Oaxaca, Mexico

"Oaxaca, Oaxaca, Oaxaca......"

These introductory lyrics delivered by the distinctivly haggard yet uniquely soulful voice of a zocalo (plaza) singer continue to resonate in my mind. He was only one of many performers that would seronade use while eating the comidas tipicas of the puebla.

This was not my first rodeo in Oaxaca; I had previously visited the state for a week with my family at the age of 13. I had hoped I would walk into the zocalo to have memories remerge. I had no such luck. Unfortunately, no expert knowledge could be claimed.

If 2 Garcias travelling together didn´t create enough volatile energy then 3 was certainly sufficient to create an explosion. We picked up Max´s brother, my cousin, Tex at the airport. He would finish the remaining 7 days with us.

The only place that I did vividly remember was the famous Dona Rosa black pottery shop. The Oaxaquans mold sculptures, pottery, and jewelry out of natural clay. Once set to fire, it hardens in a pitch black hue. It had been 10 years since I had walked on that very ground. Even though I am in my early 20´s that kind of experience can make one feel a bit weathered.


We tried some local prodcuts. Tex and I tried Mezcal. It´s basically tequila without the chemicals, straight from the plant. Also, we all ate crickets. I wasnt´t brave enough to try the delicacy on my last visit so I had to on this one. The picture is posted.


After a day of trying new things the spirits of Mexico would take over...

Following our feast in the romantically lit plaza, we would accept an offer from Tex´s new friends to attend a house party in another section of town. The tequila poured and the bachata, salsa, and banda music were no less intoxicating. We were the triggers to the party. Eventually we would make our way back to our luxurious hotel in the zocalo. Drama ensued.

Due to the family friendly rating of this blog I will leave readers to their imaginations. However, here is a list of verbs (some requiring direct objects) that help to tell the tale of the night: Eating chile rellenos, sipping tequila, dancing, shooting tequila, carrying family, shoving family, throwing luggage from 2nd floor balcony (okay, one prepositional phrase). The events of that festive evening will allow me to expound upon an observation of mine.

Mexico is replete with emotion - for better or worse. Love can be more loving, violence more violent, hate more hateful, and compassion more compassionate. A culture that embraces both life and death is bound to provoke emotions in people. On my trips to Mexico I have felt the entire spectrum of emotions - from love to anger. Both beauty and darkness inhabit this country and it can consume the inhabitant and visitor. I have been consumed by and touched the soul of Mexico.

In the morning I said goodbye to Oaxaca, later than planned, yet necessarily. On the bus toward Mexico city, I mentally dispelled the chaos of the previous night and the dumbfoundment of the morning. The only things left resonating in my head were the lyrics of the old man singing ¨Oaxaca, Oaxaca, Oaxaca.....¨