Meet the Growers

Casa Larios

To say that vanilla grower Heriberto Larios Rivera is passionate about vanilla is an understatement. When many men his age think of retirement and golf, Heriberto is expanding his business, experimenting with new techniques to perfect the growing and curing process, and serving as a member of the Veracruz Vanilla Council.

There is impressive history and motivation behind his passion. He is a native son of Papantla, the center of the Mexican vanilla industry--also known as the city that perfumed the world. Further, his father was a beneficiador, the intermediary person who buys green vanilla from the growers then cures, dries and readies the vanilla for shipment to importers. Finally, vanilla is definitely part of his heritage as his grandmother was Totonaca.

Heriberto didn't go into the vanilla business with his father. Instead, like his friends and classmates, he attended the Autonomous University of Mexico, pursuing a degree in organic chemistry. After a few years as a chemist with a sugar production plant, he went to work for the booming Gulf petroleum industry. He married and had three daughters, and pursued a career as a chemical engineer for twenty-three years; but his heart wasn't in oil. After his father's death in 1977, the family business lay fallow. In 1983, Heriberto realized it was time to leave the security of the corporate world and return home to his roots and true love. After a few years as a beneficiador, Heriberto decided to cultivate vanilla as well.

Exploring Casa Larios

Let's follow Heriberto on a tour of Casa Larios and its two vanilla plantations, starting with Tutu Nacu. Although it's still early morning as we climb the hill to Tutu Nacu, it's already warm, letting us know that, even though it's early April, the tropical heat has returned. I'm excited, as I've only been once to this property with its breathtaking views of El Tajin, the ancient city that rises majestically out of the humid tropical forest. It's difficult to concentrate on what's coming up, however, as strewn all over the steep hillside are a variety of fossils, balls of natural obsidian, pottery shards, and cutting knives. We are walking a path hundreds of years old, passing through homesites and villages of the Mesoamerican Totonaca. When I ask Heriberto about the artifacts, he laughs. "There are so many in our area of Mexico that no one gets excited unless we find something really special. If I found a jade bowl, then I'd be excited!"

The fossils are of greater interest to Heriberto, as they speak of the calciferous soil and the land, a primordial marine shelf rich in nutrients - the perfect soil for growing vanilla. "Just look at this," he says, kneeling down and sifting the crumbling soil through his fingers. "This is why vanilla thrives here!" Heriberto's eyes sparkle as he tells me how the vines have flourished since he planted them two years ago.

El Tajin

We continue up the hillside, through the Pichoca trees covered with vanilla vines, past a rare copal tree, known for its exquisite incense, and through a clearing to the edge of a precipice. In the distance, hundreds of feet below, lie the ruins of El Tajin--still shrouded in a light mist, adding an element of mystery to this remarkable testament of a history of not one, but two distinct groups of people. First, there were the Huaxteca who built the cities, and then the Totonaca, who came to live here in the 1200s. Although I've been to El Tajin many times, its grandeur continues to amaze me. I feel transported in time, imagining the spirits of the people who stood here in centuries past, looking down on their vibrant civilization for whom vanilla was sacred.

The Land

We are not here today to dwell on the past, but rather, on the present and future of Heriberto's business. As perfect as the soil may be - and as spectacular the view - he had serious concerns when he purchased this land as he thought there was no water. Then last year, while clearing an area for planting, he found water running from the ground. He traced it to a spring and has since created two cisterns for holding the crystalline water. I was thrilled to learn about the water, a crucial resource here now that the climate has changed.

Before the arrival of the petroleum industry, this was a steaming tropical rainforest, filled with massive hardwoods and dense vegetation. Vanilla vines grew abundantly throughout the rainforest, and the economy was good. In the early years of the 20th century the petroleum workers arrived, hacking through the jungle with machetes, and felling the trees, in order to run oil lines from the Gulf to the cities. With the loss of the forest, the rains became less predictable, and growing vanilla became a more difficult proposition.

Plantation Tutu Nacu

Tutu Nacu is a traditional plantation. It means "Three Hearts" in Totonaca, for the three ancient centers of Totonacacapan - the place of the Totonaca. Here his vanilla vines are supported by the Pichoca and Cajon de Gato, the trees most often used as "tutors." There are also banana trees, which have been planted to provide additional shade and humidity for the vanilla. The plaintive sounds of the Papan birds fill the air, along with those of the Chachalaca, whose raucous call sounds like a fight in a chicken yard. Vanilla growers don't like the Chacalacas, as these discerning birds dine on vanilla orchids and other delicacies that the farmers depend on for their livelihood. It isn't unusual to hear the sharp sound of rocks or the blast of a shotgun, as the Chachalaceros - usually adolescent boys - chase the birds away from their crops. We walk through meadows alive with brilliantly colored butterflies. Heriberto tells me that this is only a small reminder of how it was in his childhood when the woods were filled with the exotic call of hundreds of birds, and butterflies fairly lifted the meadows with the wind from their wings. I know he doesn't exaggerate; the changes over the past seventy years have been dramatic.

Growing the Vanilla

The vanilla on traditional plantations is grown very much the way that the Totonaca have tended their plants for centuries. No commercial fertilizers, pesticides, or fungicides are used on the vines. The tutor trees that support the vanilla are spaced far enough apart to allow for good air circulation so that the beans are less likely to get diseases, but the trees still must protect the vines from the harsh sun and the winds from tropical storms that sweep in from the Gulf of Mexico. Tending the vines on a traditional plantation is very time-consuming as the terrain is rugged; during the pollinating and harvesting seasons, each plant will be checked daily.

Since the last time I visited, Heriberto has made many improvements to this land and the vanilla flowers have bloomed in less than two years from the addition of natural nutrients to the soil. We walk back to the new thatch-covered kiosk to feast on papaya cut from a nearby tree, and to sort vanilla cuttings that fill a burlap sack. These vines will be planted before the dry season arrives.

Heriberto's Dream

"I love this land," he says. "It reminds me of my childhood when I hiked through these hills to El Tajin. I would like to share these experiences and create a small guest hotel here where people can come to hike or ride horseback just as I did, to visit El Tajin and to enjoy the peaceful country atmosphere. They'd waken in the morning and eat fruit and drink orange juice from my land, watch the orchids being pollinated or the beans growing on the vine. We'd serve a menu based around vanilla and other local foods. Do you think Americans would come to a rustic resort like this?" I think of all the people I know who would jump at the opportunity for a tropical adventure getaway. "Yes, Heriberto, Americans would definitely come here!" He smiles at my enthusiasm.

Plantation Escolin

We hike back to the truck, then drive to Heriberto's plantation, Escolin, which runs alongside the two-lane highway connecting Papantla with Poza Rica, the hub of the region's oil industry. This plantation is considered "technical" for several reasons. First, the vanilla grows in an orange grove, a sensible use of healthy trees that were abandoned when the market for citrus went flat. Second, the vanilla vines are surrounded with compost and hummus. The nutrient-rich soil helps the vines produce flowers in half the normal time of three years. He plants corn and other fast-growing crops that will provide additional shade for the vanilla.

Even here at "state-of-the-art" Escolin there is something very traditional. Heriberto shows me the Vanilla pompona vines mixed in with the planifolia. The Totonaca always plant pompona with the commercial planifolia. Pompona is the queen of the vanilla, and guards and protects the vanilla from harm. "Actually," Heriberto explains, "pompona is a very hearty breed and visiting insects inter-pollinate the plants, which helps keep the planifolia healthier."

This plantation is new for Heriberto. For years he farmed across the highway in another orange grove on leased land; he is currently negotiating the purchase of this property. He takes me to a beautiful vista underneath a large tree. "This is where I would like to build my home. The hill across from here is where we would start our journey to Tutu Nacu. It's in the hills behind this one," he says, pointing across to the hill on the other side of the highway. "We'd start here, spend the night at Tutu Nacu, then the following day continue on to the ruins of El Tajin." A noble dream I'd like to see come to fruition.

The Business

As we drive back to Papantla, Heriberto tells me more about his business. Each year he produces one ton of green vanilla, but he additionally buys another three tons of green vanilla from the Totonaca and Euro-Mexicans who grow vanilla on ranchos and homesteads throughout the region. After the intense curing and drying process is complete, he will have 800 kilos of dried vanilla. He is considered a minor player in the global vanilla market where up to 2200 tons of dry vanilla enters the market each year. But he is also typical of growers worldwide, as the majority of vanilla is grown on small plots of land.

Heriberto is active in the local union, "UAR-348" which began in 1948. This union, unlike some in Mexico, receives no government assistance for the planting and growing of vanilla or the resources to expand their curing and drying facilities, or even establish an extraction plant. As a result, the union is more a meeting place for the growers than a powerful force in driving the local industry and lobbying for better conditions, especially for the indigenous Totonaca. They have just formed The Veracruz Vanilla Council in order to regulate vanilla production and to support laws for the growers. As obtaining agricultural loans or even lines of credit is very difficult in Mexico, most growers like Heriberto depend on their small profits to live on and there is precious little left over for expanding their businesses. Their hope is that, united, they can affect meaningful change. Perhaps the Veracruz Vanilla Council will help them achieve this goal.

Home

We arrive at Casa Larios as the sun is setting behind the hills. The city has a golden glow, and the great carved stone statue of the Volador towering over the town, stands out against the fading light. The view from the casa de beneficio is of the center of town. The city, built by the Totonaca in the 1200s, is a series of hills; walking the narrow streets from one part of town to the other provides ample exercise. Until the 1950s the roads joining Papantla to the surrounding cities were dirt or crushed rock. Although most city people use cars and trucks, it's not uncommon for people on the edges of the city to come to town on burros or horseback.

The house was built by his father; it was here that Heriberto grew up. The urban plot of family land is now divided among three brothers. Heriberto built the curing and drying facility - complete with drying ovens on the roof; another brother and family built a house on another segment of the land. A third brother, Joaquin, has an apartment above the vanilla beans. Joaquin is the local music teacher. Music drifts in from a piano in an adjacent room, where a young student struggles with Chopin.

Inside the whitewashed stucco building, the aroma of vanilla permeates the air. The vanilla has been cured and dried for the year, and now rests as it finishes developing its intoxicating flavor and fragrance. Tin boxes line the cement floor, ready to receive the finished vanilla. We sit at a rough-hewn table in the late afternoon light and talk about life in Papantla.

Life in Papantla

"I feel fortunate to have been born here," Heriberto says, " where this marvelous orchid originated and gave its aroma and flavor to the world. We have great pride in this--it is central to our lives. We truly believe that the Mexican vanilla is distinctive in its flavor and fragrance, more special than vanilla grown anywhere else in the world."

Heriberto's pride is typical of the growers and beneficiadores of Veracruz. They have gone through very hard times here in the heart of the Mexican industry, and they continue to fight hard to improve conditions for growers. "The situation is better now for the vanilla growers than say, in the 1970s," Heriberto says. "We're motivated and we wish to grow more high-quality vanilla and have consistent production. With the prices so high right now, we're especially interested in expanding our market."

I ask Heriberto if he has a particular dream for Totonocapan. "At one time this was such a rich region of Mexico," he says. "We had the beautiful hardwood forests, abundant natural resources, and vanilla supported the region well. Although things have changed, there still is the potential for abundance. I would like it if we could become a power in the world market again and eliminate the poverty that is widespread throughout Totonocapan." Heriberto is dedicated and driven to improve the land he calls home. There won't be a cabana by the seashore or golf courses to play for him - not while there are plants to tend and beans to dry.