No Danza de la Pluma, no convite, no patronal festival. The Templo de la Preciosa Sangre de Cristo in Teotitlán del Valle on an ordinary day…
El Picacho up close and personal…
And, the hills where my young Zapotec friend, Sam, “grew up… looking after [his] crazy goats!” He is currently finishing a PhD in Sustainable Manufacturing at the University of Liverpool. I see a connection.
Even unplugged, the hills were alive with the sound of music — a banda could be heard in the distance — a Teotitlán del Valle soundtrack.
Zócalo teeming with young, old, and all ages in between… vendors, Oaxaqueños, tourists from Mexico and the world beyond. Streets filled with vehicles… parked, double parked, stopped, or moving at a snail’s pace to the shrill sound of transit police whistles. Posadas converging on the zócalo… fireworks, bands, Marys and Josephs and baby Jesus, candles, angels, monos and marmotas, dancers, sparklers, and an overwhelming abundance of peace and joy and goodwill toward all.
As yesterday’s post reported, fireworks late Monday night heralded the feast day of La Virgen de la Soledad, the patron saint of Oaxaca.
However, that was far from the end of the nocturnal tale. At the stroke of midnight, only an hour after the snaps, crackles, and pops had ended, and when I had finally drifted off to sleep, the bells of the Basilica began a frenzied pealing. They were immediately joined by repeated rocket explosions, and the unmistakable sounds of a tuna band; at 2 AM bells, rockets, and mariachis; at 4 AM more bells, rockets, music, AND a procession winding its way through the streets of the city; its sounds ebbing and flowing for almost two hours.
At 6 AM, I gave up attempting sleep, threw on jeans, shoes, and a sweatshirt (didn’t even bother to wash my face or brush my teeth — don’t tell anybody), grabbed my camera, and headed over to the Basilica. What a sight!!!
The Plaza de la Danza was covered with food stalls offering barbacoa, molotes, empanadas, tacos, buñuelas, hot chocolate, breads, and pastries — the best of Oaxaca street food. And, they were all open!
On the Basilica’s plaza, the Banda Auténticos (from San Andrés Huayapam) was playing…
Dancers were dancing…
People were just waking up…
Vendors were selling roses and bouquets of herbs…
And, ubiquitous twig brooms (escobas de otate) waited to sweep-up the detritus from Soledad and friends pulling an all-nighter.
After a breakfast of barbacoa (chivo) and hot chocolate, I walked back home. Sleep deprived or not, it was a great morning!
Today, Oaxaca’s patron saint, Nuestra Señora de la Soledad, is having her day. Well, that’s not quite accurate, as she has been enjoying ten days of celebrations. However, December 18 is THE Día de la Festividad. So, no surprise, last night around 10:30, from the plaza of the Basílica de la Soledad, the booms and bangs of fireworks and crackles and hisses of a castillo, sounded to herald the upcoming day.
Only a block (as the crow flies) from the action, how lucky am I to have a ringside seat??!!!
Yesterday was just what the doctor ordered. On a long walk with best friend: a quinceañera, Christmas piñatas, a wedding, chickens roasting, and fanciful graffiti under the fútbol (soccer) stadium… these with a decidedly feminine touch. Love the incongruity!
An interview with one of Oaxaca’s female graffiti artists, PINK, can be found here (in English and Spanish).
Where are the clowns? Quick, send in the clowns. Don’t bother, they’re here.*
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Plaza de la Danza, Oaxaca, December 10 — Día Internacional del Payaso (International Day of the Clown). Gracias, Universidad José Vasconcelos.
If, like me, you suffer from coulrophobia (fear of clowns), Oaxaca is a great place for a little immersion therapy. Clowns are seen everywhere and everyday; waiting for the bus, walking their kids to school, as well as performing in parks and plazas. Not so scary anymore!
Riotous clanging from Soledad’s bell towers at 4:45 AM yesterday rudely interrupted a peaceful sleep. Explosions of cohetes and other church bells soon joined the morning’s 2-hour long Virgen de Juquila soundtrack. Chimes, rockets, loudspeakers announcing the presence of the water and gas vendors, fried plantain wagon steam-whistles, horns honking, bus gears grinding, and booming base emanating from open car windows; it’s all part of the cacophony one comes to know and love when living in Mexico.
And, then there is the music… Looking for signs of Juquila yesterday (with all that noise, I figured there must be something going on), I stumbled upon the Sexto Festival Low-Fi 2012. (Fyi: sexto = 6th, in case you were wondering.)
There were vendors…
This definitely didn’t have anything to do with virgins!
This was a music festival that almost didn’t happen. According to event promoter, Thorvalo Pazos Hoga, they were initially denied a permit, “on the grounds of religious and traditional festivals that are celebrated in the month of December in the city.” A silly argument, was his response.
I arrived in the early afternoon and fanaticos (love that word for fans!) were just beginning to gather at the Plaza del Carmen Alto. Ska, hip hop, heavy metal, rock, electronic music, and more would be adding to Oaxaca’s soundtrack until 11 PM.
Yes, we have no marimbas; the music was not your grandparents’ sones and jarabes. The bands had names like: K-OS Party, Cayune, Pichancha, Rekto de Cerdo, Dr. Jekill y Mr. Hyde, Herpes, Coito Violento, Forever, and Survival. Probably not even your parents’ music!
Oaxacan graphic artists designed the stage set. Love how they re-imagined the traditional Navidad piñata.
Besides walls of street art (which will no doubt appear here when inspiration hits or I can’t think of anything else to post), I came across this view.
The Y-shaped valley of Oaxaca is about 700 square kilometers, not all that big when compared to California’s Sacramento Valley, which is approximately 2,570 square kilometers. Yet, unlike the “sameness” one encounters in Sacramento Valley towns (sorry, CA), one can’t help but be struck by the unique identity of each of the Zapotec villages that are only kilometers apart. One specializes in red clay pots, another in black pottery, and another in green glazed ceramics. There are villages of woodcarvers near weavers of cotton and others of wool, never mind the fashion trends!
Thus, it should come as no surprise that Day of the Dead celebrations and cemeteries differ, often dramatically, from village to village. And so, from the whitewashed graves of Santiago Apóstol and the candlelight of Santa María Atzompa (today’s earlier post), we came to the carved wooden crosses in the Panteón Municipal of the Villa de Zaachila.
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Along with livestock, produce, and household goods, wood gathered from the hills surrounding Zaachila is a major part of Zaachila’s weekly Thursday tianguis (open air market). It’s one of my favorites!
With only a couple of days left in November and the Christmas holiday season already making its presence known, it’s now or never to finish sorting through this year’s Día de los Muertos photos — my thoughts and impressions will take the remains of this lifetime, and then some, to process.
To an outsider, especially one whose worldview was shaped by a Judeo-Christian culture, Day of the Dead is often seen through the lens of juxtaposition.
The “unbearable lightness of being” in Santiago Apóstol…
The blurred otherworldly darkness of Santa María Atzompa…
However, light becomes dark becomes light becomes dark, as day becomes night becomes day becomes night, as life becomes death becomes life becomes death… dualism beginning to vanish.
You might well ask, “What is a muerteada?” It is a comparsa (parade) that is part of traditional Día de los Muertos celebrations particular to the state of Oaxaca. 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.”
Like Commedia dell’Arte, there are stock characters — in this case, the happy widow, the dying or dead husband, the father of the widow, a doctor, a priest, a shaman, people dressed like death, devils, and las lloronas (weeping women). However, unlike Commedia dell’Arte, in the muerteada men play all the roles.
Last year we joined the Vista Hermosa, Etla murteado. However, this year blogger buddy Chris decided I was ready for the big time — the “battle of the bands” when the muerteadas of San Agustín Etla and Barrio San José meet — Banda Tromba Sinaloense for San Agustín and MonteVerde Banda for San José. FYI: This is after participants and their bands have danced their way up and down the hills of their respective neighborhoods all night long, stopping at designated houses for food and drink — mezcal and cervesas seemed to be the beverage of choice, especially among the men!
So, early on the Nov. 2, we went in search of the San Agustín contingent, we found them, joined in the merriment, were offered food and drink along the way, and eventually came to the crossroad where mania turned to mayhem, albeit organized mayhem — courtesy of the white-shirted security for San Agustín and red-shirted security for San José. They kept the dancers and supporters from each side apart, leaving the face-off to the two bands. It was wild!!! After 20+ minutes of battling bands, it was over and we and the San Agustín contingent trudged back up the hill.
You may have spotted a tall silver-haired gringo right in the middle of the action in one or two of the photos, that would be Chris. Be sure to check out the video he put together of all the madness.
According to Organizing Committee President, Alfredo Erick Pérez, the muerteada in San Agustín Etla dates back to the 1800s, possibly to the days of Mexican President Porfirio Díaz.
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View From Casita Colibrí 