In my effort to “step away” from the US election news, I went in search of the fourteen chairs of the “Silla Calavera” project scattered throughout restaurants and hotels in the city — a creative and calorie-burning distraction!
Artist: Juana Vicente Ortega Fuentes, decorative painter; displayed at Pitiona restaurant. Title: Levantada de Cruz (Raised Cross).Artist: Fabián Pacheco, metalwork artisan; displayed at Gozobi restaurant. Title: Tradición y costumbre (Tradition and practice). Artist: Francisca Calvo, wooden alebrije artisan; displayed at Pitiona restaurant. Title: Platicando sobre las costumbres de mi pueblo (Talking about customs of my people).Artist: Jesús Sosa Calvo, wooden alebrije artisan; displayed at Hotel Parador. Title: Como ves te ves (As you see you see).
The project arose as an idea to spread the traditions of Oaxaca through artistic creations using an object of daily life — a comforting and comfortable seat, where each artist, through their creativity and respect for the dead, exposes the face of a skull.
Artists: Taller de Barro Zamani, polychrome clay artisans; displayed at Terranova restaurant. Title: Muertos que viven (The dead who live).Artists: Erika Nancy Carrillo Carreño, Montserrat Mandujano, Eliézer Vargas García, artesanas de la Costa oaxaqueña; displayed at Hotel Trébol. Title: Colores de vida y muerte (Colors of life and death).Artist: Colectivo Zegache (Alejandro Mendoza, Eleuteria Pacheco Mendoza, Edith Santo Méndez, Nancy Martínez Gaspar); displayed at Hotel Casa Garay. Title: Dxi tu gúl (Zapotec, unable to translate).Artist: Meletón Lazo, surrealist artist; displayed at Hotel Ferri. Title: Flor de piña (Pineapple flower dance).
Unfortunately, this next chair had been disassembled by the time I arrived, but here, in two parts, the back and the seat.
Artist: Gabriel Sosa, wooden alebrije artisan; seat back at Los Danzantes restaurant. Title: Fiesta de colores (Festival of colors).Artist: Gabriel Sosa, wooden alebrije artisan; seat at Los Danzantes restaurant. Title: Fiesta de colores (Festival of colors).
The artisans, I think with great success, sought to capture and share their roots, customs, and traditions.
Artist: Marcos Lucero, painter; displayed at Hotel Santa Rosa. Title: Bii tugul/Viento de muertos (Wind of the dead).Artist: Juan Lazo, landscape painter; displayed at El Asador Vasco restaurant. Title: La muerte es mas vida (Death is life).Artists: Paulino Ramirez and Eduardo Ramirez, painting and wooden alebrijes; displayed at Restaurant Casa Palmeras. Title: La última luz (The last light).Artist: Alfonso Canseco Peligro, graphic artist; displayed at La Mala restaurant. Title: Siéntate, vamos a tomar (Sit down and let’s drink).Artists: Luis Lazo and family, textile artists; displayed at Hotel Casa Vertiz. Title: Ciclo de vida (Cycle of life).
Yesterday, the chairs were removed from the restaurants and hotels. Tonight, with an inaugural celebration, they went on display at ARIPO until November 15, 2020. For purchase after that date, contact Matlacihua Arte or individual artists.
Even the recycling bins in Oaxaca are getting into the spirit of Day of the Dead.
Calle Independencia side of the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la AsunciónIn front of the Iglesia de GuadalupeZócalo side of the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción
And cempasúchil (marigolds) to beckon the difuntos (departed), plastic bottles, and tin cans.
These are strange days leading up to our departed coming to call while we are living in the time of Covid-19. With public activities canceled, thus no nightly calendas (parades) filling the streets and our ears, and fewer tourists, Oaxaca is experiencing more peace and tranquility this Day of the Dead season — albeit laced with a touch of melancholy and anxiety.
Masked and shielded, I braved the mostly local crowds south of the zócalo, to shop for cempasuchil (marigolds), cresta de gallo (cockscomb), apples, mandarin oranges, peanuts and pecans, chocolate, and pan de muertos (Day of the Dead bread) — but it wasn’t nearly as much fun as years past.
However, the joy returned when I unwrapped photographs of my parents, grandparents, and other loved ones; selected some of their favorite things to put on my ofrenda; placed the fruit, nuts, bread, and chocolate among the photos; positioned candles, flowers, and incense; and poured my departed a copita (little cup) of water and another of mezcal — all to beckon, entertain, and sustain them during their brief stay.
I’m looking forward to a more personal and reflective Día de Muertos this year.
Cempasúchil (marigolds), the flowers synonymous with Day of the Dead, have begun appearing throughout the city. Alas, not in the quantity we are used to.
As I have written previously, because of the acceleration of the Covid-19 cases, the City of Oaxaca will not permit public Day of the Dead celebrations and events.
So it’s a subdued Día de Muertos season we are living.
While the yellows and oranges of the marigolds seem to mirror the semáforo amarillo and naranja (yellow and orange Covid-19 traffic lights) we are bouncing between, they brighten the days and impart a familiar and welcome scent.
Given that the socially distanced dining on the terrace ice was broken earlier in the month, the entertaining continued with the arrival of L, my BFF since we were twelve. Kalisa — neighbor, friend, and cocinera extraordinaria – rose to the occasion and the three of us have been eating extremely well.
October 6, 2020 – Chicken and black bean memelas, huitlachoche and corn empanadas, salsas, and sautéed squash.
October 8, 2020 – Heirloom tomatoes, pickled onions, and queso fresco, accompanied by Parmesan Crisps hand carried from California.
October 8, 2020 – Guacamole, pickled onions, salsas, and peanuts.
October 8, 2020 – Tostadas of chicken and pork with spinach and guacamole.
October 14, 2020 – Chicken mole accompanied by rice and black beans.
October 18, 2020 – Salad of cucumber, onion, and peppers.
October 18, 2020 – Squash, fresh basil, huitlacoche, and cheese lasagna.
Lest you be concerned about the intervening dinners, the quantities were huge, doggie bags were taken back to our respective apartments, and leftovers continue to be happily consumed.
Oaxaca de Juárez, China Oaxaqueña dancer and Mazapán, the dancing dog.Huautla de Jiménez dancer.Danza de la Pluma dancer from Oaxaca’s central valley.
Living vicariously in these days of COVID-19 — be it through books, online concerts and museum tours, video events, and photos of people and places we are longing to see.
To borrow a line from Cole Porter, Oaxaca regrets there will be no Muertos this year, señora.
Due to a rebound in positive Covid-19 cases in both the capital and state (we are back in traffic lightorange — with red threatening), yesterday the city council of Oaxaca unanimously voted to cancel all Day of the Dead activities (NVI Noticias). That means there will be no comparsas (parades), altar displays, sand paintings, costume contests, and no cemetery visits. Other municipalities are expected to follow suit. If you have plans to be here for Día de Muertos, I strongly urge you to reconsider.
Given this sad and sobering news and the above Catrín and Catrina seen on this morning’s walk, I keep flashing on the Cole Porter song, Miss Otis Regrets — especially this dirge-like version by Kristy MacColl.
This is serious and no time to let your guard down. Please practice social distancing, wash your hands frequently, and for goodness sake, cover your mouth AND nose with a mask when out in public!!!
Last week, after seven months of Casita Colibrí being a visitor free zone, friends from California came to dine. Socially distanced seating was set up at the south end of the terrace.
The counter at the north end of the terraced was used as the staging area for food and drink.
We took turns selecting the fabulous fare prepared by my previously mentioned friend and neighbor, Kalisa.
Blue corn tortillas, guacamole, cucumber, and salsas to start.Huitlacoche quesadillas.Poblano chile strips with goat cheese.Chicken wings.
Masks stayed on, except when eating, and early evening quickly turned into night as we talked and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. It had been so long!
Kalisa, the visiting couple, and I had so much fun, we did it again two nights later. And, yes, there was mezcal both nights!
Hey little Cobra, is that really you in front of Santo Domingo?
Not the usual set of wheels seen on the streets of Oaxaca and neither are these (click images to enlarge).
The Bash Road Tour has roared into town with 50 high performance cars and unlike the above referenced song, this is not a car race.
According to organizers, it’s about coming together and enjoying the beauty of the cars and Mexico for the five days of the tour. They departed from Aguascalientes on September 20, day two they stopped in San Miguel de Allende, day three took them to Puebla, today they are in Oaxaca city, and tomorrow the tour concludes on Oaxaca’s coast in Bahías de Huatulco.
And check out the leader of the pack (above). It’s a Mexican made Mastretta, spectacularly painted by Oaxaca’s own Jacobo and María Ángeles of San Martín Tilcajete, and sponsored by Grupo Amantes whose mezcal making is centered in Tlacolula de Matamoros — an amazing sight brightening this grey day. Now if I can just get “Hey Little Cobra” to stop playing in my head!
This morning, Oaxaca began mourning the loss of two of the Zócalo’s iconic and beloved Indian laurels. In less than 48 hours, two of these massive trees, planted between 1875 and 1885, had fallen. Unfortunately, in their untimely demise, they join several other Indian laurels shading the Zócalo and Alameda that have crashed to the ground in the past ten years.
Yellow caution tape at the entrance to the Alameda
The concern is there will be more — thus, today these public spaces have been closed to the public with yellow caution tape and police barring the entrances.
Standing water at the base of an Indian laurel tree on the Alameda.
Ostensibly, the high winds and torrential rain Oaxaca is currently experiencing caused the trees to topple. However, our stormy weather these days is only the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Tending to the hole left by the Indian laurel that fell on Sept. 15, 2020 at the southwest corner of the Zócalo.
Several years ago, as we walked through the Zócalo and Alameda, I remember listening intently as the late artist and tree historian/savior Francisco Verástegui passionately described the indignities these trees had suffered, including disruption to their root systems when, in 2005, a governor attempted to remodel the Zócalo.
Status update at the northwest corner of the Zócalo.
Thankfully, a protest movement stopped that plan, but damage had already been done. What followed, among other things, was improper pruning, inadequate irrigation, faulty drainage, and the use of unsterilized mulch leading to the growth of fungus and causing the roots to rot — all of which contributed to the trees tumbling down.
Indian laurel that fell the evening of Sept. 17, 2020 on the southeast corner of the Zócalo.
And, it’s not only the trees in the Alameda and Zócalo. The director of the civil association Oaxaca Fértil estimates that 90% of the trees in the municipality of Oaxaca have been neglected, are diseased, and run the risk of collapsing. Let us hope that more of the historic trees that contribute to the beauty of Oaxaca can be saved and cared for in the way they deserve.
Mexican Peso Converter
View From Casita Colibrí 