A Cultural High

The days were clear, the air spring-like, the flowers brilliant. Although it was August, typically a wet month in Jalapa, the rain obligingly fell early each morning. I awakened to the sound of droplets on the hotel roof, and by the time breakfast ended, puffy clouds were gliding across blue skies.

Tourists tend to bypass Jalapa, the capital of Veracruz state, because it’s known for drizzle and fog and because it’s harder to reach than resorts such as Cancun and Puerto Vallarta. I flew to Mexico City, then boarded a comfortable ADO bus for the five-hour drive to the east coast. Many of the passengers were absorbed in a video showing on the several overhead screens when a storm blew in. Then the windshield wipers broke and the driver had to pull over--for an hour. The rain didn’t let up, but he eventually summoned the nerve to continue, relying on the taillights ahead to deliver us safely.

Take away its tropical flora and Jalapa resembles San Francisco crossed with Guanajuato, the quintessential colonial city in central Mexico. Cobblestone streets plunge down steep hills lined with buildings painted in vivid pinks, yellows, blues, greens, purples and their every gradation. Internet cafes and video stores nestle amid centuries-old architecture. The atmosphere is cultured and intellectual, thanks in part to the resident Universidad Veracruzana. Coffeehouses overflow with people conversing over americanos (black coffee) or capuchinos.

This is my second visit to Jalapa (also spelled Xalapa) in a year. I’m drawn by its old-world ways, by the art galleries and well-tended parks, the music and dance, and the food. I appreciated Jalapa even more during this 10-day stay, particularly after taking a side trip to Veracruz city, two hours away. The coastal heat was intense, and I returned on the bus with a few trinkets gleaned while shopping and a headache, grateful to be staying at 4,500 feet, where even in summer, the evenings and early mornings call for a light wrap.

With a population of nearly 1 million, Jalapa supports a symphony orchestra and a fine municipal band that performs frequently. Among the cultural events listed in the newspaper was a free concert at the Teatro del Estado featuring a group of guitarists. (The house was packed, with teenage boys in baseball caps applauding as vigorously as their elders, demanding encore after encore.) There was also a workshop on cooking with flowers at the botanical gardens and another classical guitar concert at the Museo de Antropologia.

I’m not a museum buff, but I will never get enough of this one. It is, quite simply, stunning. Airy galleries, showcasing a sampling of the museum’s 27,000-item collection, descend in levels from the entrance to the gardens surrounding the modern concrete building. Patios off the main hall face stone pieces that dwell among plants indigenous to the terrain in which they were found. In the first of these is an enormous carved head.

The three major Veracruz cultures are represented here. They are the Olmec, in the southern part of the state, the Huastec of the north, and the Totonac of central Veracruz. I also visited the ruins of the Totonac capital at Zempoala, 50 miles from Jalapa. And another 30 minutes from there are the lesser known Quiahuiztlan ruins. These look like tombstones with spaces hollowed out to hold bones; they overlook the Gulf of Mexico near the spot where the Spanish explorer Hernan Cortes landed.

On my visit to Jalapa last November, the city had just opened the Pinocateca Diego Rivera, which houses a state-owned collection of 36 pieces chronicling the development of the renowned painter and muralist. (Five pieces were loaned to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art for its recent Rivera exhibit.) It seems miraculous to just drop in--no admission, no lines--at this minimalist, glass-fronted gallery, which is tucked into the hillside beneath the central plaza, Parque Juarez. I was happy to find my favorite painting, a sun-dappled country scene called “Paisaje de Mixcoac,” dated 1904, right where I had left it. Born in Guanajuato, Rivera visited Jalapa as a young man and received a grant from the governor of Veracruz to study in Europe. He died in Mexico City in 1957.

Jalapa (pronounced ha-LAP-ah) has been inhabited for at least 10 centuries and became the state capital in 1885. The name is often spelled Xalapa because it comes from the Nahuatl word Xallac or Xallapan, which means a place amid springs in the sand. I didn’t see any springs, but the nearby towns of Naolinco and Teocelo offer spectacular waterfalls.

Jalapa takes pride in its colonial heritage, and courtly manners persist. A man leaving a restaurant quietly wishes “buen provecho” (a salutation that means “enjoy your meal”) to each table he passes. A young woman repeats this gesture.

My hotel, the exquisite Meson del Alferez, occupies a 200-year-old building that was once the home of an officer in the Spanish colonial regime. Containing just 21 rooms centered around a plant-filled courtyard, it retains such touches as heavy wooden shutters, which I closed over my window at night. Only a block away is the Parque Juarez, founded in 1892 on the site of a 16th century Franciscan convent.

A onetime convent houses the beauty salon where I go for a $2.50 manicure. It’s near the top of the Callejon del Diamante, a narrow street bordered by shops that sell handmade blouses, inexpensive jewelry, used books, incense and other items that appeal to the college crowd. At its foot is a hot dog stand that specializes in wieners wrapped in bacon and stuffed in a bun along with slices of one of Jalapa’s famous products, the jalapeno chile.

Just below the 18th century Church of San Jose is another street with something of a romantic aura, the Callejon de Jesus te Ampare! A young man, the legend goes, was courting a girl who lived here. One night, a passing drunk attacked him with a knife. As her sweetheart lay dying, the distraught girl cried out, “Cosme, Jesus te ampare!”--”Cosme, may Jesus protect you.”

The pace in Jalapa is leisurely. Some businesses close for two hours in the afternoon, and the restaurants serve full-course lunches until late afternoon. I love the food because it is old-school Mexican, often with a Spanish touch, yet occasionally bows to trends. I even had pizza one day. That was part of Sunday lunch at La Casona del Beaterio, a hacienda-like building that opens onto a patio with tropical plants and a fountain. Old photographs of the city dot the walls and lend a rustic air.

I started the meal with a slice of sweet cantaloupe and moved on to cream of asparagus soup. I then chose a wedge of pizza topped with ham, chorizo and cheese paella Valenciana. For the main course, I passed up veal in tomato sauce and a fish fillet stuffed with shellfish, opting for a chicken breast filled with squash flowers and coated with huitlacoche sauce. (Huitlacoche is a delicately flavored fungus that grows on corn.) Flan and coffee came last. All this for 55 pesos, or about $6.

That morning I had visited Los Berros, a park where families stroll with their children on Sundays. The little ones can have their faces painted and ride on a little train that circles the park. The municipal band struck up its weekly concert with “Veracruz,” the cue for the troupe Danzoneros de la Quinta Las Rosas to walk by in a graceful procession. The men were clad in white, from their Panama hats and guayabera shirts to their shoes. Their partners, in red print dresses with flounces, wore hair ornaments and carried fans. The elderly couples--volunteers intent on preserving danzon--performed the sultry Cuban steps with stately restraint.

On my previous visit, I attended a danzon festival in a nightclub. An older gentleman in classic white took my arm and escorted me to a table as if I were a belle at a 19th century ball. We sipped Pepsi or stronger libations as band after band played and couples crowded the dance floor. One danzon was dedicated to me, thanks to my friendly table mates. They also introduced me to a skilled dancing partner, Jesus, whose hair was as white as his guayabera.

This year, I had time to explore the outskirts of Jalapa via local bus. About six miles outside the city is the huge hacienda where Gen. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, victor in the battle of the Alamo and a Jalapa native, resided in splendor. It is now a museum with a restaurant where you can relax with a cup of coffee as if you were the general’s guest.

As I entered the colonial town of Xico, a bride and her entourage walked slowly down the street, her veil fluffed wide by the breeze. Xico is renowned for its mole, the sauce of chiles, spices and chocolate that is traditionally served with chicken or turkey. I passed a cluster of shops selling mole paste in jars or in bulk.

Larger than Xico and so close to Jalapa that it amounts to a suburb, Coatepec is a center of coffee production. The aroma from the cafes and vendors that sell roasted beans stalks anyone who would dare to leave town without a sack of beans and a bottle of coffee liqueur.

Naolinco, 13 miles from Jalapa, is harder to reach because the road is slow and full of curves. So I hired a guide to drive me there. Luis, a high school student, had just started a tour business. In fact, I was his first customer. Naolinco, he said, is like Jalapa must have been 100 years ago. As we walked near the plaza, a man rode up to a supply store, dismounted and tied his horse to a rail, just like in a western. Around the corner, a vendor led a donkey from door to door. The plastic jugs on its back contained spring water. Shoe shops line Naolinco’s streets, selling men’s leather boots for $15.

As I packed to leave, my suitcase bulged with the bounty of the lush countryside: coffee beans; ornaments carved from the wood of the coffee bush; mole paste; a box of jamoncillo, the famous milk fudge of Naolinco, and a bundle of chipotle chiles, which are smoked dried jalapenos. I also carted home art books and danzon recordings. Months later, the scent of the chiles is as rich as bacon, and the coffee is delicious, a steaming reminder of tranquil Jalapa. I plan to return before the year ends.

Barbara Hansen is a writer in the Times Food section.

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GUIDEBOOK

A Cooler Alternative to Beach Resorts

Getting there: Fly nonstop to Mexico City--service on Aeromexico, Mexicana, United, Delta--and connect on Aeromar to Jalapa. Round-trip fares start at $300. Or you can fly to Mexico City and catch an ADO bus, with reclining seats and video screens, from the Mexico City airport’s bus terminal for the nonstop, five-hour drive to Jalapa. The fare is about $14 one way. To make bus reservations, call 011-52-5-133-2424.

Where to stay: Hotel Meson del Alferez, Zaragoza at the corner of Sebastian Camacho, tel. 011-52-28-18-63-51. Quaint colonial atmosphere in the heart of the city. Singles, $33; doubles, $45. Rates include breakfast.

Posada del Cafeto, Canovas 8, tel. 011-52-28-17-00-23. Singles, $21; doubles, $33. The same ownership as Meson del Alferez, but in a quieter area of downtown.

Hotel Maria Victoria, Zaragoza 6, 011-52-28-18-60-11. Singles, $40; doubles, $47. Commercial atmosphere; street-side rooms are very noisy.

Where to eat: La Casona del Beaterio, Zaragoza 20. Old-school Mexican food with a modern flair; a five-course lunch costs about $6.

Cafe Lindo, Primo Verdad 1.

For more information: Veracruz state tourism department in Jalapa, 011-52-28-12-85-00.