Few
“chilangos,” (people born in Mexico City) don’t have a story to share about the old road to Acapulco. We all remember, with little
variation, those never-ending road trips to what was then the popular destination
on the Pacific coast.
The southbound
trip started easily enough on a broad, two-lane highway with long straight-aways, punctuated by the occasional turn, most
notably the infamous “la pera,” an acute, pear-shaped hairpin twist that signaled the final approach to Cuernavaca and importantly for us, the impending stop at “El Café de la Parroquia” or
“Los Arcos” (conchas, hot chocolate, enfrijoladas and tortas) by the zocalo sometimes
culminating at “Helados Virginia” (corn, pineapple, coconut or mamey ice cream).
After that, the lure of two weeks at the beach was strong enough
for us kids to endure the twisty road through the “Cañon del Zopilote,” a desert pass with little else than “organos,” a type of cactus reminiscent of the saguaros of the American
Southwest.
Parents
(or grandparents) intent on finding a distraction from car sickness and the
intense heat – air conditioning a rare luxury in those days – invented word
games, rewarded the first person to spot brown mountain goats among the rocky inclines,
or counted road markers, simple reminders of the excruciatingly slow passage of
distance and time.
There
were occasional stops, like the one at Chilpancingo, the Guerrero State Capital
where we rushed the bathrooms, devoured the obligatory hand-made corn cookies and,
if we were really lucky, had a Mexican version of the soft serve at “La Vaquita.”
At
last, just when we thought we would never arrive, the proximity of the coast suddenly made itself felt. Desert landscapes and dry air were replaced
by lush foliage and humidity rushing through the open windows and making our clothes stick.
Small
villages, following each other every couple of kilometers, offered us their treasures:
stand upon stand of tamarindo candy, glimmering red papaya halves, ripe and
sweet, ready to be eaten with a drop of lime, and coconuts slivers, in paper or
plastic cups, in their own concoction of chile, salt and lime.
As
the road wound down the last few hills, we made bets on who would be the first
to catch a glimpse of the ocean.
To learn more about Palapa Azul's Mexican Papaya Frozen Fruit Bar or Coconut Sorbet, go to:
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