The Smells of Mazatlán

Mazatlán is gorgeous, there is no doubt about it. The clear blue sky, ocean to the horizon, daily killer sunsets, long sandy beaches, mountains surrounding, estuaries filled with grasses and birds. Seeing Mazatlán is probably the most popular way to experience the place.

Mazatlán is rich, diverse, and complex, however; definitely a multi-sensory experience. Our sense of smell also plays a major in our experience of this paradise. When we came here as tourists, I must admit we didn’t notice the olfactory input so much as we do now that we live here. Back then we were no doubt overwhelmed by the visual beauty and thought the smells were intermittent, a side dish. Once you live here, smells play a much more important role.
I’ll keep adding to this list, but I do want to record some of the important smells of life in Mazatlán, for better and for worse:
  • TUNA. There are mornings we wake up to a permeating, cooked-fishy sort of smell. Greg, Danny and I all look at each other and grimace. It’s the tuna smell. Mazatlán has a huge tuna business. The Mazatún factory is just outside of town. We don’t know if it’s the way the wind blows, the days they happen to cook or can, or what, but there are certain days when you can’t escape it: it’s tuna time!
  • Zarandeado. The smell of barbecue emanating from the palapas along the beach. You walk the beach, or the malecon. You’re not hungry when you start. But boy, smell that fish on the barbie, and you will be!
  • Sewer gas. One of the greatest joys of life in Mazatlán is the malecon, the oceanside promenade. Walking down it towards the Fisherman’s Monument is gorgeous: the world’s biggest gymnasium, we like to call it. But oftentimes near that very monument, where most parades in town gather before starting, the sewer smells are overwhelming; you actually have to cover your nose and mouth. The city recently did drainage work down there, and the smell appears to have abated somewhat. We can only hope. But there are areas throughout town where you’d swear you were in a bathroom. In the historic downtown, for example. Gorgeous architecture, millions of pesos invested into updating and converting these homes into glory, but once you step outside…..
  • Chile and lime. This favorite seasoning combination teases the nostrils at nearly every fiesta, and there are daily fiestas. Put chile and lime and potato chips or corn chips. Put it on kernels of corn in a cup, or corn on the cob. Put the taste combo on the fruit cup you buy from the vendor on the beach. On your ceviche or fish. Nearly anywhere you wander in Mazatlán, you’ll get a whiff of this winning combination.
  • Salt. As in the fresh salt air, the ocean breeze, the sticky thick liquid that gets stuck on the screens of the sliding doors to the terrace, or in the corners of the tile floor and requires much scrubbing to remove. Salt also as in added taste for beer and margaritas, in combination with lime, of course. Salt is definitely a key smell of those with “las patas saladas.”
  • Tortillas. This is true for many places in Latin America, but/and including Mazatlán. There is no smell so wonderful as fresh tortillas being baked. Who can pass by the tortillería without grabbing a few? Especially when the government subsidizes their cost and you can get a kilo of fresh corn tortillas for less than a dollar.
  • Garbage burning. Don’t ask me why. We recycle. There are families that live at the dump and scavenge all the recyclable items to sell them and make a living. There is regular garbage collection city-wide. But burning of garbage is a fact of daily life here. There appear to be no regulations against it, or at least none that seem to be observed. So, when coming to Mazatlán, be prepared to see plumes of dark smoke from various locations around town, and the charming smell of garbage being incinerated.
  • The honey wagon. Yes, one of my favorite euphemisms for the truck that pumps the waste out of the port-a-potties on the beach. Mazatlán has beautiful, permanent concrete bathrooms built along the malecón. But use them? Agh, why use such a resource? Better to have citizens and tourists alike use the port-a-potties that the palapa restaurants have installed, and have those palapa restaurants pay to have the honey wagon pump them clean every day or two or three. The hoses are a hazard as you walk the malecón in the morning, but worse is the smell the put off. Definitely carry a wash cloth or be prepared to put your shirt over your nose as you pass by.
  • Coffee. Cafe Marino, our local brew, is some of the best-tasting coffee you’ll find. Reasonably priced, locally grown and roasted, it is a frequent component of the gift packages we send overseas. And, again, depending on the air currents and whether the roasteries is roasting or not, the wonderful smell of coffee fills the air of our port city.
  • Diesel. Ok, of course if you’re near the international highway you smell the diesel of the semi trucks, but even in the heart of Mazatlán city proper, the smell of diesel can overwhelm you at times. Those city buses, in addition to being driven by kamikazes, emit thick black smoke that will choke you if you’re not careful. Definitely not the best air to breathe while you are jogging or biking, but a fact of life in Mazatlán. Thank God for the ocean breeze.
  • Fish. Yes, one of the biggest advantages of living in Mazatlán is the fresh fish and the visits to the fishermen and their boats. But, in addition to the terrific taste of the fish and the pleasant sight of the weathered, friendly fishermen and their colorful pangas, we must admit that the smells of fresh, as well as rotting, fish and its entrails definitely fills playa norte.
  • The Market. El mercado is sensory overload and está lleno de holores: raw meat, fresh fruits and vegies, leather…

Customs Related to New Year’s


Last year, our first New Year’s as almost-residents, we spent a wonderful New Year’s Eve in the multicultural home of our dear friends María and Bill. Bill is a Scotsman, María a Mazatleca, and they met, married and began raising their children in the Arab Gulf. Anyway, it is with María and Bill that we first learned the Mexican custom of eating grapes on New Year’s Eve. 12 grapes, sometimes in two different colors, one for each month of the new year. 12 wishes for the new year. You eat each grape as you make your wish–save room!

The other interesting New Year’s custom I learned about was that those who wish to travel in the New Year take their empty suitcases out into the street on New Year’s Day. It brings good fortune of the travel-related variety:)

This morning in the newspaper I’ve learned yet a third interesting New Year’s-related custom: women buy new lingerie (bras and panties) just prior to the New Year. On New Year’s Eve/Day, to greet the new year, they buy and wear either Red (they want love in the New Year) or Yellow (they want money in the New Year). The lingerie shops around town report to the newspaper that traditionally red intimate wear has far outsold the yellow. However, this year, yellow was the top seller. Yet another example of the multitude of ways that economic hardship touches lives.

Spanglish

Creisi (Crazy)

Seen on Halloween: Jappy Jalloween! (“J”s in Spanish are of course pronounced as English “H”s)

Plis (Please), as in “plis jelp”
In a newspaper cartoon: a sketch of Obama saying “Busshit!”
In the toy store, a game of “Whack the Mole” that was a play on the word “guacamole:” “Juaca Mole”

“Jot dog!” I think you know what it means.

Happy birthday to you 🙂

I love you very very much 😉

Ultra Ben-Gay, seen at Maratón, to comfort sore muscles 🙂

Los Pescaderos/The Fishermen

One of our dreams in moving to Mazatlán has been to be more physically active in the course of daily life, to be able to enjoy the outdoors more, and to eat more healthily of fresh, whole foods. With these dreams in mind, we’ve taken a long walk or bike ride most every morning along the malecón, the oceanside promenadehere in Mazatlán. A round trip bike ride from our house to the Pedro Infante statue is about 8 miles. A walk from our house to the pescaderos (fishing boats) and back is about 3 1/2 miles.

What is truly special for me is the fact that we can enjoy the incredibly gorgeous views, people-watch Mazatlecos of all ages and walks of life exercising, and we can buy fresh fish directly from the fishermen as they put in in the morning. This season of the year (June-August) they seem to come in between 7:30 and 8:30 am. Most of them have an axle with two wheels that can cradle their boat as they bring it up on the beach. Once they arrive, they unload their fish, put some of it up by the malecón for sale to the public, and take most of it across the street to what appears to be a cooperative store. They then head back to their boats to make fresh ceviche (cut up fish, carrots, lots of lime juice, onion) and wash it down usually with a ballena (whale, large bottle) of Pacifico beer (our local brew). 8:30 or 9:00 in the morning is already their lunch time. Most of the fishermen are very friendly and happy, and the boat launch beach is quite the community hangout, especially in the morning. You can see this photo I took of a domino game on the beach.

The boats are all small lanchas, with outboard motors, and seem to hold 2-4 fishermen. The lanchas remind us of the fishing boats in Cinque Terre, Italy, but they are not painted quite as colorfully. Most are named after women; we are guessing wives’ names, daughters’, girlfriends’.

If we are a little too early or too late, there is a sort of fishermen’s cooperative store right across the street from the boat launch beach. The prices are amazing, and so far there has always been a good selection. Over the last couple of months the people have gotten to know us already. The store manager is more than happy to teach me about the best methods for cooking which kind of fish. They seem to stay open as long as they have fish, so it’s best to go early.
Another thing that is amazing to me is that in the big supermarkets (Mega, Soriana…), they usually have frozen fish, not fresh. All the more impetus to take my daily walk or bike ride! I have a little basket on my front handlebars, and I carry a little cooler with ice. I can then put in the fresh fish, or pork, beef or chicken if I go to the mercado on the way also, and carry it all back safe and cool.
I’ve tried out a few new recipes, relying mostly on mangoes, limes, onion, chiles, cilantro, occasionally some cream or curry powder. Mmmm. I have not yet tried to make ceviche, as buying it is affordable and just so convenient, but I look forward to trying it out.

You’re Not in Kansas Anymore


We picked Danny up from Boy Scout camp on Saturday, June 14, 2008, my friend Basma’s wedding anniversary, to begin our big adventure. Before leaving Leawood we had to stop one last time to say goodbye to our dog, Nacho, who now lives with good friends on their acreage.

The day before we departed had been the 35th anniversary of my first airplane ride. This time we were driving: a Honda Civic hybrid, loaded to the gills with three people, four computers, and loads of other have-to-have-right-away goodies. Needless to say, we wwaaayyyyyy exceeded the weight limit of the vehicle and the car barely cleared the ground.

We drove diagonally through Kansas—truly a beautiful state. We knew we’d miss the prairie, the Flint Hills. We were psyched to be able to drive through Greensburg, the town so devastated by the tornado and now rebuilding itself as a world-leading green city. What an encouraging way to leave the US. We spent our first night in Liberal, Kansas, two blocks from Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz; quite fitting, we felt.

The journey went really quickly and smoothly. Good highways the whole way, we met all terrific people, and it was fun counting the states. We crossed the border in Nogales, where we had our foreign resident cards stamped, and 50km or so later registered our car. Hooray!!! ¡Bienvenidos!

Crossing over the thousands of topes (speed bumps) on the journey through Mexico was not easy given our heavy load, and we had to stop at a mechanic’s once to have something underneath the car tied back up. The only really hairy episode was at one point on the highway in Sonora. Greg was driving, and heading towards us on two wheels, out of control and loaded to three times the height of the cab, comes a pickup truck. Greg froze: heading to the right would take us off the road and into a deep ditch, no doubt flipping us; heading left would take us into the path of the pickup if he was able to right the truck and course-correct; staying where we were seemed to be suicide. Fortunately, the driver was able to get back on all four wheels and onto his own side of the road, and all was well.

We spent our third night, the only night on the road in Mexico, in a “Romance Hotel.” Pulling in it looked great: advertising air conditioning, cable television, room service. It looked clean and new and very private; like a Japanese “love hotel,” you drive straight into a garage with your car, close the door, and no one sees who you are; great for secret trysts. Once we were in the room, we realized the AC didn’t work and the window didn’t open; we were stuck in a steam bath! We ordered dinner delivered, but when they brought it, they couldn’t get the garage door (only door to the outside) to open; the switch had come loose and fallen inside the cement block wall. No worries. We survived, spent one of the most steamy, sweaty nights of our lives, but the next day we made it to our new home and all was well. Seeing that ocean in front of us made everything good!