This morning my classroom was invaded by huge flying bugs. I spent some time before class using the broom to swat out these loud buggers which appeared to be dying. I wasn’t completely successful as there were still one or two flying about when the first graders arrived. However, to my surprise, not only did the kids not freak out like they do when there is a wasp, bee or mosquito in the room, but they could identify them as an ant and reassured me that “no pasa nada”.
Typically, the chicatanas appear for one to three nights between June 12 and June 20, although sometimes the rainy season comes a bit earlier. Whatever the exact day, the conditions must be just right. Generally, the chicatanas appear after a hot day followed by a very wet, humid night. This year, those conditions were met on June 15/16, at least in Moroleon.
This was my first experience with the chicatanas, even though I’ve lived more than 10 years in Mexico. The chicatana, also called cuatalatas, chancharras, cochonas, arrieras, zompopo, mochomas, sontetas, nokú, tzim-tzim, tepeoani or tzicatl, is a species of the Atta genus (leaf-cutter ants). The Florentine codex referred to these insects as tzicatana (homiga arriera) and mentioned that they were used as food.
Used as food? Yep. Mexico has more than 250 edible insects, including this one. The chicatanas are prepared in a variety of ways, depending on the region, after their wings, heads and legs are removed. Sometimes fried and served in tacos, sometimes ground into salsa with garlic, salt, and chili, they are considered quite the delicacy.
Really, it’s just the queens that are eaten, as they are the huge buggers flying about looking to establish new colonies during this period. The food or salsa prepared from the queens is traditionally thought of as an aphrodisiac and may have something to do with the tradition in Huatusco when girls looking to be married visit the shrine of San Antonio de Padua with 13 coins to ask for his intervention on the matter. But then again, they could be unrelated.
I wasn’t able to find anyone who knew how to prepare the chicatanas, so missed out on trying yet another exotic Mexican food for this year. I’ll have to keep it in mind next year, where the queens swarm again.
One Sunday morning during the long Christmas vacation, we up and decided that today was the day we would go see the mariposas (butterflies). We had high hopes of seeing active butterflies since the numbers were reportedly up this year (2015) as compared to previous years.
I had heard that the hike was not an easy one, so in addition to the “better go and see the butterflies before there aren’t any to be seen” reason, I figured it would be better to make the hike while I was still youngest and ablish–and not wait until I had trouble getting around. As you will see, that ended up being a pretty good idea.
Adult monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus) found east of the Rocky Mountains migrate to the central, volcanic region of Mexico, specifically in the area bordering the states of Michoacan and Mexico. And that’s where we aimed to go to see them.
There are only two sanctuaries open to the public in Michoacan, El Rosario, and Sierra Chincua. We set out with El Rosario as our destination. Outside of Morelia, we got on the toll road, (133 pesos) but inadvertently headed in the wrong direction. After an anxious 10 minutes, we were able to get turned around.
The directions and maps I had printed out seemed pretty straight forward. However, Mexico road sign makers had other ideas. We were to take the Michoacan highway #765 outside of Maravatio. There was a big road once we exited the town, however not one of the road signs had a number on it for verification purposes. We ended up asking and asking which way to the butterflies? Of course, everybody had a different answer to that, but we were able to head in the right general direction.
Every single sign we passed looked like this–NO road numbers!
At the end of the road Michoacan highway #34, we came across an official-looking dude and a big sign that said THIS WAY TO THE BUTTERFLIES. We stopped to talk to the chaleco (vest) wearing man, and he gave us directions to El Rosario and a map. I’m sure the Michoacan state tourism board gives these maps out for free but well, he had one, and we didn’t so we donated 10 pesos para el refresco (for a soda).
We continued along, asking questions in the little towns we entered. Again, everybody had a different answer. One said to turn right at the high school. A right turn there took us to the parking lot. Then another said turn right at the Telecable–again, there was no right turn available. Up ahead, we saw a big old tour bus, like from the 70s. A tour bus must be heading towards the butterfly sanctuary, so we hitched our wagon to the bus and headed up the mountain.
It was an incredibly steep drive, but spectacular! Good old Myrtle (our Volkswagon bug) did her best, and soon we were driving through Angangueo, another one of Michoacan’s Pueblo Magicos. The tour bus did take us to the butterfly sanctuary, but not to El Rosario. We ended up in Sierra Chincua. Well, butterflies were butterflies and since we were here, might as well go to this reserve.
We pulled in and paid for parking (30 pesos), then drove another 2 km or so to the lot. We headed to the ticket booth and bought tickets (45 pesos each). In line, I overheard some Mexicans trying to negotiate the price with the ticket seller. Was there a student discount? Was there a discount for the tercer edad (senior citizen)? Nope.
The price of the ticket included a guide. As we were a piddly group of 3, we were assigned Fernando, who looked to be about 10 years old. Well, that was all right. It took us longer than we had figured and we were ready for lunch, though. Fernando took us to the next to last Cocina Economica (Economy kitchen) where his sister worked. We invited Fernando to eat with us as well. We had blue corn tortillas quesadillas con champiñones (mushrooms) and atole de zarzamora (a blackberry flavored corn-based hot beverage). It was delicious!
We also were right under the Tirolesa c (zip cable) and enjoyed the screams of several high-flying riders as we ate.
Then we were off. This particular reserve offers a horse ferry for part of the hike. We opted to not ride the sturdy fellows and walk. Twice, before we arrived at the base of the hill, I was offered a ride up at a discounted price. Apparently, I looked like I might need it. But I declined. Well, it was a hike and a half. I’m sure about half way up, my face was tomato red. One of the horse leader guys, at least 20 years my senior, called out “Anima Jefa” (You can do it lady) as he passed at a high-speed sprint up the hill. Well, if there’s one thing I am, that’s determined (or pig-headed), and I made it up the hill. But for future reference, it isn’t a hike for senior citizens or for children under the age of 6.
At the top, there was a scenic view, which was quite scenic, before the actual trail. Horses are not allowed on this section of the trail, so it’s on foot or not at all. The trail was about 8 inches wide and was both the coming and going trail, which meant frequent stops to allow other hikers to pass. It was not nearly as steep as the first section, but it was muddy, especially the closer we got to the actual nesting site. Both my son and I slid part way down the mountain while gawking at the trees. Wear hiking boots.
Here’s another future reference tip. The butterflies are most active between 9 and 10 am. After that, the temperature drops (it is definitely winter jacket weather) and the butterflies settle down for the day in a sort of suspended animation. It’s still amazing! However, the butterfly’s underwing is white, not orange and black, so it’s not what you might be expecting. Several of the hikers were quite disappointed. Not me, by golly! The reserves in Michoacan are one of the 13 Natural Wonders of Mexico, and I got to see it.
We headed back–the hike in took about 30 minutes, then another 30 minutes to get back to the scenic overlook. The steep hill trail was much easier going down than up. We gave our tour guide Fernando 20 pesos as a tip and went to the souvenir shops. There were lovely hand knit sweaters, hats, mittens and ponchos for sale. Quite handy if you happened to not have dressed appropriately. There were also some commercially produced monarch memorabilia. Unfortunately, every store had the same merchandise for sale, so that was disappointing. The bathrooms had stone floors, and although you had to bring in your own bucket of water to flush with, they were nice and clean. Toilet paper is 3 pesos like most other public restrooms.
Yesterday afternoon, I turned into the neighborhood where I live and came upon three men with machetes cutting down the flowering trees at the entrance. Without thought, I stopped and demanded to know what they were doing
The leader of the two said he was beautifying the neighborhood since the branches were low hanging and ugly. I asked if he had permission. I meant permission from the owner of the lot who borders the trees, although I suppose the trees were technically in the public thoroughfare. He thought I meant permission from the Departmento de Ecología (Department of ecology) since cutting green trees is a fine-able offense. He said he didn’t need permission to tidy up the place.
So I asked who he was. He said he was the owner of the trees–of course. I told him I didn’t believe him. As I am part of the community board of directors, I know nearly all of the people who own lots in the community. These three men were strangers to me. Not that my neighbors in La Yacata are any better. (See Good Fences make good neighbors, unless your neighbor steals it) He told me that I should contact the town council and tell them to come and trim the trees in the neighborhood.
My Spanish failed me at this point. I wanted to say eloquently that the town council would not come and trim trees until after they installed water, sewer and electricity in our community. I wanted to say that cutting such beautiful trees is a crime against nature. I wanted to say that he was a lying piece of poop that really had some gall thinking I would believe his altruistic motives for cutting the trees when we both knew he would take and sell the leña (firewood) in town.
What I said was that I would take pictures and show them to the owner when he asks me who cut down his trees. So I did, not that it did much good. One man turned his back to me, the other partially covered his face. I thought maybe I could get some identification from the moto (motorcycle) that was parked there, but it didn’t have any license plates.
I remained on edge the rest of the afternoon and into the next day. I tried to go and see the president of the neighborhood, but he wasn’t in his office. So I sent an email with the pictures and an account of my interaction with the men. He wrote back and said that he would investigate the matter.
My husband scolded me afterward. I shouldn’t be going around taking pictures of men with machetes. What was I thinking?
I have to admit to being impetuous at times. These men were destroying that which I enjoyed every day. The flowers on these trees and the scent they emit are my welcome home. How DARE they destroy that?
You see, that morning the mother of three of my students was shot and killed while heading to the gym. Last week, the father of a former student was kidnaped and is being held for ransom. Last month, someone in front of Waldo’s (a local discount store) was shot “accidentally” by police officers. The month before that two transito (traffic) officers were shot and killed by “unknown” assailants. Not so very long ago, my nephew was taken and tortured by rival drug members. Before that, my mother-in-law was run down by a police vehicle and killed. And before that, my husband was kidnapped right in our own neighborhood.
And I can do NOTHING about any of these things. This place that I now call home is lawless, corrupt, and dying. The beauty that has existed for thousands of years is threatened by the unethical actions of man.
However, I could threaten the bejeezus out of these three men. Maybe word will get out that a crazy “gringa” (white lady) lives in La Yacata that goes around hugging trees and dancing in the rain–someone these would-be wrongdoers should steer clear of. It’s a small, unrealistic hope. The truth is there is no enforceable consequence for their actions. They know it. I know it. The government knows it. The world knows it. But I have to try.
Surviving Mexico 