| MEXICO
-- Clouded skies threatened rain as I drove west out of Cancún
on Lopez Portillo, the wide dusty avenue that turns into the
Merida Road. I was heading to Leona Vicario in search of plants
for my Puerto
Morelos garden and my trek would take me to the best place
in the region to buy them. Named after an active supporter
of the Mexican War of Independence, Leona Vicario is known to
be Cancún's arboretum.
Past a string of hotels more for businessmen than travelers,
the dusty four-lane highway narrowed down to two-lane blacktop
where Mayan rock walls and zapote houses with palapa roofs began
to appear. Larger fincas, some quite formal looking with whitewashed
fences and sprawling haciendas, dotted the landscape along with
the occasional tienda selling beer and snacks.
GARDEN SPOT
Long known as a garden spot, Leona Vicario becomes a pilgrimage
for every Cancún homeowner with a green thumb. Not only
is this bucolic pueblo only 40 miles from Cancún, but
prices are irresistibly low. Some common plants can be purchased
for as little as five pesos. Other more exotic flora such as
birds of paradise, orchids, red ginger, heliconia, are more
expensive but ever present. Tinier Cristobol Colon, just past
Leona Vicario, offers still more nurseries.
Hand painted wooden signs proclaimed we were near El Valle
Encantado (Enchanted Valley), Rancho Los Cocos, Viveros (nurseries),
Ventas de Plantas (plant sales). One by one the nurseries came
into view. Almost every house had a display of greenery. Humble
racks of plants tumbled off porches onto the ground, splaying
into yards and driveways. At some places plants were piled onto
logs. Other nurseries displayed plants clumped in groups, covered
by palapas.
MAYAN STYLE
Some viveros were simply Mayan houses with plants neatly arranged
by color on front porches. There were rambling nurseries with
flatbed trucks parked nearby ready to make deliveries. There
were tiny nurseries displaying no more than a few rows of shrubs.
Most of the shopkeepers were Mayan women. Occasionally a young
girl would peek around a corner and say "buenos dias."
I'd respond with "hola" and "cuanto cuesta?"
for whatever green shrub I was holding in hand. Then came a
price and where to find similar plants.
It was impossible to not stop at every house along the road
and check out each nursery's wares. I'd discovered a fragile
off-white orchid in the back bogs of a nursery once along with
a snake-like bromeliad in shocking colors perched on a piece
of driftwood, hidden out of sight.
LEONA VICARIO
Although hard hit by Hurricane Wilma in October 2005, Leona
Vicario appears to be reborn, complete in this incarnation with
traffic cop clad in Cancún beige and brown, who directs the
occasional car that passes by. Pedestrian traffic, however,
is brisk. Several stores sport signs for fruit and there's a
no-frills carniceria with hunks of meat hanging by hooks and
a polleria where chickens are grilled on an open mesquite fire.
Vegetable stands are crammed between makeshift restaurants where
cold drinks and tacos are served
Enroute to Cristobol Colon we drove too far and had to ask
directions at a funky store,
La Guadalupe, which desperately needed a fresh coat of paint.
"Four kilometers back," the smiling owner told me.
As we turn around we're passed by a gray and white pickup with
sparkly silver letters pasted above the driver's rear view mirror.
Dios Mi Guia. (God is my guide), it proclaims. Guess he won't
be needing directions I muse.
We stop at a no-name nursery heavy with shade cloth to screen
the plants from the sun. A fruit stand sits next door. As our
car pulls into the narrow driveway a mangy dog careens close
to the covered plants and a stout Mayan woman in her 30s, the
owner, moves quickly from behind the counter and waves her hands
at the intruder. "Out!" she yells.
She then turns to me and says without apology in Spanish,
"Not good for the plants." I nod in agreement. Dogs
and plants don't mix.
We buy four agave cactus, 10 "ti" plants which she
calls Hawaiiana, two dracaenas with white stripes and several
succulents with bright purple flowers. She tallies the bill
in her head. As I hand over exact change for the purchase, I
ask how long she's lived here. Eight years, she tells me, but
before that she lived in Cancún for 10. It's quiet here, she
explains, tranquilo. Nicer than Cancún. But not so on Sundays.
Then it's busy. Lots of people. Better that we came today.
I thank her and we load our new plants into the car with the
others we've collected and head out, back to that large metropolis
that's become our second home just 40 miles away.
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