Peregrine Days

Portable Library Project

2010-11-16T09:44:00.000-08:00

Hello again! I am picking up the "pen" to continue the story here at Peregrine Days. Since the last post, I have continued working as a guide in the Antarctic, the Arctic and Greenland with One Ocean Expeditions. I am now preparing to go back down to Ushuaia for my third season. I have also been busy marrying (twice) my favorite traveling companion, Christian! And thanks to him, I now live in the beautiful city of Vancouver. For our official honeymoon and celebration of our first anniversary, we are taking ourselves off to explore Vietnam in January 2011. Amidst all the excitement of researching and anticipation, we have one very special project we hope you'll share with us.

Through GoPhilanthropic and Global Village Foundation, we are donating a portable library and delivering it to school children in a rural village. We are so fortunate in North America to have libraries available to us in every neighborhood. The bookmobile was one of my favorite destinations as a child and we continue to use our local library regularly. If you love books like we do, please help us give more books to more children! Each portable library costs $500 and is stocked with 250 books (half in Vietnamese and half in English) which will be shared among villages. Please join us today with a donation of any amount, large or small (100% of the donation goes towards the library). Our goal is to raise $1000.

Click here to donate securely via PayPal.

The Global Village Foundation was established in 1999 by Le Ly Hayslip, a Vietnamese-American who grew up in a poor village in central Vietnam during the Vietnam War. Her life story has been the inspiration for several internationally published articles, books and films. She is the author of two autobiographical bestsellers, When Heaven and Earth Changed Places and Child of War, Woman of Peace, which were adapted into the 1994 film Heaven and Earth, directed by Oliver Stone and released by Warner Bros. GVF funds and provides construction for kindergartens, primary schools, and cultural and vocational training centers. See the following websites for more information about these excellent organizations.

GoPhilanthropic

Global Village Foundation

Thank you for your support!

The White Continent

2009-01-25T16:54:00.000-08:00

Sailing towards the ice

Humpback in still waters

My colleagues at BBQ on the bow

Incoming Blue-eyed Shag

Adelie Penguins with downy chicks

Black-browed Albatross

Macaroni Penguin

Chinstrap Penguin with chicks

Fuzzy babies

Gentoo Penguin going for a swim

Porpoising Gentoo

Iceberg hues

Elephant Seals in Gentoo rookery

Ship anchored in Whaler's Bay, a volcanic caldera

Lunch time for baby

Kayakers in Paradise Harbour

Pancake ice in Wilhelmina Bay

Zodiac cruising

Gentoo

Penguin highway

Sasha and Pasha, Russian crew

Iceberg and "bergy bits"

El Capitan

Argentine Research Station - Almirante Brown

Hard at work

Curious Gentoo chick

Chinstrap Penguins

...or "Polish Policemen"

Leopard Seal

Scale of iceberg next to zodiac on left

Chad, master of the zodiac

Derek, our naturalist, going up the hook after morning excursion

Chinstraps considering a swim

The Professor Multonovskiy

Neco Harbour with ship behind me

Andrew and Chad, expedition leader and kayak guide

Entering Lemaire Channel (0.8 miles wide)

Gentoo with freshly-hatched chick and egg

I have arrived back in Ushuaia after two incredible back-to-back voyages to the continent of Antarctica with One Ocean Expeditions. Each voyage involved two days crossing the infamous Drake Passage, five days on the continent with two three-hour zodiac excursions each day and return through the Drake around Cape Horn. Our Dutch-owned ship, the Professor Multinovskiy, ran with a Russian crew of 21, three chefs, six expedition staff and 44 passengers from 12 countries. We had gorgeous weather, a night camping on the ice and many close encounters with the natives. All told, a life-changing experience.

What photographs cannot describe however, is the rolling of the ship, the stench downwind of a penguin colony, the snort of a leopard seal, the grumbling growl of a humpback taking a breath, the gunshot crash of a calving glacier, the rhythmic waves lapping the beach, the gargling display of a chinstrap, the cawing from a cape petrel nest, the comical waddle of a penguin chick chasing it's parent for a meal, the clink of glacier ice in a glass of scotch, the staff jokes across the radios, the sun shining on the deck, the dryness in the air, the acrobatic dives of a feeding Antarctic Tern, the racket from a penguin colony 5000 strong, planing out in a zodiac or the happy exhaustion when falling into a bunk after a full and amazing day on the 7th continent.

Gone to Antarctica

2009-01-04T06:03:00.000-08:00

A beautiful sunrise over the Beagle Channel. Today I embark on the Professor Multinovskiy for the Drake Passage and on to the Antarctic.

I stand ready to behold wonders.

Feliz Ano Nuevo!

2009-01-01T14:55:00.000-08:00

Underneath the fireworks

Christian with our lovely French hosts from the Harrington B&B, Veronique y Olivier

2009 began with champagne and an extravagant fireworks dispay over the Pacific Ocean - apparently the biggest in Latin America. We watched from the cerros (hillsides) of Valporaiso, Chile – Valpo for short. This historical part of the harbor town was designated as a UNESCO world heritage site a few years ago to preserve the colorful houses, intricate alleyways, curving staircases and rickety funiculars climbing up the hills.

Sign for "ascensor" or funicular elevator, one of 16 in the city used to get up and down the hillsides

The spontaneous decision to come up and over the Andes to Chile has proved a good one. We spent Christmas in Valpo with new American friends, Cooper and Margaret, who are currently living in Buenos Aires.

Coop and Margaret

Then we rented a car and drove down the coast to the beachtown of Pichelemu. A few days kicking it on the sand and watching the surfers was a treat. See my new friend Estrella ("star" in Spanish)

After all the steak in Argentina, the seafood here is heaven. Conger Eel is a specialty, as is anything done Pil-Pil style, meaning cooked in garlic, olive oil and red chile. We did NOT eat the Corvino or Chilean Sea Bass, (also know as Patagonian Toothfish) on offer everywhere, as it continues to be overfished.

Chileans claim pisco as their own national drink– as do the Peruvians. We stayed out of the debate and quietly sipped our pisco sours. But the wine is what we really wanted: more and more lush valleys of grapevines to explore! We toured Montes, Casa LaPostalle, and Casa de Bosque (all imported in the US and great values). Our trek up the hill of Cachagua Valley with a guide from Montes was rewarded by an alfresco lunch and glorious views.

Grapes

Grapes from top of hike in Valle de Apalta

Grapes in Casablanca

And more grapes

Another highlight of our 10 days in Chile has been wandering through two of the three homes of the poet Pablo Neruda. La Sebastiani is in Valporaiso and further down the coast is Isla Negra - his favorite home. Full of collections of boatsprits (bowhead figures from ships), colored glass, ship models, and wonderful eclectic treasures from his travels around the world, his homes embody his spirit. I learned a lot about one of my favorite poets walking through his space. For instance: Neruda always wrote in green ink and above his different work desks he hung photos of Walt Whitman, Baudelaire and other poets he admired. I will have to come back to Santiago to visit La Chascana, bought and named for his third wife Matilde (Chascana means "tousled" as she had a wild mane of hair).

A small section of the rambling Isla Negra

La Sebastiani in Valporaiso

Tomorrow I fly to Tierra del Fuego to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, to begin work with One Ocean Expeditions. Stay tuned!

Valle de Uco

2008-12-19T14:38:00.000-08:00

This picture doesn't begin to do the scenery justice. Yes, those are indeed the Andes rising up directly behind the vineyards. The closer you get to the mountains the better the quality of grapes, according to Tomas Achaval and he's found himself some great land to grow incredible grapes.

Tomas

Tomas invited us down to the Uco Valley, an hour south of Mendoza, to see the vineyards where all the magic happens for his Nomade wines. This valley is compared by some to the Napa Valley of 30 years ago for the quality grapes and the quiet roads. The added incentive (as if we needed one) was the crew was grilling asado in the vineyard that day.

Salud and

Buen Provencho!

Gustavo, the jefe or vineyard foreman, cooked a massive amount of steak, ribs and chorizo over the bonfire. We all stood around the table and I learned how to cut the steak, ribs and chorizo with a big gaucho knife, using a piece of bread in my left hand as a plate. Eating with our hands, chatting and drinking malbec grown from this very vineyard made for a great picnic.

Here's me with the jefe (far left) and crew.

Tomas y yo

After lunch, we walked the new Las Mulas vineyard (named for the historic place close by where the army used to raise the mules so important for crossing the mountains) where Tomas grows merlot. To get there, we drove up dirt roads, walked across a meadow past a white horse grazing, picked wild yellow plums and drank water from the cold, cold streams. Absolutely heaven.

We then headed into the lab to taste wines from the barrel and do some blending with Tomas's enologist. After our siesta.

Los Andes

2008-12-16T05:10:00.000-08:00

After the fast life in Buenos Aires, we've enjoyed a quiet week in Mendoza. Located at the base of the Andes, this pretty green town is an oasis in the middle of the semi-desert. Irrigation in the form of snowmelt from the mountains ensures leafy trees and showy fountains in the main plazas which are arranged like a five die. And of course, the snowmelt waters the grapevines as well. The relaxed pace in town goes like this: businesses open from 9 a.m. - 1 p.m. then close for a three hour lunch/siesta break, then open back up from 4 p.m. - 10 p.m. People start strolling to the sidewalk cafes for dinner around 11 p.m. The response to telling someone I had to be at an appointment: "Ah, they can wait."

Sunday we drove within 15 km of the Chilean border to visit Aconcagua, which at 23,000 feet is the highest peak outside of the Himalayas and twice as tall as Washington State's Mt. Rainier. We congratulated an expedition coming down on their mules from the summit after the two-week trek. We also stopped to pay our respects at the Cemeterio Andinistas, where climbers who fell on the mountain are buried. One gravestone reads "Here rests our eternal friend, who loved the mountain more than the world."

Weekend Argentine-Style

2008-12-08T15:49:00.001-08:00

Argentines keep a frenzied social calendar and survive on an unnatural lack of sleep. This weekend I tried my best to keep up. It all began in the VIP section of Madonna's Sticky and Sweet tour with our new friend Coli. My big brother Patrick met him on the Greek island of Ios 15 years ago and we immediately became great friends. Coli is the saxophonist in the popular Uruguayan band La Vela Puerca (www.velapuerca.com.uy) and is working as a translator for the Material Girl's tech team. She put on a serious show and I got goosebumps when she sang "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" with a massive blue-and-white-striped flag hanging behind her. The entertaining night turned into morning as we talked philosophy over beers in an outdoor plaza with Coli until 5:00 a.m. I didn't realize it was so late (er, early) as the square was packed with customers as the bars continued to serve 'til the sun came up.

After a quick nap, we dragged ourselves out of bed to hit the contemporary art museum MALBA, showcasing Latin American artists. My new favorite painter is the Mexican, Covarrubias. We ate a leisurely lunch in the garden and spent a few hours in front of the canvases. www.malba.org.ar

Late afternoon found us in the cheap seats at Campo de Palermo for the semi-final polo match of the Argentine Open, or "El Albierto." This is the final and most important tournament in the international polo circuit, as Argentines are the undisputed masters of the sport. La Dolfina beat Pilara (both Argentine teams made up of four players) 18-13 in eight 7-minute chukkers. Argentines do not stomp divots at halftime (there didn't seem to be a halftime) which was why I had really wanted to go in the first place. The crowd was strangely quiet during most of the game, giving only polite golf claps when either of the teams scored. I've fallen madly in love with Adolfo Cambioso, the captain of La Dolfina and you can see why here: www.ladolfina.com. After the event, we drank free champagne with the fancy crowd on exclusive side of the stadium and I waited in vain to congratulate Adolfo.

A progressive dinner followed in the upscale Palermo neighborhood with a new friend Peter: tennis star, ladies man and international man of mystery. We met him at the polo match and learned he mainly jets around the world practicing his eight languages. He left us to go to a private party at MALBA because I couldn't overcome yet another fat steak. How do these girls do it? Food coma and lack of sleep prevailed.

Sunday morning we strolled in La Boca, one of the oldest barrios of Buenos Aires, where the tango was born in brightly-painted brothels and taverns. This impoverished neighborhood is now a tourist trap, but we slipped into the elegant Fundacion PROA musuem to see an incredible Marcel Duchamp exhibit. www.proa.org

With only a few hours left in Buenos Aires, we finished our afternoon in San Telmo's famous and extensive outdoor Sunday Antique Market. The neighborhood becomes a pedestrian zone one day a week and street performers tango and vendors sell all sorts of fascinating things like tiny toy soldiers, copper watering cans, old photographs and these beautiful 100-year-old glass bottles that were used to dispense carbonation. I thought I really needed a few until I learned they each cost $100 and up.

Standing at the counter of a local asado joint, we dined on cheap and delicious chorizo and steak sandwiches. Afterwards I sank thankfully into my fully-reclining seat for the 13-hour overnight bus ride to Mendoza.

With a touch of pride, the portenos say "Buenos Aires, te mata" (Buenos Aires kills you). I am ready to be a country girl.

Eight Angels, a Lion and Carlos

2008-12-02T13:49:00.000-08:00

Taking advantage of a dark and stormy afternoon, Christian and I visited the Recoleta Cemetery. World-renowned for funerary sculpture and being the most expensive real estate in Buenos Aires, this is the final resting place for presidents, poets, generals and Eva Peron. Feral cats roam the walkways and bougainvilleas climb over immaculate and decrepit mausoleums. I loved all the many wing styles of the angels and hope to someday have a lion like this guarding me.

The following day, the weather lightened up and we headed out of town for Sunday BBQ. Tomas Archeval, of Nomade Winery and former CEO of Chandon South America, invited us to an asada with his family. We ate sirloin, tenderloin, chorizo, blood sausage, pork, and more tenderloin. All washed down with his full-bodied Malbecs and Syrahs. All in the name of research, you understand. Check out his wines at www.nomadewines.com.

Monday we wandered the streets and ended up at Clasica y Moderna, a cafe/bookstore with live music - tango guitar from the 1930's on this occasion - and spent a mellow Monday night in Bs.As. with the locals. To give you a taste of the melancholic and soulful sound, here is a snippet of Carlos Gardel singing about the city he loved. When he tragically died in an airplane crash in 1935, millions went into mourning and several female fans on different continents attempted suicide. He remains popular today and portenos (people "from the port" of Buenos Aires) often say "Gardel sings better every day."

The Paris of South America

2008-11-30T19:12:00.000-08:00

Argentina has been described as a nation of Italians who speak Spanish, dress as though they are French and like to think they are British. Famed for steak and mate, polo and plastic surgery, tango and gauchos, Patagonia and the Pampas, Malbec and Torrontes, Iguazu Falls and the Andes, gnocci and gelato, Evita and Diego Maradona, arrogance and generous extravagance, this is a great big country with flamboyant personality.

Having left the beach and flown through Mexico City (with only a few hours to take in Diego Rivera's murals in the Palacio Nacional and one final late-night taco run), we arrived in NYC to celebrate Thanksgiving with family. A brisk walk through Central Park gave us a taste of autumn and the Rockefeller skating rink was open for the holidays. I thoroughly enjoyed entering my little brother Matthew's world in Brooklyn and the creative hive that is the Opera Lofts: artists, poets, actors, business savants, hipsters and one massive great dane named London share a shabby-chic set of lofts in Bushwick. I spent Thanksgiving morning with this inspiring crowd making the rounds of a progressive dinner.

Thanksgiving afternoon, I dined with Christian's family and dashed to catch the flight to Buenos Aires. Twenty-four hours later we enjoyed our first asado feast of Bife de Chorizo Mariposa (rump steak butterflied) washed down with Malbec - mind you, at an prime outdoor table at midnight with a line still waiting to get in. First impression of B.A.: the city really doesn't sleep and it does indeed echo elegant Paris with wide boulevards, sidewalk cafes and neoclassical architecture, yet there is also a hint of sultry spring-time Sydney with Jacaranda trees everywhere blooming purple.

Liberacion de Tortugas

2008-11-20T19:59:00.000-08:00

Christian holding a tortuga only a few hours old

At sunset on Ventanillo Beach this evening, we helped "liberate" 119 freshly hatched baby turtles, which had been incubating for 45 days and hatched earlier today. The endangered golfino turtles are helped along with their first big day by a cooperative of volunteers. When the mother turtle comes ashore to deposit her eggs, the volunteers dig up the newly laid eggs, transport them to a corral safe from predators, and once hatched, send them on their way down the beach under careful watch. Along with about ten other visitors, we assisted with the turtles' first sea voyage. The event was intense, jubilant and emotional - I choked up when a few stragglers seemed too tired to make it to the water. One little guy couldn't summon any more strength and died on the sand. We gently picked up the slow kids and placed them in the receding surf. Even so, the tide often sent them tumbling back up the beach - surely an unleasant experience. But again and again, they flipped over and headed with determination towards their aquatic destiny.

"My man doesn't need turtle eggs"

A poster to help educate against eating endangered turtles, a traditional food in Mexico believed to make men "strong."

Heading towards the sea

118 tortugas en route to the waves

D.H. Lawrence, who spent quite a bit of time in Oaxaca (of which he wrote about in The Plumed Serpent and Mornings in Mexico) penned the following poem in 1921. It is very possible he was describing the ancestors of the turtles we met today.

Baby Tortoise

You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.

A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.

To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open,

Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base
And reach your skinny little neck
And take your first bite at some dim bit of herbage,
Alone, small insect,
Tiny bright-eye,
Slow one.

To take your first solitary bite
And move on your slow, solitary hunt.
Your bright, dark little eye,
Your eye of a dark disturbed night,
Under its slow lid, tiny baby tortoise,
So indomitable.
No one ever heard you complain.

You draw your head forward, slowly, from your little wimple

And set forward, slow-dragging, on your four-pinned toes, Rowing slowly forward.
Whither away, small bird?
Rather like a baby working its limbs,
Except that you make slow, ageless progress
And a baby makes none.

The touch of sun excites you,
And the long ages, and the lingering chill
Make you pause to yawn,
Opening your impervious mouth,
Suddenly beak-shaped, and very wide, like some suddenly gaping pincers;
Soft red tongue, and hard thin gums,
Then close the wedge of your little mountain front,
Your face, baby tortoise.

Do you wonder at the world, as slowly you turn your head in its wimple
And look with laconic, black eyes?
Or is sleep coming over you again,
The non-life?

You are so hard to wake.

Are you able to wonder?
Or is it just your indomitable will and pride of the first life
Looking round
And slowly pitching itself against the inertia
Which had seemed invincible?

The vast inanimate,
And the fine brilliance of your so tiny eye,
Challenger.

Nay, tiny shell-bird,
What a huge vast inanimate it is, that you must row against,
What an incalculable inertia.

Challenger,
Little Ulysses, fore-runner,
No bigger than my thumb-nail,
Buon viaggio.

All animate creation on your shoulder,
Set forth, little Titan, under your battle-shield.

The ponderous, preponderate,
Inanimate universe;
And you are slowly moving, pioneer, you alone.

How vivid your travelling seems now, in the troubled sunshine,
Stoic, Ulyssean atom;
Suddenly hasty, reckless, on high toes.

Voiceless little bird,
Resting your head half out of your wimple
In the slow dignity of your eternal pause.
Alone, with no sense of being alone,
And hence six times more solitary;
Fulfilled of the slow passion of pitching through immemorial ages
Your little round house in the midst of chaos.

Over the garden earth,
Small bird,
Over the edge of all things.

Traveller,
With your tail tucked a little on one side
Like a gentleman in a long-skirted coat.

All life carried on your shoulder,
Invincible fore-runner.

Sarah Takes Up Birding

2008-11-19T01:12:00.000-08:00

A hobby involving nature, travel, history, mythology, ecology, not too much sweat AND I get to keep something called a life list? Count me in!

My first true birding outing took place in Laguna Manialtepec, which proved a good place to begin. The sheltered laguna hosts a mangrove forest, myriad flora and fauna and connects to the ocean. Our guide Eve, son of owner Lalo of Lalo Ecotours, took us out in an outboard motor boat and pointed out many migrating birds that, like us, have moved here for warmer climes. I think I even recognized a few of the great blue herons from the rookery outside Christian's place in Vancouver.

In three hours we saw 67 different species including Black-necked Stilt, Northern Jacana, Willet, Long-billed Dowitcher, Elegant Tern, Inca Dove, Orange-fronted Parakeet, Cinnamon Hummingbird, Amazon Kingfisher, Great Kiskadee, Scissor-tailed Flycather, Mangrove Vireo, Woodstork and Great-tailed Grackle. We also spotted a massive green iguana sunning himself on a dead branch at the top of a tree and another large black iguana sunning himself on a rock.

Alas, the peregrines do not arrive until December...

Pelicano (Pelican - it is very handy that many words in Spanish are similar to their English counterpart)

Snowy Egret on sandbar separating laguna from the ocean

American Anhinga or "Snake Bird"

Gabilon Negro (Black Hawk)

Green Heron

Van's PXM Surf International 2008

2008-11-16T13:22:00.000-08:00

Today we capped a wonderful week in the beach town of Puerto Escondido watching the finals of the Van's PXM Surfing Tournament (PXM is the airport code for Puerto). This sleepy town is home of the famous Mexican Pipeline. As contenders caught waves, the announcer kept repeating "Oh my brother, oh shit, check it o-ut..." Christian captured this great photo of Lorenzo, the hometown boy and local favorite, after his first place victory. He beat out competition from Australia, Peru, Chile and the U.S. Other festivities around the five-day tournament included bikini contests, volleyball tournaments, skateboard competitions, motorcross events and yes, cock-fighting.

To get an idea of the scale of the Mexican Pipeline:

Playa Zicatela is for pros or people with a screw loose, so we spent early mornings at the smaller and more tranquillo Playa Carrizilillo, known as the most intimate beach in Mexico. Here the waves were smaller and I could swim and Christian could take a surf lesson. To keep up our strength, we've been happily feasting on coco natural for breakfast and fresh red snappper grilled whole or wrapped in tacos for all other meals.

While the fun continues, work actually does get done south of the border. See Christian in his office:

Surreptitious Photos of Colorful Oaxaqueña Women

2008-11-12T19:28:00.000-08:00

Jardin Etnobotanico

2008-11-10T13:29:00.000-08:00

Centro Cultural de Santa Domingo

(Jardin Etnobotanico resides in the back courtyards)

Francisco Toledo, one of Mexico's premiere living artists, resides in Oaxaca and has been a force in preserving and building up the cultural heart of the city. He is responsible for opening the Centro Cultural de Santa Domingo and starting a ethnobotanical garden on the grounds. (His other projects include the Museo de Arte Contemporaneo de Oaxaca, the Graphic Arts Institute of Oaxaca, the Jorge Luis Borges Library for the Blind, the Centro Fotografico Manuel Alvarez Bravo, Ediciones Toledo, children's libraries in Indian communities--and successfully blocking McDonald's in the historic center.)

We had planned to attend a tour of the garden on our last Saturday in town. A few days before, I met a new friend Amelia in her salon. During my pedicure, we were chatting about the 22nd Feria del Libros de Oaxaca (the 22nd annual book fair), a two week festival setting up in the streets. When I told her about my love of books, she offered to put me on the guest list for the gala Friday night in the garden, as she is on the board of one of the libraries in town. Of course, I happily accepted.

Alejandro and Amelia

The following night, Christian and I met Amelia and her husband Alejandro in the garden, transformed for the evening event by a large tent, white couches, candles and an incredible Cubano band. During the five course dinner, we chatted with Amelia and her husband (in Spanish) and danced until I turned into a pumpkin at 1:30 a.m.

Christian and I at the Gala de Feria del Libros

The following morning, we returned to the garden for a sunlit two-hour guided walk through the different species of cacti, maguey (agave) and flowering plants. I wish I had a stronger background in botany! For anyone interested, I just finished a fascinating little book by neurologist Oliver Sachs called Oaxaca Journal about his trip to Oaxaca with the NYC Chapter of the AFS - The American Fern Society. As geeky as it sounds, it was a great insight to the history and flora of Oaxaca.

El Jardin

Sculpture by Francisco Toledo adorned with marigolds

Tiny Flowering Cactus

Massive 1000-year-old Biznaga Cactus

My Two Favorite Women in Oaxaca

2008-11-09T08:21:00.000-08:00

These two women (possibly sisters?) are often in the Zocalo selling scarves and woven handicrafts. I bought a cream scarf from them for $30 pesos (less than $3 US). I look for them every time we walk through the plaza.

A Very Good Reason to Learn Spanish

2008-11-08T07:00:00.000-08:00

This empty bottle of Pechuga Mescal stands as evidence of my cultural immersion into the world of agave. We picked up this particular brand at our Pochote Market, a local organic market on Friday and Saturday mornings. After sampling a few different flavors we purchased the above bottle and enjoyed it sitting on the terrace over a few consecutive evenings. I did a bit of investigation about pechuga and what we thought was the distilling process. My teacher enlightened me with the translation: pechuga means ¨breast.¨

Apparently, this rare and ancient type of mezcal results from the following ingredients: wild mountain apples and plums, red plantain bananas pineapples, almonds, uncooked rice....and an entire raw chicken breast, bones and all. The chicken balances out the fruit, they say. While I'm not sure I would have chosen this bottle had I understood the distilling process, I guess it isn't any worse than a worm in my bottle.

El Tule

2008-11-07T13:34:00.000-08:00

Over 2,000 years ago a sapling shot up and over the years grew into El Gigante, or Arbol de Tule. Thought to be the largest tree in Latin America, this cypress tops fifteen stories. As you can see, the tree dwarfs the church. The day we visited, young girls and boys dressed in white streamed around the trunk after receiving their First Communion.

New Amigos

2008-11-06T04:03:00.000-08:00

Chef with his groupies.

Shortly after arriving in town, I tracked down Jose Luis, a seriously inventive chef who at the tender age of 29 is working magic with the flavors of Oaxaca. After reading about him in the New York Times, I found his quiet pousada called Casa Crespo where he presides as chief alchemist of El Teatro Culinario. Watch for him in the February issue of Bon Apetit.

Because of Oaxaca's intoxicating blend of art, food and we've decided to stay an additional week. We moved houses as the owner of the house in Xochimilco returned on Sunday. On craigslist, we found another beautiful spot which I've named Casa de Jardin Secreto. In addition to two dogs, a pair of hummingbirds and a noisy neighbor rooster, the new house sports a lush private garden, an open kitchen and pretty terrace: the perfect space for a dinner party. We invited Jose Luis and some new friends to join us Monday evening.

The very eclectic and interesting blend of twenty-ish people included friends and teachers from my school, international traveling set living or passing through Oaxaca and some locals. The group hailed from Mexico, Spain, Argentina, Chile, Australia, Finland, Italy, France, Guatemala, Canada and a sprinkling from the U.S.. I'm pleased to report that most of the evening's conversation was conducted in Spanish. Jose whipped up shrimp, black bean soup, mushrooms and guacamole for a family-style feast.

El Teatro Culinario

2008-11-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

For my fellow foodies, I give you the incredible menu Jose Luis created based entirely around local products he bought in the market the day we dined at El Teatro Culinario. The walled-in pousada has only a bell and small sign outside and as the nightly dinner is not advertised, I felt victorious that I'd found it.

We sat in the romantic open-air courtyard with a softly-gurgling fountain and bougainvillea tree blooming in full fuchsia glory. Mexican wines from Baja California accompanied our feast. The menu changes daily and each course arrives as a surprise, which Jose comes out personally to describe in fluent English or Spanish to each table - on this particular evening, three tables of two. Please note the descriptions and names of the following dishes are based on my notes from dinner.

1. Cactus Art: nopales (cactus leaves) with powdered tortilla and salsa, balsamic, queso, hibiscus marmalade and chicharron (powdered fried pork skin).

2. Red snapper ceviche with pico de gallo and 2 passionfruit reductions: one with a hint of vanilla, the other with chile arbol. Topped by a slice of jalepeño.

3. Pale green-colored flor de calabaza cream Soup (squash blossoms) contrasted with the bright pink of beet and goat cheese foam. Sprinkle of nutmeg.

4. One single egg: poached egg white on bed of chorizo and fig with a hollandaise (yolk) accented by cilantro.

5. The Cornfield: paint brushed across the plate: a stripe of red corn tortilla sauce, a stripe of black from the huitaloche ("corn fungus"), another stripe of red from pureed chapulines (grasshoppers) with chilies. Sitting serenely on this bizarre and oh-so-Oaxaqueña plate, a jicama, quesillo and huitaloche "sandwhich."

6. Warm avocado and shrimp terrine with green cilantro sauce and red bell pepper sauce and chili powder.

7. Grouper filet with sauce of fish skin, butter and garlic atop risotto with avocado.

*Palate cleanser of thyme and cinnamon foam

8. Finale for dessert: a pool of basil-tinted cream, caramel dust and house-made strawberry POP ROCKS. A delightfully explosive finish.

Obamamos!

2008-11-05T05:46:00.000-08:00

Christian and I gathered with other Americans and interested internationals (Christian has followed the race in detail from day one) in Oaxaca to watch the historic election last night. We celebrated Obama's win Mexican-style with free mezcal shots all around when he reached 270 electoral votes. People enthusiastically knocked down the pinata of George W. I loved seeing pins that said "Si, se pue de!"- which translated into: Yes, we can! The cheer went up in the crowd: Vive Obama!

Salud America!

Dancing with the Dead (more photos)

2008-11-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

Chatting with the locals

Our comparsa stops traffic - very typical

My friend Rena and I drinking mezcal at 11:00 a.m. (when in Rome....)

Catrina, The Lady Dandy, is everywhere in town.

We couldn't pass up this popular taco stand outside the cemetery

El Dia de los Inocentes

2008-11-01T09:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the weekend of celebrations to honor los muertos, the dead, began in earnest. October 31st is called el Dia de los Inocentes, as Mexicans welcome deceased children back first. Adults are believed to return on Sunday, November 2nd which is the official el Dia de los Muertos. The holiday is much bigger than Christmas and instead of mourning family members who have passed away, it is a fiesta to celebrate the annual reunion with loved ones.

My school put on a comparsa (parade) which involved dancing puppets on stilts, a marching band complete with tuba and a serious brass section and our very own police escort. We ate pan de muerto (bread of the dead) dipped in hot chocolate, and drank free-flowing mezcal - poured from a 5 gallon plastic gasoline jug - starting at 11:00 a.m. Christian and I then walked through the city looking at elaborate sand paintings depicting Lady Death, Catholic images and skeletons. Everywhere in businesses and homes, people build altars to remember their loved ones. Marigolds, punched paper ornaments, favorite food and drinks, burning candles and incense adorn the altars. The beautiful altar above commemorates the family of the directora of my school.

About 8:30 p.m., along with the rest of Oaxaca, we went to the Panteon General, the city cemetery. People streamed through the gates to commune with the dead. The inside halls were beautiful and the illuminated alcoves/tombs above state "Perpetuidad". A choral group sang La Bamba (I'm not kidding). The cemetery was packed and vendors did a brisk business outside in tacos and cervezas.

Then we continued on to the small town of Xoxocotlan (affectionately and phonetically called "Ho-Ho"). This cemetery was bright with candles and flowers. People stepped around graves, greeting friends, taking pictures, passing snacks. Babies slept on mothers' laps. The atmosphere was friendly, respectful and overall very festive. Families spend the entire night there, waiting for their loved ones to return by dawn.

Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca

2008-10-30T00:02:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-26T23:20:00.001-07:00

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

2008-10-26T22:49:00.001-07:00

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

2008-10-24T12:58:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-23T14:55:00.001-07:00

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

2008-10-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-20T14:43:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-17T17:01:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-10-10T10:29:00.001-07:00

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!