To my pleasant surprise, both myself and my luggage arrived in Oaxaca without too much of an issue. Being quite the jet-setter, I've come to expect delays, canceled flights and lost luggage. Most of the time I prepare for it by stuffing an extra pair of underwear in my purse but I've discovered I'd rather buy a pair wherever I end up than have my extra pair show up in the x-ray machine for some reason. Not that they don't see my unmentionables these days anyway.I arrived very late at night and simply crawled into bed in my hostel and went to sleep. The next day was the 23rd, the day of the infamous Noche de Rabanos. That didn't start until about 5pm so I set about exploring the city. In my mind I had envisioned Oaxaca as a quaint colonial town with a strong indigenous flair to it. I actually wasn't too far off. The historical district of Oaxaca matches my vision, but outside of that, Oaxaca is a bustling city with its own airport, mall and baseball stadium.
All the streets and buildings were decorated for Christmas and looked absolutely beautiful. In the zocalo (the town square) everyone was getting ready for the Noche de Rabanos (Night of the Radishes). It's a pretty large competition that's been going on for 113 years and the prize for the winner is somewhere around $1,000 to $2,000 US dollars. I don't exactly remember the history of it, but people grow these supremely large radishes and carve them and arrange them to make scenes, much like a very elaborate pumpkin carving contest. I ran across a few people demonstrating their rabano ability that weren't entered into the competition.
I went and saw the church of Santo Domingo which is the most prominent and important church there. Of course most cities in Mexico have many churches and this town had at least 5 just in the historic district alone.
I explored the town by foot, buying scarves, jewelry and pottery from the local artisans that had their wares laid out along the street. I wandered into a dizzying indoor market crammed with stalls and people past woven blouses, mezcal, carnes and hats.
I met quite a few friends at the hostel and made a plan to meet my English friend Sarah at Santo Domingo so we could go to La Noche de Rabanos together. Competitors had their tables set up along the zocalo and there was a huge line to get into the corral to walk past these spectacular displays.
As we went along the displays, one of the competitors handed me a radish friend, which I was told later is very rare. I'm sure they were encouraged by what must have been the most awed look in the crowd for I was completely enamored with this whole radish thing. My radish friend sat on a shelf in my hostel room until it began to change color and soften, but it kept me company for a few days.
After the displays of radishes come the displays of dolls and scenes made from corn husks and flores inmortales (dried flowers) which are also quite elaborate. I'm not sure if these are part of the competition or just part of the tradition.
After viewing all the displays, we left the crowded zocalo and went to Santo Domingo to try tlayudas. Tlayudas as like pizzas...but not. It's a huge tortilla with beans spread on it for sauce, lettuce, tomatoes, avocados and cheese inside, folded over and baked. Absolutely delicious. Then we went Mezcal tasting, which is another thing Oaxaca is famous for. I guess I'm not a mezcal person. We had some high end mezcals and I could barely choke them down.
The next day I went to a neighboring town called Ocotlan for their market day. I went with a girl named Deborah who is from San Diego. The market was a maze of tarped stalls with clothes hanging all the way up the sides, tables of fruits and vegetables, different assortments of meats draped in display and a variety of pottery. We got pulled into the current of people that were swimming through the crowded market amoung vendors shouting "Que te gusta? Que llevaras?". My nose was distracted by the ever changing smells of seasoned meat, fish and spiced chocolate. We bargained with shop keepers over pottery and flowers. Live chickens and turkeys sat along the walkway with their legs bound so that they couldn't escape, waiting to be picked up for someone's Christmas dinner. Around corners and at heavy intersections, women in woven huipiles and skirts sold chapulines, or chili and lime fried grasshoppers for shoppers needing a quick snack. We stopped into a little stand to get some hot chocolate and spotted Frida Kahlo and had to get pictures with her. Talking to another shop keeper, apparently the woman looked a lot like Frida and didn't even know who Frida was. After some one explained it to her, she decided to milk it a bit. She gets a lot of attention. She did her eyebrows and make up to look even more like her. It's really quite striking.
After the market, Deborah and I went in search of the house of a famous Mexican artist, following very archaic directions from our English friend Sarah. Along the way I spotted a small wooden sign outside of a house that had a picture of a sword and the words "Cuchillera Artistica de Angel Aguilar". I recognized Aguilar of the name of the ceramics place we were supposed to be looking for after the artist's house, but this didn't appear to be a ceramic shop. We both stared at the sign for some time, then peered into the front gate. A voice inside called out "Pasale, pasale" (Come in, come in). I'll have you know I'm not this brave when traveling through a country alone. Deborah and I went inside and an old man led us to the back of a courtyard where some beautiful knives and swords were laid out on red felt. A sword maker stood up from whatever he was doing and said that these were his knives and swords and would we like to get the grand tour? Deborah and I agreed to take the time.
In a rush of Spanish, the man explained that he uses recycled metal from car parts to make the blade of swords, showing us examples along the way. He went on to describe the many things he could use to make the handle such as wood, deer antlers, bull horns, some other sort of antlers I didn't understand and bone. If you like, he can wrap the handle with snake skin or the pelt of an animal. He can even use a deer hoof including the fur. He also uses the bones of tourists for handles. I chuckled a little at this and he went on the explain something about it, motioning to his chest quite a bit. I didn't understand it, but Deborah replied in English "I don't know if I like that" with a bit of humor. I was ready to bolt at any time should this turn into a scene from a scary movie, but the sword maker went on to explain that some people have different beliefs and when their loved ones die, they want a part of them to keep in remembrance. Much like keeping ashes in an urn, some people take the bone of a loved one (how they get it, I didn't ask) and use it for the handle of the knife or sword. He even had one client lose his finger in an accident and was able to keep the bone (sound familiar?). The bone was used to make two little daggers and the owner of the bone was very happy that his finger was still useful. Nice.
The sword maker continued his explanation of how he makes swords and knives and walked us through every single detail. Afterwards, he offered us some flavored mezcals that he made himself. The thought occurred to me that this is the part where the stupid tourist gets poisoned and wakes up chained to a chair in preparation for torture and certain death. But when in Rome... The flavored mezcal was actually quite good and he said that us stopping by had inspired him to continue to work. Deborah bought a letter opener and we left, continuing our search for the artist's house.
Our search took us back toward the market where a band and procession were passing by. Already stirred with curiosity, I gave Deborah a sly smile and said "I think we should join them". People were marching behind the band with big baskets of flowers toward a church. Deborah agreed and we jumped right in and followed them to the entrance of the church. At the entrance to the courtyard of the church, the procession got down on their knees and continued crawling to a mannequin of the baby Jesus. Not having very many options, Deborah and I got down and crawled with them until we saw an out. We jumped up and out of the procession and took pictures while the people offered up their flowers and gifts and kissed the baby Jesus. In between kisses, a man holding the doll would wipe off his face with a baby wipe in order to stop the spread of germs. A modern contribution to this very long tradition I'm sure.
We continued our search until we found the house and went inside and got the tour along with a brief explanation of his life. Then we went and looked at the ceramic shops and had tlayudas and coffee. We ended the day and headed back to Oaxaca on the bus.
Back in Oaxaca it was Christmas Eve and festivities were in full swing. In Mexico, the tradition is to have parades and festivities on Christmas Eve, as well the the procession of carrying flowers to the church to honor Mary and Jesus. Mass is at midnight and then everyone goes home to eat and open presents. This lasts until about 3 or 4 am when everyone finally goes off to sleep. Well we all know I'm not a late nighter, so I just watched the parade with Deborah and then we parted so that she could go spend Christmas with her new host family that she would be meeting that night.
After the parade, the walk back to the hostel was a refreshing solitude compared to the frenzy of the market earlier and parade and fireworks. I enjoyed walking the cobblestone streets in the dark and watched others go about their night. I stopped at a book fair and bought a bought of poems by Pablo Neruda.
Surprisingly on Christmas day, Monte Alban, the Zapotec ruins above the city of Oaxaca, were open, so I went there with another new friend, Rachel. Rachel is from New York. We toured the ruins and sat and talked with some of the vendors for awhile, learning about their lives. I was starving and Rachel was feeling antsy so we parted ways. I got lunch at the museum cafe and Rachel went back to Oaxaca to explore some more. At the cafe I had tamales that were wrapped in banana plant leaves instead of corn husks and it had a deep chocolate mole inside. Oaxaca is also famous for its moles, which they make about a dozen.
After eating I went and shopped at all the vendors lining the parking lot the led to the ruins before getting back on the bus to Oaxaca. The last couple days were filled with shopping at various markets, trying new places to eat and stopping at far too many bookstores. I got a few novels in Spanish, one in English and a new travel journal because mine was filled up. I was surprised to see how much Spanish I could understand and only found myself struggling a little to express myself. My trip was far too short and I'm excited for the next one.
