Michoacan, Mexico

Mexico's state of Michoacan deserves to be boastful. Though brown and dry this time of year, its surrounding mountains are as foreboding as the San Juans. Zamora, where I arrived Sunday night, is a small city of about 200,000. Zamora is known (to a relatively small number of people) for its strawberries (fresa) and chongos (a sweet milky dessert).

Nestled at the base of nearly denuded mountains, it's typical Mexico -- without the tourists. You see very few (and I mean very) non-Mexicans here. Zamora isn't a place where the majority of people would know about or set out to tour. So in that way, it provides a great Mexican experience. Don't judge the local residents by their driving. Though they are aggressive and perilous drivers, they are friendly and hospitable.

Most noticeable about Zamora is the integration between the classes of people. Actually, much of Mexico is the same way. In the US, the poor are often segregated from the wealthy, here everyone lives among the varying classes. A ramshackle house with the proverbial rooster on top and a rusty but necessary bicycle leaning outside the door abutts a well-kept brick home decorated with ornate iron gates and modern windows, with Volvos and Hummers parked in front.

Perhaps the best thing about this place: great food for cheap. We just got back from dinner, which we had at a "restaurant" (one table in the street in front of the people's home), where I ate two tacos, one enchilada and one sope. The price? A mere 90 cents. And it was one of the best meals I've had since arriving here. Viva Mexico!