mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary
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The Real World Just Ain't As Much Fun
I'm back....and I don't know where to begin describing the fantastic time I had while in Oaxaca. I feel as if I should hold out till I have some pictures developed but I know that's just not fair. How about I tell you about one or two little details now and then elaborate when I have images? Does that sound okay?
I think I should first tell you about San Martin Tilcajete, the town I fell in love with. San Martin is about 25 miles from Oaxaca City, down a few dirt roads and past a farm or two. It is renown for alebrijes, carved wooden animals that have been painted in elaborate colors with intense detail. In order to reach San Martin, Pete and I had to hitch a ride in the back of chicken truck with several other locals and their goats. They were quite amused by the gringos in their ridiculous getups carrying large amounts of camera equipment. We tried desperately to converse with them but our Spanish was at best sad and only laughter ensued (Pete kept confusing the word for good, bueno, with the word for large, grande, so whenever he wanted to express how much he like something he would say "it's very large").
We reached the town at about midday and began to walk around. There were no other tourists about, just the two of us and a village full of artisans. Each home beckoned us inside to see what they were working on. So much talent everywhere you looked. A family invited us to stay for lunch of mole and mezcal and to enjoy their altar. Every family had a shrine set up to their dearly departed. The smell of marigolds hung heavily in the air. Hours were spent wandering the dirt roads and entering the aluminum shacks of the each and every resident. One gentleman took us into his studio and on the wall hung a picture of David Bowie standing next to a carved devil. I pointed at the picture and exclaimed "David Bowie esta aqui???!!! He stood here???!!!" For those of you who didn't know, I have a passionate and deep love for that man and have ever since I can remember. "Si," the artisan said and he pointed out the pieces that Bowie had purchased. I nearly fainted with fangirlishness. I imagined him (circa The Man Who Fell to Earth) in a white suit and matching fedora arriving on this dusty dirt road in a black limo. He'd step out and the sea of goats (there really was a pack of goats following us around) would part for him. I made sure to touch everything just in case Bowie left any trace of himself behind. The artist himself spoke little English but managed to communicate that Pete and I should return for a local festival on November 11th. Sadly, we had to decline due to our impending return to the US but you can bet your bottom dollar I purchased some of his work. Anything that's good enough for Bowie is certainly good enough for me.
Oh and I thought you all might get a kick out of this flyer. I thought it was funny enough to risk Mexican prison by pulling it off a wall in town but then again that was after several margaritas (and yes I do know it's sideways).
So did anyone at all get my postcards? I'm not sure I can trust the Mexican Postal System since they just sort of looked at me funny when I showed up with actual mail at the office and was the only one there. Perhaps it wasn't even a post office. I told you my Spanish is very weak.
3:15 p.m. - 2002-11-04
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