Hai Ban Pass

Hai Ban Pass

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Onwards and Up...up...upwards


There were several times today when Chris and Susan were ahead of me on the street and I saw them exchange words but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. I didn’t worry that I would lose track of their plans; I knew that any time there was an opportunity to head uphill, they would do so. I realized quickly that no matter how high you are accustomed to setting the incline on the treadmill at the gym, that machine is no substitute to walking through a city nestled in the valley of a mountain range. When we rest our eyes tonight in sleep, we will happily rest our legs, too.

We started the day with the walking tour we missed yesterday because it was never supposed to happen yesterday in the first place. We met our guide, Linda, at the doors of the Cathedral on the Zocalo and learned so much more about it than we had when I guided Susan and Susan guided Chris and Chris guided me and none of us learned much of anything. Linda is an American expat from Cambridge, Mass, who lived one life as a costume designer for the theater at Harvard and then lived another life as a painter on the island of Tobago and has now lived, painted and operated walking tours in Oaxaca for over 10 years. She came to the city for a root canal and it seems that she will stay. Hers was a narrative-driven tour and there was so much detail I struggle to remember it all but can recount some highlights. At the foot of the façade of the Cathedral there are non-Christian symbols and faces embedded in the stonework, much of which was hewn and carved by indigenous people. Inside the church, she explained that most of the churches in Oaxaca face east in homage to the sun and to create by architectural design the most light within a church at the altar on a Sunday morning for mass. Parishioners enter from the darkest part of the church and gradually move towards the light for Eucharist. This is an overlap between pre-Christian and Christian ideals because the indigenous people worshiped the sun and sun gods. The indigenous were forced to worship in secret and—as they were employed as laborers to build and then rebuild the churches and the cathedral in Oaxaca after earthquake damage time and again—they buried their own pagan relics and symbols in the stonework near the pulpits and altars so that they would appear to be pious Catholics come mandatory mass time. Like so many others who’ve suffered the fate of European imperialism and/or Christian expansion, the Oaxacan people adapted and assimilated as best they could.  The biggest church event of the year is the day in October when the Cathedral celebrates a man the Vatican calls Jesus and the local parishioners refer to as the Man of the Lightening. Long before there was a gold leaf Cathedral, the church was a thatched roof affair that was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. The only artifact that remained undamaged by the subsequent fire was a statue of Christ on the cross. This crucifix remains in one of 16 side chapels and is the chapel that enjoys the most prayer. For the feast day in October, the entire church is covered in lilies and people come from nearby states to pray to the statue of El Hombre de Rayo.

While the tour concentrated on churches, Linda shared a bit about her experiences here, including having been present for the unrest in 2006 when the teachers were on strike. It was the 25th consecutive year of teacher protests, but this time they called for the resignation of the governor in response to low wages for rural teachers, among other issues.  Local unions joined their protest, creating camps in the Zocalo and together declared themselves the new rule. In a dicey anti-establishment move, the Jesuits in town supported the teachers by providing them and other union reps church courtyards in which to gather, meet, cook and eat. This was not a peaceful protest; eventually thousands of police and military personnel were called into the city to clear the streets, which they did by tossing grenades and shooting protesters. Given the social and political tension in which Chris and I currently teach and the maelstrom to which we might return in the fall, it was interesting and a bit unbelievable to hear her stories and then read up on the event when we returned home at the end of the day.

We re-visited the Church of San Felipe Neri and learned that Benito Jaurez was married there, so to speak. As a Zapotec, he was uncomfortable with a Catholic wedding, but was very much in love with the nice Catholic girl Margarita Maza. They compromised and were married just outside on the church steps. Juarez did everything within his power to limit the power and land grab of the Catholic church while he was president and—as a result of the puppet reign of Maximilian and Carlota—worked to insure that only native-born Mexicans could be elected president of the country from that point forward.    

Proceeds from Linda’s tour are donated to the Oaxacan equivalent of Ronald McDonald House, which is a good cause, and she gives a good tour, so consider it if you’re in town on a Tuesday or a Saturday. Plus, she invites you back to her house at the end of the tour to look at her artwork, and, while there, she tells you about the foliage in her courtyard, including a plant that is said to be a penile stimulant that works better than Viagra, but it makes you fart so there’s the rub. 

There is a famous English-language bookstore here in Oaxaca called Amate and we wandered our way there after the tour, finding ourselves in market stalls with huipiles and guayaberas and many paintings in which the eyes of both animals and humans were prominently featured and unusually round. Susan asked an artist about the convention and he asked if we spoke German because that was his best second language but said he could make do in English when German was not a possibility. He said the round eyes represented dew drops which were very special, which represented the semen from men which was special, which represented the rain which was special and it’s possible that one word he felt very confident about using in English was “special” and that one he might not have been using exactly correctly was “represented.”   The bookstore was a treat. In this same neighborhood is the Church of Santa Domingo which glitters with gold and in which a wedding was taking place which added to its grandeur and reminded us of its purpose.
Linda had sold Susan and I some cards with photos of her paintings and somehow sold Chris a map that she said she had made but turned out to be a photocopied municipal map that she had highlighted bus routes on and gave us a packet of recommendations that included a place to get a good haircut and a list of videos people might like to watch, videos like the Selma Hayek film Frida that no one has ever heard of.  That said, we took one of her recommendations for lunch and had a delicious (and typical Oaxacan meal) at La Casa del Tio Guero at Garcia Vigil 715. Susan ordered Chiles en Nogada which, in most of Mexico, is served only on Independence Day and represents the flag in its color scheme. Chris had a pork stew and I had a stuffed pepper and we were all well fed and pleased.

After lunch, we went to Los Arquitos, a neighborhood in the north of town in which people have built homes and small businesses within the arches of the ancient aqueducts. It’s a charming walk and brought us to a quieter part of the city than we’ve been in, one that reminded me of our neighborhood in San Miguel de Allende in 2010. It wasn’t until after lunch—late in the day—that I realized Susan and Chris were of a like mind about the map and about each turn in the road. Always go up. If you find yourself at the bottom of stairs, take them. If you are above home, the way to get back home is to go up the next street and the one after that. Given their affinity for ascent, I’m not sure how we ever got back down to the center of town but we did and I think everyone will sleep well tonight. Tomorrow, we’ve booked an eight-hour tour to some outlying towns which promise petrified waterfalls, women’s weaving collectives and a mescal distillery and after that I suspect we’ll probably sleep well tomorrow night, too.

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