Puebla--the Long Version

Wow! What a weekend! We set off for Puebla wanting what seemed to be an oxymoron: a relaxing adventure. Turns out, that is exactly what we got. Simply, it is a fantastic place. Puebla, it turns out, is a popular tourist destination...for Mexican tourists. In our entire weekend there, we only saw six other Americans. Yo hablo poco espanol. (or is it pequeno?) Anywho, Shlomo's Spanish is much better than my own. As a result, we could actually function.

When we got there at 9:00 on Friday night, we really had only one thing on our mind: mole sauce! We went to the beautiful La Purificadora hotel in a 45 minute taxi ride that I like to describe as a gas can on wheels. We arrived. We tried to check in. Ingles...not so much...slight language barrier...no problema...no more rooms with balconies?!?! Huge problema. Here's the deal: normally, amenities such as a balcony don't really matter that much to me. However, this time it was. I had fantasies of sitting on the balcony, relaxing in the perfect weather, reading a novel, and drinking my favorite beverage: Mexican Coca-cola.

Entrance to the hotel...

We remained very calm. The desk clerk said that they would just put us in a room without the balcony and refund the rate differential. I would have probably taken this option. However, Shlomo stepped up. He explained that we had booked and PAID for our room six months ago and conveniently I had a copy of the confirmation. He understood how mix-ups happened, but we should have what we paid for. It could only be described as frantic scurrying-about behind the desk. Other workers were called over. They disappeared behind a curtain (literally). We were giving each other "the look." Shlomo's look is "I am beyond frustrated." My look is more of a "be calm, look at this beautiful hotel with the open-air lobby, and the wooden tile floor(I know that sounds wrong, but they were actually tiles made of wood), and the large purple couches around stunningly modern fire pits on the terrace."

The worker came back to the desk. In her broken English, she made the offer of a small suite with a terrace. I swore I heard the words "private jacuzzi." Shlomo heard no such thing. We agreed to look at the room. By look, I mean take the room. What were going to do? We were in Central Mexico. It was nearly 10:00 at night. There was not a flight out until morning.

We walked in the room. "Suite" is really not the right word to describe. There was a desk, a bed, and a sofa. Then, we stepped out on the terrace. There was a sofa out there. It was nice. Then, we turned the corner. It was at least forty feet long. And there, at the very end, was a see-through jacuzzi...like the pool on the roof. Hmmm...terrace versus balcony...as Tally would say, we stuck it to the man.

The balconies...one of which should have been ours...




The terrace that was ours...




Our private jacuzzi!

Trying to contain our glee, Shlomo looked at the bellman and simply said, "This will do." We walked back into the room. I glanced up at the row of four by six balconies on the perpendicular side of the hotel and practically squealed with delight.

View from the terrace

We then walked about 10 blocks (which should have only taken six but somehow we messed that up) to have a late dinner. We shared queso fundido (melted cheese and tortillas) and mole poblano (chicken topped with mole sauce). Delicioso. By the time we finished it was 11:00 and we called it a day.

However, I did discover the joy that is Mexican television. One channel was nothing but American sitcoms. I enjoyed Friends and drifted off to sleep.

Saturday, we decided to walk around and sample the local shopping. Walk is the key word. We walked and walked and walked. Did I mention we walked? Oh yeah, then we walked some more. Puebla is known for its centuries of producing Talavera pottery. We visited the little factory which specialized in the certified pottery. Puebla is also home to various artists who also make the pottery, but their methods don't follow the strict guidelines of the certification.

It probably comes as no shock that we fell in love with one of the more expensive pieces in the store. They quoted a price. We rejected the price. They quoted a lower price. It was still more than we wanted to spend. We said we would go eat lunch and think about it. And we had heard there were some great antique stores in town that we wanted to see. Arturo was not happy. He conferred quickly with his boss. He quoted another even lower price.--almost half off. We said we would be back at 3:00 with an answer. He literally followed us for the next two stores. Another guy from the store followed us for at least a block to make sure we did not purchase the knock-offs. We told them politely to relax. Long story, fairly short: the following should arrive in a week or so. We hope it goes in the entry way. If not, we will have a very nice (and quite large) urn on the counter in the master bath.


As we were debating the urn, we stumbled (the streets and sidewalks were both cobblestones, so "stumbled" is the right word) through a couple of street markets where local artisans sell their wares. Basically, they put it out on a blanket and hope you will buy something. We did purchase a small frame. There were really none of the typical souvenirs...no T-shirts saying, "My parents went to Puebla and all I got was this crummy t-shirt"...no caps...no thimbles...no spoons with the little enamel medallion reading "Puebla"...nothing, er nada. There were, however, balloon vendors carrying more balloons that I thought possible. I am not sure how they did not float away. Ironically, I don't know that I saw one kid actually carrying a balloon, though.

For lunch, we did not eat off a street cart as Shlomo would have liked. (In case I never expressed it before, Shlomo can be very low-brow in his food consumption.) Instead, it was a restaurant about the size of my cubicle at work. They cooked on a barrel, fitted to a stand, with a griddle over the fire. The stand of this cooking apparatus had two legs in the restaurant and one leg on a concrete block. It was like my dad had made it himself. Anywho, we both had quesadillas on freshly handmade corn tortillas. Mine was chicken. Shlomo had mystery meat. Delicious. And the cost was 9 pesos each which translated to less than 90 cents.

We walked some more.

For dinner, we had made a reservation in the hotel restaurant. It was muy bueno. (You really need to prolong the pronunication of "muy bueno" to get the full effect....muuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyy bueeeeeeeeenooooooo). Shlomo ordered stuffed squash blossoms as an appetizer. Who knew those would be good? Little corn tamales...mmm, mmm. Red snapper cooked in corn leaves...I loved it...Shlomo not so much. We enjoyed dessert out by the fire (because it was not a non-smoking restaurant and someone lit up right next to me...literally right next to me...community tables). After dessert, we went to the room, relaxed on the terrace a bit, and turned in celebrating surviving our first full day.

3:00 a.m. -- I awoke from a peaceful slumber and could only think two words: serving pieces. I was convinced that I needed serving pieces from the Talavera place. I am a dish fiend. However, I really only have place settings. I knew I had to go back. I just had to figure out a way to break it to Shlomo.

11:00 -- We awake. Shlomo wants dry cereal for breakfast from the buffet downstairs becuase his stomach is a bit upset from the mystery meat in the prior day's lunch adventure. I want to stay in the lovely robes and slippers provided by the hotel and enjoy breakfast on the terrace. He hems and haws (I think that's Spanish for whines and complains). I throw a little fit about how breakfast on the terrace was promised on Friday night. He continued to hem and haw. I get more frustrated and continue my fit. I point out that dry cereal can be ordered for $3 from room service. I will happily pay the $3 if it means I can stay in my robe. He continues with his belly-aching. I give up and get in the shower.

11:30 -- We go to the restaurant. Shlomo eats his dry cereal. He gets us a plate of fruit, cheese, and cookies from the buffet. I said I did not want fruit, cheese, or cookies. He got them anyway. I refused to eat any. He gave me a dirty look and shrugged his shoulders. I ate my undercooked pancakes. He was not happy. I was more not happy. He was a jerk. I was a baby. I know...healthy, right?

After lunch we bumped into a nice couple from New York. We know they thought we were nice because as we were walking away, we heard him say to her, "Nice people." They recommended that we go to the pyramid in Cholula which was a thirty minute gascan-on-wheels ride away. The taxi driver dropped us off at the entrance to the tunnels that went through the pyramid. It was pretty cool. I felt like...hell, I was...Indiana Jones. The pyramid itself: disappointing. It hasn't really been excavated yet. It just looks like a mound in the middle of a field. However, there were views of the volcanoes that surround the city. Just your average Sunday walk in the park.


Mound of dirt or pyramid? You decide.

We taxied back into Puebla. I broke the news to Shlomo about the serving pieces. Shockingly, he seemed game. It probably helped that we have a small dinner party coming up. What? I am supposed to serve mashed potatoes in Gladware? We trekked back to the Talavera shop. We picked a couple of platters and a serving bowl. We actually agreed on what to get. Not that shocking as we usually agree on what to get, but given the morning, it could have gone either way.

Shlomo Stomachache suggested we go to a little Spanish restaurant that the New Yorkers had recommended. We went. Like my parents, we had dinner at 4:30. It was a good thing. The city basically shut down at 5:00. We spent the rest of the night relaxing on the terrace, in the jacuzzi, and turned in early because we had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to catch our flight.

I did not sleep. Why is it when you know you have to get up at a ridiculously early hour, you cannot sleep for thinking about having to get up? We got up, made the flight, and one of us went to work. The other was going to his office, but went home to change and never quite left the house. I will let you guess which one that was. I will give you a clue: he likes to be like Cher.

All in all, it was a great trip. If you made it this far in my description, you should plan a trip there for yourself. After all, it probably took longer to read this than the flight would be. It truly was a relaxing adventure. Now, I just have to relax enough this week for our non-relaxing adventure in New York this weekend. We're still not sure how we planned trips on back-to-back weekends. But, I will leave you with a view of the rooftop pool from the hotel. If that doesn't get you to book your trip, nothing will.