How Tejate captured me

It's gray. Or brown. Or something in between, liquid, with random bits of fluff floating in it, looking like it drained off of something. It's Tejate and, when I first saw it, I couldn't fathom how anyone would be brave enough to try it. It seemed to be what someone might discard on their way to concocting something better. The women mixing it stand over a giant bowl, mushing it around, dipping a painted gourd into its briny depths, excavating sludge to dish over more sludge.

But then Mats!? and Peri and Carrie visited, and had the intent to try Oaxaca's indigenous beverage. I didn't know its story, how it is unique to the region, due to one of the ingredients being the seeds of mamey (not to mention the skins), a local fruit. Other necessary ingredients are toasted corn, cacao, cinnamon, all ground with a metate. I didn't know that it was the drink of Zapotec kings, considered fortifying, medicinal, and even an aphrodisiac.

Peri was the one who dove in, at Abastos market, and got a gourd filled with the stuff. We all sampled it and I realized it didn't taste like old dishwater. I sort of liked it.

At another market a week later, I tried it again. There was a nutty, chocolate taste, but it was the sweet, creamy mamey fluff at the top that was enchanting. That was it. It crept into my bloodstream or overtook my mind, and I started to plan for it, memorizing market days and stalls where my favorite Tejate was brewed.

Tomorrow. Pochote. The woman at the top of the stairs. "Tejate en jircara" for 10 pesos. I'll be there, with a gourd in my hand, searching for that last foamy sip.

Yeni in a Calenda

I have mentioned before that I am wild for Oaxaca's calendas. These are crowded processionals/parties in the streets that might include cellophane lanterns held aloft on sticks and illuminated with candles, people in traditional ceremonial dress, monumental altars of flowers, people tossing candy from painted gourd bowls, a brass band, firecrackers, a bull fight with a pretend bull, and dancing. Somewhere I read that calendas historically were used to entice people to attend Catholic mass, with the processional leading to the church. My baby girl Genevieve was invited to be in the city-wide preschooler Calenda, thankfully not for religious purposes, but to announce the children's dance festival. A dear friend lent me the appropriate garb for Jenny. It was a beautifully embroidered blouse and bright orange skirt.

This was one jam-packed Calenda. In the picture below, you can see a lantern with colored cellophane. Max got to hold the gourd and passed the time tossing candy to onlookers. He took his job very seriously.

Calendas often have giant papier-mache puppets. The inside is hollow and people place it over their heads and shoulders and carry the whole thing for the event. I believe these are the same figures that Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo collected that are on display at the Museo Frida Kahlo in Mexico City. They call them Judas figures, and fill them with firecrackers, setting them off around Semana Santa.

It was a beautiful event and such an honor to be included in one of Oaxaca's most vivid folk traditions.

Holy Jesus, Batman

Some wild scenes go down around here at Semana Santa. First of all, "Holy Week" meant that the kids got 18 days off of school. But the party didn't stop there. On the Friday before Easter (help me here, God-believers, perhaps it's called Good Friday?), everyone in town turns out for a silent processional. There is the usual festive stuff--balloons, food, children running around--but the mood is ominous. I guess everyone is feeling sorry for the guy that's gonna go up on these crosses:

The men carrying the "parade floats" (for lack of a better word) of Jesus and various saints were dressed in little hoods with peaked caps. I couldn't stop thinking of the KKK.

And here's the man of the hour, looking just bloody and damaged the way he is often depicted in Mexico. Man, is it a relief just to watch these scenes and have no emotional connection, because this kind of stuff could make a person feel guilty!

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".