Tourists, Weavers and Cooks By DAISANN McLANE

FRUGAL TRAVELER

FRUGAL TRAVELER; In Oaxaca, Tourists, Weavers and Cooks

By DAISANN McLANE

Published: March 10, 2002

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On the eight-hour bus ride from Veracruz to Oaxaca I met a retired fellow from Arkansas who wore his long white hair in a ponytail and used the e-mail moniker El Viejo Gringo. He was in a mood to chat; I was not. But as we glided up steep mountain ridges covered with giant cactus, I found his colorful stories far more entertaining than the Spanish-dubbed reruns of ''Hawaii Five-O'' on the bus's TV screen.

El Viejo had just spent two months in a Veracruz hotel so cheap that I had thought it was a house of ill repute when I passed it during my stay. He was planning to change buses in Oaxaca, and not linger there an instant longer than necessary. ''Too many gringos,'' he said, waving his hand dismissively. ''Too expensive.''

Oaxaca was, indeed, full of Americans. At times during my six-day stay there in February, I felt as if I'd wandered into an adult version of college spring break or semester abroad. From groups on an Elderhostel learning tour, to retired couples pausing to visit museums, ancient Zapotecan and Mixtec ruins and take a cooking class, to baby boomers immersed in intensive Spanish courses, I ran into folks from home at the turn of every colonial cobblestone street. (Oaxaca, founded in the 1500's, has some of the richest Spanish colonial architecture in the Americas.)

At first this didn't make me happy at all. One travels to a foreign country, in part, to have a vacation from one's own. On my first morning I ambled out of my room at the guest house Las Golondrinas, through a Mexican patio garden dripping with potted geraniums and fragrant citrus trees. The air was crisp, the sky azure; Oaxaca, tucked into a mile-high valley surrounded by dry, rugged mountains, has a year-round springlike high desert climate. But then, slipping into a seat at a small table in the garden breakfast area, I nearly got up and fled back into my room when a boisterous chorus of ''Well, hi there! Where are you from?!'' rose from the American guests nearby.

When I got over being a grouch -- and moved my breakfast from the guest house to Del Jardin, a very Mexican outdoor cafe facing the busy central public square, or zócalo, I soon discovered the bright side of Oaxaca's popularity. Because it receives so many visitors, Oaxaca is well organized for them, and almost embarrassingly easy (and inexpensive) to explore. On my first morning, it took me only about five minutes to find the office of the Cooperative Society of Community Museums, two blocks from Las Golondrinas. Besides helping more than two dozen indigenous villages build and maintain town museums, the society takes small groups of travelers out to the Zapotecan and Mixtec communities for day trips. The travelers, with a local guide, visit weavers, potters and other artisans, take hikes into nearby mountains and fields, visit the museums, and eat lunch at a village house.

While I could have hopped on one of those noisy Oaxaca buses and gone to an outlying village myself, visiting a community with an invitation and a local guide seemed like a far better way to learn about Oaxacan Indian culture -- and, at a cost of about $20, including lunch (all tour profits go directly back to the villages), a great deal, too. At the office I signed up for a visit to Santa Ana del Valle, about nine miles east of Oaxaca city, for later in the week.

Even easier was finding my way into Oaxaca's legendary cuisine. That evening, as I finished the last bites of a scrumptious plate of chilies delicately stuffed with squash blossoms at El Naranjo restaurant, a woman I took to be the chef (she was) came to my table and asked me how I liked my meal.

''Fantastic,'' I gushed. ''I would love to learn how to cook like this.''

Without further ado, I suddenly found myself enrolled in Iliana de la Vega's Oaxacan cooking class for that coming Saturday morning ($44).

Figuring I'd arranged enough organized activity, I set about the serious work of aimlessly strolling around town. Away from the main tourist area -- which includes the Cathedral of Santo Domingo, the expensive Camino Real hotel (housed in a converted 16th-century convent), and a narrow pedestrian street called Alcalá lined with pricey shops -- Oaxaca is a more down to earth, typical Mexican city. On side streets, schoolchildren in uniform romp, market vendors struggle with huge baskets of vegetables or heaps of the woven wool rugs -- tapetes -- that Oaxacan artisans are famous for. Again and again, I returned to the zócalo, always abuzz with activity, from children tossing enormous balloons in the air to the local orchestra playing Verdi.

Even more of a treat was Oaxaca's public food market, just off the main square. It held treasure troves of goodies, some I recognized (like shiny black candied figs), and some I did not (heaps of pungent dried chilies of every size and color, and mounds of dark paste, the bases of Oaxaca's famous moles, or sauces). Smells I understood mingled with unfathomable ones, and I couldn't wait for my cooking class, which I hoped would unravel some of the market's mysteries.

Which it did, and in a way I hadn't expected. For, among my 10 fellow American and Canadian students at the Naranjo cooking class was Phil, who introduced himself to us as ''a chef from a Berkeley restaurant.'' Figuring that ''Berkeley restaurant'' was modest code for Chez Panisse (it was), I struck up a conversation with him as we all chopped tomatoes and tomatillos in Ms. de la Vega's restaurant kitchen, and discovered that he had prepped extensively for his exploration of Oaxacan cuisine, and was carrying a thick file of tips and info from other chefs he knew who'd already made the pilgrimage.

Meanwhile, Ms. de la Vega led us through the many stages of preparation of a Oaxacan chile relleno, from preparing the shredded pork stuffing to the right way to blister and peel the skin of a dark green chile poblano. It may be a while before I attempt such a heavy and intricate dish in my home kitchen, but I will certainly whip up a batch of salsa made from slightly toasted chiles de aguas that Ms. de la Vega demonstrated that morning. And, with the cooking finished came the highlight of the class -- for me, not lunch (although it was delicious) but a guided trip into that formidable market, where Ms. de la Vega explained the fine points of distinguishing a chile ancho from a chile pasilla (the pasilla is smoked, smaller and darker), and guided us to some of the friendlier vendors.

LATER, over tequilas at La Purísima, a pleasant new rooftop restaurant with a view of the Cathedral, Phil shared some of his kitchen files with me. On his recommendation, I visited El Topil, a little restaurant, for lunch, where I had a quesadilla that knocked me out with its classic, simple flavors: a handmade corn tortilla and local string cheese topped with an epazote leaf (which tastes like a cross between mint and coriander). Poking my nose into the open kitchen to compliment the cook, I found that Doña Carmelita Hernández Pacheco had been preparing these quesadillas at El Topil for 16 years.

After only a few days in Oaxaca, I was beginning to feel like a seminar participant, too. It was a feeling that intensified as I met my Museo Comunitario guide, Rosa Sosa Ignacio, early one morning in front of her office. Along with a couple from New Zealand, we boarded a crowded public bus, then transferred to another for the hourlong ride out to Santa Ana del Valle, a Zapotecan village that had once been a suburb of the ancient Zapotecan capital, Monte Albán, whose ruins I had visited the previous afternoon.

Upon entering Santa Ana, with its tidy houses, neat flower-filled square, and simple white church, its altar awash in vases of gladioli, I felt as if I had walked into one of the fantasy villages in a Gabriel García Márquez novel. In the square, Rosa passed us on to José Rodríguez, our village guide, who took us up a dirt road leading from the village. Soon we were in a vast, dry high plain filled with agave plants and scrubby trees and shrubs. The air grew cooler and thinner, as José explained how each of the shrubs and plants figured into the local economy -- some were medicinal, others used to make the vegetable dyes for the weavers' wool (Santa Ana is renowned for the artistry of its tapetes) -- and described the way the village of 2,000 people is run, as a cooperative of volunteer leaders and committees.

Returning to the village, we visited the home of a master weaver named Primo, who demonstrated making a wide wool blanket on a loom that reminded me of a pipe organ -- and that required a similar intricate coordination of hands and feet.

Finally it was time for lunch: homemade sausages, rice, plate-size handmade tortillas, and a sweet, thick soup made from squash, served in the home of the village school principal and his wife. José mentioned that visitors can stay in peaceful Santa Ana, either in the simple guest house or with a family. I asked what it might cost, and our host, the school principal, piped up, ''I charge about 25 pesos a day.'' That's $2.70.

I would have jumped at the chance to enjoy an idyll in this friendly village, if only time allowed. Instead I made a note to send an e-mail message to the one person who I knew would most appreciate a pointer to an inexpensive Mexican place with few, if any, fellow Americans: ''Dear Viejo Gringo . . .''

Bottom line: kitchen to zócalo

I spent $79 a day on food,lodging, and activities during six days and nights in Oaxaca.

Transportation

There are no direct flights from the New York City area to either Veracruz, the first stop on my Mexican trip, or Oaxaca. I bought an open-jaw ticket through www.onetravel.com that routed me from J.F.K. to Veracruz, with a change of plane in Cancún, then returned from Oaxaca, with a change in Mexico City. The round-trip fare was $749.

I traveled the eight hours from Veracruz to Oaxaca in a first class bus for about $23 one way. The bus, a reasonably comfortable air-conditioned model with a Mercedes engine, is operated by a regional company called ADO (pronounced ah-day-oh, for Autobuses de Oriente), whose number in Oaxaca is (52-951) 515-1703; it's probably easiest and best to check the latest schedules and fares in person at the station.

Hotels

I inspected about six Oaxaca guest houses in the $35 price range, and Las Golondrinas, Tinoco y Palacios 411, (52-951) 514-3298, impressed me as the best value. Its 27 rooms are all different, arranged around several small garden courtyards. Mine had a main room with a double bed and wardrobe, an alcove with a desk, and a private bath with shower, sink, toilet but no tub. The room was dark, however, and I was disturbed by noise both from the street and from chatty fellow guests in the courtyard.

On my last night I treated myself to a stay in the somewhat faded but still grand Marqués del Valle hotel, Portal de Clavería, Centro Oaxaca, (52-951) 514-0688, fax (523-951) 516-9961, a period 1940's gem with Deco and Art Nouveau details that boasts a ringside view of the zócalo. My spacious room overlooking the square, with two double beds and private bath, cost $68.55 (reflecting a 15 percent discount for paying cash).

The Posada Catarina, Aldama 325, telephone and fax (52-951) 516-4270, newer and not as beautifully landscaped as Las Golondrinas, has similarly tidy rooms, a friendly management -- and a location somewhat protected from street noise. I was quoted $38 for a single room with bath.

Moving somewhat more upscale, I also like the newish Hotel Calesa Real, García Vigil 306, (52-951) 516-5544 fax: (52-951) 526-7232, which has standard, spacious hotel-style rooms arranged around a pretty courtyard with a little swimming pool. I was quoted a rate of almost $100, but that instantly dropped to $57 as soon as I mentioned the word ''descuento.''

Restaurants

At El Naranjo, Valerio Trujano 203, (52-951) 514-1878, www.elnaranjo.com.mx, whose chef and owner puts a modern spin on traditional cuisine, my chilies stuffed with squash blossoms were elegant and flavorful; with a glass of tequila and an appetizer, dinner was about $17.

El Topil, Plazuela Labastida 104, no telephone, is an informal place with classic, flavorful food. My lunch of garbanzo soup and quesadillas filled with string cheese cost $8.45.

The cool, flower-laden terrace of La Purísima, Allende 208, (52-951) 501-0927, with its stunning view of the cathedral and mountains, is a good place to be at sunset. I had a big appetizer platter that included sausages, pressed beef, cheeses and chilies and two expensive tequilas for $22.

Breakfast of coffee, fruit, and toast at del Jardín, one of several cafes facing the zócalo, cost around $5.

Activities

The cooking class taught by Iliana de la Vega at her restaurant, El Na ranjo, cost $44, including materials, a huge lunch, and a tour of the food market. Reservations are suggested.

Tours of local villages are arranged through the Sociedad Cooperativo de Museos Comunitarios del Estado de Oaxaca, Tinoco y Palacios 311-312; telephone and fax (52-951) 516-5786, www.umco.org. My day in Santa Ana del Valle, with lunch, cost $20. Village stays can be arranged.

Monte Albán is about two miles from downtown Oaxaca. A round-trip taxi cost about $13 (including waiting time); the entry fee is $3.90. DAISANN McLANE

Photos: ABOVE, LEFT AND RIGHT: A street scene in Oaxaca and view of the cathedral and mountains from La Purísima restaurant.; LEFT: Ruins of Monte Albán, an ancient capital. A weaver in Santa Ana del Valle, known for its rugs. (pg. 6); Carmelita Hernández Pacheco, cook at El Topil. (Daisann McLane)(pg. 16)

VALLEY OF ANCIENT GODS By Olivieur Bernier

VALLEY OF ANCIENT GODS

By Olivieur Bernier; OLIVIER BERNIER is the author of ''Secrets of Marie Antoinette'' (Doubleday) and other books.

Published: November 10, 1985

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When Hernando Cortes, the great conquistador, reached Oaxaca in southern Mexico in 1521, he saw a lush tropical valley, bright with jacarandas and bougainvillea, narrowly enclosed by majestic, ocher-colored mountains; and it all looked so pleasing to him that the Emperor Charles V, who knew how to take a hint, made him Marques del Valle de Oaxaca in 1528.

The great Zapotec and Mixtec temples, built over many centuries, are almost all gone now and a new city has grown over the ruins of the original fort. And while the usual modern inconveniences have encroached over the valley, it has retained most of its charm, and a visit to Oaxaca also offers many rewards to the lover of pre-Columbian art.

The particular charm of Oaxaca (pronounced wah-HAH-kah) comes from its juxtaposition of cultures. Although the Zapotec Indians shaped many of the sites between 500 B.C. and the 12th century, the Mixtecs, when they took control, were content to use, continue and sometimes even develop the earlier forms. When, in turn, the conquistadors moved in, they brought with them a specifically Spanish style, which the Indians melded with everything that had gone before.

Like other Mexican towns built by the Spaniards, modern Oaxaca is dominated by its zocalo, unquestionably one of the most alluring central squares in the country. There, arcades and flowering trees form the perfect background for the white Victorian lacework bandstand; and when, at nightfall, a band plays away in the midst of an admiring crowd, we understand just why Mexico keeps bringing us back again and again.

Right next to the square, a small plaza opens in front of an 18th-century cathedral with a graceful Baroque facade. Its neo-classical interior, however, is a disappointment: grand, but cold and stiff, with awkward proportions; the nave is too high for its length, and is whitewashed where ornaments would help to break the rigidity of the architectural lines.

A few blocks away, however, the fortress-like Church and Monastery of Santo Domingo offers one of the best examples of colonial architecture in Mexico. It, too, opens onto a plaza bordered with shops, full of the sort of weaving - shirts, dresses, shawls, blankets - for which the city is justly famous.

Begun in 1551, Santo Domingo was not completed until 1666. The time was well spent, however: simple and majestic outside, ornate and sumptuous inside, the church reflects the blend of old and new religions, the need seen everywhere in Mexico for majestic monuments, and - above all - the Mexicans' unchanging desire for glittering ornament.

The great golden space inside, under a vast barrel vault, must have looked much like paradise to 17th-century worshipers. The elaborately decorated white and gold interior, however, blends grandeur with immediacy and sophistication with naivete. Polychrome stucco saints enliven and interrupt the baroque ornamental patterns, especially complex in this church. Paintings are set into the vault at regular intervals, and their often darkened canvases provide touches of simplicity that rest the eye.

Just inside the front entrance, multicolored busts representing members of the family of St. Dominic (Domingo de Guzman), patron saint and founder of the Dominican order, bloom on an elaborate genealogical tree. At the other end of the nave, the heavily gilded main altar, reaching all the way up to the vault and adorned with columns on three levels, is an architectural ensemble in itself. Its center moves majestically forward, and everywhere there are niches filled with polychrome wooden saints.

The church manages to escape being merely rich, however. The artisans who built it were local Indians, after all: the grooves on the columns are slightly wavy, the saints slightly awkward, the movement of the sculpture oddly natural rather than stylized. These endearing imperfections humanize what might otherwise have been splendid but cold and crushing.

That is even more true of the enchanting Chapel of the Rosary, built in the late 1720's, a little church in itself. With less gold and far more color, it clearly shows the evolution of Mexican baroque. Indeed, the very naive directness for which Mexican figures have been known in our century first makes its appearance here. There are stucco vases filled with bouquets of flowers, garlands, flying putti, and busts and gold-framed medallions everywhere. Lavishly dressed Evangelists perch on their familiar creatures - indeed, St. John sprawls on his eagle as if it were the most comfortable of sofas. Here the feeling is of exuberant pleasure rather than overwhelming splendor.

Just as the church itself is a blend of Spanish and Indian, so does the Museo Regional de Oaxaca, installed in the former monastery next door, reflect the odd continuity of Mexican culture. Through an exquisitely proportioned arcaded courtyard and up a grand staircase, the visitor finds displays of musical instruments and colorful costumes.

The main attraction, however, is the Mixtec treasure found by the archeologist Alfonso Caso in 1932 when he opened tomb No. 7 in the ruins of neighboring Monte Alban, one of the great finds of this century. The degree of sophistication and splendor achieved by the pre-Columbian Indians is suggested by this find: gold figures, clay figures with huge, complex headdresses, and jewelry made of gold, jade, turquoise and mother-of-pearl.

A few blocks from Santo Domingo, the Museo Rufino Tamayo gives an overview of pre-Columbian art at its best. Installed in an 18th-century house built around a courtyard lush with bougainvillea, roses, dahlias and flowering vines, the collection, gathered by the painter for whom it was named, was given to his native city in 1975.

Here many of the usual rules of museum display have been discarded, and the result is attractive and lively. A great troop of life-size Colima clay dogs clamber up a staircase in one room; miniature clay men and women jostle on a shelf in another; in a third room, a doll-size clay house is inhabited by busy figures. All the niches and vitrines are painted in Tamayo's colors: pink in one room, ocher in another, purple in a third. Quality is high, diversity great, and the arrangement such as to bring the pre-Columbian cultures back to life.

Still closer to that long-vanished world are the archeological sites all around Oaxaca. At some, like Dainzu or Yagul, just off the main road to Mitla, only a few terraces remain, along with the usual ball courts. (The Mesoamericans played a highly dangerous early form of football, in which a very hard rubber ball, thrown with great force, often caused fatal injuries.) The old walls barely rise above a few inches. But the views are striking, and because these sites are not on most tourists' lists, they are often deserted. They are also situated in strikingly beautiful landscapes: the Zapotecs invariably found places from which earth and sky seem to blend in one immense horizon, and man is made to feel small and alone in a limitless space. Here, perhaps more than anywhere, it is possible for those who have some understanding of the pre-Columbian cultures to imagine what they were like.

Of the two major sites, Monte Alban and Mitla, Monte Alban is closer and provides a better picture of how a great religious site was laid out. From Oaxaca, a half hour's drive takes the visitor along a narrow but adequately paved road through two villages complete with whitewashed adobe houses, cactus fences and impressive numbers of turkeys; then it climbs the side of a mountain, offering progressively more spectacular views. The site itself lies on a high plateau, seemingly halfway up to the sky.

Despite what the guidebooks often say, Monte Alban was meant not for living but for worshiping. Buildings first thought to have been palaces or houses are now generally agreed to have served purely religious purposes, though priests may well have lived here and rulers were buried with arms and jewelry in underground vaults. Great ceremonies meant to propitiate the (often difficult) gods probably lasted for days.

That so grand an architectural scheme, in so inaccessible a site, should have been devoted only to worship, says a good deal about the pre-Columbian culture. Here, it is not objects that impress us: they have been removed to various museums. It is the magnitude of the builders' vision.

The great ceremonial plaza, surrounded by high rectangular platforms, reduces even the largest of tour groups to insignificance. Each of the platforms is reached by a broad stone staircase, while, at the far end of the plaza, a pyramid rises against the sky. Although little is left of the buildings that once crowned platforms and pyramid, the scale remains as awe-inspiring as it must have been to the religious processions that once made their way from temple to temple.

A climb to the top of the pyramid provides a majestic view: far below, the valley stretches away to the horizon; further, a chain of mountains rears up brown and craggy peaks. Because here the sky seems so close and yet so vast, because the plaza itself is on a scale apparently unfit for mere mortals, it is hard not to feel that this is indeed the dwelling place of ancient but still powerful gods.

Mitla is on the other side of Oaxaca, a drive of about 40 miles. The road passes the famous Arbol de Tule, a huge cypress thought to be 2,000 years old, with a girth of 138 feet and a height of 130 feet. Growing in the churchyard of Santa Maria del Tule, just off the road, it is well worth a stop.

Weaving is a specialty in the village of Mitla, as elsewhere in the region, but there are better bargains farther on. The plaza behind the ruins is lined with stands full of shirts, blouses, belts, dresses and shawls, all in alluring colors and at well-nigh irresistible prices.

While most of the damage at Monte Alban is due to age and weather, Mitla is yet another victim of Christianity. Because missionaries were bent on eradicating everything that did not conform to their brand of religion, the Spaniards tore down some of the best architecture ever built to put up a singu-larly uninteresting church. Luckily, after a while, they apparently ran out of energy; exhausted by their orgy of destruction, they actually left two buildings standing.

The first of these survives only in part, but while we no longer feel much sense of its original form, the remnants are well worth a look because of their decor. Here at Mitla, the Mixtecs developed a form of high-relief stone mosaic, the complexity and beauty of which is unrivaled anywhere in Mesoamerica. Against a ground of flat stones, once painted ocher, elaborate abstract patterns stand out: cross-shaped and interlaced, in stepped meanders and zigzags, repeated and echoed from panel to panel.

There has been much discussion as to their actual meaning. They may in fact be representations of the lightning, the feathered serpent, the sky or the earth; what is certain is that in their wealth of design, the richness of their light and shade and their endless variety, they are among the most effective and beautiful decorations ever designed.

One of the buildings that surrounded the ball court has survived with virtually no damage. Possibly the house of priests, the so-called palace is a long, low building, pierced in the center of its main facade by a wide opening, which is given majesty and rhythm by three massive columns. Each of the side wings -which might otherwise look both long and dull - is decorated with stone mosaic designs in elaborate stone frames.

Because the patterns differ from panel to panel, and the frames create effects of light and shadow, we read these wings as a series of luxurious images. And although most extended buildings tend to have visually weak corners, the architect gave the line from ground to roof a diagonal thrust outward, thus achieving an effect of barely controlled energy that is reinforced by a series of frames echoing those around the mosaic panels. Stone mosaics also adorn the interior rooms and courtyards. All this is sophisticated, unexpected and remarkably effective.

It also pays to visit the local museum. Many objects found in the ruins are displayed in its four rooms, and while quality and interest varies, there are some first-rate small Zapotec pieces whose clay mask-and-feather headdresses are as complex and finely detailed as those displayed in the Oaxaca museum. There also is a simple restaurant, open for lunch only.

After that, return to Oaxaca. As you sit in the zocalo and look at the Indians walking past, you will see the very features you were looking at earlier in gold or clay. This kind of time warp can be singularly moving. Here, all at once, in an inimitable blend, the cultures of Mexico seem to revive in a great, colorful, and unending fresco. If you go Hotels In town, try the Hotel El Presidente, Calle 5 de Mayo 300, telephone 60611. A former monastery, the hotel has rooms distributed around several charming courtyards; as a result, they tend to be dark. Rates about $25 for a double; a little less for a single. As both exchange rates and prices keep changing, prices listed here should be regarded as only a guide. .

Outside of town, on a hill, the Hotel Victoria, Carretera Panamericana (Mexico City telephone number 250-0655), is only a 10-minute drive from the Zocalo. Set pleasantly in a lush tropical garden, it offers beautiful views of the city - but not, alas, quiet. Trucks grinding up the hill are all too audible, especially at night. The hotel has a large, pleasant pool (on a recent visit it could have been cleaner). Rates about $25 double, a little less for a single. The restaurant, while uneven, is often excellent; the chicken mole is recommended. About $10 to $15 for two. Restaurants The best restaurant in Oaxaca, El Asador Vasco (69719), overlooks the Zocalo; ask for a table on the balcony. The fish soup, stuffed peppers, chicken with almonds and all grilled meats are recommended. With the drinkable house wine, about $20 for two. Museums The Museo Regional (62991) is open from 10 A.M. to 6 P.M. Tuesday to Friday and from 10 A.M. to 5 P.M. Saturday and Sunday; closed Monday. The entrance fee is negligible. The Museo Tamayo (64750) is open from 10 A.M. to 2 P.M. and 4 to 7 P.M. every day except Tuesday. Entrance fee negligible. Archeological Sites All the archeological sites are open from 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. every day except Sunday; entrance fee negligible. They can be reached by bus, but it is more pleasant to rent a car; the usual agencies are represented both at the airport and in town. Information The number of the Oaxaca Tourism Office is 63810.O. B.

Photo of sites Oaxaca; Map of Oaxaca

Monte Alban and the rest

Monte Alban and the rest

We keep thinking of Ricardo Montalban whenever we talk about this place, which is one of the largest archeological ruins in Oaxaca state. When we get home, I'll dig up some of the information from Lonely Planet and fill out the post -- for now, some pictures!

cute hat, right? And some cool ruins behind.

ruins

beautiful foliage -- the  light was just so nice on this

carvings -- the originals were in the on-site museum, for protection

this little guy was trying to sell us a "real authentic" thing from the site. sweet little guy,

pretty cool looking joint

this was the center of the site

one of the bigger temple sites

the playing field -- they used rubber balls, not human bodies like at Chichen Itza

the largest stele on the site -- used to mark the astronomical year

When we got back to our hotel, there was a wonderful mariachi band serenading a large birthday party. I have a video too, I'll upload it when we get home and put it here. The music was amazing.

nothing like a good mariachi band!

We ate dinner at a wonderful little restaurant called La Olla. It was sweet, the service was sweet, and the food was magnificent. We'll go back, when we return to Oaxaca.

it was a sunny, beautiful space -- these are candles hanging against the green wall

we started with guacamole -- the way I like it, limey and chunky. those dark bits? We think they're fried grasshopper. It was with all the appetizers.

camarones al diablo -- YES. HOT. DEVIL HOT. Delicious.

Then we went to the zocalo, where we listened to a wonderful marimba band. Even better, though, were the people who came to dance.

the saxophonist was full of heart

the band was GREAT. Seriously.

This couple was very formal with each other, but gorgeous dancers.

these were just so lovely -- light and loving each other while dancing.

the cathedral at night -- stunning!

Tomorrow we fly to the coast, in a little plane that seats 11 people. Over the mountains (kinda low, we hear, so we hope it's nice weather so (a) we can see, and (b) it's not scary!), to the Pacific coast. The place we're going, Mazunte, is a charming little beach town, and the place we're staying looks amazing. More tomorrow!

trip interruption

Interrupting the regular "yay vacation!" moment to say that my first grandchild, due in October, is a girl!

my little grandbaby girl

Katie was afraid for a bit so of course I was afraid too, that something had gone wrong. All day, while we were at Monte Alban (details on that to come) all I could think about was how much I needed to hear the news from Katie's OB appointment this morning. I raced back to the room, tore open the safe and turned on the computer, fingers shaking. There's a wonderful and very loud mariachi band in the courtyard, and I was praying that would be the soundtrack to good news....and it was.

Hallelujah. More on today's adventures later, after I process the news (and the photos). Whew. Nothing else matters but that all is well.

SUNDAY, JUNE 10, 2012

Sunny Sunday

Sundays in Oaxaca are great; everyone comes out to the zocalo, there's always lots of live music (symphonic, marimba, guitar, guitar and pan flute, accordion, harmonica, various combinations), people buy balloons and toys, and they dance. I'd love to live here.

We walked away from the zocalo after breakfast and found a really beautiful, large church with giant tamarind trees shading the sidewalks. It was getting hot and my white legs were starting to burn, so we decided to stop and people-watch for a while. Well! Up came this enormous parade of people in traditional dress, heading for the church. We have no idea what was going on, but it was beautiful to see:

at first we just thought it was a small parade

the women had shiny ribbon woven through their braids, and their dresses were beautiful

so much color!

the all gathered in front of the church for a big photograph

they were so patient, posing and smiling in the sun

here's a close-up of the women, really wonderful-looking

after the photo, they lined up and started dancing. there wasn't actually any music playing!

It was such a great treat, getting to see this, because they weren't doing it for tourists. We don't know exactly what it was for, but it wasn't for a spectacle. We just had wonderful timing.

Then, we went back to the zocalo and had appetizers for lunch, and happened onto more dancing.

a little Aztec dancin

full-on symphony orchestra, every Sunday!

and then a little more skirt twirlin

The internet connection is so slow it's taken way too long to get these photos uploaded so I'm cutting this short. It rained a good bit this afternoon, and unfortunately we decided to walk a ways to a restaurant for dinner, in the rain, and got there only to find it wasn't open on Sunday so we turned around and ate at our hotel. Marc got a three-mole tasting sampler, and the negro mole sauce was amazing -- rich with chocolate and spices and heat and layers of flavor. The other two were good too, but the negro was amazing.

Our goal tomorrow is to head out to the ruins, so that'll be a fun day. And then Tuesday we're flying to the coast. I hope to have a better internet connection so I can get some photos up. It's really wonderful here, sweet people, good food, lovely life filled with music and walking around the zocalo. Lots of live music everywhere, my kind of place. Buenos noches, y'all.