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Posts Tagged ‘Barrio de Jalatlaco’

The 361 year old decidious Coquito de la Iglesia de Jalatlaco trees in the atrium of Templo de San Matías Jalatlaco are beginning to bloom.

El Coquito (aka, Pseudobombax ellipticum, Amapola, Xiloxochitl, Sospó, Clavellina, Shaving brush tree, Cabellos de Ángel, Angel hair) is one of my favorite trees in Oaxaca.

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December is a noisy month in Oaxaca. The cohetes (all bang, no bling rockets) began shattering the sound of silence yesterday and, except possibly during the middle of the night (I fell asleep to the bangs and booms) have continued unabated today. Why? you might ask. December 8 is the day Oaxaca celebrates her very own Virgen de Juquila. Next up, on December 12, along with the rest of Mexico, there will be festivities honoring the Virgen de Guadalupe, and finally on December 18 the Reina y Patrona de Oaxaca (Queen and Patroness of Oaxaca), la Virgen de la Soledad (Virgin of Solitude) will have her day.

In the meantime, under clear blue skies and temperatures in the 80s (Fahrenheit), the city sparkles with Christmas decorations.

Alameda de León, across from the cathedral
Alameda de León, across from the cathedral
Andador Turístico, Calle Macedonio Alcalá
Andador Turístico, Calle Macedonio Alcalá
Barrio de Jalatlaco
Barrio de Jalatlaco

Today’s breaking news: According to the Director of Culture and Tourism, on December 23 the annual, and extremely popular, Noche de Rabanos (Night of Radishes) will be held in person, but with reduced participation and a change of venue — the Plaza de la Danza.

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It’s been a crazy busy visit to el norte gratefully sprinkled with some fun with family and friends. However, now I’m getting ready for my return to Oaxaca and the hummingbirds in my Jalatlaco ‘hood.

The last image is a commissioned watercolor by Raul Baños hanging in my living room. How many colibríes (hummingbirds) can you see?

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The evening of October 31, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a procession coming down the street — but not the raucous cacophony of a muerteada which, given the date, I was expecting. No, this was the slow dirge-like and repetitive hymn of a religious procession. Needless to say, I grabbed my camera, keys, and cubreboca (mask) and headed out the door. The Catholic church has dedicated the month of October to honor the Virgin Mary with the recitation of the Holy Rosary. This being the last Sunday of October, María traveled through the streets of Barrio de Jalatlaco through the generous mayordomía (stewardship) of the families Robles Tamayo and García Robles.

Upon her return to Templo de San Matías Jalatlaco, she was greeted by a less than solemn scene of Día de Muertos revelers in costumes and face paint, no doubt looking for a muerteada (aka, comparsa). According to the book, Day of the Dead: When Two Worlds Meet in Oaxaca, the muerteada allows the dead “to ‘occupy’ a living body, either a muerteada participant or an audience member, for a time, and therefore enjoy the entertainment directly rather than vicariously.” I suspect for some, it was just an excuse to party.

However, a muerteada did come to my neighborhood the following night. Again, I grabbed camera, keys, and cubreboca and ventured out to check it out. The craziness was only just getting started and would undoubtedly go on most of the night. Besides, not even half the people were wearing masks, so, after twenty minutes and twenty plus photos, I went home.

The sacred and profane that is Mexico.

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Day of the Dead altars and their offerings to the departed vary from region to region and, within those regions, from family to family. Ofrendas (offerings) are an integral part of Día de Muertos. They are a beacon to the departed, an ephemeral work of art, and the sum of their lovingly chosen parts. As you can see from the photos below from several in Barrio de Jalatlaco, even on public display, they are intensely personal and creative.

Galería Shadai – Flowers, papel picado, candles, incense, pan de muertos, fruit, nuts, a casserole, and beverages.

And, there is a catrina tapete de arena (sand carpet) made of sand, beans, and flowers.

However, the only photo is of Maestro Francisco Toledo placed on a side pedestal.

Los Pilares Hotel and Restaurant – Flowers, papel picado, catrinas and catrins, candles, fruit, pan de muertos, and beverages.

And, there is a beautiful floral arch.

No photos of loved ones, but it’s a love story to the state of Oaxaca.

Family ofrenda – 5 de mayo at the corner of La Alianza. Family photos of the departed take center stage with papel picado, cempasúchitl (marigolds), and skeletons playing supporting roles.

Then there are those magnificent floral candles like one sees in Teotitlán del Valle.

And, lest the departed can’t find their way home in the greatly expanded city, an old photo and skeletons await outside the altar alcove to show the way.

Last but not least, my altar and offerings. It was a creative challenge to set up in the new Casita Colibrí.

It’s smaller than previous years, but I have figured out a way to make it bigger and better next year.

A yellow (color of death in pre-hispanic southern Mexico) tablecloth; papel picado (cut tissue paper) signifying the union between life and death; cempasúchitl (marigolds) and flor de muerto from the Sierra Norte, their scent to guide the spirits; and cresta de gallo (cockscomb) to symbolize mourning. There is salt to make sure the souls stay pure and chocolate, peanuts, pecans, apples, mandarin oranges, and pan de muertos (Day of the Dead bread) to nourish them. The sweet smell of copal incense and its smoke help guide my loved ones to the fiesta I have prepared for them. There is water to quench their thirst, as they travel between worlds, not to mention mezcal and cervesa (beer). And, there are the tangible remembrances of my departed — photos and some of their favorite things.

With candles lit and incense burning, I’m loving it and hoping my very dearly departed will find it warm, nourishing, and welcoming.

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My new neighborhood, Barrio de Jalatlaco, has a long history — one that predates the arrival of the Spanish. Community spirit and traditions are strong, including making her departed feel welcome during Día de Muertos. Thus the bright orange and spicy scent of the flor de muerto, cempasúchitl (flower of the dead, marigolds) are everywhere.

Papel picado, in seasonal colors, ripple above the streets and cast fluttering shadows.

Floral arches welcome the living and the departed.

And skeletons are seen hanging out in doorways, windows, and sidewalks.

Tomorrow, altars and their offerings.

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If it’s Saturday, it must be boda (wedding) day in Oaxaca. I caught this one as it was leaving Templo de San Matías Jalatlaco in the requisite post-ceremony procession that would stop traffic as it wended its way through the streets of the neighborhood.

While the wedding party may not have been as grand as the Saturday weddings at the over-the-top ornate Templo Santo Domingo de Guzmán, this one had all the festive elements of a boda in Oaxaca.

A brass band setting the tempo.
Chinas Oaxaqueñas dancers.
A bride and groom boogieing on down the street.
Bride and groom monos.
Giant marmota spinning the names of the bride and groom — Carolina and Alfredo.
And the real life bride and groom cracking each other up as they begin their married life together.

What’s not to love about a Oaxaca wedding?!!!

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Under the shade of the 361 year old Coquito de la Iglesia de Jalatlaco tree, onlookers (and bloggers like yours truly), dignitaries, media, and the artists of the Tlacolulokos collective gathered for the inauguration of the previously mentioned new mural in Jalatlaco.

“Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural in Barrio de Jalatlaco.

The mural, “Nuestro sol se ha ido” (Our sun has gone) is a collaboration between Rolande Souliere of the “Anishinaabe” people in Canada and the Zapotec Tlacolulokos urban art collective from Oaxaca’s central valley.

Indigenous Encounter Canada/Mexico, “Our sun has gone” by Tlacolulokos and Rolande Souliere.

The mural’s inauguration was live streamed on Facebook on the Secretaría de las Culturas y Artes de Oaxaca page.

Media and dignitaries gathered in the atrium of the Templo de San Matías Jalatlaco.

Unfortunately, Rolande Souliere could not travel to Oaxaca. However she described some of the symbolism of the mural: “We decided to portray the mythological beings of the Canadian thunderbird and the Zapotec deity of the Cosijo throne, these fantastic beings are responsible for the thunder and rain that the world experiences and that come together thanks to the clouds…. symbolic imageries such as Zapotec patterns, the route of thunder and the four directions of the first nations represented by the colors red, black, yellow and white… important signifiers in both communities since they represent the continuation of indigenous culture in contemporary society.”

Inaugural ribbon cutting (Canadian Ambassador wearing white shirt in center and artist Dario Canul on the far right) for the “Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural.

Dario Canul, representative of the Tlacolulokos colective further explained, “The mural, ‘Our sun has gone,’ is a representation of celebration, life, rain, thunder, and tears that all indigenous peoples have shed over time.”

Drone filming the inauguration of the “Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural.

The inauguration launched the 2-1/2 week long Encuentros indígenas: Canadá-Oaxaca 2021 (Indigenous encounters: Canada-Oaxaca 2021) — a series of activities in Oaxaca city and surrounding villages — that runs from September 20 to October 8, 2021.

Tlacolulokos artists in front of the mural, “Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural.. Dario Canul (center).

In remarks by Graeme C. Clark, the Canadian Ambassador, at the inaugural event and reports from this article, the collaboration seems to be an expression of the mea culpa by the Canadian government with regard to their historic treatment of the first peoples of the territory that is now called Canada. Better late than never. The indigenous peoples of the USA are still waiting.

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Today, I decided to change up what has become my Friday shopping routine. Instead of walking north to the fruit and veggie vendor, I headed south to explore the Friday tianguis — relocated from Llano Park a couple of years ago and now residing near the Polideportivo.

And, what an excellent decision it was! Only blocks from home, I came across a massive mural in progress on Calle de la Noche Triste at the corner of Calle Ignacio Aldama.

With scaffolding and tools of the trade in place, men were at work.

The style looked familiar, so I stopped to ask, and discovered they were the Tlacolulokos – my favorite artist collective from Tlacolula de Matamoros!

I think the guy I spoke to was a bit taken aback to find that this gringa was quite familiar with their work — including the murals for the Downtown Central Library in Los Angeles, California. Stay tuned…

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Decorations in green, white, and red began going up the first of September.

Papel picado flying above calle Ignacio Aldama in Barrio de Jalatlaco.

No, it’s not beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Window of a school in Barrio de Jalatlaco.

The entire month of September is designated the Mes de la Patria — a month celebrating Mexico’s independence from Spain — a war which began on September 16 1810 and finally ended 200 years ago on September 27, 1821.

Mexican flag flying in the yard of one of my neighbors in Barrio de Jalatlaco.

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In the first chapter of The Labyrinth of Solitude, Octavio Paz reflects on the face of an old man… “features are seen as a face, and later as a mask, a meaning, a history.”

Mural seen on Calle de Narciso Mendoza in Barrio de Jalatlaco.

And John Dalberg-Acton wrote, “History is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.”

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With storms to the north and storms to the south, Oaxaca is stuck in the middle. And the rain keeps falling. Sometimes, the sun peeks through the clouds…

On the terrace – August 22, 2021 – early evening.
View from the terrace – August 22, 2021 – early evening.
View from the terrace – August 22, 2021 – early evening.

And, sometimes it doesn’t…

View from the terrace – August 25, 2021 – midday.
View from the terrace – August 25, 2021 – midday
View from the terrace – August 22, 2021 – midday.

Sometimes it rains in the late afternoon, sometimes at night, and sometimes (like today) the rains come on and off throughout the day. ‘Tis the season.

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Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
Say, who are the people in your neighborhood?
The people that you meet each day

It’s Friday and I wanted to introduce you to my aforementioned flower vendor. His name is Moises and he also sells sprigs of herbs.

Today I bought two bunches of agapanthus and one of romero (rosemary). And, the Sesame Street song, People in Your Neighborhood, keeps spinning around my brain and singing in my heart.

Well, they’re the people that you meet
When you’re walking down the street
They’re the people that you meet each day
.

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One of the delights of my new and improved Casita Colibrí home is that it is located in a real neighborhood — one with the feel of a small town. Most everything I need is available within a few blocks. Then there are the vendors! They traverse the cobblestone streets plying their wares — the gas trucks with their distinctive horns, moos, and jingles blasting from loud speakers, the guy shouting “tamalestamalestamales” so fast that it’s hard to understand at first, the paletas (Mexican popsicle-like frozen treat) vendor pushing his cart and calling “palEtas,” and the flower seller who, after I happened to be at the apartment complex entrance and bought agapanthus and a few lilies, doesn’t even yell “flores” when he arrives every Friday in front of the gate, he now just rings my buzzer.

This week, I bought two bunches of alstroemeria.

The previous week, it was two dozen long-stemmed yellow roses.

The quality is excellent — the roses lasted almost an entire week!

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Recycling in Oaxaca continues — slowly but surely. But, honestly, who can resist filling these hearts around Parque El Llano/Paseo Juarez?

Here in Jalatlaco, we are not asked to separate our trash, but I think I will begin taking my plastic agua mineral (mineral water) bottles down to this heart next to the Templo de San Matías Jalatlaco.

This is a program, begun in 2019, by the city’s Desarrollo Integral de la Familia, a governmental agency charged with strengthening and developing the welfare of the Mexican families.

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