The Magic of Oaxaca, Mexico

One of its most well-known and prolific sculptors is Adolfo Cruz, recently retired from his fine-arts teaching post at the Benito Juarez University in Oaxaca. Maestro Adolfo, for some 35 years, has been sculpting cantera for use in modern buildings, while at the same time maintaining his reputation as a master sculptor of stone and bronze. His workshop houses the only bronzing foundry in the state. He is often called upon by government and the Church to restore and refurbish historic buildings that have suffered from the wear of centuries and periodic earthquakes.

Adventurers and those with an interest in art now have an opportunity to meet with this grand maestro in his facility in Magdalena Etla, a 10-minute journey beyond the well-known Wednesday market town of Etla. Just follow the highway north out of town, taking the first left onto a dirt road after passing the Oaxaca Industrial Park. His gallery is actually along that highway, on the left, a couple of hundred meters from the Industrial Park.

You’ll have an opportunity to learn about the varied applications of the three types of cantera; the modern machinery recently acquired by Adolfo, enabling him to create with more precision and less labor cost; and the process by which he fashions cantera sculptures and bronzes. For the collector, there will be an opportunity to purchase one-of-a-kind pieces at a fraction of American costs for similar quality.

Adolfo’s daughter, Nely, is an artist in her own right, working at the same facility and, following in her father’s steps, teaching at the fine-arts school. She works with a variety of media, but what "pays the rent" are her fine-cut cantera-stone jewelry pieces, predominantly earrings and pendants.

For those with a particular artistic orientation who are visiting Oaxaca, a trip to Magdalena Etla provides a uniquely rewarding experience.

At 46,500 annually, while below state average, there’s potential for more if working evenings, and he’s his own boss. If a week arises when Pedro can work elsewhere and make more, he simply tells his boss and his spot is held for him without penalty. From the perspective of his lessor, if Pedro is reliable, it’s better to periodically forgo a week’s rental income than lease to someone else who may prove less conscientious about fulfilling his contractual obligations.

When in Oaxaca, there’s always more to do than even the most enlightening of tourist guidebooks can detail.

Accordingly, townspeople began copying the method used by Doña Rosa, who had been immune from market forces impacting the traditional grey pottery industry. Today, virtually every town potter makes only decorative pottery using Doña Rosa’s innovation, continued by her family: the shine is created by rubbing quartz over the almost-finished piece before firing. The black is achieved by baking for only 8 to 10 hours. If it remains in the oven for 12 to 14 hours, the color changes to grey, and the piece can then hold liquids, taking on almost iron-like qualities. A 30-day process is illustrated in 15 to 20 minutes.

The showroom contains extremely reasonably priced pieces, predominantly decorative, but some also simple and functional. Regarding the former, you’ll find a broad range in size, form, and style, suitable for both modern and traditional home décors. The family provides packing and shipping services and takes special orders. A restaurateur friend recently custom-ordered charging plates and related table accessories. Certainly visit some other shops in town if you have the time, but include a demonstration at Doña Rosa’s as part of your visit to San Bartolo Coyotepec.

Where else but in Mexico can you park two blocks away from the ballpark, buy a pair of field level seats beside the dugout, eat a personal size pizza, have a beer, pastry, lollipop and tic-tacs, and be entertained for more than three hours during a warm, breezy evening, all for about $15.

The Mexican baseball season begins each March, with Oaxaca’s team (the Guerreros, being one of 16 in this two division league) playing its games at the Lic. Eduardo Vasconcelos stadium, a short walk from downtown. When my wife and I attended our first game ever, we were thoroughly impressed, not without noting some both interesting and amusing differences as compared to attending Skydome (now known as The Rogers Centre) to see the Toronto Blue Jays. I preface my comments by indicating that the league is equivalent to Triple A, meaning that the quality of play is extremely good, with potential and former Major Leaguers on the teams…in 2005 the Guerreros had Felix Jose, former quality batter for the Cardinals in the early 90’s.

I attended at the park to buy tickets a couple of days in advance of the scheduled game, wanting to ensure that I got premium seats, only to be told that tickets go on sale at 4pm, game day. To my surprise, the ticket wicket opened shortly before the hour. My wife asked for a pair of "the best". When she returned to the car, I noticed that the 55 peso tickets did not appear to be in sequence, so I sent her back to inquire, and exchange the seats if necessary. I was right…one seat was a row above the other. Who knew that when you ask to buy a pair of tickets, you should stipulate that you want them beside each other? The attendee gave my wife a hard time, but finally relented and exchanged the seats.

We returned to the park for the 7:30 opening pitch, easily finding a parking space on the street…no $20 charge to park in a lot. But where exactly were our seats? We asked no less than four stadium employees, no one being able to point us to our seats, until finally someone took the effort to direct us appropriately. WOW. Not only field level beside the visitors’ (Mexico City) dugout, but covered in the unlikely event of a drizzle, and alongside the bull pen.
The game followed the typical AL format, with designated hitter (Felix Jose for the Guerreros), and the announcer doing the same job as his counterpart in the Majors, not without prefacing each upcoming batter’s name and position with an advertisement for one of the numerous sponsors whose presence is up front and center, both on the players’ uniforms and across the field walls.

The scoreboard provided no surprises, but it took a while to figure out some of the positions of the players by merely seeing the letter designations…no problem with SS, 1B, 2B, and 3B. But what about JI, CF, and JD? I thought I had it down pat with the Center Fielder, but the other two threw me off. Then the announcer introduced the Right Fielder, the Jardinero Derecho (JD), which literally translates to "Right Gardener". It made sense after a moment since he does tend to the grass in right field…but why is the Center Fielder’s position not similarly adapted to the Mexican style of designation? All fell into place in short order, with each player having a number on his jersey, but with VOLKSWAGEN being the only name appearing on the backs.

The ten cheerleaders were a pleasant surprise, doing an admirable job, albeit neither choreographed nor synchronized as well as in the NFL or NBA. However, what a treat to see these young women at the ballpark with a bit of flesh on their bodies, instead of the anorectic look which we have become accustomed to see and regretfully accept north of the border. The music on the audio system was a unique mix of what one finds at MLB and NHL games with the standard "CHARGE" preambles and the like, traditional Oaxacan tunes including the Pinotepa, and well-known American and Canadian numbers by artists such as M.C. Hammer and Creedence Clearwater Revival.

The fifth inning cleaning crew did their job, although without the Lone Ranger theme song to egg them on; there was the traditional on-field contest for the kids; and hawkers prevailed upon us to buy raffle tickets. While I must confess that while baseball is the most boring of the main North American spectator sports (the list in descending order being basketball, hockey, football, soccer, and baseball), since the gradual changeover in Major League ballparks to permitting the consumption of alcoholic beverages I’ve come to enjoy getting out to the game from time to time to chat with a friend or business associate, soak up some rays and fresh air (when the retractable dome in Toronto has been left open), and have a beer and my fill of dogs, doughnuts, and deliciously rich ice cream bars. Pigging out Oaxacan style proved to be similarly orgasmic, although not being able to imbibe a mezcalito or three does put a damper on the libido. There was the tempting taco stand a few steps from our seats, in addition to the customary vendors winding their way through the stands. The range of fare includes, naturally Corona, soft drinks, hot tacos by the plastic and foil wrapped plateful, warm personal size boxed Domino’s Hawaiian pizza with all the ketchup packages you want, a wide variety of cellophane packaged nuts, seeds and dried fruit colorfully presented on a display card, esquites (piping hot large corn kernels in a Styrofoam cup topped with mayonnaise, chili powder, lime, and grated cheese), as well as the typical street corner stand items including gum, chocolates, hard candies, and cigarettes.

Perhaps the greatest similarity to attending an MLB game was that the home team lost… just like in Toronto after the two aberrations in the early 90’s. While I wouldn’t expect that attending a Guerreros game would be on a list of priorities for tourists spending only a week in the city, for both residents and travelers vacationing here for longer stays baseball in Oaxaca provides an entertaining and relaxing way to spend a few hours. The regular season runs through the end of July, with the four playoff series beginning thereafter, running through the beginning of September. You can attend at the stadium to learn more about the promotions including T-Shirt and Cap days, and Mothers Day and Fathers Day.

Give one example of an oxymoron. You guessed it. But just when you think you’re comfortable driving in this city, apparently without enforced regulations, there you are, transito (a traffic cop) waving you over, giving you a ticket, removing your license plate, or towing your vehicle. Watching and learning what other drivers do does not provide any comfort or assurance that you won’t end up paying a fine, perhaps with your car having vanished, or being honked at by other motorists. All I can do is offer some understanding and explanation, and the rest is up to you.

Let’s start with the premise that this particular local government employee isn’t paid all that well, and therefore has limited "resources," in the multiple sense of the word. I’ve been told he earns about 6,000 pesos per month, and also that he earns about 2,000 pesos per month and relies on making the balance of his wages "on the street." Keep this is mind, or search for your own statistics. One thing for sure is that he probably earns less than the average Oaxacan (about 65,000 pesos annually according to most recent statistics)...not like the law enforcement officers we know who retire in their 50s with good pensions to then start a second career in the security field.

I’m convinced that no one knows the traffic laws and that whatever is being enforced is done so haphazardly or on a whim. The point is that even when you think you’re doing the right thing or know the law, you may still be pulled over, fined, or bear the wrath of irate motorists. What follows is a smattering of assistance for would-be Oaxacan drivers, constituting acceptable driving practices, not necessarily the law...nor what will keep you out of trouble. But over the past 15 years I’ve only been pulled over three times...once for a u-turn in a major intersection, another time for driving without plates, and recently for simply not knowing what to do in the middle of a weird-looking intersection with even stranger traffic signals (to date not a single fine).

Keep in mind that frequently lanes aren’t clearly or at all marked, and lights aren’t always working, at least for one direction of traffic. When you see two or more transito directing in an intersection, do not assume that they’re working in unison. I recently saw one officer clipping his fingernails while apparently directing traffic.

WHO HAS THE RIGHT OF WAY?
Many intersections don’t have yield or stop signs, or lights. Most up and down big streets have the right of way, as do most major cross streets, but it’s a matter of learning over time which street is which, what constitutes a big or major one, and even once you’ve done so, being cautious upon entering every intersection because you don’t know if the other guy knows. At traffic lights, green has the right of way, but not immediately. You’re probably accustomed to driving in a jurisdiction where there’s a delay of a second or two between the other driver getting the red, and you getting the green. No so in Oaxaca. Before proceeding, edge out carefully to see how many drivers will be speeding through the red. They say that semáforos (traffic lights) are suggestive only, so at times there will be drivers stopping and then proceeding through a red. Though illegal, this is not an uncommon or unaccepted practice...it just happens, and I bet those going through reds in this context get into less accidents than drivers proceeding immediately upon seeing a green, or those going through unmarked intersections.

TURNING
You’re not supposed to turn right on a red after stopping if it’s safe to do so, unless there’s a sign with an arrow. Breach this one and you’ll be honked at more than for going straight through a red! Sometimes right lanes are reserved for right turns only, so watch for them, or understand why the guy behind you is honking when you obey the red light...there’s probably a green arrow somewhere telling you to turn right. The car on your left might also want to turn right. Regarding left turns, the same holds true. But more often there will be two or three lanes of traffic wanting to turn left, including you...but before making your left turn, ensure the driver to your left also plans to turn left, and not go straight. Buses seem to be allowed to turn whichever way they want from whichever lane they’re in, and because they’re bigger than you, be careful, if you can see them through their exhaust. Unless you plan to turn, the safest place to be and to avoid angry motorists is the middle lanes. On occasion you might even happen upon a far right lane reserved for left hand turns! But wait. Beginning in May, 2006, road "improvements" on the main east-west thoroughfare in the city, Niños Héroes de Chapúltepec, started to reach completion. Instead of there being the usual left hand turn lanes, we now have, a block before an intersection, traffic signals directing you to veer to the far left hand side of the roadway, cutting across oncoming traffic lanes. Then, when you reach the intersection where you want to turn left, there are additional traffic lights. It’s hard to explain the concept, the chaos, and the danger to both drivers and pedestrians. Think of it as driving along a North American roadway, and then all of a sudden you have to become a British driver, but just for a block and a turn. The government placed officers at these new intersections to familiarize drivers with these new lanes, which is admirable...but these instructors of insanity are now gone, after the powers who be decided that Oaxacans are now familiar with the grid pattern, so what happens to non-Oaxacan drivers, such as tourists? Will Hertz now double its insurance premiums?

PARKING
You’ll learn to double park, even though you loathe those who do so and create the traffic backlogs. Sometimes tranisto blows his whistle, sometimes he starts giving you a ticket or removing your plate, and sometimes he does nothing. Pick your spots, keep a passenger in your car who knows where to find you, and be quick. The vehicle you’re blocking will on balance be patient, since the driver was probably double parking an hour earlier. When parking close to a corner, the key is to do so on a street where cars can only turn in the other direction so there’s no chance of you getting clipped. You’re not supposed to do it, but most often it’s overlooked. However, if you’re close to the corner of a street onto which bus traffic turns, watch out because the bus won’t be able to make the turn, and transito will do whatever he can to remove your vehicle. Don’t worry much about barely making it into a parking spot, because Oaxacans seem to have a knack for getting out of small spaces. Watch for driveways since sometimes they’re pretty hard to see. In parking lots, take note of early closing hours.

SPEEDING
I don’t know the city speed limits, nor do the vast majority of Oaxacans. Topes (speed bumps) will dictate your speed, as will the driver behind you. Regarding the former, sometimes they’re marked and sometimes they’re not. Notice the number of repair shops for tires and springs, and signs for alignment and balancing. Attack the topes slowly, and if possible on an angle. Highways often have speed limits marked, but gauge your speed as you would in the city. While the toll road warns of radar in operation, the only place I’ve ever seen it is on the road from Acapulco to Mexico City. However, you can be pulled over without radar, the fine is very stiff, you’d better have cash on hand, and recall that there’s no presumption of innocence.

AND REMEMBER
In Oaxaca to get a drivers’ license there is no road test or eye exam. You either take a written test or pay someone a bit of money, a very common practice.

Despite the foregoing, resident Oaxacan Alvin Starkman on occasion zips around the city on a motorcycle. He and wife Arlene operate Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ).

WHERE DIVERGENT RELIGIOUS CULTURES MERGE...

Daniel Perez Gonzalez was a beautiful baby. His parents Flor and Jorge thought so; my wife Arlene and I agreed. Few are able to share our certainty, though, because we were among the very few to see him alive. Daniel was born in one of Oaxaca’s well-known clinics. I welcomed him into the world along with Arlene, our then 13-year-old daughter Sarah, and Daniel’s abuelita (grandmother) Chona. From the womb, the nurse passed our newest extended family member into three sets of anxiously loving arms—Chona’s, those of his big sister Carmela (Sarah’s closest friend in Oaxaca), and then Sarah.

We have a long and colorful history together, my Jewish family in my previous hometown of Toronto and my devoutly Catholic family here in Oaxaca. Chona is our comadre and matriarch of her family. Not 6 months earlier she and her grandchildren had shouted Mazel Tov at Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah in Toronto. Over the years we have raised many a glass of mezcal at milestone birthdays including quince años (the fiesta when a young girl turns fifteen, with similarities to the Bat Mitzvah); we have eaten matzoh together for Passover in Toronto; and we have welcomed many a Christmas, New Year’s, and Dia de Muertos together in Oaxaca.

But it was Daniel’s death that reinforced for me, through much laughter and many tears, the profound irrelevance of cultural differences in the face of universal rituals surrounding death.

On the day of his birth, it was easy to imagine that Daniel’s life would unfold like Sarah’s. At 8 pounds, and with a full head of black hair, the baby looked extremely healthy. Like my wife’s, Flor’s pregnancy had been full-term. Like Sarah, Daniel was born by caesarian section; like Sarah, his mother’s umbilical chord had been wrapped around his neck, causing temporary respiratory distress and the need for a few days in an incubator. But we didn’t worry, his father and cousin both obstetricians with connections in the Oaxacan medical community. He would receive the best post-natal care available, and we would dance at his wedding one day.

But then their paths diverged. After 2 days of life, we mourned little Daniel’s death of respiratory distress, beside his coffin in Chona’s living room, with family, friends, and compadres.

Between the birth and the death came a crazy-quilt of only-in-Mexico experiences that resonated with my memories of the mourning process my Canadian family had undergone when my father Sam died a few years earlier.

Most Oaxacans accept that death hits you at home—literally. Daniel left the hospital in a white, ornately-adorned satin-lined coffin, bound not for a funeral home, but for the living room of the family compound. Once he was settled atop a table covered with fresh linen, with a large silver crucifix behind him, my compadre Javier and I were dispatched to the Mercado de Abastos, to buy white gladioli and flower arrangements. This was a far cry from the somber discussion of formal arrangements at Toronto’s Steeles Memorial after my father’s death.

In this passionate and expressive country, even death rites are incomplete without the drama of shouting and accusations. At the cemetery I learned that Daniel was to be interred in a low tomb-like grave atop Tia Lolita, his great-great-aunt who had died in 1990, who was layered over yet another relative who had died in 1982. But when we met with the head undertaker, el presidente, at Lolita’s graveside only hours after Daniel’s death, we were advised that annual fees hadn’t been paid in 10 years. Much shouting ensued, but in the end, after heated debate, el presidente had successfully "extorted", as was his right, thousands of pesos for arrears of government taxes and administrative fees—plus about 1,000 pesos in the likely event that Daniel would require a boveda (literally a vault, the rebar reinforced concrete slabs designed to keep the grave’s occupants in an orderly configuration). And we still weren’t done. Only once Chona had presented sufficient historical documents to convince everyone that she indeed had the requisite authority to bury Daniel alongside Lolita were the appropriate certificate and receipts issued.

Back at Chona’s home mourners had begun to arrive. Shortly thereafter Jorge and I dropped off 150 various pan dulce, to be used to dip into the traditional hot chocolate served to those attending such gatherings. I then experienced another profound frisson of déjà vu . The notably slower pace of Oaxaca’s mañana society was gone. With efficient dispatch, Chona and family transformed the home into a grieving chamber, arranging for necessities such as chair rentals, and ordering attendees off to kitchen duty. There under Chona’s roof I traveled back in time to my mother’s kitchen, crowded with friends and relatives I hadn’t seen in years, just after my father’s funeral. I could hear my mother’s friend Rayla organizing who would bring what meals into our home during shiva—the week of mourning that follows the burial of a Jew.

Then there were the inevitable tragicomic moments. When I gave my father’s eulogy, I couldn’t resist telling a story about him that made reference to a shared moment that involved passing gas. In Mexico, the black humor of death is even more visceral. When Chona and I went back to the cemetery to ensure that preparations for the burial were well underway, we found el presidente and his aide a half-foot down, at the top concrete plate of the vault—along with part of a human jawbone. Chona was outraged, and began shouting, "that can’t be Tia Lolita!" We came up with many theories for the mystery bone, all revolving around the amorous activities of the dead, none repeatable here. That kept us going until we finally came across the complete skull of Tia Lolita, still covered with the traditional fine headcloth to prevent mosquito bites. We ultimately concluded that a few years back someone else had been buried alongside Lola. Mystery of the extra jawbone solved. Here in southern Mexico, multiple burials in the same grave, at times at different levels, and at times involving the removal of bones after several years of non-payment of fees, may occur. In any event, in return for a handsome gratuity el presidente agreed to clear away a spot for Daniel’s cajita, and hide Lolita’s head and any other remaining bones in a sack at one end of the grave opening. The funeral would take place the next day, not unlike the dispatch with which Jews bury their dead—but very different from the traditional adult Oaxacan death custom characterized by several days of prayer, visitation, and other rituals prior to burial, similar in purpose and function to the Jewish period of shiva after the interment.

Later that evening back at the house, we listened to a cassette recording of nursery rhymes. Although we in the Judaic tradition are not permitted music during mourning, these tunes seemed appropriate. Arlene tenderly placed a small rattle beside Daniel, in accordance with local custom. A young woman led a 20-minute prayer, strikingly similar in nature to the Kaddish or mourners’ prayer in a shiva home. Then more food—a rich mole negro with bolillos, tortillas, salsa—and more prayer. When the padre finally arrived late, there was the obligatory humor about the clergy; someone joked that he had just shown up for a meal.

By the following afternoon, we were placing a bountiful display of flowers into the back of a pick-up. Javier and I took final photographs of the baby, and then Jorge placed his son into the back of a 1980s white stationwagon, for his final journey.

The cemetery ritual combined the continuing familiarity of my own Canadian experiences with Mexicana. A few soft prayers, a few handsful of earth placed atop the coffin, and incongruously our two congenial cemetery workers placed the concrete slab back between the remaining portions of the lid to the vault, then mixed and applied cement to seal the boveda. Reminiscent of Jewish custom, Chona asked Javier and I to assist with the shoveling of earth, then invited everyone home for comida.

Back at the house there was no music. Idle chatter took its place. Eventually, once most of the people had left, and only the barren white altar and the slowly burning mourners’ candles remained, Arlene and I decided to go downtown for a walk, sad and emotionally drained, but oddly comforted. After a Oaxacan funeral for a Catholic baby, I felt exactly the way I did the first time I walked outside after arising from my father’s shiva.

Alvin Starkman, a resident of Oaxaca, has elected to change the names of his Oaxacan extended family, out of respect. He operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ).