Michoacán: Lakes, kindness, avocado wars

In December 2018, I was in Southern Mexico. I would be crossing the border into Guatemala the following morning. I was sad to be leaving. 

Six beers in and slumped over the hostel bar, I asked the owner where his favourite state in Mexico was. He told me it was Michoacán. 

He whipped out his phone and showed me a blurry photo of a lake with some mountains in the background. I did the typical backpacker thing and left a ‘want to go’ flag in my Google Maps and forgot the interaction after a few more beers. 

Five years later I was in a bar in El Salvador. I was talking to an American who had travelled extensively through Mexico. 

As is often the case when talking to Americans – the conversation was one-sided. Normally, I find these interactions awkward and draining. But, in this instance, I appreciated the information as I would be travelling to this region in a few days. 

I asked him where was his favourite state in Mexico. He replied, “Without a doubt, Michoacán”. He told me Michoacán was like Oaxaca ten years ago. Before hordes of American foodies flooded the streets looking for that one street taco vendor they saw on a formulaic Netflix doco. 

Outside of Mexico, you would only hear that Michoacán is overrun by narcos and in a perpetual state of war. There is certainly some truth to this. Over the last decade, Mexican drug cartels have been rapidly diversifying their operations.

In Michoacán, the cartels have made significant inroads into the lucrative avocado market. Around 80% of avocados in the US are imported from Mexico, most of which come from Michoacán. This has led to ongoing violence between rival cartels, law enforcement, and local producers. 

Despite this, Michoacán remains one of the most popular domestic travel destinations in Mexico due to its cultural richness and historical significance.

On a hot and dry Monday afternoon, our bus pulled into the terminal of Michoacán’s biggest city, Morelia. We checked into our Airbnb and made our way to the central plaza. What greeted us was a far cry from any war zone.

Families were everywhere doing typical Mexican things – eating and being entertained by street performers. The only source of tension seemed to be on the bench next to us, where a little boy in a Spider-Man outfit was rubbing ice cream through his sister's hair. 

Unlike other regions in Mexico, Michoacán does not receive many foreign tourists. Locals were incredibly welcoming and we were inundated with advice on towns to visit and dishes to try. Although this was overwhelming at times, we loved meeting people so proud of their region.   

After Morelia, we travelled to the small colonial town of Patzcuaro. Like Morelia, it is family-friendly and was very busy with domestic tourists. We used it as a base to explore the nearby towns in the region of central Michoacán. 

From Patzcuaro, we visited the island town of Janitzio, which sits in the middle of Lake Patzcuaro. Janitzio is famous for the giant forty-metre statue of José María Morelos that sits at the highest point of the island. 

Throughout Michoacán, it’s hard to escape stoic depictions of Morelos who was a hero of the Mexican revolution. When out of earshot of locals, Leisa and I referred to Morelos as nappy man, on account of the large white bandana he is always depicted in. 

This time also coincided with Leisa and I’s 10th anniversary. We booked an Airbnb on the banks of a picturesque lake to the south – Lake Zirahuen. After months on the road, having the time and space for each other was a welcome change.  We spent the days jogging around the lake, drinking wine, and making noncommital plans to get married and have children. 

Although we felt very safe in the towns we visited, there are many areas you should avoid. We were annoyed by the Australian Government's information, which simply had a ‘reconsider your need to travel’ description attached to the entire state. 

Instead, we relied on information from the US State Department, which provided a comprehensive overview of where to stay, what roads to take, and most importantly – where to avoid. 

As we pulled into the interstate bus terminal, our taxi driver thanked us for visiting. 

In a country as welcoming as Mexico, we felt the most welcome in Michoacán.

At the terminal, I felt dizzy from the combination of oppressive heat and diesel fumes. I left with a light head and heavy heart.