Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca

Ah, the life of a student...I'd forgot how wonderful it can be. I walk to school each day, stopping on the way to pick up fresh-squeezed orange juice and tamales from one of many street stands. The school building is a grand old colonial with a large garden. Class begins at 9:00 and ends at noon. Then we have an hour of conversation at a table outside in the sun. Topics discussed thus far have included travel, food, local fiestas, tattoos (my Australian classmate Cristel has a beautiful collection and a new one on her back with sugar skulls for el Dia de los Muertos) and the best places in town to find internet, jewelry and such.

My profesora Gaby speaks only in Spanish, but utilizes her full range of motion to act out verbs to help us understand. We all keep our dictionaries close at hand. Today discussing vocabulary, she was explaining that taza is a cup, taza de bano is a toilet and tasa relates to value in the economy, but I thought she was saying that the economy is in the toilet. I'm actually picking up jokes in Spanish!

Overall, I am very impressed with my teacher and the school. In two weeks here, I am speaking better Spanish than I did after two years of college courses in Montana. Classes are small with 2-5 people and currently approximately 50 students attend. Coincidentally, a group from University of Washington is studying here also. Other students hail from Israel, England, Germany and France. Cultural outings are offered each weekend plus afternoon classes in cooking, art, and history. Lucero, the directora has built up the school over the past 20 years and she is giving back to the community by giving microloans to other business women.

Cola del Serpiente

This past Friday, we witnessed beautiful old Porsches, Stedebakers, Oldmobiles, Hudsons, Cadillacs, Volvos, and Mercedes roll into the zocalo for the Panamericana Road Race. Seven days through seven Mexican cities race to the border of Texas. Check out the website www.lacarrerapanamericana.com.mx We couldn't stay to cheer on their departure on Saturday as we were headed out of town ourselves, into the countryside to the small village of Apoala. 

With a population of 200 indiginous Mixtecas, Apoala is an idyllic farming community in a secluded valley. To get to this out-of-the-way place, we hopped into a collective van for an hour and then continued on winding dirt roads by taxi for another hour and half. We checked into one of the three rooms at the eco-tourist "lodge." 

Our guide Luis, aged 12, led us to the caves to see stalactites and bats. I was intellectually prepared, but I didn´t much like the experience of scrambling through guano only to arrive in a claustrophobic cavern to listen to bats screeching. I will not be taking up splunking. 

I much prefered the hike through the canyon sliced out of rock by the Rio Apoalla. Apparently, a long time ago a two-headed eagle lived in this canyon and now serves as the town mascot. The bucolic scene came alive as a shepherd strolled down the mountain with his flock of goats, burros brayed across the river and air plants and lichen hung from the trees. We continued on to the cascada (waterfall) named Cola del Serpiente or Tail of the Serpent and had a swim. There are few things in the world better than jumping into your own private sun-drenched natural pool after a good hike.

Oaxaqueño Graffiti

Emiliano Zapata 1879-1919 (and "Punk" Zapata)

Zapata fought in the Mexican Revolution with the slogan: "Land, Liberty and Justice." The ruling regime put a price on his head and he was killed in an ambush. Zapata's legacy is strong in Oaxaca, especially with the poor and indiginous people, and he is one of the most revered national heroes in Mexico.

Zapata said: La tierra es de quien la trabaja. ( The land belongs to those who work it).

 &

Es mejor morir de pei que vivir de rodillas. (It is better to die standing on one's feet, than to live on your knees).

Translation: "Shelter, land, work, bread, health, education, independence, democracy, liberty, justice and peace"

Emperor Maximilian and Empress Carlota

In the tumultuous first forty years of the Mexican Republic, no less than 73 presidents came to power as the conservatives and liberals struggled to hold power. The conservatives, backed by Napoleon III of France, invited Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of Austria to become Emperor of Mexico and restore the order of a Catholic monarchy. The young Archduke was 31 and his strong-willed wife Charlotte (soon to be called Carlota) was 24. For three brief years they ruled as puppet monarchs while the liberals, led by Benito Juarez, fought to overthrow them.

The liberals prevailed and on June 19th, 1867, Maximilian was shot by a firing squad. Artist Edóuard Manet, shocked that France had abandoned Maximilian, depicted that fateful day in the painting above. Benito Juarez, an indiginous Zapotec from Oaxoca, became the beloved president of Mexico - and in a final twist, Maximilian and Juarez really wanted many of the same reforms for the people.

I am currently reading a fascinating book called Maximilian and Juarez by Jasper Ridley. I remembered a poem I read a few years ago, knowing nothing then about these events except Manet's painting. I think the poem captures the absurd and sad essence of this tragicomedy in history.

The Art of Forgetting
~ Lisel Mueller

Carlota and Maximilian
wanted to be allowed
to fall in love with Mexico,
as if history had a heart
and cared that they were young
and Maximilian liked
orange trees better than armies.

They reigned, a European
fairy tale emperor and empress
eating from golden plates
in a wilderness that beguiled them.
Three years. Then history flipped
its coin and slammed it down.

That was when they began,
Carlota's lapses, her erasures.
She wiped out the unbearable,
erased her husband's execution
and lived for sixty oblivious years
in an out-of-the-way palace,
her exclusive madhouse,
wondering vaguely each evening
why he did not join her for dinner.
Once every spring (so the story goes)
she walked to the dock with the little boat,
the kind used for an afternoon's outing,
and said in a young girl's voice,
"Tomorrow we leave for Mexico."

The Zocalo and Gustatory Delights

The heart of Oaxaca is the zocalo, the center plaza where all the action happens. Outdoor cafes flank the square on three sides and the Catedral de Oaxaca stands on the fourth. Surrounded by leafy trees, a cupola stands in the middle where bands play and dancers twirl. Lovers cuddle on ornate wrought-iron benches, children chase around the fountains, vendors sell balloons and painted wooden animals, mariachi bands stroll by, strumming their guitars. Each town in Mexico has its zocalo, but we hear this is one of the loveliest.

Christian and I have chosen a favorite cafe from which to watch the daily human theater unfold. We are methodically sampling local cervesas and mezcals (made from the agave plant like tequila, I find these much more flavorful and enjoyable). Each night holds new surprises: a folkdancing performance, a band playing for two giant puppets twirling on stilts, a silent parade of men with deep-lined faces and weathered sombreros I take to be a farm or labor rally, salsa lessons, another night merengue. 

Women of all ages, with colorful ribbons braided in their long dark hair, offer their baskets of chapulines: grilled grasshoppers. The locals' favorite snack food, the grasshoppers are gathered in the cornfields and grilled with minced onion. They are crunchy and a touch spicy. I popped one just to be a good sport and, while I managed to get it down, it will not be my new snack of choice. Christian has thus far restrained himself "until the time is right." The locals say that one who eats chapulines will return to Oaxaca someday.

Oaxaca is famous for seven types of moles. I have actually heard about more than seven, as people do not agree on which seven. These rich and flavorful sauces contain different chilies in varying amounts with ingredients such as bananas, sesame seeds, raisins and chocolate.  The following are a possible seven:  negro(chocolate), verde (green), amarillo (yellow), rojo (red), coloradito (red and less spicy),almendrado (almonds), and estofado (garlic) . Moles can be cooked with meats or rolled as filling in tamales.

For breakfast, I have been enjoying hot chocolate with bread for dipping. The chocolate here is not too sweet, blended with a bit of cinnamon and served in a bowl. Beautiful fruits and juices are widely available: papaya, pineapple, passionfruit, coconuts, mangoes. I find that coco fria, the chilled milk of the coconut, to be the perfect thirst quencher with tacos.

Another great find is the  flor de calabaza, the squash blossom.  Available in abundance, the orange flowers are filled with cheese and fried, or served in soup, or quesedillas, or really anything one likes.

I've come down with a bit of la gripa (a stuffy nose) but I found Mexican chicken soup to heal me:  sopa con pollo with chilies, cilantro and lime added by desired amount. I washed this down with a mezcal and fresh orange juice - a cure suggested my teacher - and I'm feeling much better.

La Llorona - The Weeping One

Last night, a mariachi band played us a song from Oaxaca called "La Llorona" or the "Weeping Woman." Even though I couldn't catch all the lyrics, the beautiful and sad ballad tugged at my heart strings. In class today, I asked my teacher about the song and she explained the legend of la Llorona is very important in Mexican culture. Many songs, poems, and novels have been written around this theme.

One version of the legend goes like this: In pre-hispanic times, a mother was able to see the future and she saw only death, war and sickness, so she drowned her children to save them from tragedy. Afterwards, she went crazy and endlessly walked the streets crying for her babies. She foresaw the Spanish coming and the loss of her children symbolizes the loss of the indiginous culture.

After doing a bit of research, I found the legend is strong throughout Central America. I discovered the above recording of Joan Baez singing "La Llorona." Enjoy.

Monte Alban

This past weekend, Christian and I visited Monte Alban, the earliest metropolis in Mesoamerica and an archeological wonder. In a wonderful example of how small the world really is, our guide Jaime has cousins who work at the restaurant La Carte de Oaxaca in Seattle where Christian and I ate on our first date. The seeds for this trip might have been planted that night...

Twenty minutes outside the city stands regal Monte Alban, which was built by the Zapotecs around 500 BC and mysteriously abandoned by 1000 AD. The mountaintop was leveled to construct temples, ball courts and sacrificial mounds. At its apex, the city held 40,000 people. Los Dazantes, "the dancers" depict humans in stone bas-relief now thought to be captives from vanquished tribes.  The Mixtecs later used the city, as did the Mayans, but for some reason, the Spanish left it virtually untouched (one of the few places they didn't raze).

A particular note of interest:  During Monte Alban's history, three women governors ruled the city.

Tomb #7 (on of 200) was opened in 1900's and became the equivalent of the discovery of King Tut´s tomb in the Americas. This death mask of a nobleman made with turquoise was the most intricate treasure found among all the the gold, silver and ceramics.  My first skull for the upcoming el Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead.

Xochimilco

7:00 a.m.:  I awake to fireworks going off unnervingly close to the window. Local dogs howl and car alarms activate in response to the booms. Pyrotechnics go off day and night across Oaxaca to celebrate the seemingly unending string of fiestas.  Today, our neighbors are gearing up for the big party tomorrow at the Iglesia del Santo Tomas one block up the hill.  A drum and flute strike up a tune to practice for the procession.

Christian and I have settled into the "barrio of weavers" called Xochimilco, the oldest neighborhood in Oaxaca.  Our little duplex is ideally situated an easy twenty minute stroll to the Zocalo, the center plaza, and a ten minute walk to my language school.  The highlights in our new home are the small library of Mexican history books and the rooftop (see above) with views of the mountains surrounding Oaxaca.  We couldn't have found a more idyllic spot.

The morning symphony revs up with a rhythmic staccato clacking across the alley as Senor Levya, the friendly patriarch of an old family of weavers, begins work. His loom sounds like a single horse cantering down a cobblestone street.  A vendor selling jugs of bottled water drives up the street calling, "agua, agua..." A small bell rings incessantly, but I have yet to discover its purpose.  I answer a knock on the door to find two smiling girls selling sweet rolls for three pesos apiece, which we'll enjoy with our coffee.  The day is underway in Xochimilco.

Si, Vamanos!

On October 13, Christian and I will fly one-way to Oaxaca, Mexico: land of seven moles and Mayan ruins.  We will begin our journey in the colonial city of the same name (pronounced wa-Ha-ka), designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  I will spend my mornings studying Spanish at the Instituto Cultural Oaxaca (www.icomexico.com) and afternoons will be given to explorations.  I will also be writing about our travels here at Peregrine Days and eventually (hopefully!) in newspapers, glossy magazines or any paying print or online medium.  Christian will continue to work his computer magic for Quotemedia from the rooftop patio of our apartment.

We plan to stay to celebrate El Dia de los Muertos which takes place on Nov. 1-2.  After we welcome departed spirits back to this world with tequila and marigolds, we will head to the beach.  The Costa Chica on the Pacific Ocean beckons with small surf towns like Puerto Escondido, where the palm trees sway and time slows down. From there, the game plan is to head farther south into Central and South America.  Exactly where we go - and in which order - will be decided on the road.  We like to remain open to follow our fancies.  As Kurt Vonnegut said, "Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God."

In preparation for this expedition, Christian sublet his furnished flat in Vancouver for six months.  My dear friend Catherine moved into mine in Seattle.  We are free of motorized vehicles, as of tomorrow, when Christian relinquishes his Mazda to the dealer.  Break loose the material bonds...

I hope you'll travel vicariously with us and add comments along the way.  Please feel free to email often and/or you can skype me at saraheburns.

Que le vaya bien!  May you travel well!