Vinicio Castilla Soria

We realized recently that the park where Gabe practices baseball is named after a Major League player from Oaxaca City...a relatively recent player...Vinicio Castilla Soria. As soon as I found out he played for the Colorado Rockies, I emailed my brother-in-law in Denver and asked him about Vinny. Dean Neuwirth is a baseball fan and when I mentioned Vinny to him, this is what he had to say...For those of you who don't follow baseball, this little piece of trivia might serve you well at a cocktail party with sports fanatics, so take note...

Dean writes: Vinny had some great years here in Denver, where the air is thin and dry, breaking balls (especially curve balls) don't break as sharply as a result, and fly balls tend to carry over the wall more easily. Until I saw a major league game here, I'd never seen the ball routinely jump off the bat with such speed.

It also didn't hurt that Vinny usually batted 6th at the end of the Blake Street Bomber line-up that included Dante Bichette and Andres Galarraga. That group (and either Ellis Burks or Larry Walker, can't recall for sure now) took the Rockies to their only playoff appearance in 1995, when the Rocks managed to win two games from the Braves before succumbing in the divisional series. That was the year that the Braves won the World Series and Tommy Glavine pitched one of the most courageous games I've ever seen pitched in game 6 to beat the Indians and win the Word Series. Glavine recently won his 300th career game while pitching for the Mets, who are hanging on to their divisional lead by the skin of their teeth.

Hitters' stats aren't quite as inflated in Denver these days, as the balls used in Rockies' home games are stored in a humidor so that they are heavier. But the stats are still inflated relative to everywhere else. No coincidence that, although Vinny had some decent stints elsewhere, he never duplicated his Rockies' numbers with another team.

Keeping the Music Brain Alive

Music, baseball and art. These are our extracurricular activities in Oaxaca. Along with our big heavy bags (many filled with books), we brought two instruments (guitar and violin) with us…all the way from the Bay Area, to Colorado and then to Oaxaca City. We have a tip from our real estate agent (the guy who rented this house to us…he’s an American) on a classical/flamenco guitar teacher nearby, but I haven’t called him to set up an appointment.


Our slower life feels too rich, too precious to fill with activity. So, no lessons yet, but I have convinced my kids that they ought to practice three times a week in order to keep their musical brain synapses firing. No joke! I explained to them how the brain works and how practicing any activity keeps that part of the brain alive and that when we don’t use that part of the brain, it rewires/sort of shuts down the pathways, that in the case of acuity in playing their instruments, a bit of practice will result in them “not losing ground” musically.

I think my science is not too far off. Judy B. (my brilliant doctor friend) and Jennifer H. (my brilliant scientist cousin)…you or others can weigh in and tell me if I’m feeding my children a line of bull.

Anyway…it’s working…and isn’t that what really matters? My kids practice three times a week for ½ hour a pop…and without complaining about it. They’re determined to keep their musical brains going.

Speaking of music, my own brain has been re-firing old synapses. I have been playing violin for the past two weeks with the music band at our church in Oaxaca. I’ve played an average of 5 hours per week in practice and performance. That’s about 4.75 more hours a week than I normally play in Berkeley. The band is quite talented. Davíd…a brilliant musician, plays harmonica, flute and sax. Mario is the guitarist…accomplished vocalist as well and little Mario (pictured here) plays the drums. Derek B. would be excited to hear this youngster play. He’s 13-years-old. He keeps the beat well and many of us know how sad it can be in a Mexican church service when the hermanos can’t find a beat together and sing in time. It’s a little bit like torture. So, I’m thankful for little Mario.

And they love me. Especially, the older ladies. A few of them have come up to me after the service and tell me how much they love my violin playing. One woman is convinced that the violin is an instrument of prayer. She was determined that I agree with her, so I did, finishing with the all emcompassing...Gracias a Dios. This is a very gracious culture, so I'm trying not to let any of this go to my head, instead focusing on how much fun it is to play my instrument again.

Uniforms Have Arrived

Last night after baseball practice, we were told to show up at the Uniform Factory. We did so, descending on the place with the rest of the team. We collected the uniforms for the Dragones, made sure sizes, names and numbers were all correct, then took them home. Though Gabe did not have to be dressed and ready until 11:00 AM, he came downstairs this morning wearing his new duds at 7:30 AM. It’s a beautiful thing, a brand new uniform. Here’s Gabe at bat and the team...They’ll never look this clean again. Also, a photo of Gabe and Pedro Luis...his best friend in Oaxaca and Dragones team mate. They warm the bench together sometimes...there's nothing quite as bonding as that.

The Rainy Season

The months of July-November mark the rainy season for Oaxaca. From what we understand, dry months follow. All the green brush, grass and flowers turn to brown. The soil dries out and becomes dusty. The sun beats down hardest in March and April. By the time May and June roll around, dust and heat fill the air. The reservoirs and wells are almost empty and Oaxacans are longing for their rainy season. Though we've seen many rainstorms since arriving, I think we are fortunate to live in Oaxaca during this beautiful season.

Oaxacan Flowers

Some posts need few words. Here are a two of the floral beauties we saw in our Monday afternoon hike around the reservoir above Teotitlán de Valle. Tomorrow…I’ll post a couple more.

Margarita Maza

Benito Juaréz’s struggle to free Mexico from oppressive rule and bring about legal reforms that would serve the people came about as a result of many dedicated individuals and communities. His wife, Margarita Maza, deserves her own post for the sacrifices she made during the time her husband worked toward this end.


When Juaréz moved to Oaxaca City after receiving some education, he was not only thinking of finding work, he was searching for his sister. He found her working as a cook in the household of Italian immigrant and merchant Antonio Maza and his wife, Petra Parada.

Benito also found refuge and warmth in the Maza household. Through the Mazas, Benito found work and social connections that led to further education and introduction into Oaxacan society. Benito was 20 years old when Margarita was born, the Mazas’ youngest child. He bounced the baby on his knee and played with her like an older brother as she matured and while Benito’s career as a lawyer and state legislator blossomed.


By the time Margarita was 17, their mutual affection had also blossomed into love. Benito, a successful attorney at 37, proposed marriage. They were married in the church of San Felipe de Neri, in Oaxaca City, on July 31, 1843. Even today such a match would be unusual, but in the Oaxaca of 1843 it was unheard of. That he, a poor, dark brown Zapotec, and she, a lily-white daughter of a prominent merchant, were even able to associate, much less to marry, is testament to the Mazas’ liberal views.


The same liberal views and their iron determination to do something about them scarred the last half of Benito and Margarita’s 26-year marriage. From around 1854, when Benito was driven into exile in New Orleans, civil war, foreign invasion, and assassination attempts forced the family to be nearly always on the move, living in unfamiliar and trying circumstances, hounded and threatened by enemies, and continually lacking money.


One of the most dangerous episodes came in 1858, when Margarita, at the age of 32 had to move her five children and entire household from Oaxaca to Veracruz, where Benito was running the liberal Mexican government-in-exile. Fearing spies and assassins, Margarita took the tortuous, roundabout route over the heart of the Sierra Madre, traveling at night, on foot beside their burro-train, disguising herself in native huipil and sleeping by day in farm houses of friendly Zapotec campesinos.


Later, Benito and Margarita enjoyed two years of peace together, beginning in 1861, after the liberal triumph in the civil War of the Reforms. Their marriage, although severely tried by hardship and separation, was a supremely happy one. Twelve children resulted, seven—six girls and a boy—outlived their parents. Two boys and three girls died when still young. Their love, although profoundly deep, had few pretensions. Benito called her his “old lady.” She called him “Juaréz” and, when asked, replied that “he is very homely but good.”


Their peace together was short-lived. The French invasion forced Benito to travel the country, managing the government in a black carriage, one jump ahead of the French army. Margarita took the family into northern Mexico and finally to New York and Washington, D.C. There, she reached the depths of despair when two of her three sons died. She wrote to Benito: “The loss of my sons is killing me…I prefer death a thousand times more than life…I do not blame persons who kill themselves…If I had been braver I should have done it a year ago.”


Eventually Margarita recovered her equilibrium, buoyed by the birth of her first grandchild, a baby girl, and the admiring attention of American society, including General Ulysses S. Grant and President Andrew Johnson.


On June 19, 1867, after Maximillian was executed, Margarita returned home. She arrived with her party of 14, in Veracruz, showered by bouquets as she walked down the gangplank.


Reunited for 3 happy years with Margarita in Mexico City, Benito worked like a demon to turn his dreams for Mexico into reality. But overwork took its toll and Benito suffered a stroke in October 1870. He recovered partially to discover that Margarita was fatally ill. She died on January 2 1871, of cancer. Although weak, Benito strained with all of his strength to lift her body into the coffin. All of Mexico, both friends and former enemies, joined in grief with their president for their beloved Margarita Maza, who had given as much as any heroine could for both love and country. (Once again credit to Moon’s Oaxaca Handbook and Bruce Wipperman…who must live in Berkeley because in his acknowledgements, he thanks the folks at Café Roma.)

Do You Know Your Mexican History?

True or False

An Austrian Prince, Maximillian ruled Mexico for a time in the 1800s?

Read on to find out…

For hundreds of years, relatives and friends of Hernán Cortés ruled the area around Oaxaca City. Cortés was the successful explorer/conquerer (remember him from grade school history?) who worked for the Spanish Empire. He conquered the Aztecs because the very powerful Aztec King believed that the Europeans were gods. Cortés defeated their army though he was outnumbered by thousands. The Aztecs had been ruling over central Mexico and their influence was evident over the declining Zapotec empire. So, when Cortés started settling areas of Mexico with Spanish implants, the area of Oaxaca was included in that territory. In fact, Cortés loved the state of Oaxaca and wanted it for himself.

Early on, he staked out the Valley of Oaxaca as his personal domain. Time and again during the 1520s he ordered the settlers evacuated from the City (an area called by the indigenous folks, Huaxyacac) , only to find a year of two later that they had returned. During Cortés’s absence on an expedition to Honduras, the settlers petitioned for and received a charter from King Carlos V for their town, which they christened Antequera after the old Roman city in Spain. Determined not to be out maneuvered, Cortés personally went to Spain to plead his case and returned triumphant with the royal title of Marqués del Valle de Oaxaca. This included a grant of hundreds of thousands of acres and rights to the labor of thousands of indigenous subjects in a grand checkerboard domain stretching from the Valley of Mexico to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. Cortés’s lands surrounded the settlers’ entire town of Antequera. In desperation, the townspeople petitioned the queen of Spain for land on which to grow vegetables: They were granted a one-league square in 1532, now the core of the modern city of Oaxaca. For hundreds of years, Cortés’s descendants reigned; the townspeople prospered, the church grew fat, and the natives toiled—in corn, cattle, cane, and cochineal (that famous beetle that makes a beautiful red dye…see previous post).

In contrast to its neighbors in the state of Guerrero, conservative Oaxaca was a grudging player in the 1810-1821 War of Independence. But as the subsequent republican tide swept the country, local fervor produced a new state constitution, including a state legislature and governmental departments, such as public instruction and the Institute of Arts and Sciences.

By the 1850s, times had changed. Oaxacans were leading a new national struggle. Benito Juárez (pictured above), a pure Zapotec native Mexican, was rallying liberal forces in the Civil War of the Reforms against the oligarchy that had replaced the colonial rule. Born in Guelatao, a mountain village north of the Valley of Oaxaca, Juárez at age 12 was an orphan sheepherder (reminds me of St. Patrick at this stage in his life). A Catholic priest, struck by the boy’s intelligence, brought him to the city as a servant and taught him Spanish in preparation for the priesthood.

Instead, Benito became a lawyer. He hung out his shingle in Oaxaca, as a defender of the poor. He then became state legislator, governor, chief justice, and finally the president of Mexico. In his honor, the city’s official name was again changed—to Oaxaca de Juárez—in 1872.

In 1861, after winning the 3-year civil war, Juárez’s Reformista forces had their victory snatched away. France, taking advantage of the preoccupation of the US with its own civil war, invaded Mexico and installed an Austrian Hapsburg prince as Emperor Maximilian of Mexico.
It took Juárez 5 years to prevail against old Max and his conservative Mexican backers.

Although Maximilian and Juárez paradoxically shared many of the same liberal ideas, Juárez had Maximilian executed after his defeat and capture in 1867…(that’s the way they took care of those royal twits back in the old days) Juárez bathed Mexico in enlightenment as he promulgated his Laws of the Reform (which remain essentially in force). Although the country rewarded him with reelection, he died of exhaustion in 1871.

Credit for most of this…goes to the Moon Handbook on Oaxaca, author Bruce Whipperman.

Land Ownership Makes All the Difference

The Valley of Oaxaca spreads out in three directions, made up of sub-valleys—the Valley of Tlacolula, the Valley of Ocotlán, and the Valley of Etla—each extend, respectively, about 30 miles east, south, and northeast of Oaxaca City. Most of the inhabitants in the Valley are indigenous Zapotec-speaking people. We have learned in some of our reading about land reform and ownership. For the Zapotecs, the opportunity to own and control their own land has made all the difference for their prosperity. I’ll try to explain.

Brief history: During the mid-1800s, Mexico’s Laws of the Reform forced the sale of nearly all church lands throughout the country. In most parts of Mexico, rich Mexicans and foreigners bought up much of these holdings, but in Oaxaca, isolated in Mexico’s far southern region, there were few rich buyers, so the land was bought at very low prices by the locals, most of them Zapotec farmers.

Moreover, after the revolution of 1910-1917, progressive federal land-reform law and policies awarded many millions of acres of land to campesino (farming) communities, notably to Oaxaca Valley towns.

The Signs of Health, Wealth and Control Within the Community: The signs of this wealth could be clearly seen in the villages we visited yesterday, Santa María deTule and Teotítlan de Valle.

Santa María deTule is a charming village at the edge of Oaxaca City built around a 2000-year-old Cyprus tree. We spent 45 minutes yesterday morning walking around this giant, mouths agape. It is an amazing tree and so grand, I could not get photo at any distance. The tree would not fit into my camera frame. The giant stands in a courtyard where gardens and pathways crisscross and the local and colorful catholic cathedral stands in its shadow. The dynamic of the huge tree and the local cathedral caused me to think about the cities in Europe and elsewhere that built the church in the center of town to be taller than all the other buildings as a symbol of God’s sovereignty and lordship. I suspect that when the cathedral was built in the 1700s, it was in fact, taller than the tree. That is no longer true. God made the tree and keeps growing it. Did God, in fact make the church, and does the church still grow? Interesting parable.

Teotítlan de Valle means “Place of the Gods” in Nahuatl; before that, it was know, appropriately, as Xa Quire (shah KEE ray) or “Foot of the Mountain” by the Zapotecs who settled it, archaeologists estimate, at least 2,000 years ago. From the age of artifacts uncovered beneath both the present town and at nearby sites, experts estimate that approximately 1,000 people were living in Teotilán by A. D. 400.

Present day Teotitlán people are relatively well off, not only from sales of their renowned tapetes (woven rugs, etc.), but from their rich communal landholdings. Besides a sizable swath of valley bottom farmland and pasture, which every Teotitlán family is entitled to use, the community owns a dam and reservoir and a small kingdom of approximately 100,000 acres of sylvan mountain forest and meadow, spreading for about 20 miles along the Valley of Oaxaca’s lush northeastern foothills (I copied this last part from the travel guide…sorry. Does anyone know what a “sylvan forest” is?)

We visited the town, saw the incredible tapetes and hiked around the dam and reservoir. I took so many photos, I cannot possibly include them all, but for all you knitters out there, you might be intrigued to find out that the wool is dyed with all natural dyes (example, their blue comes from the indigo plant which grows in the valley, yellow from the marigold flower, and the red, their most famous color, comes from a beetle that is indigenous to the area.) This red is the most vibrant red in nature that has been found. My mother dyed wool with natural dyes when I was young. I remember specifically how difficult it was to find a good and vibrant shade of red. The rugs are gorgeous. We are having one made for us and will pick it up in a month. The product is not cheap, but the quality is amazing. Anyone who visits Oaxaca should make a point of visiting these two wonderful pueblos…the travel guide says as much. We agree!

Chapulines

Little grasshoppers, deep fried in salt and chili powder. A salty, delicious, insect treat. Sold at a mercado near you (if you live in Oaxaca City). Our sweet cleaning lady, Berta, brought them over. They were still hot when I first tried them. Jason ate some, Gabe tried them. Abby got out of it somehow!



They’re quite tasty…not nearly as strange as balut (embryonic duck egg, Filipino delicacy that we slurped in Manila two summers ago). We won’t be making chapulines a part of our regular menu yet, but we understand that a famous restaurant on the Zócalo serves a salad with the little critters sprinkled on top…kind of like six-legged croutons.
Enjoy the photos!

I Confess...

A couple of weeks ago, Jason returned home with a pirated DVD of Live Free or Die Hard. As a writer, I have always imagined myself above the criminal act of buying intellectual property from the pirate community. Alas, I have crossed over. Mind you, I haven’t personally bought any of those DVDs, so technically, I have not broken the law. Jason has done the dirty work, but, I confess, I have watched them and enjoyed them. A pirated DVD costs about 3 dollars in Oaxaca City. The quality of these DVDs has been pretty good, with a few flaws here and there. Nothing you wouldn't expect given the bargain basement price. Oh...and Jason mentioned that on one of the DVDs there was a written "consent" that this DVD was legal in Mexico. That could potentially clear our conscience, but I'm skeptical about the legitimacy of this "waiver".

Pictured above, the current Jensen collection of pirated DVDs. In our defense, we haven’t found any “non-pirated” DVDs for sale in Oaxaca City nor have we found any movie rental stores. I'm interested in hearing what some of you feel about this tricky issue.

And since I’m confessing, I might as well tell you all, that I stepped on my first cockroach the other night. Previously, I made Jason and the kids squash the shiny brown pests, when they showed themselves in the house…or I ignored them. I have chalked this aversion up to some kind of St. Francis sensibility. I cannot hurt one of God’s living creatures. But, that isn’t honest. I kill ants when then threaten our fresh bakery bread. The truth is, I hate the feel of and the sound of the crunch under the sole of my shoe. Sorry cockroaches. Your luck has run out.

Tripod and Her Little Friend

Now...the calendar you’ve been waiting for
Dogs of Oaxaca

In the wild, dogs hang out in packs. They do so in Oaxaca as well. These two are inseparable...we're not sure if they're "married"...if you know what I mean. Tripod is missing a foot. Her scruffy little friend is intact and pretty genial. They hang out at the apartment complex near our grocery store, Gigante, during the day and around dinner time, focus their attentions on the street taquerias that line the sidewalk. They're not starving, so the street taqueria scavanging business must be good.

Roof dogs

Speaking of "Roof." Did you hear the joke about the guy with the talking dog?

He walks into a bar, pulls up a stool and buys a drink. He begins a conversation with the bartender that leads to them talking about their pets. Eventually, the man gets around to confiding in the bartender, "My pet dog is unlike any other. He can talk," he says.

"Yeah right," says the bartender.

"It's true," says the man. "I'll bet you a pitcher of beer my dog can talk, plain English."

"How you going to prove it?" says the bartender.

"My dog is right outside, tied up to that elm near the curb."

"All right," says the bartender. "Bring him in."

Man goes out and brings his dog into the bar. By this time, folks are taking notice and gather around. Man calls his dog to attention. "Fido," he says, "What is the substance that covers a tree trunk?"

The dog says, "Bark."

"Very good," says the owner, as the audience begins to grumble. "Now," he says, "how does my face feel when I haven't shaved for a couple of days?"

"Ruff," says the dog.

The bartender is shaking his head. "Get that dog outta here," he says.

"But wait," says the man. "There's one more question." He zeroes in on his canine with a serious look on his face. "Who is the best homerun hitter of all time?"

"Ruth," says the dog.

The audience boos and the man is forced to pay for an extra pitcher of beer, then thrown out of the bar with his dog. As he gathers up the leash and gets ready to walk down the sidewalk, the dog looks up and says, "You think I made a mistake in not saying Bonds?"

Meet Grim

Dogs, dogs, dogs. They’re everywhere. Before we set out for Oaxaca, an acquaintance who lived here for a month expressed how much she loved this city, but “The one thing,” she said, “I never got used to, was the dogs.”

Photos probably tell the story better than words regarding the dogs of Oaxaca.
Here is a photo of a canine friend the kids call Grim, a reference to a Harry Potter image. We meet him every day on our walk to school. He’s old. He lays in the shade in the afternoon. He’s a little more active in the mornings.

Grim exhibits the behavior of most Oaxacan dogs we’ve met. He roams off leash, somehow, he has managed to avoid getting killed by a vehicle (our theory…hyper and stupid canines get weeded out of the gene pool very quickly) and he ignores passersby. Grim also looks about as cute as most of the beasts around town…that is, he has most, but not all of his fur, he’s a bit dirty and insect-bitten. Though our kids love dogs, they avoid him per our instructions, just as the average Oaxacan does.

A few of you may remember that Gabe was bitten on the chest (at the age of four) by a dog off leash in the Yucatán. The owner of the dog swore that his animal had had rabies shots…then proceeded to tell us that he was about to take the dog into a field and shoot him. He showed us various papers on the beast, who actually looked like a pure bred Weimaraner. After returning home and consulting a doctor, we decided Gabe should have the series of rabies shots. The risk was too great.

Thankfully, Gabe feels little residual antipathy toward Mexican dogs, but that experience has made us cautious.

Jason's addition...Dogs are better off here than in the villages of the Yuc. I don't think I've seen any bald dogs here and few with noticeable diseases.

Santiago

Santiago is the two-year-old brother to Sebastian, one of the best baseball players on the Dragones. His father is a jock and a joker. He speaks so fast, I often have difficulty understanding what he is saying in Spanish, but it must be funny because all the parents laugh after he speaks. His father’s nickname is “Chino”…which means he has Asian features. Those of you who have been to Mexico before know this tendency. Nicknames, such as Chino (china man), gordo (fatty), negro (blackie) and juerito (blondie) flow freely and without the kind of judgment we might attach to those terms.

But back to Santiago. I have to say, this little two-year-old is already quite a baseball punk. He loves to be on the field and wears the uniform you see to every practice and game. Today he was heavy laden with catcher’s gear on. He adores the sport, as do his big brother and father.

At the beginning of our game this past weekend, he gave all of us quite a show. We on the Dragones are used to it, but other team had never seen him perform. His dad pitched a ball to him. Santiago hit the ball with his little wooden bat and proceeded to run around the bases. He is so small and so cute, all eyes fixed on him. He slid into every base...the bases here are simply flat pillows…they aren’t very stationary. So, Santiago slid, got up, adjusted the base (everyone laughed) and kept running. By the time he reached home, the whole crowd of parents and players were riveted and cheering. Santiago, who didn’t realize he had accumulated such an audience rose up from home plate in shock. He burst into tears and ran to his papa who comforted him and carried him off the field.

Life in Mexico celebrates children. You see it in a multitude of ways and feel how it pads all things serious or competitive. Santiago is a delight to his parents and all those who watch his exuberant attitude toward baseball, which at this point in his two-year-old life…is EVERYTHING.

Oaxacan Wedding Processions

Now…here’s a worthy photo topic for a calendar…

We got off our bus on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Our stop was the llano…a square near the centro. We were heading to our favorite taqueria, when the wedding procession met us walking the other way. They were strolling from the church to the reception place. It was a parade of guests in their wedding best as well as a few others who seemed to be part of making a show of the event. It was wonderful and completely different from any wedding I’ve ever attended. I snapped these photos as they passed.

Sidewalks of Oaxaca

I’m considering a theme for some posts…a theme which struck me the other day when walking past one of the many mangy dogs that line the streets of Oaxaca City. Though I’m sure canines here are better off than in certain cities in Viet Nam, I wonder what they would say, if they could meet up with a hound north of the border and compare notes. I have the feeling, they would howl , whimper and be aghast at the difference in lifestyles.

This isn’t the theme, of course…but the inspiration for a theme which I will call: Calendars you won’t see at Barnes and Noble this Christmas

There are a few calendars of Oaxacan persuasion that you might find at Barnes and Noble. I’ll try to highlight these as well.

Much of this is an exercise at observation, a wonderful aspect of living abroad. Potentially, the senses are more open to the marvelous and the horrible when we enter a new culture. We become attentive to realities that might eventually become part of the scenery , but when encountered new, stand out. We confront our own ideas about what is “normal”, or what “ought to be”…and sometimes what is “comfortable”. We entertain the possibility that someone else, another people group for example, might actually have something to teach us.

If all else fails, and the philosophical and moral learning cannot inch forward, then at least, we can have a good laugh at ourselves and our discomfort. So, I hope you can learn and laugh with me.

The first of these posts, I call:

Sidewalks of Oaxaca

I, and hundreds of others use the sidewalks of Oaxaca City. Actually, I am thankful there are sidewalks at all and that they are, for the most part, sufficiently wide. That is, they are wide enough for our family, usually walking two by two. Without sidewalks, we would be in mortal danger of being run over by a taxi or a moped, or bus.

With that said…the sidewalks here are atrocious. Our neighbor has a disabled son in a wheel chair and I often think of him when walking to the kids’ school.

I could post a hundred pictures, of mud-covered walkways, washed away cement, cracked up concrete, a car parked across the path, or what Gabe and I encountered today…piles of rock and sand…which were dumped across the sidewalk because someone was doing a construction project and needed them today. They might be gone by tomorrow, or they might remain for 3 weeks, like the scaffolding that jutted out from a building under construction. Those piles of rock and sand prevented anyone from passing safely on what is a very busy street. A mother with her baby in a stroller, a young couple walking hand in hand, Gabe and I all had to walk into traffic to get around the mess.

These photos I’ve included might be two to put on the calendar (a calendar that would be sent to the civil authorities in order to bring about some kind of change…ah, now there’s an American ideal…shame them into fixing the sidewalks).

Photo 1 captures a common problem for sidewalks all over the world…tree roots! What to do about tree roots. I truthfully don’t know the answer to that, but I’m sure somebody anal, probably in one of the Scandinavian countries (It's okay for me to call them anal, since I'm a Swede) has worked on this issue. There is a way to make peace with that tree and create a level path for walking.

Photo 2 This particular hole in the sidewalk is so large, you could lose a small child in it. The photo does not do it justice, and since we’ve been in Oaxaca, individuals have started to stuff trash in it. Earlier last week, you could still see rebar sticking up out of the hole.

I know that many Oaxacans have given up trying to bring attention to these problems…they ignore them because convincing their government officials to put money toward infrastructure is extremely difficult. I cannot say with authority, but have heard from friends, that the issue of corruption is the problem. Money that should go to infrastructure, lines the pockets of politicians. It's also true that there are other problems which are more urgent than fixing holes in the sidewalk.

All the same, I feel for my disabled neighbor who cannot roll two blocks to the supermarket to buy a carton of milk.

Food in Oaxaca

A few of you have asked about Oaxacan cuisine and what we are eating. We enjoy many special foods here, but some of them are different from what we Californians think of as Mexican food. We have yet to taste them all, but right now, we buy a lot of and eat as much fresh fruits and vegetables as we can find. The mangos are heavenly, silken in texture and incredibly flavorful. (all of us, but Jason eat about a mango a day). We've also found good papayas in every market and grocery store since arriving. I used to not like papaya, but someone from Mexico taught us to put lime on it and it’s so good that way. Cucumbers are great. Folks here also eat them in lime, sprinkled with salt and chili powder.

Chocolate in Oaxaca is a big export. It’s dark and a bit bitter, but we like it. Moles come from this part of the world and there are many kinds. We have tasted red mole, yellow mole, black mole and green mole. Black mole (the chocolaty version) is what most Americans know as mole. Mole means “sauce” in the Zapotec language. We haven’t tried to make moles, but you can buy them in jars or bags at the local mercado (market). We’ve sucked on sugar cane, had plenty of delicious lemonade (it’s always fresh squeezed).

Hot off the press, corn tortillas are amazing.

Two kinds of cheese are famous in Oaxaca…the main one I’ve tasted is a string cheese, called quesillo…more pungent than our bland variety. (cheese shop pictured above. Our friend Pilar took us to a downtown market on our first day here). Our local Sunday market, a stone’s throw away, sells all the local delicacies, but our favorite treat so far is the homemade potato chips...so good and salty. The locals dribble hot sauce on them.

We’re cooking in our kitchen every day, sometimes American food (like last night I cooked spaghetti…of course it had chorizo in it instead of Italian sausage), sometimes I’m cooking more Mexican style food. Since Abby is a vegetarian, I have learned to make a tasty pot of beans. Beans have become one of our staples in the US. It's natural for us to eat them here.

We'll keep you posted on our food adventures. We're still going slow on buying and preparing meat. This will be a more tricky undertaking, but I know we'll get to the place where we can buy the big hunk of flesh hanging on a hook and turn it into something appetizing.

Hurricanes, What We Miss and the Zen of Taking Out the Trash

Hurricanes... Many of you have asked about whether or not we are in danger. Though both coasts of Mexico have been hit by hurricanes in the last week, we have been affected by neither. Perhaps we are getting a bit more rain, but it's hard to know. Abby is pictured here, taking a drink of Oaxacan rain water. We were attending one of Gabe’s ball games, which was in fact, rained out. This was a big storm, but we experienced no gale force winds, loss of power, broken trees, etc. Oaxaca City sits at 5000 feet above sea level, inland a couple of hundred kilometers from the coasts and protected all around by mountains. The climate is wonderfully mild. End of summer and fall marks their normal rainy season.

What We Miss (So Far) Besides Our Friends

Abby misses being good in school and knowing what’s going on in her class
Gabe misses Barnabas (our dog...pictured in a much earlier post) and going to A’s games
Susi misses movie dates with the family at Bay Street and going to A's games
Jason misses his former digestive health (We think we’ve zeroed in on the problem…patterns indicate that Jason is allergic to mangoes…so sad, since the mangoes here are about as close to heaven on earth as you can get!) Did you know that mangoes are in the same family as poison oak? As it turns out, Jason also has a severe reaction to poison oak.

Other random news…

I heard Mac the Knife twice in one morning. So strange for this to occur in a foreign country, I had to document it. First it played in my spinning class at the gym during our final stretch. Second, (about 35 minutes later) it was playing at my favorite café while I waited for my cappuccino…I hope there’s no divine message in that song for me.


The Zen of Taking out the Trash

A beautiful morning here. I was up to meet the trash blokes. I had the early shift, or trash duty, as we call it in this house. The trash truck comes every morning at 6 AM…(did I mention that they ring a cow bell to let you know they’re coming? That cow bell wakes us faithfully every day, Sundays included!) The sky was so clear I saw brighter stars than I’ve seen in a long time, including a very brilliant morning star on the horizon, saw Mars as well…and a lot of others that I don’t know the names of. My old neighbor, Miguel Alcaron, who was also on trash duty at his house, told me the name of the morning star…Beros, he said. Who would have thought trash could so effectively inspire stargazing and bring neighbors together! Ah...Mexico.

The Downside to Tranquilo

Baseball practice was canceled this afternoon because the gardeners, who are in charge of cutting the lawn, did so, very beautifully in fact, but did not finish the job. I saw them working at 2 PM when I went to pick the kids up from school. Why they did not do the little extra to place the mounds of grass clippings in the wheel barrow and remove them from the field, is a mystery. We showed up at practice and those little mounds (as you see pictured) sat all over the outfield.

The caretaker, a military appointee, said we could not play for that reason. The infield was perfect (all the mounds being in the outfield grass), so I tried to convince him to let us do infield practice, but he would not, or could not…was acting on somebody’s orders, I suppose. No one seemed uptight about the cancellation, though it affected about 30 kids. I suspect the gardeners didn’t sweat it either. And there you have it. This seems a fitting follow up to my last posting. My efficient, American brain was blowing a gasket. I fought the compulsion to get out there myself and do the work…just to show them…

Instead, Gabe and I hung out and talked baseball for a half hour, then returned home.

On Unwinding

I have been reflecting on how tightly we in the West, in the Urban West in particular, are wound. How obstructed is our view into our own souls by the very busy lifestyles we choose? I have few answers yet...but some percolating ideas.


There is something good about being in this culture for me. The change of location, the change from West Coast hype to Mexican tranquilo has forced me to slow down in many respects. The fact that the work of my hands is more manageable here, makes a large impact on the “free” time I now enjoy. Since the children started school again, the space has reopened for me to write, to think, to read, to rest. In addition, Jason isn't working and travelling as usual, so he shares in the chores much more. He’s ready and willing to do dishes, breakfast, lunch or dinner (we don’t have a dishwasher here) or watch the laundry hanging on the line, when the rain threatens to ruin that hour’s worth of my labor. (He’s usually up on the roof reading or praying…not literally watching the laundry dry…though that image does express some of the way our life has slowed.)


At the moment, I see three main differences in the patterns of my life here in Mexico that are absent from my life in the Bay Area.


1) A few of you know that I am a news junkie. I read papers, listen to NPR, even read the conservative weekly that my brother buys for me (which he hopes will help to balance out the “liberal” Bay Area influence in my media intake). But here…I am watching less news. I know little of what is going on in politics and among the people of power. A week after the fact, I have learned of the resignation of Gonzalez, Snow and Rove…this would not have been truth a couple of months ago. Mind you…I know exactly what is happening with the A’s and the NL West and other baseball news. This has been a year where baseball has made a huge resurgence in my life. But I’m taking a sabbatical from political news. I suppose that’s okay for a season. Anyway…it definitely frees up time.


2) I clean less…and the compulsive nature of my “clean up everything and make it shine” self slumbers here. I see dirt, I see grime and I don’t clean. I stop myself from cleaning because I know that Berta is coming on Friday. I convince myself that I can live with the grime for a few days. Berta, after all, must have something to do for three hours. This too has freed up time.


3) Life is simpler here and we have a lot less stuff. We have fewer clothes, toys, board games, sporting equipment. There is no car to wash, no house to fix. Managing our stuff ends up taking a lot of my time at home. That’s not all bad, but it is one of the costs of living in the West. It all adds up and sucks time away from the quieter disciplines. Here are a few examples of how our lives have slowed down. I haven’t been on a freeway/highway in 3 weeks. I haven’t been to Cost Co. or a large box store in months. I walk to one of our local farmers’ markets every day. I can walk to the grocery store. We walk to school, to the little league field, to church. This is a simple existence and in many ways, a small life we’re leading. (Everyone here has a car, so I suspect if we stayed long-term, we might end up buying a car). Also, in general, the kids get a lot less homework. That has a positive impact on our family life.


These are my reflections so far. I am unwinding. I’m also homesick here and there. I miss my friends, my church and various aspects of the Bay Area, but I do not miss the complexity and busyness of that life. For the most part, I’m happy to have this chance to decelerate and I’m not sure I would have very much (or perhaps it would have taken longer) had we stayed at home.

I read an interesting interview of David Sedaris in the Missouri Review recently. Though he lives in New York, he does not drive, own a cell phone or have an email address. His reflections on these "deficiencies" were fascinating. He has forced simplicity into his life, chosen a more monastic existence, despite many pressures around him. On one occasion, a very frustrated friend who had been trying to find him at the airport in Paris, gave him a cell phone, which DS never turned on, of course. Anyway, his devotion to writing, his focus and his ability to "turn off" the outside world...even when living in an incredibly busy city, has caused me to contemplate how change might come down the pike for me out of this sabbatical. What to prune for the sake of focus?

Thankfully, I have a few more months to figure this out.

More House

The second floor has the final two bedrooms and bathroom. Gabe, Jason and I sleep on that floor.

A rod-iron staircase leads to the roof where there is much potential to grow flowers and vegetables, make a beautiful sitting patio. We won’t do that since we will only stay in the house for a semester. At this point it’s a strategic environment for drying clothes and a great the place for enjoying in views of the city…often late in the evening or in the morning. Jason has taken to praying up there for a couple of hours every morning. The views of the mountains on both side are spectacular, especially in this rainy season when the clouds and the green add texture to the landscape.

Our House in Oaxaca

A few of you have expressed interest in our rental house…so in the next few postings, I’ll try to describe it and upload photos onto the blog. The house looks very plain from the street and in fact, it is a simple set up. To us it feels just right, with enough furnishings and appliances to make our life here pleasant and comfortable. The home is in a middle class neighborhood. Its walls on both sides are the walls of our neighbor’s homes (I can hear clearly when their doorbell rings or when the gradkids are visiting). This is not so unusual for Mexico…especially in the colonial districts of town. Here is pictured the view from the street…Calle Manuel M. Dieguez…two blocks “arriba” up from Gigante (Giant…the large grocery store where we often shop).

The house is two stories, a rectangular block, five bedrooms and two full baths. On the bottom floor, the entry way (previous owner used it as a garage…our kids use it to play with their super balls) opens into the living room. This is a large rectangle, with window, two couches, television, desk and a few bookcases. We live in this room quite a lot. Walk down the hallway to the dining area and kitchen…there are three more bedrooms on this floor, the back bedroom is Abby’s. She’s the only one sleeping on the first floor. Another bedroom is Jason’s prayer room. The final room is currently the music room. We keep my violin and Gabe’s guitar in there, as well as all our sports equipment. It’s very nice to have all that extra space. Makes me wish our house in Berkeley was a bit bigger, though if it were, we’d probably feel compelled to rent out a room. The downstairs bath is attached to the music room.

We bought a comfortable sitting chair (from a local craftsman) for the prayer room in which Jason can sit and pray or read. The only other piece of furniture we replaced was a futon mattress in the living room. The previous mattress was awful. The current…as you see Jason sitting on it in the living room photo…is thick and wonderful.

There are five other curious spaces on the ground floor. One is a small room, with a washing machine. The other is a utility room with cleaning supplies and an ironing board. The other two spaces are open to the sky…almost like little patios, but walled in by neighbor's house or ours. One of those spaces contains the water pump and the washing sink (the ridged sink to which I referred in the “Uniforms” posting)…the other patio has a plastic roof over part of it…we can hang laundry under this roof if it rains on laundry day.

I’ll post about the second floor and roof tomorrow.