From restaurants to street food to home cooks, for the last seven weeks I have been making up for eight months away from my favorite Oaxacan food.
Molcajete de Aguachile – Asador Bacanora, Oaxaca de Juárez
Camarones al Mezcal – Asador Bacanora, Oaxaca de Juárez
Sopa de Flor de Calabaza & Quesadilla – Tlamanalli, Teotitlán del Valle
Camaron Baja – Taco Sireno, Oaxaca de Juárez
Empanada de Amarillo filling – El Buen Sasón, San Antonino Castillo Velasco
Empanada de Amarillo – El Buen Sasón, San Antonino Castillo Velasco
Tamales de Mole Amarillo – Emilia Gonzalez Martinez, Teotitlán del Valle
Unwrapped Tamal de Mole Amarillo – Emilia Gonzalez Martinez, Teotitlán del Valle
Mole Negro simmering on stove – Emilia Gonzalez Martinez, Teotitlán del Valle
Mole Negro served over hen with rice – Emilia Gonzalez Martinez, Teotitlán del Valle
And then there was Barbacoa de Chivo at Adolfa’s stall in the Tlacolula de Matamoros mercado. It smelled so good and I was so hungry, I forgot to take a photo! However, most of the time I’ve been dining at home on tamales from the gal around the corner and my own version of empanadas made with hot-off-the-comal tortillas from the gal across the street.
During Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead), under the sun dappled light filtering through graceful several centuries old ahuehuete trees in the panteón of Tlacolula de Matamoros, the living offer the scent of cempasúchil (marigolds) to guide their departed home. And, to nourish them during their journey between the worlds of the living and the dead, fruit (thoughtfully opened), along with nuts and beverages are provided.
The fruit and flowers during Día de Muertos also beckon me to this Zapotec village in the Valley of Oaxaca and they nourish my soul.
A few days ago, I completed my Día de Muertos shopping — mandarinas (mandarin oranges), manzanas (apples), cempasuchil (marigolds), cresta de gallo (cockscomb), chocolate, and pan de muerto (Day of the Dead bread), thus allowing construction of my ofrenda to begin. I unwrapped photographs of my parents, grandparents, and extended family members; selected some of their favorite things to put on my ofrenda; placed 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.
Tonight, the candles and incense have been lit — all to beckon, entertain, and sustain my departed during their brief stay. However, this year, because Muertos falls on the weekend, I choose to believe, like the folks in Teotitlán del Valle, that my loved ones will being staying for 48 hours instead of only 24 hours.
An ofrenda is an offering and I’m hoping my very dearly departed, after their long journey to southern Mexico, will find it warm, welcoming, and nourishing.
After eight months up in el norte, I arrived back in my sweet Oaxaca home Wednesday night. Travel seems to get more exhausting by the year and thus I spent Thursday and Friday unpacking in slow motion and limiting my grocery shopping to within four blocks of my apartment and just for the necessities — salsa verde and tortillas hot off the comal from the gal next door, quesillo and chipotle salsa from the cheese shop, avocados, and lettuce. I recovered just in time to walk over to Parque El Llano this morning for Oaxaca’s own No Kings protest. The sun was shining and the sky was clear blue as young and old gathered to join the world in a global day of resistance.
There were speakers…
There was music…
There were creative signs…
Of course, to conclude the rally, there was a Trump piñata!
An added bonus for me was greeting old friends, feeling solidarity with people I’ve not yet met, and knowing courage is, indeed, contagious!
Tonight, El Grito de Dolores, also known as El Grito de la Independencia (the Shout of Independence), will echo from the balconies of government buildings throughout Mexico. Mayors, governors, and La Presidenta Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo, Mexico’s first female president, will re-enact Don Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla’s 1810 call to arms (with a lot of improvisation) that announced the start of a ten-year long war for independence from Spain. Bells will chime, the flag will be waved, the Himno Naciónal will play, fireworks will explode, and the gathered crowd will, no doubt, be bursting with pride. Tomorrow, September 16, Día de la Independencia, patriotic parades will take over the major streets of cities and towns of Mexico.
However, this year, l’m in el norte and won’t be standing on a sidewalk in Oaxaca watching the parade pass me by. These photos from Mexican Independence Day 2023 of marching bands, forestry students, search and rescue organizations, nurses, military, police, and more will have to suffice. (Click on images to enlarge.)
To close the parade, my favorites, escaramuzas and charros riding their magnificent horses.
Ah, Oaxaca. Another year, another birthday. Today, marks the 493rd anniversary of the elevation Oaxaca de Juárez to the rank of a city by Charles V of Spain. It was a political move by villagers to keep Antequera, as it was then called, out the hands of the Marquis, Hernán Cortes, who controlled the surrounding territory and villages. And, in honor of her birthday, I’m posting some of my favorite recent Oaxaca sights.
Barbacoa Caprino outside Mercado de la Merced on a Sunday morning.
Outside wall of Galindo Laboratory on Constitución at the corner of Benito Juárez.
Street sweeper (barrendero), with his handmade twig brooms, navigating Calzada de la República.
Looking down on the Alameda de León from the Biblioteca Beatriz de la Fuente.
Looking up at the flowers of a Guayacán, also known as árbol de la primavera (tree of spring).
Courtyard of the Museo de las Culturas de Oaxaca in the ex Convento de Santo Domingo de Guzmán.
Of course, we know Oaxaca’s history goes back thousands of years before Spain even existed. Her past is still present and that’s one of the things I love most about Oaxaca.
From the west came Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, riding a warhorse and flanked by armed soldiers bedecked in the full pageantry of an oppressive empire. Every year during Passover, a Jewish festival celebrating liberation from Egyptian oppression and slavery, Pilate entered Jerusalem to suppress any unrest set off by that memory.
His arrival wasn’t ceremonial; it was tactical — a calculated show of force, what the Pentagon might now call “shock and awe.” It displayed not only Rome’s power but also Rome’s theology. Caesar was not just the emperor; he was deified and called “Son of a God” on coins and inscriptions. His rule was absolute, and the peace it promised came through coercion, domination and the threat of violence.
From the opposite direction, both literally and figuratively, came Jesus’ procession.
Jesús, known as San Salvador, atop a donkey festooned with the most succulent fruits, vegetables, and breads outside the panteón in San Antonino Castillo Velasco.
It takes thirty men to carry the laden San Salvador and his burro.
Jesus entered the city not on a warhorse but on a donkey, not with battalions but with beggars. His followers were peasants, fishermen, women and children — people without standing or status. They waved palm branches — symbols of Jewish resistance to occupation since the Maccabean revolt — and cried out “Hosanna!” which means “Save us.” Save us from a system of oppression disguised as order. Save us from those who tacitly endorse greed with pious language and prayers.
Villagers begin the procession to bring the best of their fruits, vegetables, herbs, livestock, clothing, flowers, and much more as offerings to be sold to raise money for a designated charitable project.
The procession continues along the kilometer route from the panteón to the church.
San Salvador entering the church atrium where he takes his place of honor on a stage set up for the outdoor Palm Sunday mass.
Year-after-year, despite the challenges of life, on Palm Sunday I have been uplifted by the warmth, generosity and devotion of the people of San Antonino Castillo Velasco. Alas, it’s been two years since I have had this privilege and must content myself with looking through my photos from 2023.
Four weeks in my home sweet Oaxaca home provided a much needed escape from the chaos that now reigns supreme here in the USA. The warm smiles and greetings of ¡Qué milagro! (What a miracle!) from vendors I hadn’t seen in over a year warmed my heart. However, try as I might, I can’t seem to write an upbeat blog post about the wonderful time I had in Oaxaca. The menacing clouds of el norte are casting their dark shadows over my words. For now, I’ll let the walls of Oaxaca speak for me.
However, to end on a positive note and in honor of International Women’s Day on March 8th…
Despite suffering setbacks and facing countless attempts to block, divide and undermine us throughout history, feminist, LGBTI+ and grassroots movements keep marching forward. — Amnesty International’s Secretary General, Agnés Callamard
And, that includes Oaxaca, where NVI Noticias lists some of the actions taking place in celebration of Día Internacional de la Mujer.
After being in el norte for an entire year (by far the longest I’ve been away from Oaxaca since I relocated 15+ years ago), I’m back! It’s been mostly a smooth return — well, except for my refrigerator’s failed fuse, causing a freezer full of tamales, mole, and soup stocks to spoil. Thankfully, my neighbors discovered it the day before my return and emptied and cleaned the refrigerator and an electrician replaced the fuse a mere ten hours before my arrival. Since then, this past week has been spent restocking the larder, cleaning, attending to the garden, catching up with friends, and enjoying my home, my neighborhood, and the flavors of Oaxaca — including…
The murals…
The streets…
The door-to-door flower vendor…
The comida…
And, let’s not forget, the view from Casita Colibrí!
It’s SO good to be back — alas, if only for a month. However, I intend to relish every moment!
Although I’m spending Christmas in the San Francisco Bay Area with family, I’m dreaming Oaxaca holiday dreams of piñatas, often seemingly floating in air. [click on images to enlarge]
Nacimientos (Nativity scenes) and neighborhood posadas, at once solemn and joyful.
And, the wild and whacky rabanos (radishes), totomoxtle (corn husk), and flor inmortal (dried flower) creations on December 23, Noche de Rábanos (Night of the Radishes).
Thus, after a year’s hiatus, I’m reviving my Nochebuena tradition and presenting to you, “Pancho Claus” by Chicano musical legend Eduardo “Lalo” Guerrero and sung by Irma Garza. The song is a delightful parody of the Clement C. Moore classic, “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” — and it has inspired real life Tex-Mex Santas. I hope it brings a chuckle or two on this Christmas Eve.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the casa Mama she was busy preparing the masa To make the tamales for the tamalada And all the ingredients for the enchiladas
Papa in the front room with all the muchachas Was dancing the mambo and doing the cha cha My brothers and sisters were out in the hall Listening to Elvis singing rock ‘n roll
When all of a sudden there came such a racket I jumped out of bed and I put on my jacket I looked out the window and in front of the house Was my old uncle Pedro as drunk as a louse He ran in the casa he grabbed the guitarra He let out a yell and played “Guadalajara”
I was starting to wonder as I lay there alone How old Santa Claus was to visit my home With all of this noise they would scare him away When all of a sudden I hear someone say Hey Pablo, Chuchito Hey! Arriba! Gordito, Jose Get up there you bums or you don’t get no hay
And then to my wondering eyes did appear Eight cute little donkeys instead of reindeer They pulled a carreta that was full of toys For all of us good little girls and boys
The fat little driver waved his big sombrero And said Merry Christmas! Feliz Año Nuevo! That means “Happy New Year” And then I hear him sing
I am Santa’s cousin from south of the border My name’s Pancho Claus and I bring you your order I hear him exclaim as he drove past the porches “Merry Christmas to all and to all Buenas Noches”
From my home to yours, I wish you peace, good health, and Felices Fiestas (Happy Holidays)!
If you don’t like clanging bells, fireworks bursting in air, and navigating procession-blocked streets (at all hours of the day and night), you might want to avoid being in Oaxaca in December. The month heralds seemingly round-the-clock joyous, sometimes solemn, and mostly noisy celebrations. This month, honoring the feast days of the Virgins of Juquila, Guadalupe, and Soledad elicits some of the most enthusiastic, lengthy, and loud festivities of the year.
December 26, 2023 – Juquila, Guadalupe, and Soledad on altar at the workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles in San Martín Tilcajete.
December 8 marks Día de la Virgen de Juquila — the first of the three virgins being celebrated this month. Observances began weeks ago as pilgrims began their peregrinations to her tiny Chatino village of Santa Catarina Juquila. And, in Oaxaca city, processions began filling the streets, cohetes (rockets) began exploding, and church bells sounded announcing special misas (masses).
December 26, 2023 – Close-up of Juquila on the altar at the workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles in San Martín Tilcajete.
December 23, 2023 – Juquila carved from radishes. Noche de Rabanos, Oaxaca de Juárez.
November 4, 2023 – Juquila enclosed in glass, Ocotlán de Morelos.
Next on the on the calendar is the more widely known date of December 12, honoring la Virgen de Guadalupe, aka, Queen of Mexico, Empress of America, and patron saint of México. However, the celebrating has already begun and besides fireworks, processions, and church bells chiming, professional photographers set up “Guadalupe grottos” outside Oaxaca’s Templo de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe so, after being blessed inside the church, parents can have their little boys and girls, dressed in traditional traje (costume), photographed. Once finished, all can partake in the rows upon rows of food stalls, carnival rides, and puestos selling toys, Santa hats, Christmas lights.
December 26, 2023 – Close-up of Guadalupe on the altar at the workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles in San Martín Tilcajete.
January 19, 2024 – Guadalupe on an altar set up in a private home prior to a wedding in Teotitlán del Valle.
November 4, 2023 – Guadalupe watching over a grave in the cemetery of San Antonino Castillo Velasco.
January 8, 2024 – Stylized Guadalupe on Calle Mártires de Tacubaya in Oaxaca de Juárez.
Last, but not least for Oaxaqueños, is December 18, the feast day of the much loved and revered, Queen of Oaxaca, La Santísima Virgen de La Soledad (Virgin of Solitude). Festivities with special religious rites, processions, and fireworks usually begin in early December, overlapping with Juquila and Guadalupe. Soledad’s celebration culminates with hundreds of her devotees camping out in the atrium of her church, the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad, on the night of December 17 — with musical entertainment throughout the night, afternoon cultural performances the next day, and several outdoor masses from before dawn to nightfall on the 18th. Food stalls take over the stairs leading to the Basílica and the street below (Independencia) is closed for several blocks with carnival rides and stalls selling more sweets and savories, religious tchotchkes, clothing, and much more. It’s lively, crowded, and loud!
December 26, 2023 – Close-up of Soledad on the altar at the workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles in San Martín Tilcajete.
December 23, 2023 – Soledad carved from radishes. Noche de Rabanos, Oaxaca de Juárez.
December 19, 2023 – Soledad in her home at the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad, Oaxaca de Juárez.
I’m still in el norte and all is quiet. While it makes for a better night’s sleep, I’m missing the raucous and joy-filled cacophony that fills Oaxaca’s days and nights in December.
Last January, I needed to go to the Aragal shipping facility to pick up a Christmas present — two jars of Salsa Macha made for me by K, best gal pal and former neighbor who was my personal cocinera (cook) during those dark days of Covid. The salsa made a circuitous journey from K’s kitchen in Teotitlán del Valle to my kitchen in Barrio de Jalatlaco. The route included being tucked in the back of our friend’s van while we all enjoyed a day trip to Ocotlán and San Antonino Castillo Velasco, once back in the city, being forgotten as I scrambled out of the van amidst bumper-to-bumper traffic, venturing up over the mountains to Puerto Escondido in said van, belatedly being remembered, and thus shipped by my van-owning friend back to me in Oaxaca.
And so, two weeks after it began its journey, I found myself walking south to Aragal to retrieve my errant gift. This is not a route I normally traverse and it’s definitely not in a touristy part of the city. However, being Oaxaca, there was no end of sights to surprise and delight — from the sacred of the Templo de los Siete Príncipes to the profane of the street art along the way.
Calle Mártires de Tacubaya
Calle Mártires de Tacubaya
Templo de los Siete Príncipes, Calle de González Ortega
Calle Santos Degollado
Calle Miguel Hidalgo
The two glass jars of Salsa Macha made it intact with only a tiny bit of leakage. Whew! And, no surprise, the salsa was super delicious.
It’s Halloween time up here in el norte and the occasional house features spiders poised to pounce in webs strung across bushes, witches with broomsticks guard front gates, and pumpkins decorate entries signaling trick or treaters are welcome. A few skeletons have moved into the neighborhood but none are as well dressed and accessorized as those seen last year loitering on sidewalks, hanging out on walls, and dining in the restaurants of Oaxaca during Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead).
What can I say? I’m missing these guys and gals inhabiting Oaxaca this time of year.
Mexican Peso Converter
View From Casita Colibrí 