Yesterday, the city of Oaxaca celebrated its 483rd birthday as a Spanish chartered city. Early in the morning bells were rung, Las Mañanitas was sung, tamales and atole were served, an air force flyover buzzed the city several times, multiple musical events were held, a convite paraded through the streets, fireworks exploded from the Plaza de la Danza, and more, and it continues. I was going to write about it, but…
Today a more urgent anniversary requires our attention: Mexico Marks 7 Months Since 43 Ayotzinapa Students Disappeared. Family, fellow classmates, friends, and supporters around the world keep their names alive and cry for justice. And artists continue to reach into our minds and hearts through their music, artwork, and film making.
Near the end of the song, “La Patria Madrina,” from her new album, Balas y Chocolate (Bullets and Chocolat), Lila Downs chants the Ayotzinapa 43 mantra that can be seen and heard all over Mexico, ¡Vivos los llevaron, vivos los queremos!(They were taken alive, and we want them back alive!)
And, on walls throughout Mexico, our attention is called to the missing 43 students from the Escuela Normal Rural Raúl Isidro Burgos, teachers’ college in Ayotzinapa, Guerrero.
When atop the massive plateau that is the archaelogical site of Monte Albán, one can’t help but reflect on the pre-Hispanic cultures that built and inhabited this place; cultures whose gods were of the environment — the elements and the agricultural gifts, to man and beast, those elements provided.
Today, as we celebrate Earth Day, perhaps we need a return to the old gods…
Kiss the girl goodbye It’s time for me to fly Wipe the tears away I’ll be home some day, baby So baby, please wait for me Don’t want no one to take my place You’re the one for me And that’s the way love should be We’ve been apart so many times before One more time won’t change things I’ll even love you more We’ve been apart so many times before One more time won’t change things I’ll even love you more (Kiss me) kiss the girl goodbye (goodbye) it’s time to fly (Kiss me) wipe the tears away (goodbye) (Kiss me) kiss the girl goodbye (goodbye) it’s time to fly (Kiss me) wipe the tears away (bye) (Kiss me) kiss the girl goodbye (goodbye) it’s time to fly (Kiss me) wipe the tears away
Today the Museo Textil de Oaxaca is celebrating its seventh birthday with live music (of course!), nieves (ice cream), and an expo-venta of tie-dye and batik textiles from Nigerian born, Gasali Adeyemo. The exhibition and sale culminate a week-long artist-in-residence, in which he taught a 5-day workshop — I’m kicking myself I didn’t take it — and a Friday evening presentation, “African Blues, Mi Vida en Indigo” — which I did attend! Gasali’s work is spectacular and his face glows when he talks about the traditions, technique, and love that goes into his work.
Note the orange blouse above; it beckoned to me and I couldn’t resist buying it. The technique is batik on a brocaded cotton that has been dyed with the bark of a tree found in Nigeria. The name of the tree in the Yoruba language is Epo Ira, which, according to Gasali roughly translates to, “tonic iron tree,” as it is also used medicinally to cure iron deficiency.
By the way, for those of you who are going to the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, NM in July, Gasali and his beautiful textiles will be there.
“What do you do all day?” It’s a question I’ve been asked countless times since I began my retired life down Oaxaca way and I’m not alone. Most expats here have heard those words — a query that hints at the notion that there couldn’t possibly enough to fill the day in a place where one isn’t fluent in the language, isn’t surrounded by family and old friends, and doesn’t have a job. A large part of the answer is, doing most everything takes longer. And that is not a bad thing! Perhaps, a photo diary of this morning’s grocery shopping excursion might provide an illustration.
After morning coffee and breakfast, catching up on email and the news, washing dishes, showering and dressing, I grabbed a couple of shopping bags and headed out at 10 AM. The initial plan had been to walk up to Niños Heroes (the Pan American highway) to photograph some new murals, cross the highway to the Organic Market, and then return home by way of Sánchez Pascuas mercado where I could get chicken, quesillo, and anything else that remained on my shopping list or struck my fancy. However, for almost an hour, I’d been hearing Guelaguetza music coming from the Plaza de la Danza. I decided a detour was in order and found kindergartners performing Oaxaca’s traditional folkloric dances, including this one where couples take turns “dissing” each other in a rhythmic double-entendre laden dialogue. It always gets laughs — wish I could understand the jokes! Needless to say, I hung out watching the kids for awhile.
I finally tore myself away and resumed my original itinerary. Some of the murals were east of the Pochimilco Organic Market so I decided to start at the end and work my way back — a route which took me up the Macedonio Alcalá where I saw a sidewalk vignette of hats and scarves lined up in front of Santo Domingo. There was also a small marmota (cloth globe on a pole) laying on its side, so I’m guessing there was to be a calenda (parade) of some sort.
After stopping to take a few photos (how could I resist the juxtaposition with the Peña Nieto graffiti?) I found myself behind these vendors taking their merchandise up to Llano Park for its Friday market.
Deciding to speed up my slow progress on the errands I’d set forth for the morning, I passed the gals only to stop to watch Oaxaca’s version of the dog whisperer working with four Xoloitzcuintlis (Mexican Hairless Dogs).
Eventually continuing north, I arrived at Niños Heroes and the murals and street art I’d come to find and photograph. They deserve their own blog post, so I will save those photos for another day. However, I also ran across this wonderful wall! Crossing the highway, I found the newly built and landscaped stairs (almost didn’t recognize them) leading up to Xochimilco and the Pochimilco Organic Market. I wandered and lingered and tasted — including a few of these mezcals, as I’ve got a US trip coming up and a stepson who probably won’t speak to me if I don’t bring him a couple of bottles.
Popping some gum in my mouth (didn’t want my breath to smell like I’m a lush), I headed south on Tinoco y Palacios to catch a couple of new murals I’d had fleeting glimpses of when returning from last Sunday’s trip to Tlacolula. This one had particularly caught my eye.
By the time I arrived at Sánchez Pascuas, it was after 12 noon. I found my poultry guy, paid a visit to the cheese vendor, picked up some veggies from my favorite produce gal, and, on the way out, bought some homemade salsa verde. Yummm… As I descended the three stairs down to the sidewalk, I turned around to admire the beautiful color of the flamboyant and jacaranda trees and the tranquility of this setting in the middle of the state’s bustling capital city.
It was close to 1 PM when I unlocked the door to my apartment. If I were in California, I would have jumped in the car, driven down to the local Friday organic market (with not a drop of mezcal in sight), browsed a bit, spent way too much money, climbed back in the car to finish shopping at Safeway, before returning to the house, probably by 11 AM.
Here in Oaxaca, I’d been gone almost three hours, walked close to fifty (often hilly) blocks, and seen some wonderful, creative, and life affirming sights. And, that doesn’t even include the scattering of conversations with my neighbors and Luís and Luci, who work here. Just another Friday. Not a bad way to live one’s life!
We had spectacular electrical storms Sunday and Monday nights, with thunder rumbling continuously, lightening flashing in all directions, and torrential rain. And, today, I awoke to a rare early morning downpour — 8 inches of pergola runoff collected in my buckets. Noticias, the Facebook group Bloqueos y Accidentes en Oaxaca, and Reportes en Oaxaca, Mexico all show major flooding throughout the city from this morning’s surprise.
This morning’s view of Templo de San José and Basilica de la Soledad. Where did Monte Albán go?
All of this has me asking, is this the beginning of an early rainy season? Then, there is the report from Conagua (Mexico’s national water commission) that, due to El Niño, there could be a significant increase in the number of Pacific Coast hurricanes this season. Hmmm… it looks like we may be in for a bumpy and wet ride!
There always seems to be live music in Tlacolula de Matamoros on Sunday market days. Today it was the hot band, Los Magueyitos de Matalán. The horns had me seeing stars!
Hopefully, Chris over at Oaxaca-The Year After will eventually post the video he took. In the meantime, here they are on SoundCloud.
In my last blog post, I mentioned Teotitlán del Valle does not go on Daylight Saving Time. And, they are not alone! As the article, Clocks don’t change where sun keeps time, most of Mexico didn’t adopt DST until 1996 and given the autonomy guaranteed to indigenous communities, “70% of the entire indigenous population of Oaxaca” have chosen to follow the sun — the “King of the Sky.”
Ojala, blogger buddy Chris (who doesn’t change his watch to DST either) and I will be returning to Teotitlán del Valle for the final day (into night) of the Baile de Los Viejitos, (the Dance of the Old Men) this time hosted by el quinto (5th) sección. However, before we go, a few more scenes from Tuesday’s fiesta, put on by the segunda (2nd) sección.
I say, “ojala, ” because several marches and blockades are currently in progress throughout Oaxaca and on the carreteras into and out of the city. Alas, the video I shot on Tuesday of the Baile de los Viejitos may be as close as I come to the dancing action until next year.
It’s Carnaval time in Teotitlán del Valle. Yes, I know, Easter was last Sunday and Lent is over. However, like many other things (e.g., not going on Daylight Saving Time), this Zapotec village does things their own way. Thus, instead of celebrating Carnaval the day before Lent begins, they celebrate for the five days following Easter! As I’ve written about previously, Carnaval in Teotitlán is a major production that indeed takes a village; young and old, female and male all have parts to play in the festivities that include music, masked men, mezcal, and mouthwatering mole.
Yesterday, rather than sitting with the men and scattering of male and female extranjeros, gal pal J and I hung out with the women and children in the outdoor kitchen that had been set up in the back of the large earthen courtyard. There the women prepared enough chicken, mole amarillo, and tortillas to feed one hundred!
The seemingly always well-behaved kids played and took care of the babies while their mamas and abuelas worked.
Muchisimas gracias to the women and children of Teotitlán del Valle’s Segunda Sección for being so gracious and welcoming.
Today’s Google Doodle solves a little mystery leftover from my brief March visit to Mexico City. Staying in Colonia Cuauhtemoc, making my way to Insurgentes metro stop took me across Paseo de la Reforma and past this beguiling sculpture.
I circumnavigated the sculpture on several occasions in an unsuccessful attempt at finding a plaque identifying the artist. Thanks to today’s Google Doodle, now I know. Titled, How Doth the Little Crocodile (also known simply as, Crocodile), it is by the late surrealist artist, writer, expat, and women’s liberation activist, Leonora Carrington, whose 98th birthday is being honored today. The sculpture’s title comes from the Lewis Carroll poem by the same name.
Carrington led an extraordinary and fascinating life that was touched by many of the most important events and influential people of the twentieth century. In 2000, she donated the sculpture to Mexico City, her adopted home for the latter part of her life, and it was moved to its current location in 2006. How lucky for all whose paths cross this whimsical creation with its smiling jaws!
I wasn’t brought up in the Virgin and crucified Christ tradition. No baggage, no boredom — perhaps that is why I find the multiplicity of María and Jesús images so fascinating. Thus, I can’t resist a little “up close and personal” at the Procession of Silence.
Señor de Esquipulas – Parroquia de Nuestra Señora del Carmen Alto
Nuestra Señora de Los Dolores – Parroquia de Santo Tomas Xochimilco
Señor de Las Tres Caídas – Parroquia de Santo Tomás Xochimilco
La Piedad
Jesús con la Cruz a Cuestas – Capellanía de Nuestra Señora del Patracinio
Nuestra Señora de los Dolores – Capellanía de Nuestra Señora del Patrocinio
Señor de La Columna (front) – Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán
Señor de La Columna (back) – Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán
The rituals and images continue to remain alien to me, but I can’t help but appreciate them as cultural expressions.
As far as I’m concerned, Señor de la Humildad y Paciencia was the patron saint of Friday’s, Procession of Silence. He waited for hours inside the Templo de la Preciosa Sangre de Cristo, while we waited for hours outside, for the procession to begin.
At least he was sitting down. For the penitents, their lot was a lot of standing around.
Some of the participants passed the time joking around (and occasionally teasing this gringa blogger), others looked incredibly bored, but all remained patiently stationed in place. After all, in the words of one guy’s t-shirt, “don’t panic,” it will eventually start.
Then, there is always one’s cell phone to provide a bit of distraction.
The 6 PM start time for the procession came and went, as did the daylight and my hope for taking any decent photographs of the actual procession. (One of these days, I will master night photography of moving objects, she says, hopefully!) It looked like even San Pedro was looking to the heavens for divine intervention to get the show on the road.
About 6:45 PM, with lights flashing, a small phalanx of motorcycle police signaled our prayers had been answered and a hush fell over the multitudes lining the sidewalks, streets, and balconies — the Procesión del Silencío had finally begun.
Good Friday morning, the streets of Oaxaca are quiet, and solitude seems to be the order of the day. The only sounds that could be heard coming from the streets in my ‘hood were prayers being sung as Our Lady of Solitude left her eponymous home at the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad.
As you can see, alone, Oaxaca’s patron saint was not; acolytes carried and accompanied her on her morning stroll.
A crystal clear, brilliant blue sky provided a backdrop for her sojourn.
Slowly she made her way down Independencia en-route to the Cathedral.
She was one of the first to arrive at this ritual Viernes Santo gathering.
The guys took over and maneuvered her into position at the side of the Cathedral, as the faithful awaited.
There, she would soon be joined by other images of the Santísima Virgen and Jesús from many of the numerous churches in the Historic District.
After at least two hours of prayers and songs and more prayers, Soledad returned to the Basilica, perhaps to rest (like me) before again taking to the streets for this evening’s Procession of Silence.
Mexican Peso Converter
View From Casita Colibrí 