Our quest began with whispers of unique dishes found amidst the sprawling cactus forests of Zapotitlan Salinas, Puebla. Earlier this year, venturing into this region of Mexico, we were met with landscapes that defied expectations and flavors that, while subtle, hinted at a deeper story. The lightly roasted cactus buds, reminiscent of small okra, were indeed a local delicacy, yet it was the towering cacti themselves that truly stole the show. However, little did we know, Zapotitlan held another, less expected treasure: salt, harvested by hand using age-old traditions.
Accompanied by my knowledgeable friend Henry Wangeman of Amate Books, whose expertise of the region is invaluable, we embarked on a journey that took us four hours from our starting point. Our first stop was Yanhuitlan, to witness the ongoing restoration of its historic church. But as any good traveler knows, sustenance comes first. Our introduction to the local cuisine was a refreshing botana featuring fresh tomatoes, cheese, and, of course, cactus buds. It was in this humble restaurant that we met the owner, a character reminiscent of a Latino Earnest Hemingway, who unveiled the essence of village life: a culture deeply intertwined with cactus and salt production.
The salt he spoke of was unlike any sea salt we knew. A natural bromide, it possessed a unique flavor profile that was instantly captivating. He presented us with a couple of kilos of this extraordinary salt, and at a mere ten pesos a kilo, it was an offer we couldn’t refuse. This chance encounter ignited our curiosity, setting the stage for a deeper exploration of Zapotitlan’s famed salt.
To truly understand the region, we enlisted the expertise of Maurino Reyes from the local botanical gardens. Engaging him as our guide, we embarked on two enlightening walks, one in the fading light of the afternoon and another as the sun rose the next morning. Maurino’s profound knowledge of the local flora and fauna was immediately apparent as he led us down a wide, parched riverbed. Despite the scant rainfall this area receives annually, a trickle of water persisted, sustaining a surprising array of life. We observed tiny fish darting through the shallows, rabbits scurrying amongst the vegetation, owls perched in the distance, and caves that served as homes for the bats crucial for pollinating the numerous cacti.
The landscape was undeniably rugged, yet an overcast sky provided a welcome respite from the intense Mexican sun, creating comfortable conditions for exploration, even if it wasn’t ideal for photography. Eventually, our path ascended from the riverbed, revealing a breathtaking panorama of the salt-producing ponds. These weren’t natural ponds, but meticulously crafted, shallow cement rectangles, numbering close to fifty, glinting under the diffused sunlight. And there it was – the reason we were truly drawn to Zapotitlan – salt, ready to be harvested by hand, just as it has been for generations.
Maurino continued to enrich our understanding of the environment, pausing frequently to point out the diverse plant life, detailing their traditional uses. He’d pluck leaves, encouraging us to taste or inhale their aromas. “This one is good for the eyes. This for the stomach. This for nerves. For the teeth.” His insights were a testament to the profound botanical knowledge held within indigenous cultures, a living library of natural remedies and sustainable practices. Witnessing the salt pans and learning about the meticulous hand-harvesting process underscored the resourcefulness and deep connection of the Zapotitlan people to their land.
The desert plants themselves held their own wonders, particularly their incredible lifespan and slow growth. Maurino revealed cacti smaller than a dime that were already three years old, a stark reminder of the patience and time embedded in this arid ecosystem. A large visnaga or organum-style cactus could be centuries old, some reaching four hundred years. Many were in bloom, their flowers perched high atop towering stalks, presenting a photographic challenge from our vantage point far below.
The yuccas, too, were in full splendor, their towering yellow flower spikes punctuating the expansive vistas. Reaching heights of around six meters, these giants of the desert were a striking feature of the landscape. Even the smaller yucca varieties back home, with their dense white flowers on short stalks, paled in comparison to the grandeur of Zapotitlan’s flora.
My years spent working with plants have instilled in me a certain sensitivity to their energies. Wandering slightly ahead, a particular plant caught my eye. Its bright white flowers and geranium-like leaves were visually appealing, yet an intuitive sense of caution arose. Perhaps it was the menacing spikes adorning its leaves and stems that triggered this warning. This plant, aptly named “mujere mala” (bad woman), is known to cause rashes, blisters, fevers, and significant discomfort upon contact. However, in a fascinating twist, Maurino shared that it also serves as a natural antidote for scorpion stings and is used in balms by village women to treat arthritis and rheumatism, highlighting the complex duality of nature’s offerings.
The soil itself in Zapotitlan is a canvas of colors, ranging from vibrant reds and browns to yellows, oranges, and even pure white. Against this arid, pale backdrop, a bougainvillea in full bloom created a striking splash of color, a testament to the resilience of life in this seemingly harsh environment.
After a sweltering night in one of the botanical garden’s cabins, which retained the day’s heat, the morning air was refreshingly cool. A hearty breakfast in the village fortified us for another desert excursion, heading west a short distance. Maurino, once again, proved to be an inexhaustible source of information, guiding us to one of the oldest and largest plants in the region: a 2500-year-old elephant foot tree. These ancient trees, we were told, possess the remarkable ability to absorb negative energy when embraced. Naturally, Henry and I were eager to experience this.
This colossal tree, with a circumference of nearly ten meters, had surprisingly shallow roots but an incredible capacity to store water within its fibrous, spongy interior. Both Henry and I wholeheartedly agreed: a trip to Zapotitlan, with its breathtaking cactus forests and the fascinating tradition of hand-harvested salt, deserves a place among the top ten things to experience when visiting Oaxaca and the wider region of Mexico. It’s a destination that engages all senses, offering a unique blend of natural beauty, cultural richness, and the enduring legacy of traditional practices like harvesting salt by hand in Zapotitlan, Mexico.
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