Las Monarcas Mariposas

Ever since I was read 'The Fantastic Flying Journey' as a child, I have wanted to fly around the world in a hot air balloon made of spiders' silk and powered by the current of electric eels. More realistically, I've wanted to go and visit all the incredible natural wonders as experienced by Uncle Lancelot and the children. First on the list was the migration of the Monarch Butterflies.

A great deal less comfortable and even less whimsical than a hot air balloon, a friend and I decided to bus it to the butterfly sanctuary. 9 hours and 5 buses later, we arrived at our base town, Angngueo. Early in the morning, after a freezing night in bed (we were in the mountains), we hopped on the bus to the sanctuary (refer delapidated vehicle below) ...

... and shuddered up the dusty, trecherous mountain trail leaving in our wake a cloud of rocks tumbling over the cliff to the corn fields below. I quietly suggested the few passengers move to a single side of the bus so we had less chance of veering to our deaths.

Finally we reached a point where the road was too narrow for the bus and we hopped off, nursing our bruised tailbones and frozen, white-kruckled hands. It was a further 4km hike up the mountain to get to the butterflies. Passing us with embarassing speed along the way were some sensible people atop animals.

Aching legs didn't stop Lancelot from seeing the winged creatures and so neither did it stop me (although he had a rope from the hot air balloon to climb down).

It was an amazing sight for which pictures simply cannot do justice. These butterflies migrate annually from the colder parts of North America and Canada to breed and escape the freezing temperatures. Although, it's pretty damn cold in Mexico too.

The new generations will return to the exact spot year after year which is suspected to be because of the sun's position and possibly also the odour of the previous year's dead migrants. Because it was early in the morning, most of them were just sleeping. The tree branches were heavily weighed down with the fluttering insects and swayed gently as they each vied for a spot on a leaf.

The worst part was seeing the weak ones on the forest floor, limp from exhaustion, hunger and cold. Desperately, they were flapping their wings to warm up, but the vast majority unfortunately will die before they get a chance to mate. So sad ...

One of the major industries of the region is timber logging. Although there are designated sanctuaries for the butterflies, logging is eating up a big chunk of the habitat - even inside these protected zones. It's providing employment for the locals, but at the expense of the butterflies. Another tough, not-easily resolved issue.

This was our very laconic and very fit guide. He was there to make sure we didn't get lost in the woods, and respected the butterflies. The locals are very protective of these beautiful creatures.

Angangueo, Ocampo and some other little villages

The sleepiness of the area afforded us enough time to explore the communities around the sanctuary. Some of them, such as, Angangueo, relies on the influx of tourists during the winter months to survive the rest of the year. Other smaller ones are dependant on logging and mono-cultural farming. Maize in this region.

It's genuine hand-to-mouth living. Almost every available, arable patch of ground is used to grow crops. The men were ploughing the field with donkeys and women handwashing with freezing mountain water from a plastic pipe or sweeping the dirt floor outside their modest timber dwelling.


Again, as with the majority of these heritage places, there's little for kids to do. There's a single school which teaches younger grades in the morning and the older ones in the arv.

Although required to attend secondary school, in rural areas like this, high schools are hard to come by and a qualified teacher even more so. Thus, as we witnessed during the short time we spent among them, the day seem to offer pinball machines and soft drink in the local shop and as night falls - much to the chargrin of the adults - dangerous merrimaking in the main plaza with fireworks and loud music.

A mexican election party to remember

There being such a large Australian contingent in the international program, we decided to hold an election party to celebrate a country on the cusp of change. It was a thrilling, if very long and tiring night. (We started at 10pm, a couple of hours before the polls closed. And trotted home around 6am after the deal was well and truly sealed.)

Excitedly, we all sat around for hours watching the laptop screen - nervously pounding the F5 key to refresh the page and seeing the results trickle in. We hung onto Kerry O'Brien's every word as we marvelled at the wonder that is live streaming internet video. Thank you ABC !

Yes, dodgy screen shots were snapped periodically whenever there was hopeful predictions displayed ...

To keep the mood light, I made up a 'pin the tail on the burro' game by drawing some likenesses of our leadership.

A Mexican fiesta is never complete without a pinata. (Although he bears a suspicious resemblence to Hidalgo Morelos, one of the heroes of the Mexican Independence.)

In the throws of bashing, we broke a broom handle and a frying pan. These pinatas are more difficult to break than one would think.

the famous mexican mole (moh-lay)

As you may or may not be aware, one of the most famous, distinctive and complex mexican contributions to the culinary scene is mole. It roughly translates as sauce, or stew. There's an infinite number of regional specialities using a variety of ingredients.

You've no doubt heard of guacamole made with avocados, which, by the way, is completely different and is far superior to the excuse for guacamole palmed off onto unsuspecting Brisbanites frequenting 'Montezuma's'. Mexican food is really something else and desperately needs to find a niche on the Australian menu.

There's a lot going on over here, so my next career move is to open a taco/gordito/dried chilli/mole/pinata/tequila stand somewhere in the valley. (Shoe-shining strand is optional) Entrepreneurial partnership opening available... anyone??


These pictures are from a mole shop in town which sells an array of pastes. It may look a little repulsive, but the aroma and taste is such a delightful assault!

Ingredients for these moles would be several types of dried chilli, cinnamon, nuts, seeds, vegetables, spices and cacoa beans, cloves, corn, sometimes turkey meat and lots of other stuff. It takes days to cook and keeps for months.

Uncle Sam doesn't want you that much ...

Yesterday my North American History class (interestingly comprising only Mexican students, eight eager Australians - clearly there's something lacking in our national curriculum - and a very tall, very blond, very chatty Austrian professor from Vienna) went for an excursion to the US Consulate in town.

It was a fun adventure in diplomacy and people's definition of boat rocking. The building is unassuming enough, but behind the scenes, it's exactly like a movie set. Bush, Cheney and Rice grinning at you from every wall, the US flag looming patriotically over each employee, freshly pressed linen, much flesh pressing and pearly whites as far as the eye can see! ... I exaggerate :)

But get this... the number of non-US citizen Visa applications, per day is .... 1500 !!!

The line of hopefuls, papers in hand, was snaking around the city block when we went. Official statistics show only 51% of applications are successful. The rest are turned away and despite appeal, usually will not get a Visa. The most common reason why people request a Visa, so we were told, is "... only a holiday for 15 days! To see Disneyland!". Invariably those people are rejected.

Because it's so easy to obain documents illegally here (birth certificates, certificates of Harvard graduation, business ownership), the interviewing officer is trained to disregard official papers and merely size them up for fallibility in the short 3 minute interogation through a class screen and microphone. A guy was arrested just last week for impersonating the son of a rich Mexican VIP.

It makes my Visa woes pale in comparison.

Watch out, though, kids, because big brother is watching. If you've applied for a US Visa, anywhere in the world, you're in the database for life. In a matter of seconds, our tourguide brought up my application... my petty misdemeanours, my recents travel log, facial recognition, all my fingerprints !

There goes my plans to begin my life of crime in Mexico. Jaywalking, riding without a helmet, stealing donkeys...

Isla de Janitzio (han-it-zio)

After a four hour bus ride from Guadalajara, we dropped our bags off at the sweetest austrian-themed, timber cabins by a big lake called Lago de Pátzcuaro. We then took a boat to an island in the middle of the lake called Isla de Janitzio which is densely settled, still mostly by descendants of local native indians.

We had terribly overpriced lunches overlooking the lake.


This was the first sign of 'El Día de los Muertos' decorations. Everything is decorated in marigolds which hold special significance during these few days.

These are the boats to take people from the mainland to the island.

El Día de los Angelitos

November 31 is a celebration especially for deceased children ('los angelitos' or little angels) and is a more sombre affair than the following evening. Graves are covered with flowers, candles as well as special toys, favourite foods and fruit.

With a pretty high infant mortality rate in Mexico, there are quite a number of children's graves. It's very sad to see such young headstones, but the families on vigil by the graves are very jovial. It's not a period of mourning at all, but a time of celebration and family reunion. Some of these kids had only died a couple of months ago, but no one was crying about it.

At first, it feels ghoulish to be snapping photographs in the cemetry, but our Mexican teacher assured us it was not offensive. In fact, even Mexican tourists travel to these places and are as captivated and morbidly enraptured as us 'gringos'.

These two teenagers are buried side by side because they died together, but are not related. It's very common to bury friends together if they died on the same day.

Día de los Muertos

Día de los Muertos is a tradition that has its roots in native traditons thousands of years old. During 'cilivisation' and conversion of the indigenous populations, the Spaniards moved the Día de los Muertos from its original day in August, to 'All Saints Day' at the end of November. This is why the celebrations now coincide with Halloween.

It's very regional and depending on where you travel in Mexico, traditions, motifs and colours will be different. Marigolds hold special significance because they represent death and are thought to attract dead souls.

November 1 is the day when all spirits return to the earth which is why families gather cheerfully around the graves drinking and eating the favourite foods of their loved ones. It's tradition to build timber frames and decorate them with flowers and from it, hang photos and bread and fruit as an offering.

Traditional 'Pan de Muertos' which is made with sugar and eggs and milk.

more cemetery snaps

Increasingly, shop-bought wreaths are bought and placed by the graves, but traditionally, families will construct a timber frame with which to decorate with flowers and food.

It's just impossible to capture the magic of the atmosphere. The air is heady with the scent of marigolds, incence and candle wax. Kids run around excitedly and families cackle away around little bonfires, sipping tequila-spiked apple cider.

I never thought I'd freeze to death in Mexico, but the nights we spent wandering around the cemetery was beyond cold. We were in the mountains, so during the day the sun was sweltering and by night, I'd say the temp would have been below 5 degrees.

The market stalls selling knitted clothing was doing a roaring trade among the frigid, ill-prepared out-of-towners.