Ahhh, it feels good to be back in the warm and wonderful Oaxaca. There are the sounds… I awake to church bells, followed by the loudspeaker cry of “Gas de Oaxaca” from the propane vendor. Last night, as I was heading to bed, rockets exploded and, just now, the camote man’s steam whistle sounded, announcing tooth-achingly sweetened hot sweet potatoes and bananas. Then there are the sights…
The walls continue to talk… On Thursday, I saw this on Calle Morelos as I walked to the Alcalá and comida with friends. It remembers Leonel Castro Abarca, one of the 43 still-missing students from Escuela Normal Rural Raúl Isidro Burgos teachers’ college in Ayotzinapa, Guerrero.
On the way home from comida, I detoured to see what was to be seen on the zócalo. Teacher tents remain pitched around the bandstand, but the walkways were free of ambulantes, and, as always, the Cathedral presided over the scene.
Thursday, the familiar sounds of protest were irresistible. I grabbed my camera and headed out the front gate to see a massive march by healthcare workers on their way to the Plaza de la Danza. To be honest, tubas and cohetes would have had me out the door, too! It was way too quiet in el norte.
And, what can I say about last night’s sunset from the terrace?
Naturally, a marmota and pair of monos were waiting on the plaza in front of Santo Domingo this afternoon, awaiting a bride and groom to emerge. After all, it is Saturday — wedding day in Oaxaca!
I wonder what my ears will hear and my eyes will see, mañana…
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