It feels a bit strange to be writing about Mexico from my current location--Herb Chambers Honda service center in Boston. But there is a computer here and I am waiting for my car to get serviced and I would not feel like the story of my trip to Mexico would be complete without writing about what I did the last two days... Xochimilco and Teotihuacan.
Xochimilco (zo-chee-milk-oh) is a series of island-spotted channely waterways in the south of Mexico City. It was once the agricultural center of the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan (were Mexico City now is). Xochimilco still has many greenhouses and a lively plants market, but is is presently best used as a kitschy getaway within the city. Families from the urban area (and tourists from all over) flock to Xochimilco to spend the day (usually Sunday) boating through the channels in bright day-glo boats called trajineras. The trajineras are equipped with a long central table and many chairs as well as a pole-wielding gondolier ready to push the boat amid the islands and the many other trajineras in the water (at times it felt like bumper boats!). The waterways are filled with trajineras full of friends and families, and smaller boats also navigate through it all, offering souvenirs, live mariachi music, cubetas (buckets) of cold beers and sodas, and even a floating restaurant, ready to board your boat, cook up whatever you like, cover your table with a table cloth, and serve you tasty eats as you cruise the verdant waters. Too fun! I spent the day there with Victor and Stephany and a handful of their friends and had an absolutely great time. If I lived in Mexico City I would make Xochimilco a monthly tradition.
The next day I met up with my friend Gaby (who had just flown in from NY) and her buddy Buster. We went to the north side of the city to witness the Basilica de la Virgen de Guadalupe. First, you need to understand that the Virgen of Guadalupe is as prominent (if not more so) as the figure of Jesus Christ in this Catholic country. Supposedly she revealed herself to the indigenous convert Juan Diego and his cloak carried her miraculous image. The cloak is housed behind the altar in a huge modern cathedral, and a moving walkway (yes!) transports pilgrims below the cloak to see it. It was pretty neat. I also saw the PopeMobile of Juan Pable. More amazing, perhaps, was the rows and rows of stalls set up outside "La Villa" selling all manner of religious objects... I found some really kitschy things. Truly tacky.
After this, Gaby and Buster and I headed to Teotihuacan, a pre-Aztec city and civilization with incredibly vast and well-preserved ruins. I cannot describe how amazing it was to be in this place. Highlights include seeing (and climbing) the towering Piramide de la Luna and Piramide del Sol. The former is the third largest pyrimid in the world, behind the pyramid in Cholula (which I saw but does not have much preserved) and the pyramid of Cheops in Egypt. I'm no archeologist so I can't write about all the extra neat things about Teotihuacan, except that it was pretty mind-blowing. However, on the Pyramid of the Moon we met a local fellow named Vikis who was superchido (cool) and with whom we spent the rest of the day. He is a local mountain agriculturist who is happiest when walking outdoors or cooking in the woods. He has played four years of semi-professional soccer and played his wooden flute with the likes of The Rolling Stones and White Child. He knows about every plant and bug in the region, and even fashioned me a bracelet from the fibers of the agave plant and showed us how to eat the fruits of the nopal cactus. We drank pulque with Vikis and he showed us how to find ancient ceramic shards and stone knifes in the dirt. It was incredible! I was sad to have the day end but happy to return to Victor and Stephany's apartment. I got a few hours of sleep before leaving super early to catch my flight to the U.S.
So I am back in the states and having a mixed time transitioning back. The weirdest thing is that it feels like I never left. It felt way too normal to use the computer in the science office at school, far too familiar to drive my car... I hope this doesn't mean I will forget the adventures and lessons of the last two months. I also hope I won't be poorly rested for when school starts. As it is, I am feeling wildly unmotivated to think about work at all (this is unlike me!). There are lots of reflections and thoughts to make about my trip to Mexico, but for now I am digesting being home, and wondering when I'll get to go back.
Thanks to all that have read the blog, posted comments, and sent emails. You have been a part of my adventure and I can't wait to talk to you all soon. Gracias.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
La lucha libre
It is like nothing I have ever seen before. Burly men wearing glittery masks and tights "wrestling" in a ring before thousands of crazed fans. It is what I imagine WWE to be but only 6 or 7 times more fascinating. Lucha libre is mexican professional wrestling, more spectacle than sport, and way more popular here than WWE is in the states. The wrestlers each have their own ring name and personality, some wear (rather freaky) whole-head masks, and duke it out weekly in a partially choreographed partially painful match before scream spectators. I cannot even begin to explain the culture and the sensations of lucha libre, which I experienced first hand last night, so I will lamely include the governing body's website so you can get a glimpse at some video clips, though nothing with come close to actually seeing the event live. Not all luchadores wear the masks, but you can purchase them in nearly any street market, and fans walk the streets and enter the arena wearing the masks of their favorite fighters. The image of a half-naked guy in a mask is normal here, thanks to lucha libre, but I am still a bit freaked out every time I see someone wearing one. There are basically two types of fighters, and every match pits teams of one to three fighters from each category against another team and the winner is determined in three rounds, or caidas. Basically you have the tecnicos ("good guys" who play by the rules) and the rudos (the ones who fight dirty). Sometimes people root for the tecnicos, sometimes for the rudos. A good percentage of the fighting takes place in the ring, ranging from open-handed slapping (permitted), to headlocks, to body slams, to full acrobatic leaps and flips off the ropes and into the air (often landing on an opponent). Often, the fighting leaves the confines of the ring and spills out into the floor with many of the same types of maneuvers. It is not uncommon for spectators in the first few rows to be hurt during a match (our cheap seats were much higher and afforded us a better and safer view). I should make a point of emphasizing the perfomative aspects of the luchas. The wrestlers are skilled performers and at times the fight seems more like an amazing (but brutal) dance, with sequences of amazing maneuvers that are jaw-dropping. How much is raw fight and how much is fixed choreography is up for debate, but both elements are present. Personally, I preferred the latter (I'm not much into violence). There were several matches throughout the course of the evening, and the pitch and excitement of the crowd elevated for each one. Fans of all ages, genders, and walks of life shook their fists, chanted, and cheered and booed. I learned some new bad words in Spanish. I had a super fun time at lucha libre and am bummed that I not seem to be able to capture the experience in words.
All of this, of course, is happening in Mexico City, to which I arrived very early yesterday morning after taking an overnight bus from Puerto Escondido. I sat next to an interesting guy named Oscar who spends six months of the year in Puerto working as a tattoo artist, a job he loves. I also saw High School Musical on the bus.
Even though it means my trip is coming to an end (Tuesday!), I am very happy to be in Mexico City, because it means I get to spend time with some good friends here. I am staying with Victor and Stephany (with whom it is wonderfully easy to spend hours conversing with) and making time to see Sarah and Alexis (from teaching in Puebla). There is much more to say about my time here but my coffee awaits... Adiocito.
All of this, of course, is happening in Mexico City, to which I arrived very early yesterday morning after taking an overnight bus from Puerto Escondido. I sat next to an interesting guy named Oscar who spends six months of the year in Puerto working as a tattoo artist, a job he loves. I also saw High School Musical on the bus.
Even though it means my trip is coming to an end (Tuesday!), I am very happy to be in Mexico City, because it means I get to spend time with some good friends here. I am staying with Victor and Stephany (with whom it is wonderfully easy to spend hours conversing with) and making time to see Sarah and Alexis (from teaching in Puebla). There is much more to say about my time here but my coffee awaits... Adiocito.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
La playa...
You all think I am spending my time and money writing this latest blog entry because I want to keep you informed and entertained. Adorable that you should be thusly fooled, but allow me to disabuse you of such notions with the incontrovertible fact that I am in this internet joint, at the expense of 15 pesos an hour, simply because the sign out front boasted air conditioning. And sweet, sweet artificial temperature control it is!
No really, I do have some things to write about and as anyone who has been to my apartment in August knows, I don't generally go for AC, but heat and sun and exhaustion conspire against me here of the pacific coast, and I am grateful for the relief. Truth is, though, that I am having a fine time on the beach these past few days. At present I am in Puerto Escondido, but let me begin back on Sunday evening, on a street corner in Pochutla...
I had a spectacular grueling 9-hour bus ride through the mountains which presented me with some amazing views, five bad movies, and one vomiting episode (courtesy the combination of carsickness and curvy roads). At the end of this voyage, I tumbled out on to sidewalk in front of the Pochutla bus station, dizzy and without a clue about what I was going to do just then, at 7:30 in the evening. I had thought about spending the night in non-beach Pochutla before striking out to the small, coastal towns. As I contemplated about actually getting a taxi, two Italian women--survivors of the same bus ride--asked me if I was going to Puerto Ángel, a nearish coastal town. When I told them I had no plan, I found myself sharing a taxi with them and eventually a room in a small, hippie B&B with an open-air, thatched-roof, hammock-swinging, chill-music common area (a palapa). On side was adorned with a statue of Shiva and the yoga hut was just up the road, overlooking the ocean. The owner of Casa Penélope, swami-looking Marcos, took good care of us and the other guests (two other Italians and two Canadians) with the able assitance of his daughter, Lluvia, and her husband, Osiel. We dined on simple but delicious homemade quesadillas and a stunning, slightly picante, freshly prepared guacamole.
Unfortunately, we brought rains with our arrival and it poured that night as well as the following morning. As such, I spent the next morning lounging over fresh fruit and homemade yogurt, swinging in a hammock. Márica (one of the Italians) and I eventually braved the clouds to check out the local beach, Playa Panteón, while Sara (the other Italian) and the other more intrepid guests had a two-hour yoga session with Marcos. It was a pleasant place, though the rains had dirtied the water a bit. I contented myself with reading until more drops from the sky forced us to scurry back up the hill to Casa Penélope, but a downpour had us make friends with a local fisherman and seek refuge on his patio until the worst of the washing passed.
That afternoon was spent contentedly sitting around the common area, chatting with all and browsing books. My dream house in taking new forms in my head. One word: cob. After a lounging spell, we all (about eight) climbed into the back of Marco's old Dodge Ram to head to neighboring San Augustinillo to enjoy a now-sunny afternoon on a really nice beach. Reading, swimming, boogie-boarding... Amazing. We ate a fresh meal right on the beach at returned to the hotel around sunset. Showers and some more relaxing preceeded our next trip in the truck to Zipolite, another seaside town known for its hippie chillness. There, we enjoyed snacks and drinks and conversation and stargazing on the torch-lit beach, listening to the waves crashing ashore in the nearby darkness.
The following day (which I think was yesterday), I relaxed in Puerto Ángel (the palapa and the beach) while the others went for a boat tour of beaches and turtles and snorkeling. I must remember to bring my contacts on future trips that involve the ocean! At night I headed with the Italians back to the fateful curb outside the Pochutla bus station as they headed to San Cristóbal en Chiapas while I came west to Puerto Escondido.
Last night here I had dinner with yet another Italian, a sort of strange fellow who wore a fannypack that said WANTED and claimed to be an architect. He was one of the guys in my hostel room, and thankfully he left early this morning. Speaking of which, I should say that all of the guys in my 5-bed hostel room are--well--guys. I don't know if it is supposed to be a mixed dorm or if I was put there by mistake, but I don't really mind. The only thing is that the end of a long hot day on the beach, the room smells like boy.
Today I have lazed on the beach, watched some surfing (something Puerto is known for), and relaxed under thatched-roof eatery while watching the waves, reading my book, and marveling at the size of my veggie club sandwich (literally, a quintuple-decker doosie!). I am trying to avoid heat stroke and dehydration. One big bummer about travelling sola is that it is trickier to go swimming at the beach... no one to watch your stuff. Tomorrow I'll lock stuff up at the hostel and be sure to take a swim. I already have my bus ticket for tomorrow night for the 13-hours overnight trip to Mexico City. I am looking forward to meeting up with some friends there, and I will be back in the US in under a week. By the way, I should say that if you want anything special or particular from Mexico, let me know soon. SJS--I'm on the lookout for your items. Dschwa--I've had your treat for 7 weeks! It is on its way.
No really, I do have some things to write about and as anyone who has been to my apartment in August knows, I don't generally go for AC, but heat and sun and exhaustion conspire against me here of the pacific coast, and I am grateful for the relief. Truth is, though, that I am having a fine time on the beach these past few days. At present I am in Puerto Escondido, but let me begin back on Sunday evening, on a street corner in Pochutla...
I had a spectacular grueling 9-hour bus ride through the mountains which presented me with some amazing views, five bad movies, and one vomiting episode (courtesy the combination of carsickness and curvy roads). At the end of this voyage, I tumbled out on to sidewalk in front of the Pochutla bus station, dizzy and without a clue about what I was going to do just then, at 7:30 in the evening. I had thought about spending the night in non-beach Pochutla before striking out to the small, coastal towns. As I contemplated about actually getting a taxi, two Italian women--survivors of the same bus ride--asked me if I was going to Puerto Ángel, a nearish coastal town. When I told them I had no plan, I found myself sharing a taxi with them and eventually a room in a small, hippie B&B with an open-air, thatched-roof, hammock-swinging, chill-music common area (a palapa). On side was adorned with a statue of Shiva and the yoga hut was just up the road, overlooking the ocean. The owner of Casa Penélope, swami-looking Marcos, took good care of us and the other guests (two other Italians and two Canadians) with the able assitance of his daughter, Lluvia, and her husband, Osiel. We dined on simple but delicious homemade quesadillas and a stunning, slightly picante, freshly prepared guacamole.
Unfortunately, we brought rains with our arrival and it poured that night as well as the following morning. As such, I spent the next morning lounging over fresh fruit and homemade yogurt, swinging in a hammock. Márica (one of the Italians) and I eventually braved the clouds to check out the local beach, Playa Panteón, while Sara (the other Italian) and the other more intrepid guests had a two-hour yoga session with Marcos. It was a pleasant place, though the rains had dirtied the water a bit. I contented myself with reading until more drops from the sky forced us to scurry back up the hill to Casa Penélope, but a downpour had us make friends with a local fisherman and seek refuge on his patio until the worst of the washing passed.
That afternoon was spent contentedly sitting around the common area, chatting with all and browsing books. My dream house in taking new forms in my head. One word: cob. After a lounging spell, we all (about eight) climbed into the back of Marco's old Dodge Ram to head to neighboring San Augustinillo to enjoy a now-sunny afternoon on a really nice beach. Reading, swimming, boogie-boarding... Amazing. We ate a fresh meal right on the beach at returned to the hotel around sunset. Showers and some more relaxing preceeded our next trip in the truck to Zipolite, another seaside town known for its hippie chillness. There, we enjoyed snacks and drinks and conversation and stargazing on the torch-lit beach, listening to the waves crashing ashore in the nearby darkness.
The following day (which I think was yesterday), I relaxed in Puerto Ángel (the palapa and the beach) while the others went for a boat tour of beaches and turtles and snorkeling. I must remember to bring my contacts on future trips that involve the ocean! At night I headed with the Italians back to the fateful curb outside the Pochutla bus station as they headed to San Cristóbal en Chiapas while I came west to Puerto Escondido.
Last night here I had dinner with yet another Italian, a sort of strange fellow who wore a fannypack that said WANTED and claimed to be an architect. He was one of the guys in my hostel room, and thankfully he left early this morning. Speaking of which, I should say that all of the guys in my 5-bed hostel room are--well--guys. I don't know if it is supposed to be a mixed dorm or if I was put there by mistake, but I don't really mind. The only thing is that the end of a long hot day on the beach, the room smells like boy.
Today I have lazed on the beach, watched some surfing (something Puerto is known for), and relaxed under thatched-roof eatery while watching the waves, reading my book, and marveling at the size of my veggie club sandwich (literally, a quintuple-decker doosie!). I am trying to avoid heat stroke and dehydration. One big bummer about travelling sola is that it is trickier to go swimming at the beach... no one to watch your stuff. Tomorrow I'll lock stuff up at the hostel and be sure to take a swim. I already have my bus ticket for tomorrow night for the 13-hours overnight trip to Mexico City. I am looking forward to meeting up with some friends there, and I will be back in the US in under a week. By the way, I should say that if you want anything special or particular from Mexico, let me know soon. SJS--I'm on the lookout for your items. Dschwa--I've had your treat for 7 weeks! It is on its way.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
la Sierra Norte
I'm back in Oaxaca City and I can't believe that just this morning I was trekking though some incredible mountains. I am already sad that I chose to return to the city. I think it was a mistake.
Early yesterday morning (was it just yesterday?!) I got on a bus that climbed up up up into the mountains to the Pueblos Mancomunados. I arrived in Llano Grande (population of about 80) and easily found the ecotourism office, where I met two guys from Spain, Asier and Javier. We decided to share a guide on our hike to Piedra Larga. Our guide showed up shortly and I said to myself, "wow... this kid can't be more than 13 years old!" It turns out Roderigo is 12 and has been guiding for 3 years. And while it may seem suspect to put your life in the hands of a 12 year old boy, let me tell you that this kid was amazing. He knew the land like the back of his hand, and expertly and effortlessly led us on a 4 hour hike. The trails were well-maintained but entirely unmarked; even a hearty woodsperson would be lost on the network of forked paths and turnoffs in a matter of 30 minutes. But Roderigo confidently led the way. Just think for a minute... imagine the place you know best...maybe your hometown, maybe where you live now. Be it a city or completely rural, could YOU walk in any direction for 2 hours and know where you are without a map? And speaking of maps, Roderigo never uses one. Turns out he just learned the land from growing up there and taking walks. No compass, no map, no problem.
The hike itself was wonderful. After 2 hours of hiking through such varied fauna (at one point giant grasses made me feel like I was in the movie Honey, I Shrunk the Kids)and peeking at lovely views and crossing all manner of fascinating contraptions to go through, over, and around fences designed to keep cows in place, we made it to our destination... a rocky outcrop with such breathtaking views and mind-twisting altitude that I could decide if I should pass out with joy or faint from fear. I will one day (I hope) get the pictures up, but I'm not rushing since they will do no justice to the experience. I was perfectly content on the hike back and after sharing a soda with Roderigo and the Spanish guys, I headed for my mountain cabana. I took an amazing hot shower (better than in most hostels), visited the outhouse, and cozied up under many blankets... at 3200 meters above sea level, it got pretty chilly! Let me tell you, there is no happiness quite like a wonderful hike, a warm shower, and snuggling under thick covers in a quiet mountain pueblo on a cold night. I was about as content as could be.
This morning I took a bus to a larger (population 1000) pueblo neighboring Llano Grande called Cuajilomoyas. I happened to meet my guide for the day before even reaching the office, as she was the lady I asked for directions. Sonia was a kind woman who led me through the woods while wearing a kitchen apron, sweater, skirt, and what appeared to be house slippers. This lady was awesome. She pointed out all manner of plants and flowers, explaining their names and various medicinal properties. She was a walking treasure trove of natural medicine knowledge, and dispensed her wisdom easily and casually. On our walk we encountered numerous wonders, such as a strange pond that looks opaque and green until you throw in some bread crumbs to feed the fish who then furiously swim to the surface. The trails were twisted and interesting, full of exciting tight curves, ascents, and descents... and wonderful, verdant scenery. Our destination was el Canon del Coyote, a narrow passage between two sheer rocks, at the end of which is a coyote den. We also trekked through a cave (Cueva de Calveria?) where pueblo residents hid during the government attacks during the Revolution. Right around the cave was el Mirador de Calveria, a spiny rocky pinnacle that poked up through the trees, affording rewarding views to those who climbed it (we only went partway, due to ye olde fear of heights that I was sure to pack in my bag). Further along, though, we went to el Mirador de Piedra Colorada, another outlook with a slightly more inviting summit. There Sonia and I sat and ate snacks and chatted and drank in the majesty of the experience. The hike back was more or less along a dirt road, affording a more relaxed walk (and a chance to look at the various bulls and cows and goats in the area).
When we arrived back at the town and the office, I foolishly decided not to spend the night (oh regret) and caught the next bus back to the city. As if to make up for my mistake, I went ahead this afternoon and booked my all-day bus ride to the coast tomorrow. I am not generally a beach person, but I am going to try and keep an open mind and spend a few days taking in the Pacific. I have some reservations about the next 5 days of my trip, though it is nothing I can put my finger on. I hope my nameless hunches are foundless.
I am excited, however, to return to Mexico City after that and spend some time there with new friends. And then... back to the US. I think I am ready, which is good.
Best wishes to all.
Early yesterday morning (was it just yesterday?!) I got on a bus that climbed up up up into the mountains to the Pueblos Mancomunados. I arrived in Llano Grande (population of about 80) and easily found the ecotourism office, where I met two guys from Spain, Asier and Javier. We decided to share a guide on our hike to Piedra Larga. Our guide showed up shortly and I said to myself, "wow... this kid can't be more than 13 years old!" It turns out Roderigo is 12 and has been guiding for 3 years. And while it may seem suspect to put your life in the hands of a 12 year old boy, let me tell you that this kid was amazing. He knew the land like the back of his hand, and expertly and effortlessly led us on a 4 hour hike. The trails were well-maintained but entirely unmarked; even a hearty woodsperson would be lost on the network of forked paths and turnoffs in a matter of 30 minutes. But Roderigo confidently led the way. Just think for a minute... imagine the place you know best...maybe your hometown, maybe where you live now. Be it a city or completely rural, could YOU walk in any direction for 2 hours and know where you are without a map? And speaking of maps, Roderigo never uses one. Turns out he just learned the land from growing up there and taking walks. No compass, no map, no problem.
The hike itself was wonderful. After 2 hours of hiking through such varied fauna (at one point giant grasses made me feel like I was in the movie Honey, I Shrunk the Kids)and peeking at lovely views and crossing all manner of fascinating contraptions to go through, over, and around fences designed to keep cows in place, we made it to our destination... a rocky outcrop with such breathtaking views and mind-twisting altitude that I could decide if I should pass out with joy or faint from fear. I will one day (I hope) get the pictures up, but I'm not rushing since they will do no justice to the experience. I was perfectly content on the hike back and after sharing a soda with Roderigo and the Spanish guys, I headed for my mountain cabana. I took an amazing hot shower (better than in most hostels), visited the outhouse, and cozied up under many blankets... at 3200 meters above sea level, it got pretty chilly! Let me tell you, there is no happiness quite like a wonderful hike, a warm shower, and snuggling under thick covers in a quiet mountain pueblo on a cold night. I was about as content as could be.
This morning I took a bus to a larger (population 1000) pueblo neighboring Llano Grande called Cuajilomoyas. I happened to meet my guide for the day before even reaching the office, as she was the lady I asked for directions. Sonia was a kind woman who led me through the woods while wearing a kitchen apron, sweater, skirt, and what appeared to be house slippers. This lady was awesome. She pointed out all manner of plants and flowers, explaining their names and various medicinal properties. She was a walking treasure trove of natural medicine knowledge, and dispensed her wisdom easily and casually. On our walk we encountered numerous wonders, such as a strange pond that looks opaque and green until you throw in some bread crumbs to feed the fish who then furiously swim to the surface. The trails were twisted and interesting, full of exciting tight curves, ascents, and descents... and wonderful, verdant scenery. Our destination was el Canon del Coyote, a narrow passage between two sheer rocks, at the end of which is a coyote den. We also trekked through a cave (Cueva de Calveria?) where pueblo residents hid during the government attacks during the Revolution. Right around the cave was el Mirador de Calveria, a spiny rocky pinnacle that poked up through the trees, affording rewarding views to those who climbed it (we only went partway, due to ye olde fear of heights that I was sure to pack in my bag). Further along, though, we went to el Mirador de Piedra Colorada, another outlook with a slightly more inviting summit. There Sonia and I sat and ate snacks and chatted and drank in the majesty of the experience. The hike back was more or less along a dirt road, affording a more relaxed walk (and a chance to look at the various bulls and cows and goats in the area).
When we arrived back at the town and the office, I foolishly decided not to spend the night (oh regret) and caught the next bus back to the city. As if to make up for my mistake, I went ahead this afternoon and booked my all-day bus ride to the coast tomorrow. I am not generally a beach person, but I am going to try and keep an open mind and spend a few days taking in the Pacific. I have some reservations about the next 5 days of my trip, though it is nothing I can put my finger on. I hope my nameless hunches are foundless.
I am excited, however, to return to Mexico City after that and spend some time there with new friends. And then... back to the US. I think I am ready, which is good.
Best wishes to all.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Monte Albán y los Valles Centrales
Most of the time I am eager to update my blog, ready to describe all sorts of adventures and ruminations. Strangely, I have not felt the same enthusiasm for typing things up in an entertaining but factual manner, and I apologize to you, my loyal reader(s). My stay in Oaxaca has been enjoyable and protracted. Yesterday I went to nearby Monte Albán, a majestic hilltop site of what used to be the capital of the Zapotec empire. Even though the site is old and is considered "las ruinas," the structures are rather well preserved (have only been discovered and cleared from the jungle in the last century). It was breathtaking--stunning vistas of the ancient city and distant valleys and mountains, magnificent stone edifices and pyramids, gloriously perfect weather... I can't wait to upload the pictures (I've been rather lame in that area). That afternoon I visited la Central de Abastos, a HUGE market full of mazes of stalls of EVERYTHING you could want to buy... from produces to clothes to pet supplies to pets to meats to accessories to health supplies to hardware to electronics to homegoods to live turkeys. Yep, get your live turkey here is aisle 124-A3 (actually there are no aisle numbers... the best way to navigate is to wander aimlessly and for a long time taking random turns and ducking your head from the low-hanging mechandise). Today I visited another Zapotec site at Mitla... this city became the HQ of the zapotecs when Monte Albán declined, and the ruins there are less grand in scale but sport some amazing geometric stone work and a few underground "tumbas." It is worth noting that Oaxaca is the most diverse state in Mexico, with numerous indigenous populations and over 15 indigenous languages spoken. Zapotecs are the most populus in the Central Valleys where Oaxaca City is located, and you can hear it being spoken on the street if you listen carefully in the right places. One of those places is Tlacolula, a city between Oaxaca and Mitla where I stopped for a peek around, as is El Tule, a nearby pueblo boasting a gigantic cypress tree that is over 2000 years old and very, very large. Last night I managed to get into a presentation of classical music in one of the theatres for free here, and I am going to try and do the same tonight, as I have befriended the gentlemen who has access to the extra tickets. That having been said, I have found it less easy to make all kinds of new friends in the recent part of my trip. I don't know if I am less outgoing or I have just been less lucky in meeting friendly travellers, but I've been keeping to myself more lately. (Not that this prevented the guy next to me on the bus today from going on and on about "kids these days" and his thoughts about going to the US... I didn't understand most of what he said, but he seemed content to hear himself pontificate and felt encouraged to continue by a simple nod or two on my behalf.) Tomorrow I am headed into the Sierra Norte mountains for two days of hiking. The area I will be in are the Pueblos Mancomunadas, a commonwealth of villages that operate as a somewhat autonomous group, who have collectivelly decided to support their land and pueblos through ecotourism. I wish I were able to go with someone, another traveller perhaps, but no such luck. I am smart enough, however, to have hired a guide and I hope he or she (probably he) will turn out to be friendly company. A big shout out to recent birthday buddies (KA, SJS, RPS), and I wish everyone health and happiness. I am eager to share both with you soon!
(On a side note... in my spare time I have kept busy by designing my dream house and "solving"--i.e. frustratedly but doggedly working on--a cheaply made faux Rubik's Cube...)
(On a side note... in my spare time I have kept busy by designing my dream house and "solving"--i.e. frustratedly but doggedly working on--a cheaply made faux Rubik's Cube...)
Monday, July 30, 2007
¡Guelaguetza!
So I made it to Oaxaca with fairly little trouble, and despite concerns, things seem rather stable and safe here.... at least on the visible surface. I awoke early this morning to head to a hilltop auditorioum (think enormous ampitheater) for the annual folkloric festival called Guelaguetza. The show started at ten, but the place was almost full by 7-ish when I arrived (or at least the free, first-come-first-serve sections up in the nosebleeds were). Nonetheless, TONS of people continued to flood in and packed the place fuller than I ever imagined possible. Vendors roamed and put Fenway hawkers to shame with their maneuvering. It got hotter and more and more packed and finally... on the small round stage below, a series of wonderful folk dances unfolded, performed by skilled dancers in exquisite costumes to the sounds of a live, jamming band. Between numbers, freebie hats and fans and t-shirts were chucked into the crowd from behind, creating even more excitement. The dances included paired numbers; a presicely choreographed pineapple dance; a fun number with guys in suits and ties and tassley chaps and horns and whips; and more. I stayed on my little concrete perched, wedged between so many people, until about 12:45, when I decided to bail. The crowds outside the auditorio were as tight and excited as those within, but with the added fun of more vendors. I found a Rubik's cube and hope to figure out how to solve more than one face. I also snacked on all kinds of delicious street food and saw a guy demonstrating a Magic Extractor... as seen on TV! Wiped from the day, I returned to my no-name hostel for a brief rest, but I still feel really tired, as perhaps evidenced from the relative boringness of my description of what was actually a very cool day.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
On the road again...
So my stint as hard-working teacher of "talented" kids has come and gone, and I find myself again in the same hostel in Puebla as before going to Cholula. I am back to the life of half-showers with Dr. Bronner's all-in-one soap, saggy mattresses with many bunkmates, meals taken alone, and only occasional conversations with strangers. But I am also re-entering the world of minimal responsibility, of unknown (mis)adventure, of time with my own thoughts, of new places. I miss some of the creature comforts and routine of working at the camp, but what I will feel the lack of more so is the company of some of the good people I met there.
Meanwhile, I am about to head to Oaxaca, but there is a bit of turmoil there and I am overhearing some travellers here deciding against their trip there based on the political troubles. I am going to go anyway, but keeping on a high guard and prepared to curtail my stay at a moment's notice.
As always, please send your notes and comments. They are more welcome than ever.
Meanwhile, I am about to head to Oaxaca, but there is a bit of turmoil there and I am overhearing some travellers here deciding against their trip there based on the political troubles. I am going to go anyway, but keeping on a high guard and prepared to curtail my stay at a moment's notice.
As always, please send your notes and comments. They are more welcome than ever.
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