Oaxaca Journal, Day 2

Thursday, March 30, 2023

The "Other" Side of El Centro
I awoke early to explore Mercado de 20 Noviembre. Struggling mightily, walking with this damned scoliotic crunch, but I persevere by taking lots of breaks.

Arriving this early to the Mercado, many vendors were not yet open in this rabbits' warren of booths filled with everything you might hope to buy: wedding dresses, fresh fruit, food types of every kind, shoes, hats - you name it. I explored just the tip of the ginormous mercado iceberg, it's real easy to get disoriented in there. I made a quick video in the carnicería - they always seems to claim my interest wherever I travel.

I re-emerged from the mercado out on to the busy street, and I gingerly sauntered back up towards the area of which I already know.

A Much Needed Break
I spent an hour in contemplation in the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad. I might have even prayed the full rosary to the best of my ability, ostensibly to cool off and give my poor suffering hip some respite.

Afterward I explored the little museum attached to the basilica, which was replete with retablos, old paintings, reliquaries, priestly robes, and a very interesting handmade plat map of the city done at least 100 years ago. The streets were laid out in pen and ink, but the buildings were made of square and rectangular wood pieces delineating each building in scale, on every downtown block. Muy intersante.

Further Initial Forays
On my way back home (steep!), I stopped at the local mercado, Mercado IV Centenario, the one my landlady Irlanda had recommended, mainly to partake of the Cactus Cafe. I didn't really feel like a cappuccino or straight espresso, so I tried a mocha with two shots. It was really wonderful, made with the Oaxqueño chocolate which this area is famous for. Not sweet, just right for a leche and coffee concoction. This ain't no disco, this ain't no Starbucks.

I'm trying to get back to my dietary normal, ie, holding out until lunch for comida. So far, I had coffee at home, so that was 6am. On dawn patrol I got a 16oz glass of fresh OJ at the mercado. I also picked up six fresh eggs, two aguacates and a ball of oaxqueño cheese. I'd nearly forgotten how orange egg yolks are supposed to be. I'ma gonna make me a California scramble in my apartment, then wait for things to cool off before I go back out this evening.

First stop will be the Photographic Center Manuel Alvaro Bravo, which is named for my favorite Mexican photographer, a native Oaxqueño.
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After eating a light repast of my California scramble and drinking a fine cup of coffee back in my casita, I did as locals do, and whiled away the afternoon near a fan, catching up on some reading. I'm probably the first American to bring a baseball with him to Oaxaca. I sat on it as I read, letting the ball massage the aching muscles in my right glute. It seems to have worked wonders, with a marked improvement over this morning's walk.

Exploring Downtown Oaxaca de Juarez
Tonight's foray into the center of the city began at 4:30 p.m. with a visit to the Centro Fotografico Manuel Alvarez Bravo. There were some beautiful collodion plates of the famous Mexican volcano Popocatépetl in its various stages. They were quite striking, and reminded me of Cezanne and his obsession with Mont Blanc.

The Centro Fotografico has an amazing photographic research library, and there seemed to be an informal lecture going on in a classroom. The handsome little bookstore offers things for sale, including photo books and handmade items, including hand rolled HP5 Ilford 35 mm film. There's also a darkroom for rent, but I didn't get a chance to look at it. I got the director's name, maybe I'll email him and schedule a visit later. As I was leaving, a man came out of the darkroom clutching his freshly developed 120 film, already dried and sheathed in a protective sheet.

Feeling a bit invigorated by the imagery I encountered at the Center, coupled with my newfound healthy stride, I careered over to the huge Catedral Metropolitana de Oaxaca. A baroque architectural masterpiece if there ever was one, its interior replete with carvings galore, both on the walls and on the ceilings. The main altar didn't have an inch that wasn't gilded in gold. Quite a sight, and just dripping with the Spanish colonial history of this old town.

When I re-emerged onto the streets, I headed south back toward the Zocalo. The dying light strafed the streets and illuminated the old adobe city walls and the people that were making their way through on foot. Many of the streets are closed to vehicle traffic, but the ones that weren't really exemplified Oaxaca's well-deserved reputation for aggressive drivers. You really need to have eyes in your feet in this town.

The Zocalo was buzzing with families, young people, lovers, vendors and, finally, some foreign tourists. But we tourists are outnumbered 1000:1. Just the way I like it.

Tables from the cafes and restaurants spilled out onto the edges of the Zocalo as roving musicians serenaded the crowds. In the center of the plaza, there is a huge concrete gazebo with a stage on it, and its circular foundation even had little shops in its basement. Back on stage, a charming trio was performing Oaxqueño folk songs for the crowd who, by and large, were paying full attention from permanent rows of wrought iron benches installed for viewing the gazebo. From what I could catch of the lyrics, the songs were beautiful, wistful songs of love and loneliness.

Songs like that can really get one's appetite going, (I eat to forget ;) so I went looking for some place off of the Zocalo that served local Oaxaqueño food. It didn't take long. I found Chili Guajili, a restaurant that features food from this beautiful land of earthquakes and cacti. Looking to continue my healthy eating choices, I ordered a pechuga (thin fried chicken breast) with guacamole, herbed rice with plantain and a beautiful salad.

I flirted with the idea of taking a taxi home, since it's an uphill grind to my digs on Calle Panoramica del Fortin. Google Maps wanted me to go one way, but I decided to throw caution to the wind, follow my nose and go another. I actually caught the south end of Calle Panoramica, tackling a pretty steep hill that went on for maybe three blocks, reminiscent of Telegraph Hill in San Francisco - but only in its grade. Once I attained the 'Panoramica summit,' it was a nice semi-flat stroll back home, with night views of the city to the south. I'm starting to recognize local dogs, and some of the neighbors are starting to recognize me.

Tomorrow's tentative plan calls for an early morning jaunt to the Automorsa, where I will hopefully find a van heading for Ocotlán de Morelos, a pueblo about one hour to the south of Oaxaca City, with a semi-famous Friday market. I'll attempt to contact Adan, my Oakland airport amigo, once I'm there.

The (immediate) future is unwritten.

I topped off the meal with a pastry, a cylindrical cinnamon roll
peppered with huge raisins and pine nuts inside.

British people in hot weather (cue Mark E Smith

Pechuga Guelaguetza