Holy Moley Guacamole

Everywhere we go, we've tried to seek out restaurants that the locals would frequent, instead of places filled with gringos. Most times we get reasonably priced, very tasty specialties of the region. In Oaxaca I tried Cactus Tacos (I couldn't bring myself to order Grasshoppers, apparently quite a delicacy of the region). The sauces of Oaxaca, called Moles ('moh-LAYs') are rich and spicy, and some of them are good on everything!

In Chiapas we've been enjoying guacamole, as fresh as it gets, served at some restaurants with taco chips, the way we get bread and butter before a meal in a restaurant in Canada. I never much cared for guacamole, but I've really come to enjoy it.

The other night we were enjoying a meal at a restaurant that claimed to serve the best regional food in the city. David asked the server what the main ingredients of his Pollo Mole (Chicken Mole), and we were surprised that the sauce's unique taste was due to the combination of chilies and chocolate. Chicken, chilies and chocolate!

As most towns and cities don't seem to have enough green space for our liking, we went to a park about 10km outside of town today. This park's claim to fame was a large cave which you can walk through. What the Lonely Planet guide didn't mention was that this cave is surrounded by a beautiful smelling pine forest park where you can barbeque and enjoy long walks.

Chloe enjoyed the long walk in the forest but dogs are not allowed in the cave. The cave was quite a walk in itself as it is over 3.5 km long. You can walk through the cave by yourself or can have a young local kid guide you through with a small flashlight which he shines on the stalagmight formations and tells you a story about them and the shapes they form. The kid we had could not have been more than 8 or 10 with the driest sense of humor you could ever imagine. He spoke with a false deep voice and told the funniest little stories about the rock formations. At the end of the tour (I was the only non-Mexican in the group) he asked for a tip. I gave him a 10 peso coin and I guess the Mexicans in the group were not as generous as he complained and said that everyone in the group should give him 10 pesos each. It was funny to hear the Mexicans call the kid a 'little cabrone' to his face.

We had lunch at the park, tortillas stuffed with the filling of your choice. I had a veggie tortilla, and David had meat. They were quite delicious.

Later we went on a search for great live music. We were at the Gato Gordo (Fat Cat) bar/restaurant where we knew there would be live music. I couldn't eat dinner there, the lunch was still with me. Roberto, the band's front man introduced his special guest, a woman from Sudbury named Darlene. She resembled my son Tim's friend, Martina. Could that woman sing! It was as if she had a black woman inside of her, trying to get out. She wailed the blues like there's no tomorrow.

By the time we left the Gato, my stomach wasn't feeling very well. And by the time we got back to the hotel, it was my gut that was wailing the blues. It got worse, and today I had no choice but to minimize any further gastrointestinal assaults by avoiding alcohol, and any rich, spicy food.