Oaxaca

This week we are in Oaxaca state—a few days in Oaxaca City in the mountains, followed by a few days in Puerto Escondido on the coast.  Time seems to slip by without our really thinking about it. We decided to forego the twelve-hour bus ride from Mexico City for a 45 minute flight on Interjet, a Mexican national carrier.  We were pleasantly surprised, because the plane was brand new and comfortable as was the terminal. The flight attendants, whose dress and professionalism reminded us of the Pan Am stewardesses of the 50’s & 60’s, were beautiful and efficient.

Oaxaca city is the capital of the state of Oaxaca; located about 250 miles south of MC.  Not nearly as large as Mexico City, but growing and developing, it too has a long history.   Olmecs, Zapotecs, and Mixtecs have called the area home for more than 3000 years.  When the Spanish arrived early in the 16^th century, they found a delightful place to build a city as well.  Driving from the airport into town, you see a lot of modern development and plenty of auto traffic, but once you are in the historic center of town, it is not too hard to imagine what life must have been like hundreds of years ago.

Our hotel, Casa Antigua, is a remodeled and renovated colonial townhouse with the rooms on the first and second floor opening up to a large, now covered, but previously open courtyard.  It was a comfortable and reasonably quiet place to stay, especially after we discovered the delightful rooftop terrace, where each evening we watched the sun set over the western mountains, while enjoying a Paloma (tequila and Squirt—if you can believe it) and snacks.

There’s much to do in the city—although it is very nice just ambling along the old streets and admiring the parks and architecture.  We were particularly taken with Oaxaca’s beautiful central plaza that is lined with outdoor restaurants and full of “boleros” (shoeshine stands).

One day was almost completely devoted to the church and former convent of Santo Domingo.  The church facade is a not too imposing, actually rather drab on the exterior, but takes your breath away when you enter it.   

The entire interior is gilded.  During the Mexican Revolution in the early 20^th century, much of the original gold leaf was removed by occupying forces (not to mention that they used the side chapels as stables for their horses), but in the last 20 or 30 years the church has been renovated and restored. We were lucky enough to stumble upon a tour provided by a very nice Mexican man, who obviously loved the church and his work, and gave one of the clearest and most informative tours we have ever taken. What a joy!

The former convent has been turned into a Oaxacan cultural museum. In more than three hours, broken up by a leisurely lunch break, we were not able to cover it all, but it is full of treasures and extraordinarily informative exhibits.  (Our hat is off to the Mexican museum designers—we have seen so many good ones!) As you walk through the building, many of the halls look out onto a beautiful cactus and other desert plant filled garden or onto vistas of the distant mountains. Again it was a delightful time—and one that we did not have to share with very many others. 

Time and time again we ask ourselves and our hosts, “where are the other tourists?” Often we are told that this is not the tourist season, come back this weekend or better yet in December or January.  We don’t mind; it’s rather nice to not be part of a crowd.  The fear of violence also must be keeping some people away as well, but we have certainly not experienced anything remotely frightening.

Sue's favorite exhibit features small figures (3500 years old); one depicting childbirth (look
closely for the tiny baby just born)

One of the most impressive (to a librarian at least) rooms in the museum is the Rare Books Room--containing books from the 16th & 17th centures as well as Pre-Hispanic Codices

 Our lunch consisted of a traditional Oaxaca tortilla, which is called a tladuya—cooked over an open grill, the taste and texture is nothing like what we North Americans think of as a tortilla. Our waiter at lunch was a young, 21 year old man, Victor Hugo, who had grown up in the states, illegally having been brought there at an early age by his parents.  Problems, including alcoholism, finally led to his deportation. 

Now he is in Oaxaca, staying with his grandmother and trying to relearn or improve his Spanish that is not as good as his English. Working as a waiter, he earns 1800 pesos a month—not quite $130, before tips. That’s the money story we hear from many in the service industry.  Many young men and women we talk with work two jobs and often work six and seven days a week. The social and economic divide is extraordinarily large here in Mexico; there are some very wealthy and prosperous Mexicans—but there are far more working class and poor.

Tuesday night interlude—we are still anxiously following the US elections, although as we mentioned we long since sent in our absentee ballots. Wanting to watch the debate—we first turned on the room TV for the first time, but the promised  CNN channel, didn’t really seem to be there.  Next, the Internet access in the room mysteriously conked out.  We retreated to the central courtyard where we were able to make the connection in time to watch the PBS webcast. About ten minutes into the debate, a young couple (American woman, Mexican man) came running into the courtyard—they had been to seven hotels and bars, but no one was watching the debates.  We were happy to invite them to scoot up close to our little laptop, and watch with us.  Fortunately, we were all pulling for the same team, and it was fun to share the moment.

On our third day in Oaxaca, we signed up for a van tour to the ancient ruins of Monte Alban.  To try to describe the “keystone kops” loading and unloading of packed vans to get there would be difficult.  We must have done it three times while driving all over the city picking people up/dropping people off before actually hitting the road.  It turned out to be only a 15 minute drive from the city—we could have caught a taxi !

Monte Alban is a huge complex, just outside of the Oaxaca city

 We arrived in much confusion and were directed to a short, chubby man with a big hat who was our English guide.  As Larry said, we could have done the tour in our pidgeon Spanish about as well—it was pretty funny.

Our guide talking about Monte Alban & the ceremonial acitivities there.

Monte Alban is impressive:  a rectangular mountain top area (apparently mountain top mining is not a new concept—the peak was leveled to provide rock for the structures), there are remnants of huge edifices with gigantic steps leading up each.  These have been reconstructed, because, as our guide said, “many rocks fall over time and steps disappear.” In the center, where archaeologists deem most of the ceremonies must have taken place, you can clap and the sound carries throughout the entire area--incredible acoustics.

A few huge slabs of rock have been preserved with outlines of original carvings, but to an untrained eye, the formations are difficult to decipher.  One of the most valuable archaeological finds in Mexico, Tomb 7, was found near Monte Alban and you can see some of the treasures unearthed in the cultural museum, Santo Domingo, which we mentioned above. (We have been told that the treasures from this tomb rival those extracted from King Tut!)

That evening, we spent our last sunset watch from the terrace of Casa Antigua, and, early the next morning, we caught a piper cub plane to fly to Puerto Escondido.