Reflecting on last night, I was amazed at how little things had changed in half a century, so I followed the same path early in the morning, all along feeling that I had stepped unto an episode of The Twilight Zone. Nothing had changed. How can that be? After all, Veracruz is the most important port of the Gulf coast, and all along in my travel I have seen the evidence that Mexico has become more modern and attractive over the years.
I breakfasted on gordas and
picadas, following the family tradition ever since my youth. A gorda
is flat maize dough with a thin smear of beans in the inside that when lightly
fried puffs up (hence the name gorda), and a picada is flat maize
dough with pinched edges that is lightly fried (this time without puffing up)
and topped with salsa, finely chopped onion (hence the name picada), and
crumbled cheese. A simple breakfast best described as food from the gods.
My next destination, in this
unreal world suspended in time, was the far away beach of Mocambo, where the
Band of Brigands was allowed to roam free among palm trees and endless dunes,
while doing our best to drown ourselves in the waters of the Gulf. I remember
it as an hour-long ride south through ag fields nearly to the mouth of the Río
Jamapa, where a quaint fishermen’s hamlet, called Boca del Río, was a
favorite place of the adults to go have seafood for lunch and drink toritos
(a most treacherous beverage, made with aguardiente de caňa—a type of
raw, high octane rum—and sweet fruit juice; three of those and you are out for
the count). So I boarded the same 60-year-old rattling bus ready to relax and …
warp speed effect … in an instant I was propelled into the future to a super
modern and super attractive Veracruz. Of course: The old Veracruz, molded over
400 years of history, had nowhere to grow, and the regular people had no reason
to change, so the city grew at the expense of the ag land to the south, and now
forms a beautiful metropolis that extends continuously to Boca del Río and
beyond. I was fascinated and missed Mocambo all together, so eventually reached
the end of the line at Antón Lizardo, went back to Boca del Río and took a walk
along the new and beautiful Fishermen’s Wharf, walked along the beach (Mocambo
is now unrecognizable with its tall hotels and beautiful bungalows) and finally
took the bus back with the idea of visiting the old downtown.
Man, it is really hot here, and it
is only noon. I had just alighted by the old wharf when two things happened
almost at once. First, I got a message that I had to prepare to submit a proposal
to the National Science Foundation in two days time, and second I started to
sweat profusely, a good sign that I was in the first stages of heat stroke
(even though I had had the precaution of carrying a parasol with me). So I
turned tail and headed back to my air-conditioned hotel, with its Wi-Fi
connection, where a cool shower and a long nap restored me to health and good
spirits.
I ventured out again in the
afternoon, first to have dinner at the local seafood shack, where I enjoyed the
aguachile of the house (a type of seafood cocktail in a cool citrusy
cilantro broth). Afterward, and with due respect to the residual heat, instead
of walking I took the bus to downtown to resume the itinerary I had interrupted
so abruptly, I proceeded to have the most delightful walk through the old city,
central park, the market, and of course the wharf. With the cool breeze of the
early evening, thousands of Veracruzanos had come out to promenade along the
wharf and the malecón. I was back to the Veracruz of so many years ago.
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