A World of Difference

Marcelo & Concepción: los panaderos de Tanivet

I am back in Corvallis again, after a near six month stay in magical Oaxaca. It was time well spent. But, Corvallis is such an easy place to return to, especially in the spring when days are longer and sunshine more prevalent. I rediscover all the things I like about living here: good friends, beautiful surroundings, the peace and quiet of a small town, and all the cozy comforts of living "al otro lado".

Mexico is by no means a third world country. Oaxaca especially has a cosmopolitan flavor with tapa bars, organic markets, elegant rooftop bars, and fine jazz clubs. But Oaxaca, like most of Mexico, is a place of striking contrasts: modern vs ancient, rich vs poor, order vs chaos. There is an ever-present intermingling of cultures: indigenous, mestizo, and American that defines Mexico. I was fortunate to have been involved in a photography project in Tanivet, a small pueblo a half an hour outside of Oaxaca. Approximately three hundred people live in the pueblo, with another three hundred family members living in  L.A. It has a ghost town-ish feel to it: a new penitentiary with no one in it, a zoo with exotic animals that hardly anyone visits, schoolyards where children are seldom seen. Fellini would have a field day here! There are i pads and computers where there is no internet connection, large screen television monitors and fancy refrigerators in homes where no one lives, and an allegiance to the LA Lakers that would rival any home in California.

Marcelo with green card

The most memorable part of my work in this project was getting to know Marcelo and Concepcíon, the pueblo bakers. I formed an especially close relationship with Marcelo, who is the same age as I am. He was one of the first men from Tanivet to "cruzar la linea" to work in LA in the early 1970's. He still has his green card from that visit, which he believes would still get him into the States if he wanted to return. But he does not want to return, he is content baking bread to sell in Tanivet and the surrounding pueblos. He lives with the

Making conchas

memories of his youth, when it cost nothing to cross over, no coyotes, no hi-tech border surveillance equipment to intercept your passage. There is a world of difference between then and now, between Marcelo's reality and mine.

Our birthdays are only a few months apart. We passed the same number of years on this planet, but in such different ways. My life reflects the "luck of the draw", a comfortable middle class American life full of opportunities. Marcelo's life was rewarding in a different way, but definitely without the same opportunities or middle class existence that I had. One road is not better than the other, but one is much smoother with far fewer "topes" to obstruct the journey.

 From day one, Marcelo and Concepción invited me into their home and their lives without hesitation. Although they were among the poorest families in the pueblo, their generosity had no limits, what they had, they were more than willing to share. Each visit either started or ended with "taquitos a la Concepción" flavored with mesquite, their sole source of cooking fuel. It was also what fired the brick oven that is in their livingroom.

Mesquite gathered for oven

 The firewood is free, so to speak. It comes from a piece of land a kilometer or so from Marcelo's house. Thanks to money sent from the US, Marcelo has a Ford tractor and a small trailer to haul the wood. To gather the wood, it is necessary to sign a contract with the municipality of Mitla which states that in return for gathering the wood free of charge, they must cut back all the mesquite bushes to the ground and burn what remains. It is an incredible amount of work, and the mesquite is vicious! I had huge thorns go through the soles of my shoes three times in one day. As I whined about how sharp they were, they worked without gloves and smiled. Así somos los gringos!

Field burning a la Mexicana

Remembering LA

 Despite the differences in our lives, Marcelo and I became friends. We spent many hours talking as I photographed. He loved to reminisce about the time he spent "al otro lado", both the good moments and the not so pleasant ones. He has a son there now whom he has not seen for many years. He has married, has children, and has his life in LA. The separation is painful, but is accepted as "the way it has to be". It is much easier to earn a living there than it is in Tanivet. Almost every family has a loved one living and working "al otro lado", and many of the men have been there themselves. They understand the attraction, and can only hope that their children return home someday to live in the empty house that is waiting for them. But that is not a given; it is not easy to leave once you are settled and have established your life in the US. You must accept what you cannot change.

Although the project in Tanivet is finished, I have reasons to return. First, there are Marcelo and Concepción, who, despite the world of difference in our lives, are now my friends.
There is also the unique beauty that the Oaxaca countryside offers.Tanivet is in stark contrast to the colonial beauty of the city of Oaxaca. Even though it often seems desolate and abandoned, it has its own charm, so peaceful and pastoral.

The main street of Tanivet

And there are still many more hours of stories to be listened to and taquitos to share with friends (not to mention freshly baked conchas straight from the oven!)
My visits to Tanivet remind me that there is indeed a world of difference in our lives, but there are far more similarities that brings us together. There is a universal interconnectedness that crosses borders, merges cultures, and allows friendships to blossom in the most unexpected of places. 
Un abrazo de amistad, Marcelo y Concepción. Gracias por todo.

Photo by Mari Seder

I was very fortunate to have had two excellent photographers photographing Marcelo and Concepción along with me. They also have become good friends and have taught me a lot. Gracias Mari y Raquel.

Mari Seder in action

Raquel Rocha, building "confianza"

The Beckoning of Brass

One of the things I like most about Mexicans is their love for celebrating life. Fiestas, fireworks, and "la banda municipal" are engrained in the very fabric of the society. It is rare that a day passes without the blaring bellows of brass beckoning you to come join in the celebration.

It is amazing how the bommp, bommmp, bomp of a tuba catches your attention. If the tuba doesn't get you, then the cohetes will. Cohetes are a type of fireworks that have no cascade of brilliant colors, but rather a deafening and near heart stopping explosion that explains why you don't see a lot of crystal ware in restaurants here. The brass band and the cohetes are an aural guide and open invitation to a community gathering that is meant to be shared.

Souvenir stand

Most of the time, the fiesta goes hand in hand with a religious holiday. But the ritual and reverence is accompanied by a convivencia, a social event that brings people together as family and friends. And it always includes children; they are at the center of most everything. It does not take a lot of money to enjoy community. There are things that people will, however, spend their hard earned money on, like a picture of their child with "La Virgen de Guadalupe", or a ice cold "nieve" from the local ice cream vendor. 

Another hallmark of a true community celebration is monos de calenda, giant paper maché structures with a frame made of carrizo, a bamboo like material. The woman monos are always very well endowed and the men mustached and handsome. I was very fortunate to have met José, a local folk artist who makes monos. He was very involved in la Fiesta de Nuestro Señor de Esquipullas at la Iglesia de Carmen Alto, the church 50 meters from my apartment. He makes the monos and teaches the neighborhood kids to dance in them. The neighborhood kids are more than happy to climb inside the monos and whirl around the plaza with reckless abandon. José is a true example of a folk artist. He does his art out of a love for his community and the rich traditions of his homeland.

José bailando con una vecina

The celebration of Nuestro Señor de Esquipullas was an all day event, not just once, but two consecutive Sundays. The banda municipal and monos were going full throttle from ten in the morning until ten at night. But there were breaks to allow for a rest in the shade in between dances. There was time for vendors to walk through the crowd trying to earn the few pesos a day that allows them to survive, selling chewing gum and cigarettes to members of the gathering. It wouldn't be a fiesta without them.

Every good Mexican fiesta ends with an unforgettable display of fireworks. It can't be any other other way. Hours are spent in the preparation for the culminating event of the evening. Castillos (castles) are built with pyrotechnic precision, works of art that are meant to be destroyed in minutes to fulfill the hopes and expectations of the crowd. As my friend, Bob remarked, "looks like a Mexican version of "Burning Man".
So the next time someone tells you it is too dangerous to travel to Mexico, that the drug cartels with kidnap and decapitate you, just tell them that a brass band is beckoning you and you have a gang of strong armed monos to protect you.

Castillos awaiting ignition

A Time for Sunshine

A Sunrise for Marie (or from Marie!)

Three short years ago, Joa, Quena, our dearest friends, and I sat helplessly awaiting the unavoidable visit of "La Catrina".http://www.lacatrinaquartet.com/what_is_la_catrina.html For over a week, we had been told by the hospice nurse that this would most likely be Marie's last night, that she had no strength left to make it through the night. Goodbyes were said again and our plan was in place to get Joa and Quena back into our room at the moment of Marie's departure. And each following morning for a week, Marie awoke with a mischievous smile and asked me, "Am I dead yet?" One morning, however, she awake in a rather serious state. She told me in no uncertain terms that

"Am I dead yet?"

today was the day she was leaving. "Now", I asked. "Yes" was her determined reply. So I woke Joa and Quena and we all gathered on the bed to share our final moments together. After a while, Marie told us she needed to be alone to do this, and asked us to leave, which we did. We discreetly checked on her from time to time as she lay on the bed with her eyes closed. Finally after a few hours I saw that her eyes were open and walked into the room. "It's not easy to die!" she complained. So I proposed to get her some mango and pineapple chunks to suck on and she accepted, although somewhat disappointed. It was not her style to give up without having gotten what she had aimed for. This, however, was out of her control. Not even a hard-headed Bretonne could outsmart "La Catrina".

Bon Voyage Marie

But weeks did not turn into months, and on January 9, 2011, Marie was able to let go and Move On. It was a cold, dreary, winter day. There had been many of them leading up to this moment. But it was a relief to all of us, including Marie. The painful days of watching cancer take someone you love so dearly were over for us. And Marie was free of a body that was holding her hostage. Despite the pain involved, it was a moment to celebrate.

The thought of Quena, Joa and me reuniting the following Christmas season in the throes of an Oregon winter was not inviting. We decided that whenever possible we would meet in a warm, sunny place to remember the winter of 2010-11. Marie would be with us no matter were we were, and she always did love love escaping the States at this time of year. So, Voila! A new family tradition was established.

"El Grupo" - Puerto Angel, Oaxaca

December 2011 found the three of us happily reunited in Puerto Angel, Oaxaca. We were staying with Alonso and Aurelia, some old friends that Marie and I had met  twelve years earlier. Quena and their daughter, Magda, had spent a good time together on the beach, and Alonso showed us how to dye wool with la caracol purpura, a snail that lives on the rocks off the coast. It was a great way to spend our first year without Marie. The Pacific was lukewarm and inviting. Joa was able to get some good waves in Zipolite, Mexico's renowned nudist beach, (he wore a suit surfing!), and we entertained ourselves with an ample supply of Negra Modelos and card games of 22, of which I was the clear victor (it's my blog J & Q!).

22 on the beach

The last two years we have all been in sunny places, but not together. Joa is working in Mali with Save the Children and cannot get to Mexico during Christmas. Quena has come the last two years and we have spent wonderful times in San Agustanillo, a laid back beach not far from Puerto Angel. We stay in a dream apartment with an unbelievable terrace that overlooks the sea. Marie would have sketched for hours there.

La Mora Posada - San Agustanillo, Oaxaca

Joa and Evans celebrating in Bamako

Even though Joa cannot be with us, he has managed to find time to stay happy and celebrate in a way that would have made Marie proud of him. 

Hopefully next winter we will be able to rendez-vous in a place where the sun warms our hearts and let's us remember all the good things that happened to the four of us during the hardest time of our lives. Even in death, there are good times to be had, laughter in the air, mezcal mingled with tears. "La Catrina" would have it no other way!

Happy Anniversary, Marie. Hope you are filling up volumes of sketchbooks and meeting scores of interesting and unique people. You always do. And if we all get together in the sun next winter, besides playing 22, we will even play a few games of "Bull-sheet" in your honor!

Ana, ice cream vendor, Puerto Angel

Empanada vendor - Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca

Pescadores, Puerto Angel

Marie's Sunset, 2013

Donde las Calles Cantan: Where Streets Sing

406 Pino Suarez: Courtyard view from my apartment

On November 19th, I arrived in Oaxaca and went directly to an apartment that my friend, Amalia, had found for me before my arrival. It was a perfect place to start my new sejour in Oaxaca. I have a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen, bathroom, and living room on the second floor. It is very centrally located, a few blocks from Santo Domingo and a ten minute walk to the zocalo, one of my nightly destinations for a delicious "nieve" (sorbet), my current favorite being tamarindo. A few blocks down the street is a recently opened "marisqueria" where thirty pesos gets you five fish tacos and another twenty five an ice cold Bohemia Oscura beer. Not only is the food fresh and

Pescado Rock Marisqueria, Pino Suarez & Murguia

"sabroso", but the decor of the restaurant is "heavy vinyl" with album covers of the Giants of Rock, the Beatles, Stones, Kiss, etc. adorning the walls. It is not necessarily my favorite dining music, but it does make me finish my meal quickly and get on with my day. A few blocks further down Pino Suarez is "el Pochote" organic market, a great place to get a variety of healthy food ranging from fresh fruits and vegetables, to organic coffee, home-made nopal and hibiscus jams, "salsas piquantes", and other imaginative culinary delights. Once I was certain that my  gastronomic needs would be met and I would not go into gourmand withdrawal, I was able to move forward with my projects.

I had already been in contact with el Centro de Esperanza Infantíl, a non-profit that works with street children. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Centro-de-Esperanza-Infantil-A-C/55554141467. I proposed to do a series of bookmaking workshops, and an illustrated journal workshop based on Marie's approach, but a la Deek. That means trusting that giving kids access to good materials and a little direction, they will take off on their own. And they usually do. I also seek out people who have artistic talents that they are willing to share, and have them in as "guest artists", with a small "a", of course! I am just finishing up an origami book project that will be a Christmas gift from the kids to their parents or loved ones. What took me much time and effort to perfect, the kids mastered in a half an hour! So I have given them the task of teaching newcomers to the group the "how to" part. Needless to say, they excel as teachers.

"Then you put the glue here.."

Shortly after my arrival, my friend, Demetrio, invited me to a sketching workshop he was giving for teachers. He had adapted Marie's approach and paid homage to her in the workshop, taking some direct quotes from her book. I was very touched to see Marie's  approach alive and well in Mexico. Marie had invited Demos and his two daughters, Itza and Erendira, to her Oaxaca workshop in 2009. It was a good fit for Demetrio, who despite much talent as a painter, lives the life of an artist with a small "a". The workshop was meant for teachers in rural areas, but I was most impressed by a young boy who had accompanied his mother. He jumped right into the activities and did the drawing to the right.
Beneath his drawing he wrote, "After picking up the book that my mother had just given me as a gift, I was so happy that I felt heat emanating from my hand."

Demos presenting sketching workshop

Oaxaca is a place where streets sing and people dance to the rythmn. There seems to be endless activity in the streets and parks of the Centro Historico. My nightly walk to the zocalo for my tamarindo nieve always includes a show of some kind. Sometimes it the evening sidewalk chess matches in front of la Catedral where passers by stop and contemplate moves along with the players. Other times it is a colorful evening procession, usually honoring one of the many Virgins that are revered here.

Don't move there!

But by far the most impressive celebration thus far has been la Fiesta de Nuestra Virgen de Guadalupe. A few blocks up Pino Suarez at Parque el Llano, is la Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. For three days the park is filled with rides for children, an infinite number of food booths, religious souvenir booths with statues, rosaries and pictures of la Virgen. and my favorite, stalls where parents can have their children photographed with la Virgen. I will let the photographs speak for themselves. 

Niña Bendita

Virgin, Bless my Path

Juan Diego y su burro

Awaiting an apparition?

So my first month in Mexico ends on a clear note. Las calles cantan, la gente bailan, et je me regale! Virgencita, bendice mi camino!

Los Fotógrafos

All Things Fall in Place

Huichol depiction of Life after Death

I hate departures, leaving people you care a lot for and at times wondering why you are leaving. I have done it enough times, however,  to believe that "vale la pena", that sometimes what you are feeling is growing pains, that what will come out of your experience will be worth it all. There is something very strong in Mexico that calls me. I like to think that in a past life I sculpted giant Olmec heads from massive stones in Tabasco, or rode the wind with Emiliano Zapata to save "La Patria". It feels like home .

Free Beer Tomorrow!

I arrived in DF at 5:37 am on Friday, November 15th. My friends, Sergio and Emma, had offered to let me stay in their apartment in San Angel for a few days to explore Mexico City, something that I have never really done. But between the red-eye flight with very little sleep and a chilly late November morning, "Kaboom", I fell prey to an authentic Mexican "catarro" (head cold) that put me out of commission before I began. But I pushed my better judgement aside and decided to explore anyway. It is hard not to succumb to the seductive calls of fresh fruit and jugo stands, Saturday craft markets in the plaza, and sidewalk cafes where a few ice cold Negra Modelos seemed to be the best medicine I could possibly find. 
I met my friend, Angeles, for lunch and, besides the ice cold Negra Modelos, I indulged in a lunch buffet of an "all you can eat" seafood spread that only the Mexicans can prepare. Chile rellenos stuffed with fresh tuna, shrimp sauteed in garlic, squid empanadas,Caramba! I hardly knew I was sick.

Jazz Players near the Zocolo

Sergio arrived from his home in Puebla the next morning to show me around. He took me to visit El Templo Mayor, an incredible museum built on the site of the ancient Aztec city of Tenochtitlan. Most of what was in the museum came from directly under the site, which is a block from the zocolo in the heart of DF! We surfed the pedestrian walkways from La Alameda to the Zocalo, caught in a wave of humanity out for a Saturday walk. There was movement and entertainment everywhere. I had hoped that the scorching midday sun,  massive quantities of chile de arból hot sauce, and ice cold Negra Modelos that I had consumed would knock my "catarro" right out of me, but no such luck. I went back to Puebla to Sergio and Emma's house with a very red nose and pockets bulging with saturated Kleenex.

Glass blower making Christmas ornaments

 The next day I boarded an ADO bus bound for Oaxaca. The bus had comfortable reclining seats with lots of leg room, drop down television screens that were showing episodes of Starsky and Hutch, and two bathrooms, one for men and one for women, a very desirable thing to have. If you have ever tried to pee in a moving bus on curvy, bumpy roads, you will know what I mean.

 I close this entry from my new apartment on Calle Pino Suarez in el Centro Historico de Oaxaca. The sky is cloudless, and the silence of Sunday morning fills the air. Time for a walk to the Zocolo for a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice or a fruit salad of papaya, piña, grapefruit, and mandarina to start the day. 

Perhaps I am just lucky, or perhaps it is my ancient ancestors here that are glad that I am back, but whenever I arrive in Mexico, I am amazed at how effortlessly all things fall in place.