drinking binge, I swam in the clear blue waters, watched brilliant sunrises and flirted with invitations from a persistent local to dance naked atop a Mayan ruin. My marriage didn’t last, but my love affair with the memory of Playa del Carmen did.

Bali beds at Paradisus Resort

Things have changed since those early wild days. Luxury resorts on the Yucatan Peninsula now attract about six million international tourists, the streets are paved and the cenotes tamed. Over the years, I’ve passed though Playa del Carmen  on writing assignment (Westjet’s Up and Enroute) but hadn’t spent any real time there. I often wondered how much it had changed. Had it lost its soul?

Launch of Passion by Martin Berasategui

On a recent assignment to cover the launch of Passion by Martin Berasategui, the Michelin-starred chef’s first restaurant in the Americas I had a chance to find out. My base was a suite at Paradisus, a luxurious resort located at the northern edge of town. Enormous in scale, its most intimate option is the Royal Service wing in La Perla, the adult-only section overlooking the beach.

Path to beach with mangroves

Early morning I awoke at sunrise and took a taxi into town. I drifted through the streets but couldn’t connect with its growth –too many cars, billboards and construction.

Construction and billboards in town

I connect to a place by walking so decided to hike back to the hotel along the beach, heading north. The curve of the sand looked vaguely familiar and, as I passed beach bungalows with sarongs draped across hammocks, gawked at a pair of snake birds in the mangroves and drank a cold cerveza under a grass palapa,  my spirits began to pick up.

Coco Bay at Playa del Carmen

By the time I swam in the cool waters on a deserted stretch of beach, encountered a topless jogger and chatted with a local Mexican family enjoying a Sunday swim, I had reconnected. My love affair with Playa del Carmen was renewed.

Later that night, as I watched the moon rise over the dark mangroves and sipped a chilled tequila sangria,  I realized I didn’t have to dance naked or go wild to tap into Playa’s soul. It had worked its magic all by itself.

But I still might give that topless yoga a go.

Sunshine Wildlife Tours

After three days of driving Florida’s I-95 from Palm Beach to Jensen Beach, I was happy to get away from the superhighways and onto the water.  My hope was to see a manatee or two. I’d seen plenty of signs but no actual manatees.

Watch for manatees

I met up with her at the Port Salerno marina where she’s moored outside Finz restaurant, a local sailor hangout, where they happen to make fabulous Stoley Doleys, a fresh pineapple and vodka punch. Before long Captain Nancy and I were out on the water.

Looking for manatee in the Indian River Lagoon

Captain Nancy explained that the Indian River Lagoon and the St. Lucie River are one of the most diverse estuaries in North America. It’s home to bottlenose dolphin, sea turtles, sting rays, otters and manatee. One island is home to 14 species of birds and there are even oyster beds.

“Each adult oyster  bed cleans 50 gallons of water a day,” she explained — which got me to wishing I hadn’t eaten a dozen raw oysters at Finz the previous night. She also explained that the estuary is under assault from development which has destroyed 80% of the mangroves, pesticide and fertilizer run-off and dredging to allow large yachts better passage into the marinas.

Dredging operation

Complicating things is that the water is only three feet deep in spots which means marine life can’t exactly dive deep and escape the propellers of speed boats and mega yachts.  Posted signs asked boaters to restrict their speeds but so far I hadn’t seen anyone slow down. Except for us. Sunshine Wildlife Tours  chugged along at a sea turtle’s pace while every other boat seemed to be going full throttle. When I learned manatees have poor hearing and couldn’t hear the boat coming, I forgot about my manatee quest and began to hope they’d all ditched to a quiet cove.

Of course, that’s when the marine life began to appear. First it was a trio of bottle nose dolphins, including a mother and baby. Then, it was a pair of manatee. They lumbered about in the shallow water, not exactly cavorting  more like rolling, like big waterlogged tree trunks. They also had a habit of rolling directly toward the boat traffic lane. Before long, I was a nervous wreck worrying they were going to be hit by one of the speeding boats.

Pelicans, dolphin and manatee live in the estuary

“Many do,” said Captain Nancy, never one to mince words. “There were once 3,000 manatee in the estuary and now we’re not sure what the population is.”

Good news is on the horizon, mangrove restoration projects are underway, several counties have passed ordinances restricting the use of fertilizers and responsible tour operators like Sunshine Wildlife Tours are educating people about the fragility of the lagoon ecosystem. Now if they could just ramp up controlling those speeding boats I’d be a lot happier the next I spot a manatee.

Want to see a slideshow of my trip? Take a Tour of Martin County onYouTube

If You Go

Where to Stay: The Inn at Tilton Place, an eco-hotel offering locally-sourced, seasonally cuisine and organic wines, is a 20 minute drive away in Jensen Beach, Florida.

Sunshine Wildlife Tours: Contact Captain Nancy Beaver at 1-800-517-7207 or by email at captainnancy@sunshinewildlifetours.com.

If you’re in Toronto and love a great cup of coffee, then it’s worth ordering authentic Guatemalan coffee from my pal, Ken McGuffin who, in addition to his mega media relations job at the Rotman School of Management has also managed to build a school in the highlands of Guatemala. You can read about his school-building activities in his Guatemala School Project blog or follow him on Twitter @schoolproject.

Mayan girl near Coban

About the coffee. It’s $10 for a 300 g bag and comes in a medium roast or a dark roast and in beans or ground. Café Justicia is Fair Trade, shade-grown, organic coffee produced on the volcanic slopes surrounding Lake  Atiltán in the Guatemalan highlands. The coffee is produced by members of the Campesino Committee of the Highlands (CCDA),  an organization founded in 1982 and mandated to peacefully defend the rights of workers on large coffee, sugar and cotton plantations in Guatemala; recover lands stolen from the Mayan communities over the past century; promote organic and traditional Mayan agriculture, and protect the cultural rights of Guatemala’s Mayan majority.

A coffee cooperative near La Campa, Honduras

A few years ago, I completed a month-long community development assignment with the Canadian Executive Service Organization (CESO) in La Campa, Honduras (3 bone-rattling hours from Copan) and saw first-hand what an amazing difference even a little international support can mean to a community. If you’re travelling to Honduras, check out the Visit La Campa tourism project page and plan a visit to the coffee plantation, go horseback riding or make some Lenca pottery.

Ken also sells weavings fromAsociación Maya de Desarrollo in Solola, Guatemala. Catch up with him at:

7^th Annual Fair Trade Holiday Sale for Guatemala

Thursday, December 8, 2011
10am to 7:00 pm

Fleck Atrium (Ground Floor)
Rotman School of Management
University of Toronto

105 St. George Street
(south of Bloor, across from Innis College)

It was after midnight when the plane touched down in Guatemala City. The streets were clear of traffic and the moon had risen high above the jacaranda trees silhouetting Pacaya volcano, with its molten lava spilling out the cone. A short winding ride later, I neared my hotel in Antigua. The streets were empty, the wrought-iron gates of the colonial homes locked up tight and the air chill as the driver jumped out and rang the buzzer. And rang and rang and rang. The sleepy owner finally woke up and led me past a lantern-lit courtyard to my room. It was the doorman’s first day and he was a sound sleeper.

My plan was to take a crash course in Spanish. That might seem crazy since I’m married to a Guatemalan but my ad-hoc home schooling has resulted in huge gaps in vocabulary. I can talk about kitchen ingredients and family stuff but if the conversation veers into religion or business I’m lost. I just don’t have enough words to work with. Often, I just stay silent, nodding demurely and leading people to think I’m shy — which is the opposite of the truth.

View from the rooftop of my hotel in Antigua

If you want to learn Spanish, Guatemala is one of the world’s leading locations. Antigua boasts over 30 language schools while Quetzaltenango and Panajachel have emerged as new alternatives. I chose Antigua because it was 25 minutes away from family in the capital, and tuition at Probigua was only $140 a week, plus a book donation, for 20 hours of one-on-one personal instruction. It wasn’t the cheapest, but I liked that it a non-profit institution that provides mobile libraries for children in rural villages where there is no access to books. Books had been such an important part of my life growing up, I think everyone should have the opportunity to read.

I met my teacher, Lucrecia, and she assessed my level of Spanish as intermediate and adjusted the training plan.

“I’ve been teaching here for six years” she said “and, after one week, if you work hard, you will get to here.”

She pointed to the Future tense in my workbook. “But, if not, you ll get to here”. The Past Preterite. Not one to live in the past, I vowed to diligently complete my homework. The lessons began that day. Soon my brain was going fuzzy.

“Only one more hour to go until la pausa or coffee break,” she encouraged. I persevered and was rewarded with strong coffee and a bun from a woven basket. Coffee was served in an olla, a large earthenware urn. It was ladled into each student’s mug, the delicious scent of coffee with a hint of cinnamon and cloves wafting up and warming your face and hands.

Exploring the shrines in the churches of Antigua

I used the coffee break to scout the premises. There were 20 pairs of students and teachers, seated at individual wooden tables, within an outdoor courtyard. Stone steps led to a garden patio shaded under pink bougainvillea.  The break ended and another hour and a half of lessons began. By now my teacher was puzzled.

Why do you speak Spanish with a Guatemalan accent?” she asked her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Mi esposo,” I shrugged.

The disclosure was like opening Pandora’s Box. Once she discovered my partner was from Guatemala she couldn’t resist steering our conversations back to my family life.

“Where does his family live? Did you meet here? What kind of job does he have? What kind of food do you eat? How does he compare to Canadian men – which is more macho?”

Just when I was sure I couldn’t possibly speak one more word in Spanish, a bell sounded and we were done for the day.   Just in time. My teacher now knew more about my personal life than my mother did.

But I had enjoyed talking Spanish with a stranger and vowed to take more lessons in the future.

Posada La Merced is a bargain stay

If You Go

Where to Stay: I stayed at Posada La Merced, a nearby hotel managed by an expatriate Kiwi, Gail Rogers, with 26 clean rooms, two garden courtyards, a communal kitchen and my very own desk.  I loved the rooftop patio where you can see the whole town, the spires of crumbling churches punctuating the low relief of the short squat stucco buildings.  I stayed in a room on the back patio ($44). 

Around the corner is Hotel Casa Cristina where the best rooms (#11 and #12) come with a view of the volcano and cost just $35 a night in low season. Long stay discounts are available.

What to See: At the north end of Antigua is La Merced church, a confection of golden yellow stucco and glossy white trim, built in 1552. Inside is a 4 ton statue of the Black Christ which, during Holy Week, gets carried aloft by 80 men in a procession that moves slowly through the streets.

Where to Study: I chose PROBIGUA , a not-for-profit language school and library. In addition to classes,the school offers plenty of extra activities from salsa dancing classes, cooking lessons, movies and excursions to coffee plantations. 4 hours of individual classes daily is $140 USD and group classes are $110 plus a book donation. You can study up to 7 hours a day if you’re super keen. Home stay options are available.

Tours and Transportation: Adrenalina Tours offers shuttles from the airport direct to your hotel, from Tikal and other points in Guatemala and they’ve been doing business in Guatemala since 1987.

1) Explore a Kite Festival: Guatemalans believe the barrier between the realms of the living and the dead is at its most porous on Day of the Dead (Dí­a de los Muertos) and the All Saints Day (Dí­a de los Santos), so it’s an auspicious time to communicate with family ancestors by attaching messages to barriletes (kites) and letting the wind carry the messages up to the heavens. The best places to see these ceremonial kites are the barriletes fiestas held on November 1st in the central highlands near Santiago Sacatepéquez and Sumpango.


2) Eat a Special Breakfast: Day of the Dead isn’t just a spiritual tradition for barrileteros, it’s also an opportunity for Guatemalans to eat special foods. A breakfast favourite is  Dulce de ayote. Made of chilacayote, a long-necked squash chopped into pieces with the skin, pulp and seeds intact, it’s steamed in rapadura, pure sugar cane juice and generously spiced with cloves and cinnamon.  Lime leaves and orange peel keeps it from becoming too sweet while molasses gives it a rich mahogany colour. 

Order blue corn tortillas, fresh off the comal, to take home.

3) Sample Fiambre:  The time, cost and effort of preparing the more than 100 ingredients that go into fiambre elevates this cold meat and vegetable salad to an exalted position in Guatemalan culture.  Just mentioning fiambre is enough to make a grown man swoon with desire.

Score an invitation to someone’s home or go to Lo-Mix in Antigua for fiambre

4) Join the Party: Eat street food, drink venado white rum, fly a small kite of your own to communicate with your ancestors or join a street procession.

Conquistadores in Barcenas, Guatemala

A colourful tomb in San Vicente, Guatemala

5) Visit a Cemetery:  A week before Day of the Dead, family tombs are scrubbed, cleaned and repainted — often a beautiful bright blue. On Day of the Dead, families make paper garlands and purchase wreaths of white and red chrysanthemums to place on the tombs of departed family members. They spend the day at the graveyard and processions, prayers, special masses and of course food are all part of the tradition.

Most of my Day of the Dead festivities revolve around food, but this year I’m making Platanos en Mole ( plantain in a rich chocolate/spice sauce) a dish usually served during Holy Week because I’m testing recipes for my upcoming book. So I’m hoping to score some fiambre from a generous friend!

Ever since I first heard the song Soy de Zacapa I vowed to someday see the natural swimming balnearios (baths) at Pasabien. This spring I finally got my chance. The rest of the family had left for Guatemala City,  Mama Tayo thought 35C too cold to swim and Papa Challo was sick, so we headed out with the boys, crossing the San Vicente River and skipping past the village of Huite.  

“Huitecos are known for their wit and intelligence,” said Javier, who enjoyed providing a running commentary about the people and places we passed while driving. 

Based on my recollection of the one guy from Huite I’d met, I had my doubts.  The man had taped a .25 coin to his shoe to make sure he had money for a phone call when he travelled from Winnipeg to Toronto. It wasn’t as though he was crossing the Serengeti–it was a 2 hour direct flight.

The highway weaving through the lowlands belied its poverty. A local government official had funnelled money into capital projects such as highways and sanitation systems so a fully-paved asphalt ribbon cut incongruously past rows of ramshackle homes. We paused at Valle Escondido waterslide park, surrounded by a high security fence. Signs warned no armas – handguns allowed. Just in case you were thinking of tucking a pistol in your Speedo.

No swimming with your gun at Valle Escondido

“Do you want to go and check it out?” asked Javier.

“Um, no thanks,” I answered, hoping for a quiet day in the country.

We then crossed a highway which traced the route of Guatemala’s former national railway. Built between 1877 and 1908 and then taken over by United Fruit and abandoned in the 1950’s, it once connected Guatemala City to Puerto Barrios, the steam-powered locomotives feeding the economic powerhouse of trade in fruit, coffee and vegetables. Today, all that remained of the mightiest railway line in Central America was a few tracks and the fascinating, but often overlooked Museo de Ferrocarril or Railroad Museum,  in Guatemala City.

Beyond Santa Cruz’s busy commercial area, with its gas stations and cowboys, we continued along a small winding road, past vendors selling pineapples and quesadilla, the crumbly cheese cake so beloved in Zacapa.

Handy tables and steps lead to the water

At Balneario Pasabien, we parked beside some comedors local food stands. The place was completely deserted. We were the only car in the parking lot. Although just minutes from the highway, Pasabien was an oasis of  tranquility. The river itself was wild, with tumbling and churning cascades of white water at its northern end where it spilled from its source in the Sierra de las Minas Mountains, into a natural rock pool.

Jump right in

The first pool of calm water was surrounded by large smooth boulders, perfect for diving from. The river then made another series of drops, each creating mini-waterfalls which fed a string of peaceful pools. Each pool was surrounded by stones of different sizes and colours. We hurried to get changed and I was still pulling up my bathing suit when I heard Javier and the boys hooting and shrieking. From the sounds of it, the water was icy cold.

I ran to the river’s edge and jumped in up to my ankles, ready to paddle out to the middle of the pool where they were. I could feel the current tugging lightly on my calves.

“Fresh from the mountains,” shouted Javier who was thrashing about determined to show off his fortitude.

“No wonder the place is so empty,” I hollered back.

Javier looked more like an otter than a person –  diving, ducking under the waterfall and sliding down the rocks.

“You should see it during Semana Santa (Easter),” he said coming up for air. “The water is as warm as a bathtub and packed with people.”

Peace and quiet was fine with me. I took a breath and dived in, falling in love with Guatemala all over again. Want to listen to the waterfall? Watch the video: 

If You Go: 
Official Guatemala Tourism website: www.visitguatemala.com

Where to stay: In Santa Cruz, at km 126 on Ruta al Atlantico is Hotel Pasabien

Looking at the circular shape of the labyrinth on the lawn at the Tatamagouche Centre, I’m hoping my writing does more than go around in circles while I’m here. I’m in Tatamagoughe, on the eastern shore of Nova Scotia. at an independent writers retreat.

Tatamagouche is an educational and spiritual centre operated by the United Church of Canada. It offers a place of learning, creativity and renewal and is open to lay people of all denominations and faiths. I was lucky enough to get a bursary to attend its writers retreat.

One of the highlights of the facility, in addition to its 15 acres overlooking Tatamagouche Bay, is a large labyrinth in front of the main building. Modeled on Chartres Cathedral in France, the Tatamagouche labyrinth has eleven concentric circles around a six-petal centre, called the “Flower of Aphrodite.” It is a sacred design used as a tool for meditation and spiritual journey.

Historic Stevens House  is my temporary home

It’s been a journey for me to get here. Nova Scotia is a long way from Toronto and an even longer distance from Guatemala, where I was just a few weeks ago. But there is a close connection between the two. Among its many programs, Tatamagoughe offers Breaking the Silence, a Maritime solidarity network supporting the efforts of Guatemalans struggling for political, social, economic and environmental justice. They do advocacy and lobbying, organize delegations, send interns and human rights accompaniers and promote fairly-traded products such as coffee and crafts. And my book is set in Guatemala. Learn about my connection and get some travel tips in How to Travel Safely in Guatemala. 

Tatamagouche’s retreats are intended to provide rest, renewals and spiritual deepening to equip people to better engage in service and transformation in the world. No cell phone service and no wireless signal in my cottage, the historic Stevens House. The 150 year old property overlooks the fork of two rivers and is surrounded by huge red oak and white birch trees. I pass an apple orchard and ancient black locust trees on my way to the dining hall.

Blue Sea beach at Malagash

When not writing, I can hike a portion of the Trans Canada, called the Butter Trail (named after the area’s creamery industry), or swim in the warm salty waters of Blue Sea Beach, where marsh grass and gentle waves lap the shore. It’s so meditative I may not even need to walk the labyrinth.

Freebies, swag, discounts, promos or comps, no matter what you call it, free stuff is a fact of life in the world of PR. But recently I’ve started to wonder if it’s all gotten a bit out of control. And I’ve even started to feel sorry for  hotel PR reps.

It all began when I read the Smart Cookie column in the May 24 issue of the Globe and Mail. Angela Self recommends in Travel Deals: ask and you shall receive that readers looking to save money on their next vacation should “Contact the PR representative listed on the location’s tourism site…This person is usually listed under the About Us or Media tab.” She goes on to say that “If you have a Facebook or Twitter account or even a blog, then you’re part of the social media …The chance you’ll post a positive review to your network is incentive for the PR people to make you happy on your vacation.”

Really?

I wondered as I read the list of VIP experiences, upgrades and deals–all free for the taking. I was tempted to ask about U.S. Federal Trade Commission disclosure rules governing endorsements, testimonials, advertisements, and bloggers. See the lively discussion on Edward Hasbrouk’s blog The Practical Nomad on how disclosure rules on ‘material connections’ or free products can apply to those living outside the U.S.

Then, I got followed on Twitter by Project Priceless, a blog with the stated goal “to get Brian and Jordan married in the next year, as free-of-charge as possible. The method: the happy couple will borrow, trade, and accept donations of elements (stuff, services, etc) for the wedding. Everyone who contributes to the occasion gets a shout-out, and any businesses or artisans who contribute get big shout-outs.”  They promise to share their positive sponsorship experiences with the media, when possible. I suppose that’s why they followed me. 

I was a bit puzzled. With only 200 Twitter followers, exactly how much buzz could they be generating?

I checked in with a few PR people I know to find out what sort of criteria they use when screening requests for promotional or media rates. When it came to print, it was easy. Circulation and readership figures, advertising rates, niche, demographics, national or regional coverage and more. Online and social media was less clear. Alexa or Google Rank? Sometimes. Number of followers or subscribers? Yes, but no-one could pinpoint a minimum number. Klout Score? Few had heard of it.

If all this is true, then PR reps should be prepared for a deluge of requests from those willing to “spread the word.” As for me? I didn’t have time to email anyone about disclosure rules. I was too busy chasing down my own request for a freebie. And building a blog for my kids.

I tried to do it. I really did. I wrote about cuisine and outdoor adventure – a lot. But I  also wrote about NASCAR, sex museums, spas, spirituality and hotels for dogs. Basically whatever caught my fancy.

Fairmont Southampton hosted a guided walk of Horseshoe Bay

But as I walked Bermuda‘s beautiful Horseshoe Bay during the recent Caribbean Conference on Sustainable Tourism Development, I began to wonder if I had made a bad career choice.Maybe I should have specialized in the Caribbean!

Conference delegates in St. George, UNESCO World Heritage Site

After all, the study tours which involved walking on pink beaches and exploring St. George,  a UNESCO World Heritage Site surrounded by emerald green waters, were a real treat. Especially in the winter. It’s not as though I’ve never written about the Caribbean. I’ve written stories on the French Caribbean Rum Trail and Island Time in Jamaica.  But a few stories does not a specialty make.

Researching the pub scene in Hamilton with colleagues

By the time the conference neared to a close, I had convinced myself that it was time to specialize. Dinner mates at the conference agreed. The Caribbean should be my new focus.

Fairmont Southamption in Bermuda

No sooner had I made that decision, I got an assignment to write about the polar bear migration in northern Manitoba — about as far away from the Caribbean as you can get. The last time I’d been to Hudson Bay, I’d swam with wild beluga whales, about 5,000 of them, for several magazines. But I hadn’t seen any polar bears.

I watched and then swam with wild belugas in Hudson Bay Credit: Sea North

As I got to thinking about the aurora borealis, walking the tundra and tucking into some northern cuisine,  it didn’t take long before I was making plans to head north.

Is it a good idea to specialize? For me, that decision will have to wait.