On Leaving Mexico: Travel Diary November 2009

There are one hundred fifty-five pesos in my pocket, equivalent to about twelve dollars.  Just enough left after paying 385 pesos or $25 USD for my extra bag.  Take your pick.  One weights fifty pounds exactly and the other is thirty eight pounds.  The smaller duffle is packed to the gills with soft clothing.  I can barely close the zipper.  I wore the same black pants and two different shirts for a week, so why did I bring all these extra clothes?  It sure didn’t seem like much when I left home.  Space, like time, is precious.  The biggest bag is hard sided and measures thirty inches high by 23 inches wide by twelve inches deep (deeper when unzipped to expand) .  When I install a sturdy woven bamboo basket inside to create a rigid barrier, it becomes a great shipping container for ceramics and alebrijes.  This bag weight in at fifty-one pounds, one pound over limit.  Not even a smile and a plea to let it go worked, so I removed a small bubble-wrapped package from the cache of like wrapped packages, and stuffed it into my carry on.

Now, we are all tucked away in the Continental Express jet to Houston, two hours and seventeen minutes away.  Palms and blooming orange jacarandas line the runway.  The sky is pure, clear blue, without a cloud, transparent to heaven.  It will be another beautiful day.

Mexico Safety November 2009

We walked at night arm-in-arm through the streets of Oaxaca and Puebla, two women, sisters of middle age (though, of course not looking it), linked together now though one from the east coast, the other from the west, coming to a common meeting place to travel together.

Mexico is a place for strolling and we walked together from dusk into the evening to darkness, some nights until eleven or twelve with no fear, no worries.  We traveled round trip by bus from Oaxaca to Puebla, negotiating taxis and bus stations, two among a handful of gringos without getting sick or encountering aggression.

In some of the higher end hotels and restaurants, chefs and wait staff still wear face masks, more of a precaution than a necessity I think, or perhaps a PR message to tourists that they are paying attention to public health safety.

Mexico’s economy depends on three things, a three-legged stool of financial security: remittances, crude oil sales, and tourism.  In 2006, federal income from remittances (the dollars Mexican immigrants living in the U.S. send to their families in Mexico) equaled what was earned from oil exports.

The perception of safety is linked to fear.  Perhapss it is fear of the other, of the H1N1 influenza, of drug wars.  Yes, these are real dangers but the prevalence is imagined.

Day of the Dead Teotitlan Del Valle 2009

The church bells sound at 3:00 p.m. signaling the time to light the copal incense burner and begin the festival meal as the dead find their way back to the cemetery via the sweet aroma and candlelight.  Federico lights the incense and puts the smokey charcoal in the center of the casa courtyard.  We sit down to a meal of morado (purple corn) tamales stuffed with chicken and mole amarillo, chicken, mole negro homemade by Lola, sweet rice mixed with onions and squash, salad, lots of beer and mezcal.  After the meal, Barbara and I walk to the Panteon (cemetery) just a few blocks from the house.  Here, the festivities are more subdued than the Xoxo extravaganza.  The cemetery is smaller and more humble.  The adornment on each tomb is relatively uniform, decorated with a partially segmented orange, hand-fulls of roasted peanuts and walnuts, candles, simple flowers.  Families also gather here in small clusters, talking, cracking and eating nuts, or in silent meditation.  The village band clusters in the center of the cemetery under an awning in front of the large permanent altar to the Virgin of Guadalupe and plays a mix of ranchero music, Mozart, and ancient Zapotec tunes.  This is mostly a horn group and the music is a strong punctuation mark to the more solemn ambiance of the environment.  We see many gringos with video cameras, tripods and still cameras with macho lenses.  This creates an air of voyeurism that is stronger for me than the experience at Xoxo where I expect this.  Because I know many people in the village now, I walk through the narrow paths separating the graves and greet them with handshakes, smiles and hugs.  I ask Raoul, Federico’s brother, what the feeling is about all the gringos in the graveyard, and he says it is good for the village to have visitors because the economy has been so difficult this last year.  I wonder if this is a sentiment shared by most or if there is a feeling of invasiveness into a sacred rite.  This is always a question for me — the cultural sensitivity of being a guest in the village and how to move around with deference and respect for ancient traditions.

Mercado Abastos Crush: Muertos 2009

No words are necessary!

Muertos at Home: Mezcal, the Breakfast Chaser — Oaxaca 2009

The elderly couple entered the altar room bearing a basket of bread (pan), chocolate, floras de muertos (an aromatic small white wild flower) and a tall beeswax candle made in the village.  They lit the candle and replaced the new one in the large holder, careful not to let the flame extinguish.  Incense burned and the warmth of candlelight wrapped the room even though it was only 10 a.m.  They knelt in front of the altar where her dead father’s photo was the centerpiece, crossed themselves in prayer.  They then placed the flowers on the altar and the bread on top, adding another layer to the display of plenty.  They joined the rest of the group assembled around the table and Fede offered all mezcal and a toast to the dead.  What could I do but comply as a guest joining this intimate family gathering?  Yes, of course.  We raised the small shot glasses in salud (Spanish, to your health) and chisbayoh (Zapotec) to pay homage to the departed loved ones and to life.  This would be the first time that I have had mezcal as a breakfast chaser!

Around the table were aunts, sisters, cousins, godchildren, and their children.  Fede, Dolores and Janet gave each guest a plate of sesame breads and hot chocolate.  This was followed by chicken in mole and fresh tamales, and lots of conversation and laughter.  The little ones played games and loved “spin the top” — a lottery game involving taking and leaving roasted pecans from the center pot, depending on where your spin landed.  Janet explained that the tradition of games, bingo, lotteria, and shoots and ladders were typical for Dia de Los Muertos.

the intimacy of the celebration, the family gathering, the relaxation of visiting over time and the exchange of food is part of the authenticity of celebrating Muertos.  We are fortunate to be a part of the family and included in the festivities.

Guatemala Textiles at Museo Textil de Oaxaca

The latest exhibition at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca features traditional textiles from the Chichicastenango region of Guatemala, where weaving has been an artform since before the Spanish conquest.  This Ki-che Maya region has produced some of the most spectacular handwork of anywhere in the world.  Despite centuries of oppression, poverty, and near extermination (having put up a valiant resistance to the conquerors), the culture has survived and along with it the designs that represent indigenous symbology.

Panteon @ Xoxocotlan, Oaxaca–Muertos 2009

Usually the ride to Xoxocotlan takes 10 to 15 minutes from Oaxaca, but the cemetery festivities during Muertos can extend the trip to at least 45 minutes.  At 9 p.m. the Oaxaca Symphony was set to perform outside the Panteon, which is when we hoped to arrive.   As we drove into town following a string of tuk-tuks, pick-ups, taxis, all sizes of vehicles packed with people, the queue extended for a couple of miles.  Parking off the side street and a walk into the area via a back road was one of the best decisions we made.

The scene was one of festival with food tents, music, costumed devils and enchantresses, skeletons, harlequins.  Distant sounds of guitar and horns, and a full symphony performing at the cemetery entrance competed for our attention.  Vendors selling nuts, cotton candy, candied apples, balloons, and trinkets crossed our paths.  As we approached the high arched Greek-like entrance to the graveyard, the wide path narrowed and people crushed together through the opening and we held onto each other.  On the other side the vision was a spectacular scene of candles, extraoradinary flower arrangements of lilies, marigolds, roses and daisies adorning the graves of loved ones, punctuated by the competing aromas of food cooking and copal incense.   Masked children darted through the crowd carrying bags and asking for money and candy.  Families gathered to pay homage to their departed loved ones in celebration, eating, talking, laughing, singing, praying, and drinking beer and/or mezcal.  The carnival air lent a sense of frivolity to what we in the U.S. think of as a sober affair.  Graveyards here are full of life rather than full of fear and despair as we know it.

Janet said to us that loved ones who are on their death bed tell their families not to worry, they will see them again at Day of the Dead.  A soothing and calming and hopeful belief system that allows people to die without fear.

Altars, Altars Everywhere: Oaxaca Muertos 2009

This is a spectacular time of year to be in Oaxaca.  The streets are filled with music, parades, costumes, tourists, and cars.  It can take 30 minutes to get through the historic district in a taxi.  There is excitement and energy in the air with preparations for when beloved departed will return to earth to visit and those who remember them honor their memory.  Altars are everywhere:  in restaurants, hotels, homes, in street vendors’ stalls, shops and tiendas.  Every one is a work of art, incorporating food, drink, photos of the departed, bright marigold flowers, and special touches applied by each creator.  At Restaurante Azucena at the San Martin Tilcajete crossroads, the altar used the seven varieties of indigenous corn, yellow-orange marigolds, sugar skulls, and the light of many votives.  Bamboo fronds form the arch from which to hang fruit, bread, and chocolate.  On Sunday, we will go to Teotitlan to participate in the family ritual of decorating the altar, the center of religious and spiritual home life.  Today, we will accompany the family to the Abastos market to shop for all the goodies.

Shopping Oaxaca: Galeria Lola y Fe

Around the corner from the Santo Domingo Church on Ave. Cinco de May #408 is the new gallery shop opened by my friends Federico Chavez Sosa and his wife Dolores Santiago Arrellanas.  Her nickname is Lola and his is Fe!  They weave the most spectacular tapetes (rugs) that I have talked about and featured on my blog and website for the past several years.  This is a new adventure for the family.  They have been based in Teotitlan del Valle their entire lives, where they live, work and sell their rugs from their home on Francisco I. Madero #55.  Now, their dream to have a spot in the city that is more accessible to visitors is realized.

They work only in natural dyes, buying the hand carded and spun churro wool from friends in the Oaxaca highland town of Chichicapam.  They wash the wool by hand and prepare it in skein for dyeing.  Then, they create the glorious, vibrant colors using the natural, organic materials from the cochineal bug and plants:  wild marigold, indigo, pecan leaves and shells, pomegranates, lichens and moss.

In addition to the rugs, wall hangings and table coverings, you will find handbags, folk art and other collectibles.

There are many rug vendors in Oaxaca, but few have the artistic mastery of this weaving family.  Designs range from contemporary to traditional, and many rugs incorporate the Zapotec motifs from the archeological sites of Mitla and Monte Alban.  There is depth and imagination that you will find no where else.

It is important to emphasize that chemical dyes used by most other weavers are toxic and put the people who use them at risk for cancer and respiratory illness.  Using natural dyes takes time, skill and greater expense.  Supporting weavers who use authentic natural dyes is a way to sustain the environment, promote good health, and reintroduce indigenous dyeing techniques.

Galeria Lola y Fe has been open less than a week.  It is inside a lovely courtyard with a bubbling fountain, in a space shared by the Gestalt Institute.  To get there, you enter into the courtyard and it is on your immediate left.  The gallery is not visible from the street, so you have to venture inside the courtyard, past the shop that sells fabrics from Mitla.  It is a few doors down from my other favorite gallery, El Nahual.

You can see the documentary I made about this work on YouTube:  Weaving a Curve Movie

To contact Lola y Fe, telephone (951) 524-4078.  Hours vary.

Or (951) 1302481 (son Eric Chavez Santiago, director of education, Museo Textil de Oaxaca)

Whirlwind Day One Shopping in Oaxaca, Muertos 2009

I must confess, I wonder what the cultural value is of spending an entire day in quest of Oaxaca goodies:  mole, alebrijes, hand wrought silver jewelry, textiles, plus a couple of great meals thrown in for good measure.   I am traveling with my sister  Barbara who is the essence of great shopping.  She is the only one I know who can both keep up with me and out-do me.  We must share more than 50 percent of the gene pool.  Our day started at our bed and breakfast, Las Bugambilias.  Brigitte arrived early laden with her wax carved then cast silver.  Brigitte is a French woman who has been living in Oaxaca for over 15 years.  Her husband Ivan relaxed in the rattan chair on the patio with a cigarette poised in his left hand, smoke twirling skyward, while she came into the breakfast room, took a seat on the red divan, and opened her jewelry roll on the coffee table in front of her for the guests around the breakfast table to see.  Barbara prearranged the meeting, bringing orders from her friends in the Bay Area, and by the time the four remaining women at the breakfast table had turned their seats and attention toward Brigitte, tried on the rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces carved with symbols of Aztec, Mayan and Zapotec life, over an hour had passed.  If you want Brigitte to come to your hotel to give you a showing, you can find her at Kanda Jewelry Oaxaca.  My textile designer friend Sheri Brautigam arrived next.  We discussed this new marketing technique of going to where the customers are!  Sheri, who grew up in San Francisco, is working with local women in Tlacolula to fashion lovely shoulder wraps called “quetchquemals”  pronounced Ketch-Keh-Mahls with hand woven jaspe (Has-pay) fabric from Tenancingo.  Another fashion show ensued!  By the time we left the B&B it was 1:30 p.m. and we both needed to get to an ATM to withdraw pesos – destination Zocalo.  But I couldn’t withdraw after repeated attempts and realized I had forgotten to call my bank to tell them I was traveling.  By the time I had cleared this up going through voicemail jail, another hour had passed.  Our original plan to leave for Arrazola to see Berta Cruz by late morning had not materialized.  By 2:30 p.m. we hailed a taxi, negotiated a fixed 120 peso per hour rate, and took off for Arrazola.  Many people have asked me, where is Berta Cruz?  The best I can tell you is, drive into town, turn right at the village cooperative, turn left at the first street, turn left at the next street, and go down the hill until you come to a bamboo door just a little bit past the corner and there you will find Berta.  She is becoming very famous as a fantastic painter of alebrijes that her husband carves.  They are a young couple with a lovely baby girl called Luna, and their work is showcased in the Jacobo Angeles gallery in San Martin Tilcajete.  I purchased a few small gifts: a beautiful armadillo, two iguanas, a dragon whose mouth Berta decided to paint bright yellow on the spot.  Barbara  went for an extraordinary Muerta topped with checkered hat, arms on an ample bustle, holding an umbrella.   We decided to pass on going to Atzompa and returned to La Ciudad, a trip that took almost forty five minutes.  I won’t bore you with the details of stopping to buy mole on 20 de Noviembre at Mayordomo (tip: buy it by the kilo in triple wrapped plastic bags, you won’t be paying for glass packaging and you’ll take home more), making our way to Casa Oaxaca for comida, an exercise of almost two hours by the time we stopped to watch a street parade of children from Benito Juarez dressed for Muertos, foraging for textiles in and out of shops.  At Raizes, a shop on Matamoros, we found a beautiful Teofila Palafox handwoven silk and cotton huipil dyed with indigo details of crab, fish, and rabbit, from San Mateo del Mar at a great price.  Finally, by 6 p.m., we went to the original Casa Oaxaca on Garcia Virgil where there is a smaller kitchen with a limited menu and quiet patio dining.  It was just perfect.  Barbara had the cream of squash blossom soup followed by a beautiful shrimp and avocado salad that tasted like ceviche.  I chose the nopal cactus and shrimp soup in a spicy broth that was to die for, followed by tempura battered shrimp each the size of my fist.  Extraordinary.  We then arrived at Amate Bookstore 30 minutes late for a presentation by a northeast travel writer about how he mapped the alebrijes artisans of La Union and San Martin Tilcajete.  His next project is Teotitlan, he says.  All we can say is, good luck!  How to determine which 100 weavers to put on a map remains a mystery to me, since my personal criteria would be to only select those who work in natural dyes, of which there are only eight to ten.  Our evening wrapped up with a visit to El Nahual on Cinco de Mayo to say hello to Ale and Tito Mendoza.   Their shop is doing very well and we are happy for them.

Next door, in the arcade at 408 Cinco de Mayo, where you will see a beautiful fountain in the courtyard, our dearest friends the Chavez Santiago family have opened a gallery to show their tapetes (rugs) from Teotitlan.   These are guaranteed to be authentic naturally dyed rugs, and they are incredible.  Don’t miss the experience.