Yolande Perez Vasquez, Treasure of San Baltazar de Chichicapam

San Baltazar de Chichicapam is a hill town nestled in the Sierra Madre del Sur about midway between Tlacolula and Ocotlan de Morales and requires the better part of a day to get there.  The village is noted for its fine, hand spun wool created in the traditional method by women using the drop spindle or malacate.  [It is also known for producing some of the finest mezcal in Oaxaca.]  The best of the best traditional spinners is Yolande Perez Vasquez who has been recognized by Mexico as a national treasure.  I met Yolande a couple of weeks ago at the Friday night art opening at La Olla where the wool she spun and dyed with natural plant materials was used in the tapestries woven by Tito Mendoza and designed by Lisa Cicotte.  She was sitting along the wall in the back of the courtyard, a beautiful, regal Zapotec woman.  I didn’t know her or her role in the process then, but her presence drew me to her and I introduced myself and we talked some.  I discovered that her hand was integral to the art I was looking at and essential to the traditional process of weaving.  I asked if I could come to visit her at her home sometime and she agreed.

We approached Chichicapam from Ocotlan because we had gone to Oaxaca first to pick up my friend Eric Chavez Santiago, the director of education at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca.  His father, Federico was driving, and Sam and Tom Robbins, my photographer friends from Columbus, Ohio, were with us.  Federico has been buying his handspun wool in Chichicapam for as long as he has been weaving (at least 40 years) and knows how to get there.  The road from Ocotlan to Chichi is 22 km and is not well marked at the source.  There is some winding around city streets to find the route, so this is not an adventure you want to take lightly.  We climb into the rolling hills, passing the village of Santa Catarina Minas.  Farmers are carrying huge bundles of dried cornstalks on their shoulders, the last of the harvest.  A man pushes a wheelbarrow along the road filled with plastic tubing.  King sized cloud pillows float in the clear blue sky.  Sheep graze along the base of a mountain peak.  Bamboo pillar fences border a dirt side road.

As the road climbs, the terrain shifts to mesquite, organ pipe cactus, white flowering yucca, agave and herds of goats.  We pass over Puente Rio Lodo.  Trees give forth lavender and violet flowers.  Burros carry firewood.  A turbaned cow herder stands by the side of the road with long pole in hand.  Her cows are grazing on a hillock nibbling on dry grasses.  She is sucking on sunflower seeds and spits husks as we pass.  The landscape is vast, dry, endless.  We are in the bosom of the Sierra Madre del Sur.

Yolande Perez is age 65.  She learned from her grandmother when she was 8 years old.  Her grandmother spun and wove ponchos which she sold in the Ocotlan and Tlacolula markets and used in the early Guelaguetzas.  In 1970 Yolande formed a group of 400 spinners from the village who sold their wool to Teotitlan weavers.  Those were the prosperous years.  She and others were invited to national contests and to show their work in Mexico City, invited by the president, along with other noted pottery, weaving, and textile artisans.  Yolande and her son San Juan say that not much financial benefit came from these showcases and they have felt exploited.  Today, much of the wool that most weavers purchase is commercially spun because the price is less.  Weavers are using chemical (aniline) dyes because the tourist market demands lower priced goods.  The dye plant materials that Yolande grows in her garden or picks from the campo and the process to make tintas naturales to color the handspun wool is not appreciated or valued by most consumers.  There is little if any recognition for her role or the role of other traditional spinners or even the citing of the Chichicapam pueblo as being part of the process of creating a fine wool tapestry.  Most weavers in Teotitlan claim that they do all the production steps.

We are invited into the adobe complex.  The kitchen walls are lined with turquoise enamel cook and dye pots.  The floor is soft, spongy adobe.  A large wood work table is centered in the room.  There is the remnants of a wood fire under the comal in the corner.  Yolande, a daughter tells us, does not want to upgrade the kitchen.  She likes the traditional way of life.  We move to the courtyard under the arbor.  A dump truck filled with dried corn husks backs in almost on top of us and begins to spill its load, an avalanche of corn is deposited at our feet.  The family will husk each cob and pick off the dried kernels, basket them and take them to market for extra income over the winter months.  The husks are pale yellow tinged with purple.

Yolande’s garden is filled with plants and flowers, a shady arbor, and a pen in the back that holds two sheep and a newborn lamb.  The goats have been shorn for their fleece which is piled and ready for spinning.  Yolande lays out a handwoven grass mat, pulls out her handmade wood malacate (drop spindle), and demonstrates for us the technique of handspinning coyuche (natural brown) cotton, locally cultivated silk, cotton, and wool.  She cards white and black wool together to show us how she achieves a soft grey color.  She spins the malacate and gently pulls and coaxes the thread out with her other hand and the thread is consistently even and pliable.  Hers is the first essential step in the weaving process.  Without fine handspun wool there can be no rebozo, poncho, or tapete, and her work is that of an artist.

The women’s spinning cooperative is no longer in existence since commerically spun wool is what most weavers are buying.  Now, Yolande tells us, there are a few young women in the village who are learning to use the malacate.  I wonder how long this tradition will continue.  Some of the weavers say they don’t like the colors of naturally dyed handspun yarn because they are softer and more subtle.  The marketplace drives demand, I remind myself.  If people know about and appreciate the craft and artisanry that goes into creating a fine woven textile, perhaps there will be a resurgence and compensation for people like Yolande Perez Vasquez and my weaver friend Federico Chavez Sosa or the 200 weavers commissioned by Remigio Mestas to create authentic, naturally dyed textiles.  The cost is double, but the handwork is extraordinary.

There is a possibility that Yolande will come to the Museo Textil de Oaxaca to teach and demonstrate.  She has participated in so many programs over her lifetime with little recognition or compensation that she wants to know more before she will make a commitment.  Eric understands this and because he comes from a family dedicated to preserving the traditions, he will do his best to give Yolande the visibility, recognition and compensation she deserves.  After toasting each other and the future with shots of mezcal in the coolness of the family altar room, we leave and head back to Ocotlan.  The visit was over two hours but definitely worthwhile.

If anyone is interested in purchasing handspun wool that is a natural color of the sheep or dyed with natural dyes made by Yolande Perez Vazquez, please contact Eric Chavez Santiago at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca, educacion@museotextildeoaxaca.org.mx

Baptismo, Mercado, Massaje: Just Another Day in Teotitlan

The sound of familiar music drew me to the doors of the village church and another celebration.

[My guess is that village life is a mutual support society.  Families support each other by providing and paying for the services needed to sustain the constant celebration of life.  There is incredible joy for families, and economic benefit to those who create the music, food, flowers, and the red and blue striped tent rentals that mark the homes of celebrants throughout the village.  Okay, so the music is a little off key, but I can assure you that the cake will come from the best pasteleria and the tamales from an expert cook.]

I took my seat at the back of the church as the service was coming to a close.  The band led the way, playing full throttle.  Behind them came the family — father holding a little girl about one year old dressed in white, a huge smile on his face, his wife next to him was beaming, beautifully dressed in a gauzy pink floral dress and gold jewelry.  The rest of the family trailed behind them.  As they approached, I smiled and said, felicidades.  He stopped, asked me where I was from.  Carolina del Norte, I replied.  Oh, my brother worked in Raleigh for a while.  Why don’t you join us at the party, just follow us to our home.  I thanked them, and expressed my regrets.  I had a massage appointment with Annie that I couldn’t miss.  But, I was astounded at the generosity of the invitation, and reminded myself that this is what Teotitlan life is about — generosity and inclusion.  I joined the procession as it curled for a block or two along with abuelos wrapped in tradition jaspe-style woven shawls, tias from Tehuantepec bedecked in gold and high heels, and then peeled off.

First, a stop at the pasteleria to order my New Year’s Eve birthday cake, an all chocolate affair that would feed 20.  Then, I noticed the chocolate cake topped with flan double layer extravaganza and ordered one of those, too.  Federico was in the rug market today and I thought I would join him for a few minutes before heading off to Annie’s up the hill.  The Chavez Santiago family displays and sells at the rug market intermittently depending upon whether there is a celebration, trip to Oaxaca, or a commission to finish that might take priority.  Today the market was filled with tourists, and as a gringa sitting in the stall with a Zapotec weaver, I guess I was somewhat of an anomaly.  The English-speakers asked me where I was from, and from there it was easy to start the conversation about rug quality, natural dyes, cultural preservation, Spanish conquest history, and conserving authentic weaving and dyeing traditions.   I met a bi-lingual man from Texas who brings his children to Mexico to teach them about their cultural history and traditions.  He wanted to show his daughter rug weaving techniques so he went to the house where Dolores and Janet were weaving.  Another family from Cancun stepped in to visit and placed a custom order.  It was a good day.

Tuk-tuk time for me.  I hopped into one of those little three wheel red moto-taxis that ply the village lanes and we huffed and puffed over the cobble stones, across the river, onto the dirt and stone road that leads to the hillside where Annie lives.  I am entering shiatsu heaven.  First a bit of tea and talk, then I’m down on the mat.  When I emerge an hour later, magically all my back pain from carrying talavera tile in my backpack is gone.  I’m light footed down the hill, gaze at the golden stumps of shorn cornstalks dazzling in the last moments before sunset, stop at El Descanso for a bowl of fresh vegetable soup and agua de pepino con limon, and arrive home just in time to greet Eva Hershaw, a university student applying to graduate school, who came to Oaxaca to create a photo documentary of people who grow traditional maize (the non-bioengineered kind).  We had been carrying on a correspondence and I suggested that she first connect with Itanoni, the Oaxaca bakery that only uses native corn.  I invited her out to the village telling her that everyone here grows corn just like they did 6,000 years ago.  She joined us at the kitchen table as we were finishing late comida, and she met the Chavez family and talked about her project.  We will help her connect with local farmers and invited her back to join us for the Las Cuevitas new year celebration on December 31 and January 1.

It is a good day!

Four Days in Puebla: Part Four or Los Tigres del Norte

Sunday in Puebla is difficult to think about right now as I lay in bed at the Chavez family home in Teotitlan.  After walking and taxi rides all over Puebla this morning in a quest for the ultimate talavera pottery for Sam first in the El Parian district and then a swing through Uriarte, then a stop at Dulces El Lirio on Avenida de Los Dulces for a gift box for Dolores, followed by a final coffee on the Zocalo at the ubiquitous Italian Coffee Cafe, and then a four and a half hour bus ride to Oaxaca, I was dreaming of a great night’s sleep in our quiet little village out in the countryside beyond the city hubbub.  I’d had my fill of Puebla traffic, press of people, visual stimulation, a lumpy hotel bed, and city sounds. Don’t get me wrong, I like Puebla a lot, but I was ready to come home to Oaxaca.  The family picked me, Sam and Tom up at the ADO bus station, we grabbed a very delicious bite to eat at VIPS (pronounced BIPS, which is also owned by Walmart along with El Porton), and made our way back to Teotitlan.

We arrived home to our lane packed with cars and the 10:30 p.m. start of a Quinciniera at the house next door.  The live band, Los Tigres del Norte, which Janet says is famous in the U.S., will play continuously until 2 or 3 a.m.  Our house is shaking like an earthquake — the bass is pumping, the strobe lights are flashing in sync with the music, the alley entrance to our casa is jammed with bicycles and roving teenagers, and between each song the M.C. calls out something I don’t understand to honor the coming of age woman child who at 15 is now fair game for courtship and subsequent marriage.  Beer and mezcal will flow freely through the night.  I’m not exactly sure what to do right now.  I’d be game to crash this party, but our family was not invited and don’t want to go.   Seems as if there was a dispute a couple of generations ago between two brothers in the family that has not healed.  I can walk out on my balcony and see the revelry in the courtyard next door.  Ear plugs are just not going to do it for me tonight.  Hasta la vista, baby.  In Mexico, you never know what to expect next!  Sit back against the pillow and enjoy the music.  Descanse.

Four Days in Puebla: Part Three or Stairmaster to the Sky

Packing it in once again, this third day in Puebla began with breakfast once again at Hotel Royalty (yes, we like it) and then a stroll around the Zocalo toward the Museo Amparo.  I had arranged with our taxi driver earlier this morning to pick us up at the Zocalo at 1 p.m. and take us to Cholula where there is an archeological site and some remarkable churches.  The Museo Amparo has an outstanding pre-Hispanic art collection, stone carvings, Mayan stele, ceramics, jewelry, funerary objects, and traditional European 17th and 18th century home furnishings fitting the Spanish nobility that settled the city.  A lovely gift shop of Mexican handcrafts, a coffee shop/cafe, and a retail shop for Talavera de la Reyna that makes produces some of the highest quality pottery in town can also be found.   A Diego Rivera portrait of Sra. Amparo graces the lobby space of what was once her majestic home.  An exhibit of the work of contemporary Mexican artist Betsabee Romero captured our attention, especially the tires carved in Aztec patterns and then used to print designs on cloth.  We spent about two hours browsing through the galleries.  At noon, Sam and Tom decided to stroll around the Zocalo while I caught a taxi to the Uriarte Talavera gallery and factory at 4 Poniente 911 at Calle 11 Norte.  I promised to be back at the Zocalo by 1 p.m. for our taxi trip to Cholula and I was!

I wanted to see for myself if there was indeed a distinction in quality between the work we saw yesterday strolling the Parian district and this pottery house that has been touted as one of the best in Puebla.  Indeed, Uriarte Talavera is of exceptional quality and also carries the mark DO4.  And, the prices reflect this.  Pieces of equivalent size were double the cost of what we saw previously.  But, I discovered the two rooms with the “seconds”  which were marked down 50 percent from the original price.  Okay, there were flaws.  The glazes weren’t even or ran and blurred or skipped.  Maybe the foot was imperfect or a piece had a missing lid.  In hunting through the piles of plates, soup bowls, sinks, serving pieces, demitasse cups and mugs, I managed to find some treasures where the flaws were barely noticeable if at all.  I found one lovely large globe handsomely painted in varying shades of deep and light blue, the glazes thick and juicy that distinguish fine Talavera, and made the purchase.  Original price, 650 pesos, sold to me for 325 pesos.  Now, it was 12:45 p.m. and I stepped out in front of the shop, hopped in a taxi seconds later, and easily made it to the Zocalo for the 1 p.m. reunion with minutes to spare.

We had negotiated a 90 pesos taxi fare to Cholula and it took a good 30 minutes to get there.  We are finding that taxi fares in Puebla are more reasonable than in Oaxaca, but we have seen very few European visitors during this trip, also unlike Oaxaca, where there is a mix of travelers from the U.S., Canada, and Europe.

Cholula’s main attraction is the Mixteca archeological site that was once a pyramid like those we see in Oaxaca however, without the fine detail.  However, this one is unique in that there are tunnels running up, down and sideways throughout the interior of this structure.  Walking through the tunnel after paying the 35 pesos admission fee made me wonder what would happen if there was an earthquake (Puebla has frequent quakes).  The walls are narrow and the ceilings are low, shaped like a pointed vault.  We twisted and snaked through the underground passageways for at least 30-40 minutes before seeing daylight.

The other attraction is the extraordinary church built over this pyramid, something the Spanish did repeatedly to lure indigenous people to the new religion.  To get there is like taking a stairmaster to the sky.  I must have stopped 10 times to catch my breath as I climbed nearly vertical stairs to the top.  But the effort was well worth it.  The gilded sanctuary is remarkable and behind it lies another smaller sanctuary (don’t miss it, it’s a gem) totally covered in gold leaf with stained glass windows of cherubs.  The 360 degree views of Puebla and the valley are spectacular from this vantage point far above the town, and I could see the curl of steam coming out from the Popo volcano in the not too far distance.  I spent a good 45 minutes at the top before going down.  Otherwise, Cholula is a small market town, as much as I could see, with vendors selling candies, Guatemalan textiles, knock-off Talavera, and cheap jewelry.  Worth a half a day if you have the time.

Our taxi driver returned to pick us up exactly at 5:30 p.m. as arranged, and by 6:00 p.m. we were sitting under the arcade of the Hotel Royalty.  Corona for Tom, margarita for Sam, and a mojito for me.  We each had our own huge bowl of guacamole and chips for dinner, and now adequately zonked, we headed back to the hotel for R&R.

The commotion, hubbub, honking, cacaphony of music, noise, traffic and rush of people is beginning to overwhelm me, and I’m now ready to get back to Teotitlan del Valle for a shiatsu massage with Annie, the comfort of the Zapotec countryside and village life.  Four days in Puebla is definitely enough for me.

Four Days in Puebla: Part Two OR Talavera Heaven

The Spanish architect designer Gaudi would have loved it here.  Handpainted, shiny glazed high fire tile work is de rigeur in Puebla.  Building exteriors, courtyards, archways and floors are covered in tile or embellished with tile inlays. There is a Moorish quality to this town that is fascinating.  As I look skyward, I see onion domes that top church chapels covered in tiles.  There are tall church bell towers that look like the Medieval turrets of Tuscany villages.  Streets are paved in quarry stone.  Hotel floors are a mix of red, yellow or black onyx and the polished stone of millions of feet treading back and forth over centuries.  The brass and copper studded doors, the fanciful grillwork, the Zocalo full of balloon vendors, dancing children, strolling couples, and courting novios add a remarkable flavor to the soup of Puebla de Los Angeles.  This Zocalo is smaller than the one in Oaxaca (or so it seems) but its Jacaranda trees are 100 feet tall giving it a sense of greater majesty.  A central fountain is reminiscent of Rome, complete with cherubs spouting water.

This morning we left the hotel at 8:30 a.m. and took a taxi to the Zocalo where we ate a great buffet breakfast for $80 pesos at the Hotel Royalty.  This included fresh fruit (papaya, watermelon, pineapple), a made to order omelet (I chose two cheeses and onions), yoghurt, breakfast breads (one tasted like my marzipan wedding cake),  fresh avocado, tortillas, and chips.  Other options included sausage, scrambled eggs, cereal, chilaquiles, and pancakes.  Or, one could order off the standard menu.  Then,  the walking began.

My friend Sam (short for Frances, go figure) and her husband Tom collect Talavera tile.  They had been to Puebla before and this trip was a mission to search for more tile in their favorite La Reina pattern.  I had no plan but to tag along.  Ha, ha.  We headed away from the Zocalo, stopping first at the tourism center to get a better map, then made our way down Av. Juan de Palafox y Mendoza to the El Parian district in the neighborhood of 4 Oriente and 6 Norte.  This is Talavera Heaven, or at least one corner of it.  Actually, there is one family of potters that pretty much populates the two to three block area.  I learned that there are different qualities of the ceramics.  The authentic “certified” Talavera is made in the traditional process.  Then there is a variety called Rustica and another variety called Moderna.  The difference has to do with the type of clay used, the overglaze, and the kiln firing process.  Naturally, the traditional “certified” is more expensive and it looks like Majolica, but it is dishwasher safe and ovenproof.  The mark next to the signature on the authentic Talavera is “DO4.”  This is what you should look for on the bottom of the “foot” of the piece.  So, imagine 100 stalls lining both sides of four blocks, all selling decorated tile.  I’m a visual person but this was sensory overload.  I managed to make a selection of two small plates that I intend to give as gifts.  But as we were about to sit down for a respite and a bowl of homemade sopa de verduras (all fresh vegetables in a rich, spicy chicken tomato broth), I got swept into another shop by two very engaging young men, muy guapo.  And, I spotted one of my best finds of the day — a lovely painted piece in soft colors of lemon, green and blue, a veritable plate full of lemons hanging in verdant foliage.  This one is definitely a keeper.  So, now my backpack has two plates in it and my handwoven plastic shopping bag from the Teotitlan market contains another plate, plus my traveling paraphernalia: scarf, jacket for when it gets cold later, camera, dictionary, notebook to record momentary thoughts and expenditures, plus bottled water.  Sam is now laden with bowls and backsplash tiles.  Tom carries another bundle, plus they both are sporting cameras with big lenses.

Our quest now is Avenida de Los Dulces.  We are going in circles or so it seems, heading back toward the Zocalo, then making a turn onto Av. 5 de Mayo, passing the Iglesia Santo Domingo ( yes, we’ve been by here before), then going another block maybe, and making a right turn onto this street that is lined with candy shops — at least three blocks of candy shops many also selling high quality Talavera tile.  Oh, no.  We stop again, in and out, back and forth across the street, plying our way through mountains of dulces and then Sam and Tom find the ultimate Talavera tile shop where they place and order to ship back to Columbus, Ohio.  Meanwhile, I meander across the street to discover another incredible find of extraordinary handpainted DO4 mugs, bargain (getting a 10 percent discuenta), and now find myself hauling around what feels like 50 pounds of ceramics.

By now, it’s time for comida and we haul our weary bodies into the Hotel Colonial restaurant in a restored centuries old building, across from the Autonomous University of Puebla, and settle into an elegantly comfortable dining room with great service and a fixed price menu of $90 pesos for a five course meal.  The chicken mole poblano, for which Puebla is famous, was spectacular, rich and spicy.  I did pass on the dessert, keeping in mind that I wanted another chocolate and nut coated chocolate bar at the nieveria on the Zocalo.  After a stop through the municipal museum to see a black and white photography exhibit of Puebla circus life circa 1915, and a stroll through the balloon filled Zocalo, we indeed settled in for our evening “meal” of Italian Coffee Company coffee, ice cream and people watching before heading back to the hotel.

Such is life in Puebla.

To read more about the history of Talavera tile, go to:

http://gomexico.about.com/od/shoppinghandicrafts/p/talavera.htm

Four Days in Puebla: Part One

Carlos picked us up at 7:15 a.m. this morning to take us the 17 miles from Teotitlan del Valle to the ADO (Ah-Day-Oh) bus station in Oaxaca city for our trip to Puebla, departure time 9 a.m.  We made prepaid credit card reservations six days ago, a necessity for securing a ticket, by phoning the local Oaxaca bus station.  The roundtrip cost is 590 pesos on ADO GL.  I think this is the first class bus, though I’m not certain, since there was advertised the UNO bus for the 12 hour trip to San Cristobal de los Casas that has two toilets — one for hombres, on for mujeres.   Seems like if there are two toilets, then this would definitely mean premiere class travel.  The bus station is a pristine temple to fine travel, complete with ATM, a baggage check area, an espresso bar, and snack shop all under a modern metal and glass arched structure.  As we waited, a cleaning woman mopped under my feet with sweet smelling antiseptic.  The 3 pesos bathroom was tended by a helpful lady who directed me to the toilet paper dispenser next to the sinks.  I sipped latte and nibbled on a breakfast cheese sandwich waiting for the boarding call.  It was much more civilized than current air travel … more like waiting for the train at Penn Station.

As we cued up to board the bus, each of us was stopped for a security check — frisked with the metal detector and bags examined.  Then, much to our amazement, after all boarded, the woman went down the aisle with a video camera to capture each of our faces.  There must be a reason, we said to each other, as we settled into the plushy upholstered seats, reclined, and adjusted the foot rests.  As soon as we pulled out of the station, the James Bond movie started.  Sam warned me it would be some shoot ‘em up action film, which is what she has experienced on bus rides all over Mexico.  Indeed, “Casino Royale” dubbed in Spanish was a loud, action-packed adventure that I wanted to sleep through but couldn’t.  We had spent Christmas Eve reveling with the extended Chavez family — four brothers, two sisters, their children and grandchildren, consuming great quantities of beer, wine, Tequila, champagne, roast chicken, tamales, gelatina and chocolate cake until well after midnight.

It wasn’t long after climbing out of the Oaxaca valley that the landscape turned desolate, high desert, scrub oak, brown grass, pine forested mountains in the distance.  Further along the highway, about halfway through the Bond film, the organ pipe cactus burst onto the scene.  After three and a half hours, as we approached Puebla, the land became more generous.  Farms were verdant and prosperous.  Sheep and goats grazed.  Dried corn stalks formed tall pyramids where they were gathered up from cleared fields.   At exactly four hours, we pulled into the huge Puebla bus depot and got a taxi to our hotel on the outskirts of town.  Sam got a deal online at a Best Western for $60 per night, about half the price of a Zocalo historic center location.  We deposited our bags, and hit the streets, first stopping at El Porton on Ave. Juarez for comida.  It’s a favorite chain with good quality food.  Today I discovered, much to my horror, that it is owned by Wal-Mart!  It took about 45 minutes to walk to where the action was, but the meandering was very satisfying as we stopped to take photos of ancient courtyards, Talavera tile covered 17th century buildings, brass studded pine wood doors that had to have been built 300 years ago.

Puebla de los Angeles was created by the Spanish and was NOT built upon a pre-existing indigenous village.  It’s architecture is like ordering a chocolate ice cream sundae with whipped cream, cherries and nuts on top.  The facades of the buildings are sheer delights … fanciful curly cues, brocades, and dripping embellishments.  Shops and houses are tints of peach, plum, cherry, and lime.  There are wide avenues devoted to pedestrian promenades.  The churches are magnificent structures of quarried stone exteriors and gold leaf interiors that would put any Di Medici to shame.  The tile work adds a splash of Baroque splendor that blends Moorish origins.  The interior wood carvings by local Indian artisans are masterful.  Tonight we visited Puebla’s Iglesia de Santo Domingo and spent considerable time in the Chapel of the Virgin of the Rosary — an extraordinary gilded and carved sanctuary lined with paintings and Talavera tile.  Tomorrow is 8 a.m. breakfast and then a shopping quest for Sam and Tom.  I’m along for the ride.

Norma’s Oaxaca Favorites: A Baker’s Dozen

1.     Museo Textil de Oaxaca, corner Fiallo and Hidalgo, closed Tuesdays.  Ask to meet Eric Chavez Santiago, director of education, for a personal tour.  Take a class if you are in town for a while.

2.   Federico Chavez Santiago Family Weavers for authentic, masterful, naturally dyed rugs at fair trade prices, Francisco I. Madero #55, Teotitlan del Valle, 52-44078 (call ahead to be sure they are home)

3.  Shiatsu massage with Annie Burns, Teotitlan del Valle, 951-1313 009.  She will also come to Oaxaca city.  By appointment.

4.  Remigio Mestas’ Arte Textil Indigena, Macedonio Alcala #103, in the Los Danzantes Restaurant Arcade, for the best Oaxacan textiles handwoven, handspun and naturally dyed by Zapotec, Mixtec, Mixe and Trique tribal groups.

5.  La Olla Restaurante, Calle de Reforma

6.  Nieves Anita in the Teotitlan del Valle market.  Closes at 4 p.m.  Nieves is local ice cream made from fresh fruit, nuts, and grated vegetables.  My favorite  flavor is the one that combines the coconut ice cream with chopped pecans, pineapple chunks, and fresh grated carrot.  Tuna, by the way, is the fruit of the nopal cactus and there is an ice cream flavor for that, too. Second choice:  nieves in the Tlacolula market.

7.  Grill your own carne for lunch in the Tlacolula Sunday market.  Walk back deep into the bowels of the market into the covered building beyond the church where you will find the meat vendor stalls and an aisle of charcoal grill stoves.  Meander and buy a bunch of onions, avocados, a few tomatillos, limes, and fresh tortillas (choose from blue, yellow or white).  Then, buy your meat.  Ask for suave (soft) for the most tender cut.  Put all this on the grill in front of the stand (except for the avocado and lime).  Peel the avocado.  Assemble all into the tortilla, sprinkle with fresh lime juice, roll up and eat standing using one of the vacant stalls for your table top.  If you like, use fresh baked rolls instead of the tortilla (ask for pan por tortas) found just down the long aisle.  Total cost is about $1.75 per person.

8.  Definitely Monte Alban.  Take the tourist bus from Calle Mina.  Ask the Zocalo tourist police how to get there.

9.  Mitla for the ruins and for great, inexpensive handloomed cotton tablecloths, blouses, napkins, shawls.  The REAL market is down the hill from the church and ruins.  The market in front of the church is too turistica.  The Mitla archeological site is different from Monte Alban because it incorporates both Mixtec and Zapotec designs in the carvings.  It is a treasure.

10.  Bertha Cruz woodcarver in Arrazola, Justo Xuana woodcarver in San Martin Tilcajete, and Dolores Porras potter in Atzompa.

11.  Handmade paper jewelry from the Francisco Toledo taller in San Augustin Etla can be found at La Granen Porrua on Macedonio Alcala.

12.  A cooking class with Pilar Cabreras at Casa de Los Sabores.

13.  Comida at El Gran Gourmet Oaxaqueno on Calle Independencia.  Be sure to order the Agua de Pepino con Limon (fresh cucumber and lime juice).

Valentina’s Garden

My friend Annie, known locally as Ana del Campo, lives on the hillside on the other side of the river Rio Grande that runs through town from the presa (dam) throuh the cleavage between two mountains.  We came to visit her some years ago and that is how we got to Teotitlan del Valle.  Annie was the second gringa to connect with a local Zapotec family and be invited to build a home on their land.  A former psychologist, she is an expert Shiatsu massage therapist and has a loyal clientele in the village and in Oaxaca.  One of the treasures and pleasures of coming back to Teotitlan is to enjoy time with Annie, sipping tea, catching up, looking out over the village below from her hillside perch, and then laying down on her mat to give myself and my body over to the expert pressure touch of her hands and fingers in her sublimely tranquil space.  This evening was my third massage of the week — a totally relaxing experience, and I feel I can splurge with this expense because the cost is 200 pesos (about $18 USD) per hour.  As I walked up the winding rocky drive to her brick and stucco casita, the stars sparkled in the sky and were mirrored by village lights below creating a seamless vision of dancing stars with no horizon.   Annie has asked me to visualize who I am in the form of an animal to take as my talisman as a form of meditative relaxation.  I am a gazelle, sleek, agile and grazing.  Annie tells me that my body will respond and become the form that I visualize.

After the massage and to honor my gazelle,  Annie makes me a plate full of salad containing at least four different lettuces, fresh grated beets, cherry tomatoes and bright red nasturtiums from Valentina’s garden.  This is for grazing, she says.  Valentina, who was once Valerie, moved to Oaxaca some years ago from somewhere in el norte and started an organic garden.  She sells her bounty every Friday and Saturday at the Pochote Market in the Arcos, just beyond Santo Domingo Church on Macedonio Alcala.  Annie sprinkled goat cheese and pecans on the salad and topped it with a homemade balsamic vinaigrette.  I followed her lead.  This is the ONLY way I will eat lettuce in Mexico — organically grown and washed in purified water by someone you know and trust.  To top it off, Annie brings to the table a red tortilla, handmade by Esther (Ess-tare) her neighbor, who ground the village grown red maize herself.  Below us, the band is playing its posada repertoire, drum beats, tubas, and saxaphones call out to the night sky.  A firecracker rocket is a shooting star.  I imagine the tables full of revelers eating fiesta tamales with amarillo mole, downing shots of mezcal followed by beer chasers, sucking limes and salt, dancing the slow Zapotec two-step far into the night, men in one line facing the women opposite them, never touching.  The firecrackers pop and the dogs bark in response.  The bray of a donkey punctuates it all.  Tomorrow, Mary and Joseph will move to another home where the cycle repeats the harmony.

Catching My Breath and Catching Up: Posadas, Remigo Mestas, Indigo Tie-Dye Workshop

It’s vacation and I’m trying not to be breathless.  For the last two days, I have walked up and down Teotitlan hills following the posada processional from one house to another in the annual pre-Christmas tradition of Mary and Joseph visiting and staying over in the altar rooms of nine homes before the birth of baby Jesus on Christmas Eve–and the ultimate posada.  On Friday night, there was a gallery opening at Las Bugambilias where Lisa Cicotte exhibited the rugs she designed that were woven by master Tito Mendoza, and the lyrical paintings created by Aurora Cabreras, the proprietress of Las Bugambilias, were celebrated.  On Saturday morning, Eric Chavez Santiago taught a tie-dye workshop at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca using anil or indigo dye in which I participated along with 10 other people — adults, children, a Trique weaver who works with Remigio Mestas, and one other gringa.  It was loads of fun, very messy, and gave me another new appreciation for what it takes to work with natural dyes and create great designs.  In the afternoon, after a great $50 peso comida at  El Gran Gourmet Oaxaqueno on Independencia just past Avenida Juarez walking away from the Zocalo.  It is fabuloso — and the meal includes soup (this day, sopa de crema de verdura), fresh steamed veggies perfectly cooked, arroz, filete de pescado (oooh, delicioso), agua de pepino con limon (a great cucumber lemon juice drink), and gelatina for dessert.  YES, all for $50 pesos!  Very clean. Oh, and homemade tortillas on the premises.

I want to write about Remigio Mestas, who has a current exhibit in the second floor library of the Museo Textil de Oaxaca.  His shop, Arte Textil Indigena, is on Macedonia Alcala 403-2, in the historic center of Oaxaca.  Telephone:   951-501-0552.  Email cbram@prodigy.net.mx It is the premiere location for authentic indigenous weavings.

See Remigio talk about a textile from the Sierra Madre del Sur.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3Z53c-pulA

For the last 15 years, Remigio has identified the greatest weavers, dyers, and spinners from all over Oaxaca state and has worked with them to preserve the traditional patterns and processes involved in textile creation.  He has also influenced their use and return to natural dyes.  What is purchased there is guaranteed to be authentic.  Remigio says he is responsible for the livelihood of over 200 artisans who live in villages near Oaxaca and in remote mountain villages. His commitment is to sustain the culture, history, and create economic opportunities for Mixe, Mixtec, Trique and Zapotec communities all over the state.

Soledad’s 77th Birthday Fiesta

The house was smokey and as I walked up the stairs to the second story living room, the smoke thickened, my eyes watered and I could barely see Federico and Dolores through the haze.  They were at the large kitchen table chopping onions and cilantro.  Beyond them was a large cauldron atop a wood fire bubbling away.  But, I couldn’t stay because of the smoke and they sent me downstairs to the altar room to sit with Soledad to drink a Victoria (small size Corona beer) and await the birthday crowd.  It was three o-clock in the afternoon.  The men began to set up long banquet tables and 20 chairs.  The women had been cooking all day; the teenagers swept and washed the floors.  The garage was converted into the dining area to accomodate the expected extended family, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins.  At four, they began to arrive with birthday gifts in hand: a 24-pack box of beer, sweet bread, flowers, fruit, chocolate.  These are the traditional “regalos” of Zapotec life gifted for all special occasions — food and drink for sustainence, flowers to add beauty and tribute to la vida buena.

Soledad is mother to Federico Chavez Sosa and his three brothers and one sister.  She is a substantial, strong, stoic, solid woman who goes to the market daily to sell and make a little extra money.  Some days she sells pottery that she has bought elsewhere and takes a small mark-up.  Other days, she sells her fresh homemade tortillas or special Christmas wreath bread.  She is a great cook.  Today, the family pays her homage and cooks an incredible Sopa de Mariscos — a seafood chowder — that has simmered over this charcoal wood fire for hours.  We sit at the table.  I am with the men because I am the invited guest.  We are elbow to elbow and they want me to keep up with the beer consumption.  I tell them in my simple Spanish that I must pace myself.  Soledad clinks the neck of the Victoria bottle to each “Feliz Compleanos” happy birthday toast with her sons, sister-in-law, and the streaming group of family that arrives and joins the table.

The women in the kitchen bring each of us huge bowls of spicy tomato fish broth.  The bowls are brimming with white fish, clams, shrimp and langostinos brought in especially from Salina Cruz on the Pacific coast of Oaxaca.  Piles of deep golden yellow fresh made tortillas that are at least 12 inches in diameter are brought to the table, covered with elaborately embroidered cloth.  Baskets of fresh baked rolls and plates of extra chopped cilantro and onion arrive.  The women serve.  The men sit.  I acculturate myself to the custom and note that this is tradition, and that women around the world serve their men, including most in the United States.

This is likely the most delicious meal I have eaten in Oaxaca in all the time I have been coming here.  I roll the yellow organic maize tortilla and dip it in the broth, slurp and suck the crab legs, pile the ocean’s detritis on the table, mimicking the others. The talk moves into Zapotec and I am clueless.  After the meal, the dishes are cleared, other guests arrive with their beer or chocolate, join the crowd and are given food.  The homemade cake is brought out along with the mezcal and the women begin to play with the three new babies in the family, singing, clapping, entertaining each other with the joy of just being together.  It is now 7 p.m.

The wealth of this environment is in the interconnection between families, the coming together of multi-generations, the mutual support, the sharing of celebration.  It is traditional and respectful. Even when there is family conflict and disagreement, issues are put aside in order to participate in life cycle events together.  The pace is slower.  There are many hands that help raise babies, cook, clean, attend to the small, repetitive tasks of living.  We have much to learn from each other, I think, as Estadounidenses re-evaluate our own lifestyles in this era of economic downsizing and belt-tightening.  It is a good time to reevaluate our values and personal connections.  The experience of living in a Zapotec family and community is teaching me this.