What is a Play Groud?

Many of the businesses in Mexico just paint their store's name on the side of the building. Some of them use beautiful artwork, too, such as this little cartoon guy advertising a video game parlor.

More neighborhood art

Loving all the hating of Chedraui.

Boo, Chedraui

Chedraui is evil!
Ah, Chedraui, that dirty, dirty supermarket chain, is up to some nefarious tactics. They wanted to open a store in our neighborhood, but the lot was filled with gorgeous, historic trees over a century old. So they set workers with chainsaws at the trees at 4am.

Neighbors rushed out of their houses and tried to stop the massacre, to no avail. They called the police, to less avail. And then, these street art signs started popping up around the lot, slamming Chedraui and Oaxaca in general for killing off beautiful natural resources.

For once, this story of Mexican corruption has a happy ending. There will be no Chedraui. The neighbors succeeded in blocking them. But the reason why they succeeded? My neighborhood just happens to be full of lawyers, politicians, and ex-politicans who had the pull to pull the plug.

These days I'm just happy to walk by the lot and peek in and see trees still standing amid fabulous undergrowth. Onto the next battle!

Street art glory

Oaxaca is full of graffiti, some of it really boring. Tons of tags and anarchy symbols. But how lucky are we to have this beautiful painting of a lucha libre wrestler playing guitar/mandolin with a mariachi at his side, just one block from our house? So lucky.

Another Arrazola Sight

The Taller de Sergio Santiago kicks the mighty A! This massive peacock was a shocker. The pre-bargaining price was 3,500 pesos, a little less than $350. I didn't buy it, but it's burned in my brain. Someday I'll be back to Calle Zapata, #2.

A Vivid Day

An incredible restaurant here is La Biznaga, which I believe 99 percent of our houseguests have visited. They do a gourmet take on Oaxaca classics. Their Zapotec triology platter and Aztec Soup are the two things I keep ordering. And the margaritas.

While you eat, you are seated in a courtyard which also holds an art gallery and a couple of shops. Of course, if you are Genevieve and Max, you do not sit. The first one runs around like the anarcho-punk she is and the second one starts snapping photos of what interests him, such as this handsomely glittered skeleton in the doorway.

Max couldn't resist taking a shot of this movie poster, listing all the upcoming children's movies he'll see at El Pochote. Tomorrow is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, so I am excited as well.

Steve got to hold the camera for part of the day, and took a great shot of this three-headed dragon. It's from the workshop of Sergio Santiago, who is related to the great Pepe Santiago, a carver whose workshop I visited 11 years ago. Sergio is on Zapata Street, #2, in Arrazola, if you should find your way out there.

Fruit Cart Fanatic

We were walking around the zocalo when I saw, like a vision, this gorgeous apparition. What do I love most about this fruit cart? I'm undecided. It could be the charming cartoon fruits, with their labels, cuter than any font. Or it could be the vivid blue that made the cart seem almost fashionable. But really it must be the fruit itself, radiating sweetness.

When I asked the vendor if I could photograph her cart, she gave me the weariest of nods. She was not quite annoyed with me, but not pleased with me, either. Perhaps I was one in a long line of gringos wanting to snap the camera at her wares.

It was hard to understand how she could work behind this work of art and not be constantly joyful. Consider, however, the reverse situation. She comes to the United States, sees a giant display of fruit in Safeway, and asks the clerk if she can take a picture. Then she goes home and blogs about it. Ah, I'm pathetic!

The Squid of a Bus Driver

This poster, plastered around town and credited to the local Communist party, protests the recent bus fare increase from 3 pesos to 4.50 pesos, a huge difference for many of the struggling citizens of Oaxaca. The text of the poster, "El Pulpo Camionero Se Roba Mi Dinero" translates to "The (Sucking) Squid of a Bus Driver Robbed Me of My Money".

The Bumpy Road to Morales

One of my new favorite villages is Ocotlan, about 33 kilometers south of Oaxaca City on Highway 175. We went with our delightful guests, Mats!? and Peri. The drive out there was horrendous, with us getting caught in a traffic jam. Perhaps there was a politically-motivated blockade going on, but we never saw it. We dodged around until we were all sick from curves and topes and fumes, but finally we made it to the country highway to Ocotlan. As Mexicans say, "vale la pena", or "it's worth the suffering".

Here you can find the Rodolfo Morales museum, housed in an old convent or prison, depending upon the era. Morales is a visionary and wild painter. The upper level of the building is filled with columns on which his surreal paintings are wrapped. He has clouds that turn into women, bright colored balloons with faces, people that disappear into the landscape, all done in roses, blues, purples, and browns.

The Ocotlan market, on the zocalo, is brightly lit, unlike a lot of Oaxaca city's markets. We found the comedor section, with many options for eating. Call us suckers for a gimmick, but we had to head straight for "The Cocina de Frida" or Frida's Kitchen. The proprietress looked just like Frida, and dressed the part. This is definitely the basis for a return trip.

Fresa Monsters in Ties

Oaxaca is always lovely, and lately it seems to be covered in cartoony stickers and paintings. Every time I go out, I lament to my loved ones, "Why didn't I bring my camera?" This street art looks a little "Simpsons" to me, but the girl (is it a girl?) reminds me of this cool fashion line I recently saw, out of Guadalajara I think, called The Freaky Friends. Lots of skulls, blood, and cuteness to be found there, sort of like the Dark Hello Kitty.

The Town Fascist

Here's some street art of Ulysses Ruiz, the pretty damn corrupt governor of Oaxaca. "El Facisto del Pueblo" has done a lot to keep the poor down. He's been on Amnesty International's hot list, too.

Conzatti Park street art

Ten years ago, we lived on Jacobo Dalevuelta in Oaxaca's Jalatlaco neighborhood. We decided to visit our old haunts last weekend, and found that the government had decided to remodel our old neighborhood park, Parque Conzatti.

Back then, we bought veggies there during the Friday market, dodged couples making out after dark, and cut through it to get to the main thoroughfare.

Now, it's super-manicured, with patterned plantings and all new cobblestone. A little sterile, I thought, so I was happy to see this charming figure on a signboard in the park.

Alien Breathers

We're in the land of the Alebrije, a made-up word that probably most closely translates into alien-breathers. Artists carve figures out of copal wood and then paint them, adding miniscule details with toothpicks and other tools. One of my favorite excursions is taking a colectivo--a collective cab that has a designated route--to Arrazola or San Martin Tilcajete, and visiting alebrije artists at their homes.

Black Pottery Processional

We attended an art opening at the Museum of Oaxacan Painters. This installation was astonishing. I am accustomed to seeing traditional Oaxacan black pottery that originated in a nearby pueblo, but I'd never seen it used to create a large-scale piece. The figures seemed to be people, ghostly persona, muertos, and calaveras interspersed.

Painting with Sand

One of the Day of the Dead traditions in Oaxaca is the creation of sand tapetes, literally "carpets of sand". People use colored sand, shells, flower petals, stones, and glitter to create incredible depictions of saints, skeletons, even dedications and messages. The tapete in this photograph was fascinating. It was huge, just monumental, and it was dedicated to the APPO, the group that led the protests last year. A long dedication ran beneath it, like a banner, and people surrounded the tapete from every corner, studying the inscription. While we watched, the creators layered hundreds of flower petals along the border of their sand painting. By the next day, it was gone.