Mexico - 2003, Oaxaca

This is supposed to be a rest day. Time to finish up sightseeing, shopping, eating, drinking and packing. I scribble a few lines on postcard for the folks and head for the correo (post office.) I cannot find the stamps I bought at the gift shop at Monte Alban so I try to decipher the signs to buy stamps. The clerk does not speak English, but is very helpful interpreting my lame Spanish. (Certainly more helpful than any of the English-speaking employees in my local post office!) I get my stamp and mail my card. And off to the museum.

Looking forward to seeing this museum after being at Monte Alban. Puts the pieces in perspective. I am early and they aren’t ready for customers, but it doesn’t take them long to get it together. The museum is lovely. A ming courtyard with several rooms off to one side. Each room has different colored lights in the display cases—the rose room, the green room, etc. It is all very nicely done.

Sara suddenly appears in the first room behind me, and we view each of the displays with delight. The craftsmanship and artistry are remarkable. Favorites are the fat little puppies raised for food, the little pelota grouping which sort of explains how the game was played.

We spend a couple of hours here—just the right amount of stuff to see. They have very nice postcards. I pick up a few.

The Museo Courtyard - Lovely and Serene

Ready for some brunch. We think La Casita sounds good in the Moon guide, so we walk there, but it has been transformed into “Como Agua para Chocolate.” There are quotations from Laura Esquival’s book all over the walls. Sara and I are the only ones in the room. We have a lovely table on the second floor overlooking the beautiful Plaza Alameda de Leon. I have a sin carne mole enchilada. Delicious. And, of course, hot chocolate. This time con leche.

Sara Gazes at the Plaza Alameda de Leon from Como Agua para Chocolate

Fortified with mole, I am ready to tackle the Mercado. I don’t expect to buy anything here, but you have to look. We walk up and down the aisles where the fruits are next to the hats and the vegetables are next to that, and on and on.

The smells are enticing and everything looks good and/or astonishing. I find a couple of items to my liking, but my visual over-stimulation breaker pops and I’m ready to leave.

It’s warm in the sun as we walk back to the hotel, but the humidity is so low, it’s quite pleasant. I love this climate.

Back at the hotel, I rearrange my suitcases. Good thing I brought an extra expandable bag. Time for a little rest. All the shops are siesta-ing now, too. I have a mission to get a few specific items that I had spotted that first day. Soon I’m out on the streets again to shop.

I find everything that is on my list. When I finally run out of steam—resting has become very important today—I am pooped.

Time to have my last espresso at a sidewalk café. And, of course, as soon as I am ready to leave, Mitch walks by. Oaxaca is a small town. We swap stories and I leave him to search for a new camera battery. The Moon book tells me exactly where to go. And then back to the hotel to clean up and get ready for our final dinner in Oaxaca.

A Scribe For Hire in the Mercado With His Ancient Typewriter

Still Popular, Even Though There's an Internet Cafe Next Door

The Courtyard of La Mano Magica (Magic Hands) Where Many Souvenirs Were Purchased
	Tin Ornaments - I Wish I Had Bought Many More

Nearly 50 years ago, a handful of artists in two valley villages, Arrazola and San Martín Tilcajete, started carving and painting animals of copal wood. The copal tree wood has a lovely sweet odor; its resin has been burned in incense braziers since ancient times (and still is). The sculptures are also called “alebrijes”, a misnomer that has stuck. Manuel Jiménez from Arrazola, now world famous, rich and 80 years old, is usually given credit for being the originator. Whoever started first, what began with a few families has turned into a booming business almost taking over the economy of these and other towns, and converting hundreds of families from agricultural workers to folk art producers.

The Oaxaca wood carvings are an international craze (the best-selling Mexican folk art in the U.S.), and the artists are recognized names in the world market. So many foreign buyers are on the phone to the villages (usually the village’s public phone), that shops in Oaxaca have stiff competition filling orders. It looks as though this is not a temporary fad; but the future will probably belong to the crafts people who do the best quality work and have the cash to buy wood. There is no copal wood left in San Martin Tilcajete so they buy it from San Pedro Taviche and other towns, and their suppliers are now making figures of their own. It is not a craft that can be learned overnight, and as more people get into the act, quality fluctuates. The most famous craftsmen, such as Gerardo Ramírez, Epifanio Fuentes and Manuel Jimxnez, work mostly for export, and their prices are hefty.

In a great variety of subjects and sizes, the painted wood figures are carved from copal wood using the natural shape to inspire the sculptural form. If representing snakes or animals with tails, for instance, the tail takes the winding form of the tree branch. Copal wood is easy to carve while green. An uncomplicated piece such as an armadillo 10 inches long, takes about three days to carve. After drying in the sun for another three days it becomes light weight and hard. A sealer is applied to protect it from insects. Men do the carving, and the women paint, everybody working up to 15 hour days. The prosperity of many of the artisans is an amazing turnaround in villages where 15 years ago many were wondering how to make a living.

We have a reservation at Casa de al Abuela on the northwest corner of the Zocalo. There is a great band playing in the plaza – maybe ten or twelve pieces -- as we walk over to the restaurant. Mitch thinks they’re doing Nelson Riddle arrangements.) The selection of tunes is very eclectic. We get a nice table on the second floor overlooking the band and the crowd in the Zocalo. It is extremely festive. I have just about OD’d on mole, so I have a grilled chicken dish and couple of last Margaritas, and a mescal for dessert.

One last stroll around the square and then home for some last minute packing and sleep until the 2:30 am party begins down the hall. After several minutes, I can’t decide whether to go out and tell them to shut the hell up, or share what’s making them so happy. Eventually, they calm down and we get a couple of hours sleep.