Oh Oaxaca!!

It's impossible to imagine a happier, more interesting Mexican city with friendlier people - both foreign and domestic - than Oaxaca. And the country that surrounds Oaxaca is full of its own charm - with small pueblos where indigenous artisans create stunning hand made jewelry, clothing, rugs, and pottery, and where surprises around every corner await a traveler like me.

The Bodas were the first Oaxacan surprise. Every Saturday afternoon, the Iglesia Santo Domingo in el Centro Oaxaca becomes a wedding factory - more productive and far more joyous than Las Vegas. A crowd forms outside closed doors of the the huge church at around 4:30 in the afternoon. The first clue that something will happen is a loud roar - a cheer from inside the iglesia at the end of the wedding ceremony. Doors open and out pour men and women dressed in skin tight satin, even tighter lace, and mirror sequins. Women wobble on stunningly high heels as they navigate the cobblestone square. The joy is palpable with brass bands tooting, drummers drumming, turkeys held high, and dancers of all stripes twirling while the bride and groom (sometimes two brides or two grooms) pour mezcal shots into small bamboo-like vials worn around guests' necks. Triple life sized puppets dressed like the brides and grooms lead a parade to the reception and gringoes are as much a part of the festivities as the wedding party. We are expected to smile, cheer, and take photos, as everyone marches down Calle Alcala to a final destination for an even bigger fiesta.

The Tlacolula mercado, a short drive east of Oaxaca, is a lesson in controlled chaos. Streets are filled with vendors selling rugs, jewelry, squash blossoms (the kind you eat), auto parts, and small ribbons with gold charms representing stomachs, kidneys, pregnant women, and other objects too puzzling for a gringo to describe. The purpose of said charms becomes apparent when you pass through the doors of Iglesia Santa Maria de Ascension. There, among statues of decapitated saints, is a small Jesus upon whose purple robe visitors pin ribbons with the aforementioned charms in the shape of various internal organs. The idea is to ask Jesus to heal friends and family who are ailing, to make love happen, or to bring babies to a couple trying to become pregnant. Magic is alive in Mexico where wishes just need to be acknowledged so they can be granted, and the beliefs of early indigenous cultures are woven into catholic dogma to show that even saints can lose their heads if ever they doubt

Although chaos is a constant, the Tlacolula mercado has two faces, One face is characterized on weekdays by a small and friendly community of locals, mainly women.  Here, abuelas (grandmas) are honored with distinctive ribbons woven into their hair and EVERYONE knows everyone else. Hugs are handed out and gossip shared while women pick through mountains of beans and piles of pungent chilis.

Abuela

Mercado magic is magnified on Sunday mornings when Mixtec, Zapotec, and people from other indigenous communities sell fresh chickens, sweet and savory breads, produce, and homemade delicacies like Barbacoa (goat or lamb cooked underground in coals) served "dry" with lime and an array of salsas or "wet" in a rich and delicious stew. The meal can be finished with a fruity and brilliantly red ice cream made from Cochineal bugs gathered from nopal cactus. It is perfectly balanced when served on top of a rich scoop of Mexican vanilla helado. Exchanges at the Sunday mercado just get more lively and interesting as the day progresses.

Tortillas and breads are fresh made by hand. But from time to time not everyone agrees on the quality or the conversation that accompanies the sale.

Customers can buy just a few peanuts (cacahuetes), pumpkin seeds (semillas de calabasa) or crunchy, salty crickets (chapulines) to sample. 

Semillas being shelled by the wind

Alternatively, local families carry out massive amounts of fresh made masa for making homemade tamales. I learned to make my favorite tamales from a fabulous Zapotec cook in Teotitlan. Under Reyna's careful direction, two other gringos and I wrapped each tamale in banana leaves that enclosed a thin layer of silky masa topped with rich dark mole negro and Oaxacan cheese or shreaded chicken. Once in its packet, we tied the tamales closed with corn husk strips like presents before  they were steamed. Scrumptious!

Vendors at the mercados wear traditional dress. Zapotec women wear beautiful aprons embroidered with flowers in all colors of the rainbow. This woman in her beautiful lacy blouse was from another indigenous community.

Meat is butchered fresh, delicious chorizo hangs from stands in fat links, and chickens are sold alive so they make especially tender soups (sopas) or other tasty dishes.

The world outside of Oaxaca is...well...a different world. Hierve al Agua is the home of a petrified waterfall - a stunning limestone cliff formed by slow drips of water that trickle over the edges of sky blue pools making perfect clifftop swimming holes on warm days.

A short drive north of Oaxaca, San Augustin Etla blows cool mountain breezes over a weary traveler like me. Originally a factory town where yarn was made, Zapotec artist and Oaxacan arts patron, Francisco Toledo, transformed it into a community for other artists - giving creative people studio spaces in the repurposed factory and gallery that sits on a hill above the town. It was the perfect place for a getaway on a hot day in the city, and even with most studios empty during the Omicron surge, A friend and I found artists making paper using crystal clear water from an ancient aqueduct. 

Yesterday and today...

Eric and me in Puerto Vallarta in 2020 before his cancer diagnosis 

Shortly before leaving for Oaxaca, I discovered a card that Eric gave me many years ago. He had painted a rough circle and a crescent on the card's cover, and under it, he wrote, "I love you like the sun must love the moon." There is no replacing such deep and everlasting love from the romantic husband who made me laugh every day, but the people of Oaxaca introduced me to a new gentle vision of love that also fills my heart.

The morning crew and my Spanish language coaches

Each February day when I awoke in my little room at the perfect B&B, La Betulia. I'd join other travelers at the big outdoor table for freshly squeezed mandarin, orange/beet, or verde juice, homemade tortillas, salsas, and jams served up with a creative hot Oaxacan breakfast prepared the night before by our talented chef Diana and served by my Spanish coaches, Rosita, Patricia, Juanita, and Lori. Despite my stumbles, they suffered through my questions about what they had made, Quê haciste esta mañana? (notice my flawless use of hacer in the past tense!) Not only did they reply, but they patiently waited for me to formulate my next question and they worked as a team to pass through a fog of Spanglish to my intent.  

On one of my final days in Oaxaca, Evelio, a friend of La Betulia's manager, Daniel, and our frequent guide and taxi driver, proposed a trip high in the mountains to the pueblo, Santiago Apoala. We left early in the morning, and drove almost three hours to a small village where we could hike to a beautiful waterfall. Evelio is second only to Eric in his ability to talk for hours during a car ride. He insisted I speak Spanish, and the long trip gave me plenty of time to reach into the recesses of my brain for just the right words. Once at Apoala, Evelio and I shared a caldo of fresh, free range chicken soup while local people prepared goat for Barbacoa and neighbors gently shaved hair from a slaughtered pig's snout and hooves outside the back door - all for a Carnival celebration the next day. We hired Kevan, a 13-year old guide for the day and then set off into a lush oasis nestled between huge valley-framing limestone cliffs. First we crossed a clear stream to reach a cave with pictographs, and then we navigated a sharply twisting trail down to the promised waterfall. It was a wonderful day and by the end, Kevan had pumped Evelio dry of advice about becoming an adult guide and taxi driver.

Evelio and me at the Apoala waterfall

Barbacoa  and Carnitas for Carnival

Evelio called our route home from Apoala the "Oaxaca shortcut," but it was no road for street cars. We bumped along laughing while his little taxi showed how tough she was, and after a few false starts,  Mexico worked its magic again when a shepherd's directions showed us our path   

Driving back to La Betulia, I told Evelio about grieving in the midst of my efforts to move forward. He understood and said gratitude would be the key to a good life - daily offerings will help, and following Evelio's advice, I'll  celebrate Eric's life in November on the Day of the Dead by burning copal crystals to create a smoky path from our home and my heart to where he'll find everlasting peace.

With gratitude for my Oaxaca friends:

Daniel

Diana

Double Trouble

Evelio and Teresa

Juanita

Karen & Ben

Lena & Tami

Memo

Minwah

Molly & Julian

Patricia

Rosita

Su and the Mexican guys at the Mezcal bar who bought pulque for us on our birthdays

Two sets of Suzys and Steves

Inline skaters, helado vendors, Zumba teachers in Parque el Llano

and many more including my lavanderia lady, the local dogs, and the abuela who greeted me every day with "hola, buenos dias" and sold me small bags of peanuts with chilis.

Thank you Oaxaca!