A Typical Sunday in Oaxaca

Made another trip to the Tlacalula Sunday Market last week with my next door neighbors Ana, Steve and little Oscar. Bought some carved coconut shell halves made for drinking our wonderful Mexican chocolate and then in my impending senility just walked off and left them on the table…not the first time this has happened. But with my new telescopic lens I did get some nice long shots of some of the colorful women vendors that come down out of the Sierra mountains to sell their turkeys, baskets, vegetable produce etc. They don’t like their pictures taken…not respectful. And they often feel that to have their picture taken means that their spirit is stolen…so have to be surreptitious.

Then we tried to find the little town of San Marcos high on a hill west of Tlacalula. After wending back and forth through Maguay, vegetable fields and pastures on dirt paths (could hardly call them roads) and with a little direction from a shy old campesino in a checkered shirt and white straw hot and with a wooden stick in his hand for herding a few cattle, we finally see before us a large green sign: “Servicios de Salud de Oaxaca. San Marcos Tlapazola, Tlacolula.”

As we slowly enter the tiny town we see an older guy sitting on the steps of a tienda…seemingly asleep with his head draped down his chest…but we think it was the tranquilizing effects of his afternoon mescal. Winding our way up a hill above the town for a few great pictures we come across a group of giggling women and girls standing in their Sunday best in front of a covered plaza. “Get their picture,” I urge Ana but when she pulls out the camera they all run back through the gates laughing…ignoring the exhortations of a group of men and boys on the roof above. Shyly peeking around the corner they tell Ana there is a wedding that day. On the way back through the town we see another plaza full of people. I stop to look. Two cute young girls walk up to the car and ask our names and where we are from. They were also celebrating the wedding…their primo (cousin). A couple of men drinking mescal next to them joined in on the conversation…in English. It is not uncommon to find old men speaking the English they learned during their norteno migrations. The young ones are all up north…the small villages nearly empty. It was a Sunday and all the vendors were in Tlacalula so we will have to return one week-day to buy some unglazed pottery that the women are famous for in this town of San Marcos.

On our way back to Oaxaca City we stopped by Mica and Bardo’s in Huayapam armed with beer and the makings for white russians. Mica cooked up a great cena and I gave her a cd I burned of an Italian singer that is popular in Brazil…Ornella Vanoni. I had used one of her songs, “L’Appuntamento” (also made popular in the US by the soundtrack of Oceans 11) in a video I made of our trip to Hierve el Agua and Mica had asked for more of her music. Later four men friends from Puerto Escondido stopped by…a typical Sunday at Mica and Bardo’s.

Market In Tlacolula

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Yesterday my friend Sharon and I hopped a diesel-spewing bus for the hour ride to Tlacolula, southeast of the city, where vendors from multiple little villages around the Oaxaca Valley come on Sundays to buy and sell. The market is huge and we haven’t managed to cover it all by 4pm when it begins to close.

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Crispy Rendered Pork Fat When Broken Up Into Pieces Is Called Chicharones

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On the way out I buy boiled goat meat in a delicious sauce for my dinner. We stand in the aisle of the bus on the way home. I will return to buy a rug for my bedroom.

Faithful Tuk Tuk Driver

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Nice to have someone faithful to me. I trust Supoat, in his 50’s, with soft face and warm bright eyes. I call him when I need him to drive me somewhere in his Tuk Tuk.

Most of the people living outside of the moat that surrounds the center of town are illegal Shan refugees from the border between Thailand and Burma. Today, he took me to the Chiang Mai Shan temple where very young Shan boy- children are being initiated into monkhood. They are carried in a musical procession through the streets and around the temple on the shoulders of young men. They are dressed in sparkling tribal ceremonial dress and their faces are made up like girls with lipstick and rouge. Nearby drummers are making rhythmic music. I am the only farang in the crowd and draw curious looks.

My masseuse suggested today I eat a northern Thai soup called Kang Cae for my health, a soup with many different vegetables including two different kinds of eggplant and 15 different herbs. Supoat joined me tonight at the “Huenphen,” a lovely upscale restaurant specializing in northern Thai cuisine. Learning spoken and written English in school as a small boy he got the best grades in his class he says proudly. A Chinese couple next to our table says not a word to one another during their dinner…listening to our conversation in English…seeming to be deeply disturbed at seeing us together. I do not have a good feeling about them. They leave in a huff.

Supoat suggests taking me two hours north to his home town, Fang, early tomorrow in his new (used) Peugeot car purchased with money down given him by his niece’s husband who is a mechanic in Texas. We will visit his mother and father in Fang. He will drive me another hour on up to Tha Tan, a tiny village at the Burma border, drop me off and return to Fang to spend the night with his parents and rake the leaves in their yard. As the youngest of his siblings he is responsible for taking care of his mother, he says. He will return to Tha Tan at noon the next day and pick me up to go further on to visit tribal villages before returning to Chiang Mai. I am looking forward to being out of the hot noisy city and getting into the cool mountains.

Trek to Pa-O Villages

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Bob was happy to get out and stretch his legs on a two day trek in the hills above Kalaw. His guide used to be a chemistry teacher and school principal who only made about $8.00 a month teaching school. So now he makes $15 for a two day trek in the hills.

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They visit several villages…the people know and love him and welcome the people he brings to their homes for a meal and overnight stay in exchange for the tips they receive.

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Bob was introduced to a young woman who had been his guide’s chemistry student. She quit studying chemistry in the local high school because she could make 10 times more money raising garlic. If the progress of the country depends on education, it is going to be a very long time before these humble people dig themselves out from under their oppressive military regime. Makes one wonder if this is by design.

Extended families live in a large building, usually on stilts, called a Longhouse. Over dinner in the longhouse that night, Bob, in his way, made one three month old baby giggle which delighted and impressed the family. When Bob offered to buy the baby they all laughed and said no….but the mother then offered to sell him the rambunctious 18 month old sitting next to her!