So starts another adventure. We chose Oaxaca because Sandra had been here many years ago and loved it. Lots of art and art support, large indigenous population, strong women’s culture, lots to see.
Our trip here was pretty uneventful. We spent a chunk of time in the San Francisco international terminal in between flights. I’d never been there before, and they did a really nice job with it, very spacious, with long views. Had a Japanese aesthetic to the design in some ways, and we both could have used more color in the environment, but perhaps we were anticipating Oaxaca. Food choices were slim, but I did get into a conversation with the owner of a Japanese takeout whose parents had owned and run a place in Millbrae which I had gone to when I was working for San Mateo county. We spent a little time trying to figure out how they got the pink swirl inside the naruto rolls.
The Oaxaca airport is small, and the ride into town was noisy and dusty. There was young man in front of us dressed in Gangsta, with the hat turned around, close haircut, tattoos, iPod playing rap, and sullen expression. But he reminded me of some of my kids, just a little older.
Our place, Casa de las Bugambilias, which Sandra researched, is lovely, with a very nice family running it. They are trying to support the arts and local growers, have an environmental awareness that we can relate to, and are friendly. I don’t know how much more or less we’d pay for a regular hotel, but I’d gladly give extra money to a place and family like this any day.
After a shower, we postponed a much-needed nap and had lunch right next door, at the restaurant owned by the same family. Sandra had a quesadilla with one kind of Oaxacan cheese and chicken flautas mixed in with some kind of bean tart. I had a quesilla, with cheese and peppers over cactus. All very yummy and off the usual path.
We were going to go look over the town, but decided to rest up and slept for 4 hours. I continued reading the Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, which I’m enjoying. I read this whole trilogy while traveling. Around 10 o’clock, we decided to go out and have dinner.
Paloma and Cass had given us the Oaxacan section of the Lonely Planet Guide to Mexico, and we found a little place recommended nearby. It was Doña Martha’s Tlayuda senaduria, like a converted garage). Outside on the street, they back the tlayudas directly on charcoal. People sit on benches or stand around watching, eating and talking. Cars and your typical big truck double park and wait for take out or just hang out.
We decided to go in and sit down and people watched, occasionally watching the boxing match on screen. The tlayuda is a local crepe-type food made from a large tortilla. The women coat the tortilla with sauce, then add bean paste and sprinkle cheese over that. The whole thing is folded over and then put directly on the charcoal, where it is cooked, turned every so often. You can add different kinds of meat (I added chorizo, and Sandra had some kind of thinly sliced beef), which are also cooked directly on the charcoal. So, there’s a flavor and an aroma that’s related to but different from your usual barbecue or grill food.
As in other countries in the Balkans we visited, everyone in the family sits together; there is no kid’s table here. The children are part of the conversation, regardless of their age, and it was nice to see everyone enjoying themselves. One of the grandmothers could have passed for Mongolian, in my view, and I expect to see a wide variety of faces based on the large native population here.
We took a walk after this larger-than-expected meal. Apparently, cars have the right of way here, so you have to watch yourself. The streets also slope abruptly down at the edges, and in the dark, walking here for the first time, I had a few near calls of tripping. The buildings look old, and most are 2 stories, with a few adding one more floor. I really prefer this to the large buildings of most modern cities. There is still hustle and bustle here, but it’s on a scale that feels manageable.
We missed some kind of outdoor performance in the zocalo, the city plaza, but there were street performers trying to drum up business with the remaining crowd; street performers are pretty much the same everywhere.
By this time it was after midnight, and there were a lot of young people out, going in and out of clubs. Music sounded familiar, and except for the surroundings, you’d be hard put to locate yourself.
This morning we had our first communal breakfast around a large table in the dining room. Everything homemade, including the jam. An elegant omelet filled with the dry, dense quesilla cheese, and topped with verde salsa and a flower. We spoke a little withthe other people there, but it wasn’t till afterward, on our way back to our room, that I noticed that one of the men was writing a thank-you note to the owners before leaving in a lovely calligraphic style. I immediately signaled Sandra, and we got into a conversation with him and his wife. He teaches calligraphy and typography at a university in Mexico City, and his wife is a psychologist who does development and training for human resource departments. We had a lot to talk about, and it’s a shame they are driving back to Mexico City today. Maybe we’ll host them in Seattle at some point. These are the kinds of encounters that we were hoping to make when we chose this place. So far everyone, even the customs officials, is very friendly.
