Jan

The Corn Tortilla: A Mexican Superhero

by Eva Boynton on January 11, 2016

A mural of a maize plant used to make corn tortillas illustrates the connection of corn to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

A kernel of corn at the heart of a Mexican corn plant; the corn plant at the heart
of the corn tortilla; the corn tortilla at the heart of Mexican culture
photo © Eva Boynton

The Delicious Taste of Cultural Heritage

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a corn tortilla addict. At first I was skeptical.

My travel companions from Mexico would let loose disappointed sighs when a beautiful meal lacked their favorite flying saucers made of corn. I would think to myself, “What’s the hubbub over tortillas?” After my first weeks in Mexico, though, I was hooked.

Corn tortillas are the superheroes of a Mexican meal. They can magically expand a few morsels of food into a full meal. They add flavor and richness to daily life. And the process of making delicious tortillas connects people to Mexico’s cultural heritage and traditions as well as to each other.

Born in a Tortillería

The life of this Mexican superhero begins in the tortillería (tortilla shop). Found in every neighborhood, the bustling shops spice up the streets with sound, smell, and flavor. They are a place of congregation, a daily interaction between neighbors.

Tortilla shop in a small Mexican town, showing how the daily practice of making corn tortillas connects to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

It is impossible to walk through the streets of a town in Mexico without running into a tortilla shop.
© Eva Boynton

If the tortillas are made by machine, the crunch and whine of turning gears can be heard from several blocks away. If they are made by hand, the rhythmic pat-patting of hands flattening the dough fills the street. Each method douses the air with a corn perfume.

City or small town, life in Mexico is life with tortillas.

A Family Affair

One such tortillería is Tortijocha in Huatulco, a city in the Mexican state of Oaxaca. José Alfredo Lavariega Canseco (or Jocha, for short) began the business in his home, selling tortillas handmade by his wife.

Jocha and his family standing in front of their tortilla shop, illustrating the connection between corn tortillas and Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton).

Jocha (second from the left) stands proudly in front of his tortilla shop
with his workers and family.
© Eva Boynton

The more they sold, the more Jocha recognized the possibility of a larger enterprise. The front of his house transformed into Tortijocha.

Jocha’s tortilla machine carries the name of
Fausto Celorio, who mechanized the
tortilla-making process in the late 1940’s.
© Eva Boynton

But selling handmade tortillas is not always profitable since they cannot be mass produced.

Jocha explains, “They are very tasty, handmade tortillas, but I was interested in doing business.”

Consequently, someone else was introduced into the family business. Her name—Máquina Celorio.

The early days of using the machine were pure experimentation. Jocha’s first tortillas were a tad crispy, but that did not spoil the family’s excitement. They celebrated around the dinner table with a stack of charred, machine-made tortillas and a home-cooked meal.

A man working the tortilla machine, showing the daily practice of making corn tortillas that connects to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Man and machine at work.
The dough—a mixture of ground-up corn kernels soaked in limewater—is pushed
through a funnel, sliced into tortillas, and moved along three griddles to cook.
© Eva Boynton

Once again, the tortilla showed its superpowers, bringing a family together in a common enterprise. Tortijocha quickly began producing and selling stacks of identically cut and cooked tortillas that brought other families together in communal feasts.

The Cultural Connection

“Is there a difference between your tortillas and those from other tortilla shops?” I asked.

Jocha replied, “Our tortillas are the best because we make tortillas with real corn. . . .We try to have flavor and texture in the tortillas. We want to have quality.”

The real corn Jocha is talking about comes from using maíz (corn) purchased from local farmers in Huatulco. Tortijocha soaks and grinds the corn instead of buying a pre-made mixture from a store.

Spread out on the floor, a pile of corn is ready for use in making corn tortillas, a food connected to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Gabriela Díaz Cortez)

Ears of corn, soon to become tasty tortillas
© Gabriela Díaz Cortez

Jocha claims that the taste of “100% pure maíz” (found on their store sign) creates stronger connections among land, plant, farmer, and city customer. The connections date back to the ancestors of Mexico’s modern culture who grew some 59 types of indigenous corn.

Mountains with corn plant growing in the foreground, showing an ingredient for making corn tortillas, a food still connected today to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Gabriela Díaz Cortez)

Maíz grows throughout the mountains and valleys of Mexico.
© Gabriela Díaz Cortez

Corn tortillas are ingrained in Mexico’s identity for reasons beyond the ingredients—the patting together of dough is part of Mexico’s cultural heritage that has been passed down across centuries.

A Mexican woman making corn tortillas by hand, showing an ongoing connection to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions (Image © Frank Kolvachek)

Many families and tortillerías make tortillas by hand today.
© Frank Kolvachek

Why does this traditional way of making tortillas continue? Perhaps because it is tradition, or perhaps it is because handmade tortillas are more delicious, crafted and cooked on a different kind of grill—crafted by a person rather than sliced and delivered by a machine.

Whether made by machine or by hand, however, the corn tortilla maintains its superhero status, connecting a modern-day culture to its roots.

Oh, I See the Superpowers of the Corn Tortilla

Maintaining traditions across centuries. Bringing people together. As if these superpowers weren’t sufficient, I discover the daily power of tortillas. They go with almost every meal in Mexico, serving as the main ingredient, utensil, or sponge to soak up the rich flavors of a dish.

Dinner plate filled with tasty tortillas topped with queso fresco and avocado, illustrating the ongoing connection between tortillas eaten today and Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Dig in!
© Eva Boynton

I imagine myself traveling with a utility belt full of tortillas for every occasion. Need silverware? Pull out a tortilla. Missing a napkin, tablecloth, meal extender, flavor enhancer, or community builder? Look to the little tortilla.

As Jocha told me, “The corn tortilla is the most important thing on the table.” That’s because it’s a Mexican superhero, full of good taste and cultural heritage, connected to Mexico’s rich history and ancestral cuisine.

Thank you, Jocha, for the interview and the delicious tortillas.

Comment on this post below.

Eva Boynton 1 Comment

Cultural Heritage & Traditions/Mexico

Nov

Survival Essentials for Adventure Cycling

by Eva Boynton on November 2, 2015

Biker riding with hands in the air, demonstrating the appreciation of living only with the survival essentials during adventure cycling along Mexican toll roads. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Living off the bare necessities and feeling on top of the world.
© Eva Boynton

How Mexican Toll Roads Change Perspective

There are two main roads weaving through Mexico: the calle libre (free road) and the autopista (toll road). When four friends and I, all engaged in adventure cycling, biked through Mexico, our choice in road shaped the future.

We chose the toll road. Not only did it develop our appreciation of the survival essentials, but it also irrevocably changed our perspective.

A toll road for cars with rain clouds above, illustrating the survival essentials for bikers engaged in adventure cycling along Mexican toll roads. (Image © iStock / aidaricci)

.A toll road has different meaning to a car driver than to an adventure cyclist.
© iStock / aidaricci

Toll roads are government-owned roads that require payment (free for bicycles!) for maintenance efforts. They are:

a direct path from one big city to another
time-savers—15 to 30 miles shorter than free roads
built to offer beautiful views from bridges, smoother pavement, and a spacious shoulder for cycling

But beware! With these welcoming attributes comes a set of challenges for the adventure cyclist. The fast track means a lack of off ramps and, therefore, a lack of resources.

Signs for upcoming cities and a place to find resources, illustrating the survival essentials for bikers engaged in adventure cycling on toll roads (Image © Eva Boynton).

Few and far between are signs of places to find water and food on the toll road.
© Eva Boynton

Toll roads, by design, bypass the smaller towns along free roads where food, water, and shelter are plentiful. They teach, through trial and error, the three survival essentials of choosing to travel on the toll road.

Survival Essential #1: Water

The first question for survival on a bicycle is: “How much water can you carry?”

Water bottles strapped onto a bicycle, showing a survival essential for adventure cycling along the toll roads of Mexico. (Image © Eva Boynton).

We may crawl like snails, but carrying an extra liter or two is worth the weight.
© Eva Boynton

Our team of cyclists learned the answer the hard way.

After a 4-hour-climb in the mountains of Guerrero, Mexico, our crew stopped to fix a flat tube. When we reached for water to hydrate, we realized our bottles were empty. The midday heat was kicking in, and there was no water resource in sight.

While most of us morosely shook the last drops of water onto our tongues, my friend grabbed his empty bottles and started waving them like a madman at cars zooming by.

An 18-wheeler truck driving on the highway, illustrating how adventure cycling on Mexican toll roads changes perspectives (Image © iStock/vitpho).

Although big trucks are normally intimidating with their size and roar,
this 18-wheeler became our best friend.
© iStock / vitpho

In an act of both desperation and creativity, we followed his lead. After many cars zoomed by, our 18-wheeler salvation arrived. A cargo truck rumbled toward us and slowed with a crunch-screech of breaks.

Catching up with our empty bottles in hand, we jogged underneath the passenger’s window. A pair of hands tossed out a gallon of water. We shrieked, “Muchas gracias!”, and the anonymous driver and truck rolled into the distance.

Woman hugging a gallon of water, showing the appreciation of a survival essential during adventure cycling on Mexican toll roads. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Pure joy and appreciation for a garrafón de agua
© Eva Boynton

Although water may be an obvious survival essential, our toll road environment changed our perspective. Water became a precious commodity due to rare access and the physical need from cycling for 6 or 7 hours a day.

When we were gifted water from a truck driver or passerby, we became giddy children opening presents on Christmas day. The value of things we carried changed. Excess items (like clothes, even electronics) were left behind and replaced with the weight of water.

Survival Essential #2: Shade

We found ourselves in a desert of sun, and shade became an essential during the hottest hours of the day.

At the mercy of the weather and climate, we began to form a daily routine, where the break in the middle of the day was the perfect time to find our shade “oasis”:

8:00 am: Hit the road
2:00 pm: Find shade
4:00 pm: Continue cycling
6:00 or 7:00 pm: Look for a place to camp

What was our cue to look for shade? When we heard the sizzle of our backs frying like eggs or felt the salty sweat roll down our faces.

Three cyclists resting in the shade during an adventure cycling tour along Mexican toll roads, showing that shade is a survival essential. (Image © Eva Boynton)

The first of many naps in the shade on our toll road adventures
© Eva Boynton

Sometimes, we began to see mirages. The shadow of a small tree became an umbrella planted in the white sand with a beach chair awaiting beneath. We stopped there.

A group of bicycles parked in the shade of a tree, showing a survival essential during adventure cycling on Mexican toll roads (Image © Eva Boynton)

We were not particular, learning to love shade in all its shapes and sizes.
© Eva Boynton

While resting near an overpass, I looked over to see our teammate Gaby fast asleep on a comfortable bed of cement. A memory foam mattress would not have given her better sleep or a softer surface.

A girl sleeping on the side of the road during adventure cycling along Mexican toll roads, showing how shade is a survival essential. (Image © Eva Boynton).

Shade can make even the hardest surface seem soft.
© Eva Boynton

Our second survival essential was surely shade. We took it wherever we could find it. At midday, drivers looking out their car windows spotted five cyclists curled up in the toll road’s shady places and knew not to disturb.

Survival Essential #3: A Place to Camp

As the sun began to sink behind the mountains, exhaustion crept into our legs. We kept our eyes peeled for a place to stop, cook, and sleep.

People setting up camp under a tree during adventure cycling along Mexican toll roads, showing how a place to camp is a survival essential. (Image © Eva Boynton).

Luxurious toll road camping: finding shelter underneath a tree and out of sight from the highway.
© Eva Boynton

We began to have an eye for finding the “perfect” place to camp. A space with flat ground, enough room for three tents and perhaps a tree for rain cover. For an extra 10 points, the perfect spot was hidden from the view of traffic (avoiding car lights and any interested passersby).

Simple, but perfect for us.

Three tents set up on a space on the side of a highway, illustrating how a good place to camp is a survival essential during adventure cycling along Mexican toll roads. (Image © Gabriela Díaz Cortez).

Our horizons of mobility were widened as camping on the side of the autopista became routine.
© Gabriela Díaz Cortez

Our perspective on the perfect place to sleep changed when towns and hostels were nowhere in sight. Along the Mexican toll roads, a dirt turnout was often the only option for setting up camp. But because we carried our homes with us, the perfect place to sleep became less about the amenities and more about the freedom to stop and sleep anywhere we chose.

Appreciating the Small Things

Our time on the toll road was full of challenges that developed an appreciation for the smallest things. “Mi amor!” (My love!), I would shout in excitement for a patch of shade, a forgotten bottle of water, the beginning of a downhill, or a surprise snack at the bottom of my front basket.

A travel bicycle parked on the side of a Mexican toll road during an adventure cycling experience, showing the how the simple things are the survival essentials. (Image © Eva Boynton)

The small things became essential items of value.
© Eva Boynton

Oh, I see how traveling by bicycle on Mexican toll roads changed my view of what is essential—a cell phone or computer could not provide us the shade, a place to camp, or water to drink, the things that really mattered.

Things we took for granted, seemingly small, were now at the forefront of our attention. They were not only survival essentials, but the simple essentials.

A Mexican toll road at sunset, illustrating how the survival essentials during adventure cycling can change perspective (Image © Gabriela Díaz Cortez)

The toll road may offer challenges, but the change in perspective is worth the ride.
© Gabriela Díaz Cortez

In the end, when pedaling up to a fork in the road, a decision arises: autopista or calle libre? For adventure cycling, I recommend trying the autopista (toll road) at least once for the experience of learning your own survival essentials and perhaps a change in perspective.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Eva Boynton 3 Comments

Adventure Travel/Mexico

Aug

A Traveler’s Oasis: Toluca’s Cosmovitral

by Eva Boynton on August 10, 2015

Plant set against the stained-glass walls of the Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Dia Glez)

A Botanical Garden Grows Under Glass

As I walked a stone path enveloped by plants from around the world, the light winked a blue-purple and then a red-orange. Plants dangled in the air. Behind supple foliage emerged hard lines of steel supports. Contrasting sounds hit me—bird song and human murmuring; water trickling and car engines rumbling.

What was this ethereal place of such contrasts?

I had stumbled into an unlikely oasis within the city of Toluca, Mexico. Here was both the largest art installation of stained glass in the world and a botanical garden with hundreds of plant species from around the world—the Cosmovitral.

The view of the length of the botanical garden in Toluca's Cosmovitral, a traveler's oasis in the city. (Image © Eva Boynton)

The name Cosmovitral comes from a combination of cosmos and vitral, the Spanish words for “cosmos” and “stained glass.” It is a place where a beautiful work of human design—the glass mural—meets a marvel of nature’s design—the botanical garden. For me, it was a traveler’s oasis.

Stained glass panel at the Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Venerable Roots and Worldwide Sprouts

At Cosmovitral, birds whiz from an African tree to the metal arches supporting the building that once was Toluca’s first grand market.

Built in art deco style, the original market building resembled a train station with clear glass above concrete walls. It opened in 1910 to celebrate the 100-year anniversary of the start of the Mexican Revolution and operated until 1975.

Thanks to Yolanda Sentíes, the first female mayor of Toluca, and artist Leopoldo Flores Valdés, the market building would have a creative new life.

Flores imagined the old glass walls of the market as a mural in stained-glass, with no beginning and no end. The city envisioned a botanical garden underneath. Five years later in 1980, the Cosmovitral opened. Today, more than 400 species from all over the world grow there.

Plants growing in Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (image © Eva Boynton)

Plants from many countries, such as
South Africa and Japan (bottom), grow side by side in Cosmovitral.
© Fanny Murguia (images 1-3) and Eva Boynton (image 4)

Harvesting Light

It took 45 tons of glass in 28 different colors to create the 71 stained glass panels in the Cosmovitral. Imported from Italy, Germany, France, Belgium, Japan, Canada and the USA, the glass lets light seep through walls and cast its colors on the gardens below.

Flying owl in a stained glass panel from the wall of the Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Odette Barron Villegas)

Leopoldo Flores and about 60 artisans created the windows across a 3-year period, using 25 tons of lead and about 500,000 pieces of glass. Blues are dominant on the north side with brighter colors on the south side.

Close-up showing the many pieces that make up a stained glass panel at Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Jennifer Doofershmirtz)

The mural makes a statement on mankind’s connection to the universe. In the book El Estado de México, Gerardo Novo explains:

The theme depicted by the windows centers on universal dualities and antagonisms, the struggle between life and death, good and evil, day and night, and creation and destruction, all shown in cosmic continuum.

Light plays the essential role in illuminating the theme. As the sun moves through the sky, different stained glass windows take prominence. Here humans plunge through swirling reds, oranges, and yellows, colliding headfirst with life and death.

Humans seem to fly through tones of a red and orange stained glass window at the Cosmovitreal, a botanical garden and t raveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Stained glass often relates to places of worship.
Perhaps Cosmovitral is just that—a place to pay honor to a cosmic connection.
© Eva Boynton

At one end of the building, light pierces a wall of glass, revealing the awe-inspiring Hombre Sol (Sun Man) that has become the symbol for Toluca. Here mankind is depicted in harmony with the universe.

Stained glass of man with red orange colors at the Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Digging Deeper

With such light on the matter, Oh, I see the dualities in our universe.

I see how opposites—day and night, good and evil, life and death—have their own connection in the cosmos. I see the cycles of life. Even the plants growing at Cosmovitral are fed by nutrients of decaying organic matter with life and death ever present and ever important to the continuum.

The very dualisms represented in the vast murals are tightly connected, leaded together in fact, as they interact within the same universe.

Here, at my traveler’s oasis in the Cosmovitral botanical garden, I question if opposites are really opposing at all.

Exit at Cosmovitral, a botanical garden and a traveler's oasis in Toluca, Mexico. (Image © Eva Boynton).

A final glance through the exit back into the garden and
a last reflection on the dualities of our universe
© Eva Boynton

Find info on visiting Cosmovitral and more photos here.