Oaxaca Journal, Day 5

Then, I passed someone selling tejate, a chocolate drink native to this area. I was proud of my Spanish when I asked her flawlessly if I could try some first. She made me a small ceramic bowl of it. It's basically a watery chocolatey drink, topped with some sort of curd by-product. REALLY tasty.

According to the sacred Innerwebs: Tejate is made with toasted corn, fermented cacao beans, pixtle (toasted and ground mamey pits), and cacao flowers, which are ground into a paste that's mixed with water and stirred by hand into a smooth mixture. It's a frothy, nutritious beverage that's drunk naturally with ice or some added sugar.

I finished the little cup, and then went back and got a full cup and consumed it with my empanada in the park under a shade tree. After that I decided to wander through the indoor market at this town is famous for. It was pretty much the standard stuff, and once again I was entranced by the carniceria, and basically ignored everything else.

I texted Adan at noon from an upstairs cafe. It's a pretty warm day, 90°. I asked him where his event was, hoping it was in this town. He replied that it was in his hometown of Tejas de Morelos. I didn't let on that I was here because I sense that he's probably pretty busy with whatever they got going on out there today. My plan was to take a bus or taxi out there just to check it out. I knew if I told him that I was in Octlán today either he'd come and get me or feel bad about not being able to so. That's why I decided not to let on.

Now I come to discover that there's no way out - there not even by taxi. This, according to the woman at the cafe in which I'm ensconced, on the second floor in the shade, catching a light breeze overlooking the plaza. I could spend a long time here, I can't think of any reason not to, even though I just ordered a cappuccino. Plus, there's even wi-fi.

After a bit, Adan responds. "I'm sending a driver for you."

While I'm waiting for my ride, this happens:

Palm Sunday Fiestas in Oaxaca City, Ocotlán de Morelos and Tejas de Morelos
Hopefully you're sitting down for this one. So much has happened in the past 36 hours - I'm just trying to recap some of yesterday's activities for Palm Sunday in Oaxaca de Juarez and two pueblos about 30-40 miles south of the city.

Leaving Oaxaca de Juarez
I got an earlier start this morning as I navigated down some back alleys (that are now getting to be familiar) to the basilica Nuestra de Señora Soledad. There were so many people here that the basilica couldn't hold them all, so they had erected a huge tent courtyard surrounding the basilica where the locals were gathered holding palm fronds created by indigenous Zapotec people around the basilica. I pay attention to the Padre for about a half an hour, practicing listening Spanish, many of the words are familiar, and most of it made sense.

I ducked out of Mass early, greedily desiring a double espresso Oaxaca mocha, but my little Cactus Cafe was closed. That's what I get for leaving Mass early. At that point, I decide to repent by starting to head towards Automorsa, a bus station about a twenty minute walk through a bit seedy but safe part of town. In general, I'm finding this city to be safe than many American ones. After arriving at Automorsa, I waited for about twenty more minutes for a bus to Ocotlán de Morelos, about twenty-five miles south of the city. The bus ride was 35 pesos, about $2US. (sorry, Mark Oliver)

Arrival in Ocotlán de Morelos
The ride from the city was pretty uneventful, save for an hombre that serenaded us on 12 string guitar, and singing familiar songs in Spanish in the front of the bus. When I got off in Octlán, I told him he was smart to use a twelve string on the bus, what with it's bigger sound. He asked me if I played, i said yes and that I also had a 12 string. I tipped him 20 pesos, and then thanked him as a fellow musician.

I meander over to the main church and plaza, where hundreds of people are gathered, most holding palm fronds. I wouldn't characterize this event as a solemn one - it's a time for celebration. There's so many children here in Mexico, and they're all excited about today. There's a line to get inside the church, so I just sit back and hang for a bit to check things out. When it seemed like the line had slightly abated, I went ahead and walked into the church, which was packed with people standing on their tip toes to see the action at the back of the church - children, mothers with babies, abuelos, men in straw cowboy hats, everybody pressing up toward the altar.

It's hard to see, but there was a performance going on. It seemed like a reenactment of some sort, with lots of yelling (oddly) punctuated by loud and jarring explosion from fireworks. I wish I could ask somebody what the heck was going on but some things are better left unexplained. I think I caught some video of it.

In the town square there's a huge festival going on with bounce houses for the kids and festive banners blowing in the wind. There's also a big market which happens each Sunday, so I'm at the right place at the right time. A perfect storm - not only is it Sunday market day but it's also Palm Sunday.

After I left the iglesia, I entered the indoor market walking past vendors under a tent. The last one had fresh empanadas cooking on a big comal, and frankly they just look too delicious to pass up. I asked the woman who was cooking if they were chicken, and she opened one to show me. It looked like a giant flour taco filled with shredded chicken with red peppers and green piece (nopal?) in a red sauce - but not liquidy. I ordered one, and was only able to finish half of it. I stashed the uneaten portion in my sling bag, for later.

Adan Arango, Tejos de Morelos and An Unexpected Stay-Over
Forty minutes later a guy named Rey picks me up in front of the bank near the Octlán plaza in a pickup truck. He's Adan's cousin. He takes me out of town south, then west through a couple of little pueblos straight out of a Sam Peckinpah western. We go through a larger pueblo called San Pedro Aposto, finally arriving on dusty dirt roads into the town of Tejas de Morelos, after about a half hour drive from Octlán.

Rey wants me to see Adan's house before he takes me to the festivities where Adan is. I'm shocked - it's absolutely beautiful, designed by a renowned Mexican architect and built very well. In most places in California this house would begin at about $1 million. So strange to go through these dusty little pueblos, only to arrive at a compound like this. Rey tells me that pretty much every house on that street is owned by a family member. But Adan's place is the bomb. There are also two casitas on the property, one of which houses Adan's mama, a shy retiring old Oaxqueña.

Me and Rey hang out for about 15 minutes while I gather myself, after the overexposure to the sunshine. I enjoy a cool glass of water, and then off we go to another part of this little town of about 1500 souls. We go up a dusty driveway. There are alot of cars and people milling about, like many a party I've been to before, back in my Santa Cruz youth - except this one is going to be different.

Adan comes out all smiles, genuinely glad to see me even though we only spent some time at Guadalajara Airport and then again in Oaxaca's. The whole party of perhaps 150 people are in an enclosed area under the trees, and as Adan and I enter, all eyes are on me. Adan is a big deal around these parts, and everybody wants to meet his amigo guero.

There are children running everywhere, teenage boys and girls dressed to the nines, mothers, fathers and abuelos milling about and sitting in the shade under some trees, men gathered over in a shady spot under the eaves of the ranch house, listening to a pretty wild fifteen (give or take) piece band playing straight ahead jazz with a serious traditional Mexican mariachi beat, drinking beer and mezcal and generally digging the whole scene.

I take a seat with the men at a long table, Adan sits in the plastic chair next to me. Everybody's grinning and shaking my hand, but the music is too loud for any conversation. I'm immediately handed a straw cowboy hat, a Victoria beer and a shot of mezcal, which is of course locally brewed from the acres and acres of maguey (agave) plants we drove through to get here. This is rural farming country, where Adan grew up with his seven siblings.

All of this organized chaos continues for about an hour when suddenly there's a line of beautiful teenage girls dressed to kill, moving with the music. After a little bit, a line of boys do the same, opposite of them. At the head of the line is a statue of Jesus riding a burro. The boys are holding huge bouquets of flowers and palm fronds, reminding me that this is Palm Sunday. The girls have huge gaudy ribbons, kind of like the ones you see in an amateur beauty pageant. They line up across from each other, apparently in order of age.

The first couple of kids are not yet teenagers, and one by one, with musical fanfare from the band, the couples approach each other, and the boy kneels and hands the beautiful bouquet to his female counterpart. This continues down the line until the 15th (or so) couple exchange the same. The last few couples are around eighteen, I figure, but it's hard to tell since they progressed in age on down the line. Mothers jostle to get good photos of their kid, and there's even a professional photographer there - but the atmosphere is anything but formal. This is a big celebration!

Los tres amigos since childhood,
with Adan in the center, Tejas de Morales

After a bit, the four most important men in town - Adan (El Presidente) is one of them - each pick up a copper stanchion that form the canopy to provide shade over the statue. Two of the boys from the line pick up the statue proper, and the company starts the procession to the town's cathedral, the boys and girls first and then the rest of us.

I came here wanting to see a procession. I never dreamed that I would actually be a part of one.

Did I mention how warm it was? We proceeded for what seemed like 3 miles but was probably only half a mile in the heat, fairly slowly because they kept switching boys to carry the sculpture, wanting each to be involved with that awesome responsibility.

Don't get the idea that this is a solemn procession. The band is following along and playing some pretty raucous music as we head for the iglesia. They consist of a horn section that includes a couple of tubas, trumpets, even clarinets, and the two percussionists are really good and drive the whole musical experience through the hot afternoon sun.

Finally we arrive at the iglesia, and take a hard right into the huge plaza within the walls of the place. This isn't an old Spanish Colonial church, but one that was built (I'm guessing) in the late 1800s. It's somewhat rustic and very charming, typical I'm guessing for a small Oaxqueño farming community.

The procession enters the iglesia, and the teenagers take seats and the pews near the altar, as the rest of us fill in the rows of pews behind them. Behind the altar, a wall-mounted statue of Jesus on the Cross is unlike one I'd ever seen before. It actually looks like he's already died, and is slumped on the cross with the weight of the weary old world upon him. I can't take my eyes off the artistry involved in making this look so compelling here in this most unlikely of places, a little church in this little farm town of 1500 souls. The band also enters the church, still playing their somewhat raucous music.

Effigy of Christ, Iglesia Tejas de Morelos

An altar girl brings out the big book, and is followed by the priest. He is a fairly young feller, probably about 40 years old. He is speaking through a microphone and there are a couple of speakers, two at the front, two about halfway back. I'm about mid-way in the nave, and I can hear him okay but I'm sure the people in the back couldn't very well. It didn't matter much since there were stray little children running about, up and down the aisles, adding a bit of hilarity to the otherwise solemn setting of a Palm Sunday Mass.

After Mass, people move out of the church, back into the heat and into the aforementioned huge walled courtyard. I meet alot of them, me being the only gringo and being attached to such an important personage - Adan. They are all so warm and welcoming, and more than a few of them told me that now I'm part of their town. Very touching. Soon I would get to hear some pretty sad and compelling stories about the connection between this town and the United States. But I'll get into that in a bit.

Across the street from the church there is a huge flat open space plaza with a giant domed covering over it that provides shade (and shelter during the rainy season.) I helped set up a couple tables at the far end of it, and I'm thinking these aren't very many tables for all these people. It turned out the tables are for the band. The band that has been playing pretty much nonstop since noon, and would continue to do so until midnight. What a gig!

So there's a few vendors, and three food areas where you can sit and eat some pretty wonderful food. I'm pretty much on my own now, and I'm hitting a wall with the language barrier, try as I might. It's a relief to find a few that speak enough English to converse with me. I'm pretty far from fluency, so I must say that I've been holding my own pretty well. But the heat and the sensory overload are starting to take their toll on me. Fortunately, the sun is getting low and it's becoming another beautiful evening in Oaxaca.

Tejas de Morelians, enjoying the fiesta