Oaxaca Graffiti

The bus from Mexico City to Oaxaca passes close to the old train station in Oaxaca.  As we arrived in the city and passed el ferrocoril, I noticed the graffiti.  Every wall available was painted in brightly
colored scenes and wildly imagined creatures.

I think of graffiti in the old definition:  badly spelled words, scrawled on the highway overpasses and on abandoned buildings.  This is the new definition of graffiti!  Here are a few badly photographed pieces of Oaxacan street art, complete with shadows of street signs and other distractions.

This one is on Arteaga, just west of our apartment.

 I took these two photos after the Sunday afternoon jazz concert in the courtyard at Casa Colonial.  I think it's on Independencia, west of the zocalo.  Mayan gods and goddesses are poplar topics, along with corn and women.  I noticed the Zentangle-ishness of this painting.  www.zentangle.com

On the corner of Benito Juarez and Xicotincotl (I think!).

A poster, one of a repeat, on a north-facing wall on Morelos, east of Crespo. 

 
 Loud music began in the parking lot behind our apartment on La Noria yesterday afternoon, and I walked around the corner to see what the party was about.  I captured these three men, covering over another painting.  The street light is painted, but is a "shadow" of the real street light, just out of this image.  I love the birds on the line!  About one half the block of walls has been painted, and these dudes were in the process of creating a new painting, over the old one.  the music ended promptly at 10:00 last night.  I believe it was because "carriages at 10:00".  The buses don't run after about 11, which meant all those partiers couldn't have gotten home if they didn't leave by 10pm!

         
This is what it looked like the next  morning:

Yesterday, this delightfully fearsome creature lived beside the painting above. This morning it was covered with a base color, and I'm eager to see what the next painting will be.  I'm glad I photographed this yesterday afternoon.

Yesterday afternoon I snapped this image of the woman and corn.  See the next picture for the "after"...  Maybe this week we'll get to the neighborhood around the train station, and I'll see more modern street art. I love this city!

de Ciudad Blanca a Ciudad Verde

Finally!  From the White City of Peru to the Green City of Mexico; Arequipa to Oaxaca.  Oaxaca is famous for, among other things, the beautiful green stone used for many of the colonial buildings.  It's been 2 years since we were here, and I'm happy to be back.

We traveled Jan 3 to Oaxaca by bus from D.F. I rolled down the windows during the short taxi ride from the ADO bus station to Villa Maria's, to smell the air and feel the warmth. Young Manuel was out front when we arrived, and a big grin appeared on his face when we got out of the taxi.  Old Manuel appeared, and gave me a hug and kiss, bienvenidos!   Maria came out, and gave me a big hug and kiss.  I was equally happy to see them.  Friends from the States and Canada who were already here came out of their apartments when they heard the commotion....you didn't think we'd arrive quietly, did you?!?  It was a very happy reunion, we hadn't seen our friends in two years.  I relaxed as soon as the door to the courtyard opened, seeing my friends and the pretty garden.  We're sad to hear friends P&A, from Oregon are not here because of a family health issue, but delighted to see J&C, from Toronto are back.  Everyone else, the usual snowbirds, are all here.  Cocktail hour on the roof will be a laugherfest tonight!

Before we began unpacking, I took photos of the apartment interior, in order to put things back to normal when we leave...I can tell you, we need every inch of the limited horizontal surfaces for our own Stuff!  Yes, the photo above is the total of my kitchen pots and pans.  It's perfect.

We spent the next few days getting settled.  After 3 days, Dave asked if we'd spent 3000 pesos yet. 12.1 peso/US dollar.  Not yet!  Our first shopping trip was to the supermarket, Chedraui, for all the basics:  wine, beer, rum, toilet paper, coffee!  OK, other basics, too.  Later, we walked to the mercado Benito Juarez for fruits and vegetables.  Tere gave me some fresh yogurt, along with directions to the Mercado Pasquez Sanchaes, a small mercado on the north side of  the center.  Of course, I bought hand-made queso fresco, and blandas, the local word for the big, white corn tortillas here.

Our first hand-made tortillas, home-made yogurt and cheese, and our first papaya and strawberries!

On the List is a juicer and a liquidora, a blender, which required a trip to the big mercado Abastos.  That market is tremendous; we always take a compass with us, just to find our way out!  It's a hike of about 18 blocks, past used clothing stores and little restaurants and chocolate grinders and hardware stores, and street vendors set up on the shady side of the street.  We scored the juicer at el mercado for 200 pesos, along with four locally made ceramic cereal/soup bowls and a smaller comal.  All these things will go in our Box.

Those of us who return to Villa Maria's year after year often keep a Box of personal Stuff, like bowls or blenders or clothes.  Some folks who have been returning to Maria's for 20 years have many boxes!  The two Manuels move the boxes to storage rooms on the roof during the rest of the year, and bring them down to the apartments before the Regulars arrive.  Stuart and I have decided to start a Box, meanig we've given in to the need to return every year to this beautiful city.  It's the age old argument:  do return to a place we love, or, do we go exploring to places we've never been?  We've explored other places during the winter months, and then about every 2 years we realize we need a Oaxaca fix.  So, we return, buy a few things we find we need (like a blender!), than give those things away at the end of the time here.  Now, I won't have to buy another blender!  And, believe it or not, we've begun a list of things to bring with us next year. You know I need a rotary cutter and mat, which can't be bought here.  And, a pants pattern.  The fabric stores do not sell patterns.  I bought a used sewing machine, a maquina de cocer, from a pawn shop.  I guess we're going to need two Boxes when we leave in March.

Lima, redux

      We arrived in Lima more than a month ago, and because we are flying out of  Lima, we return.  But, not to the central historic section, but to Miraflores.  We arrived after dark, and after getting a taxi from the bus station to Miraflores in unbelievably heavy traffic, we couldn't find the hostels our sweet host in Paracas had recommended.  After walking more than 25 blocks on crowded streets, I felt a little like the urban version of Cheryl Strayed!  After asking at three hostels,  we found a room.  Lux Luther Hostel had one room in an old house, with a bath that had been added to what I'm guessing was originally the main living room.  Superman himself, and his brother Lex Luther were our hosts, and from the beginning we knew this was going to be a good place!

The next day, we walked the few blocks down to the ocean, where found a several-mile-long park along the cliff, with magnificent views.  Of course, there was a lighthouse!  Well planned, this park separates the high-rise condo buildings from the cliff, giving everyone an outdoor space in the city.  We watched the surfers below, the joggers beside us, and gazed open-mouthed at the condos above.

We'd been soaking up the long and colorful history of Peru for more than a month, and it was time to visit the Museo Nacional Arqueologia, Antropologia y Historia Peru, to pull it all together in one place.


Beginning the story before there were words, we saw beautifully saved and restored textiles.  The pottery from many cultures told more story than any words could, using all the important daily items, gods and animals from the lives of the old civilizations.  I loved the pottery!  It is one of the great museums, and I could spend many more days here.  My energy gave up long before we reached the modern era displays.  I did walk through the museum to see the Cusco School paintings, to see the Last Supper painting before we quit the place.  Here are a few pictures of pottery that were safely inside glass cases...




































































   I learned of a not good, but Great ceviche restaurant, which is saying a lot in the town known for ceviche.  I thought we'd have our last supper there, but learned that it was only open for lunch.  I also read that it is in terrible part of the city, and taking a taxi even during the day was strongly advised.  So, we hopped in a taxi and aimed for El Veridicio de Fidel.  oohboy, it is indeed in a not-nice part of town, but the place is sparklingly white and clean, and the waiters all wore white shirts and black ties, very smart looking.  Business people, students, grandparents and working people paraded continuously past our table while we were there, greeting each other and aiming for a table as quickly as possible, eager to order.  Stuart and I did not order fancy:  we had ceviche and soup.  The sauce in the soup Stuart ordered was good enough to make me weep!  And, the ceviche....oh, my.   It was a perfect almost last supper.

When we returned to Lex Luther for a nap, Superman was horrified when we told him where we'd been.  Such a dangerous part of town, he exclaimed over and over.  He obviously has not eaten at El Veridico de Fidel!












Later that night, we found ourselves in the thick of the activity in Miraflores, and found Mama Olla Restaurant.  It was on a side street, quiet, and the music was nice.  Again, a star quality meal! And, the pisco sours I had were good, too.  We leave tomorrow morning, and we're ready to return to North Carolina for a few days, before leaving again.

I have no beautiful words to wrap up the writing about this trip.  Machu Pichu was the reason for coming to Peru, and we found so much more to love.  Machu Pichu was surely the most memorable part, just barely ahead of the Sacred Valley, Lago Titicaca, Colca Canyon, the giant sand dunes, Isla Ballestas at Paracas, and the very awesome Andes Mountains.  The people are so kind and strong, we always felt like the person closest to us really wanted to help us in some way.  The food was better than my dreams.  Did I say how good the people are?  We came away with a leap in our knowledge of the history of a brilliant people, an appreciation for building skills that current engineers are still studying, and pictures of beautiful and awesome natural and man-made wonders.

What a trip! Now, on to Oaxaca, Mexico, another place with so much to love.

Paracas

    Paracas.  The penultimate stop in our grand Peruvian Adventure.  I want to see the Reserva Nacional de Paracas, known to some as the Galapagos of Peru.  We arrived by bus from Haucachina, on a pretty straight road.  As is our norm, we had no reservation, but friends from Huacachina had recommended a hostel (which I of course didn't make note of), so we walked and asked at various hostels until we found them.   A short time later, we were on the beach, warm beers in hand, to watch the sunset and the fishermen readying their boats for tomorrow.

The next morning, we were picked up early by the people with whom we'd booked our islands tour.  We drove to the edge of town (we could have walked, it was very close!), and found a fast boat tied to the pier, waiting.  Thirty people, thirty orange pfds (personal flotation devices), thirty seats on the boat.

The Islas are about an hour's ride from the coast.  The cold water of the Humbolt Current flows along the coast, bringing all those tiny little sea creatures that the larger fish and birds love to eat, making this location a paradise for water-loving wildlife.  On the way to the islands, we stopped for a look at the Candelaria, a huge design in the mountainous peninsula just south of Paracas.  The Candelaria was made at about the same time as the famous Nazca Lines, and are equally as mysterious otherwise.  Look closely at the photo, you'll see details of flames or feathers.  This design in the rocks is over 300 feet tall!










At the islands, we were stunned to see millions and millions of birds!  The rare Humbolt Penguins, Ica terns, Peru Pelicans and so many other birds (my notes are in NC!).  Millions.  There is no way to describe the scene, except to say it was fascinating.  Our captain was terrific in turning the boat from side to side, to allow great views from everyone.  No one is allowed on the islands, except the folks who harvest the guano.














Guano is the national gold.  Millions of tons of the naturally produced stuff has been harvested in the past 100 years.  Once, when it had not been harvested for many years, the largest island's height was lowered by 30 feet after the harvest!  We passed the pier used for loading, it was far above our heads, testifying to the size of the ships that haul away the precious raw material.  Would I want that job?  I think not, even if it meant I'd get the chance to see those fine birds and sea lions at a closer range.



















The sea lions are the largest creatures who live here, and they were sunning on the rocks.  We watched a couple of juvenils playing, and trying to climb back up out of the water.


The penguins and the pelicans were beautiful.

Our guide pointed out nests of baby terns, which we would have otherwise not seen.  They make their nests from their own poop.  Talk about recycling!   These little dudes - dudettes? - still had the fluff before real feathers.  To have seen this concentration of wildlife was yet another highlight of the trip.

Pay It Forward!

I interrupt this travel journal to bring you a message that makes me smile.  See the Soul to Substance blog, listed here in the sidebar.  I hope you will join this adventure, too!   abrazos, karen


Do you like to RECEIVE handmade gifts?
Do you like to GIVE handmade gifts and bring joy to others? Do you want to join a blog hop that involves giving and receiving in a PAY IT FORWARD manner?

PAY IT FORWARD 2013

I am participating in this project because I believe that giving handmade gifts is important in many ways. Not only does it bring joy to others but it helps us as artists stretch our creative bones, make new friends and connections, and spread the handmade movement further and further into our world.  I commit to giving a handmade gift to one person who signs up to participate in this project and who is willing to “Pay It Forward” on their own blog.  Ready to join the fun?

GUIDELINES

1.  If you would like to participate, please sign up by leaving a comment below on this post.

Follow up by emailing me stacieflorer@gmail.com with your contact information.

The first person to show commitment to the project will receive a handmade gift from me!!!

2.  Post this project on your own blog–copy steps 1, 2 and 3!

Gather one new participant and be willing / prepared to follow through with the “Pay It Forward” part!!!

(I will send your handmade gift once you’ve shown commitment by gathering one new participant)

 Please link back to this original post:

(“JOIN THE FUN! Pay It Foward 2013“).

I will include a link to your post so
we can follow the project from its origin.

 3.  I will give you a small, heartfelt handmade gift.

 In turn, give a small, heartfelt handmade gift to your participant and bring on the joy!

(please wait to send a gift until your participant has gathered their own new participant)

(also please only enter under one blog… unless you are willing to perpetuate more than one chain)

(If you want to join but my slot is filled, follow the link below until you find an open slot)

Doing the Pisco Stomp

      After the excitement of sand boarding, I needed some excitement of a different kind.  We hired a taxi to take us to a pisco factory.  We are in the grape-growing area of the country, therefore, in the distillery area also.  Pisco is the national drink, much like mescal is the drink of Oaxaca.  To make it, you begin by making wine.  Then, distill the wine, just like making bourbon.  And, just like bourbon, there are many reasons for the different tastes.

At our first stop, at a 130-year-old distillery, Bodega Vista Alegres, we saw a couple we met while sand boarding a few days ago.  They are staying at the fancier hotel in Haucachina, but have been hanging out at the bar at our hostel (because it's more fun there!).  So, with my little bit of present-tense spanish, her little bit of english, we sampled the pisco together.  She gave us some tips about local foods and we even discussed politics, as best we could!  Bodega Vista Alegres is a huge operation, with vats the size of small cities.  Impressive.  Stuart and I liked one of the samples they poured for us, so bought a small bottle.  Off to another!

The second stop was another very old business, but much smaller operation.  At El Catador, the pisco is stored in the traditional clay bottles, because they produce far less then Bodega Vista Alegres.  We liked this pisco very much!  It was smooth and a little nutty in the flavor.  After the tour, we had lunch at the El Catador restaurant.

 











The storage bottles.  El Catador produces Tony Labis pisco.  The factory is surrounded by pecan trees and corn fields.  I asked about rainfall, and learned it never rains there.  Never.  Wow.  Of course.  We are in the southern Peruvian desert.






The next day, as we lay by the pool at the hostel, a well-dressed local woman came out to ask for our "help".  This is suspicious.  Stuart, three other tourists (Danish, I think) and I , went down the street with her, inside a walled-courtyard to a dusty open area.  At the far end was a new raised area, built of stone.  On the platform was a grape stomping tank.  Our job?  To stomp grapes!  Today is the opening of a new piscoeria in Hauacachina, and we are part of the photo session for the party.  It is all about tourism, of course.  About one hundred locals are here, many with cameras.  Someone hands me a plastic cup filled with pisco.  We take off our shoes and climb in the tank  The cameras are clicking.   Now, I know how it feels to be a curiosity!  The music is happy, there is much laughter, and soon more people are in the giant tank, stomping, dancing, laughing and drinking from our bottomless cups of pisco.











I hear shouts, "La Reyna! La Reyna!".  The queen, the queen. ohmygod, there she is:  a young local woman, wearing veryshortpants, with a huge crown and banner, and her court!  Beauty Queens of the south, look out.  Our job was to stay in the stomping tank, but step back, and let the cameras capture the Queen.  Fine, just refill my cup, please.

Enough stomping, it was great fun.  I got out of the tank, and began to ask questions.  I found the woman who invited us to join, and learned she is the daugher and sister of the owners of the new piscoeria.  We met her father, a very old man, and her brother.  I also met the queen, the queen's mother and very proud grandfather.  It is a very happy day for Huacachina.  Full of promise of a few more jobs, and tourist money to be spent in this tiny oasis.

 The gates of the dusty courtyard were open, and courtyard was filling up with locals and a few tourists.  Someone cleared the way, and about 40 men dressed all in white rode in on beautiful, well-trained horses.  The National Cermonial Cavalry is about to perform!  We watched in amazement at the beautiful, fancy footwork, and cheered as proudly as the locals.  Of course, the Queen made a short circuit of the courtyard, apparently NOT a horsewoman, but keeping her smile perfect for the photos.  Her grandfather led the horse, full of pride.

 Some local women spread out delicious looking food. We ate lunch - it was delicious- squatting in the dusty shade of the big trees, wiping our hands on our clothes.  Pinching ourselves:  did we really get caught up in this great fiesta?!?  Some of the Men in White posed for me, happily sampling the drink!  Stuart and I walked back to our hostel, to nap, after too much pisco in the middle of the afternoon.  Our last day here, tomorrow, we move to Paracas.

Haucachina Sand Dunes!

        We've been traveling for a month in Peru, and losing any interest in the date is a matter of fact when you've been out for a few weeks.  We have met almost no other US travelers in the past month, either.  So, imagine our surprise when we walked into the hostel in Haucachina and an American voice, after hearing us speak to one another,  wished us a Happy Thanksgiving! We had landed in the sandboarding capitol of Peru, and in a hostel that is on the destination list for backpackers world wide : Carola del Sur.  Our host spoke beautiful english, told us to dump our packs and a room would be ready soon.  As is our habit, we found the bar!

Haucachina is an oasis, really, about 10 miles from Ica.  It was a resort destination for the rich people in the early 20th century, and the lovely plaza and old hotels lining the lagoon are evidence a past time of parties and finery. Even the contemporary paddle boats in their gawdy colors made me see parasols and long white dresses in my mind.

Later that afternoon, we hopped in dune buggy with 7 other people for a wildass ride through the largest sand dunes in the world.  I made up that part, but the truth is the sand dunes here go on for miles and miles and days and days. Just look at the never-ending sand in these pictures...  I was unfortunate enough to be assigned the seat in the middle front, right beside the driver.  He had an evil grin on his face when he made sure we were all buckled in.  In a few minutes I was begging to get out of that vehicle and walk back to the oasis!

Our driver had sandboards securely tucked in the back, and soon we came tor a screeching (yes, it did screech in the sand!) stop at the edge of a sand cliff.  We hopped out, waxed our boards with a bit of candle our driver handed us and the real fun began.  Yes, that's me going down the sand dune, giggling like a little kid, all the way to the bottom!  We sandboarded down, struggled back to the top to do it again.  And, yes, Stuart did it too!

Our driver took us to a beautiful valley in the dunes, and we saw a beautiful sunset before screaming our way back to the oasis.  We all begged for one more trip down a dune on our sandboards before we went back, and he obliged us.

We returned to the hostel exhausted and shaking from the wild dune buggy ride and climbing the sand dunes, but giggling.  Stuart and I stood on the walkway outside our room, as did several other sand boarders, and took our clothes off to dump the sand from the pockets of our pants, before jumping in the pool in our ropa interior.  I was washing sand from crevices for several days afterwards!

An international sand boarding contest was held on the biggest sand dune right behind our hostel, and the incredibly skilled competitors were staying there, too.  We sat by the pool the next afternoon, watching in awe, as the experts swished and glided down the steep dunes.

It's a beautiful place.  I think we'll stay here a few more days.

From high to low. Altitude, that is!

Hand-made tables and chairs...

Time to move on.  We spent one more night in Arequipa, after the Colca Canyon trip, missing our friends Jess and Sally, who had moved onto Lago Titicaca while we went to the Colcan Canyon (see the last post).  I was looking forward to getting to a lower altitude, getting to the coast for some beach time and getting away from the energy of a big city.   Part of making good memories is knowing when to move on.  Planning our own trip, not trying to include 6 countries in 6 weeks means we can be very flexible .

The trip across the mountains was a bit tortured.  Arequipa is in the desert, but being in the middle of the city camoflages the immediate evidence.  It is also on the east side of the giant sandy/rocky mountains.  The road twisted every 50 feet it seemed.  Thankfully, we were on a Big Bus, which meant the driver couldn't easily throw the bus around curves.  The scene from my window was bare, rocky, dry, stark.  I imagine the moon's surface to look like this.  Almost no evidence of life, either human or plant. We did cross a river a few times, and when we did, suddenly a few trees and crops, along with a few very humble houses would appear. 

About 3 hours into the trip, the driver pulled into a roadside restaurant, standing alone along the coastal road.  I was grateful for the relief of the twisting and turning road.  While some folks went inside to eat, I walked across the road to see and touch the Pacific ocean, and to get a closer look at the lighthouse on top of a cliff.  I hoped the road would straighten itself out a little, but the mountains ran themselves right to the waves, very unlike our southern US flat coast.  So we twisted through the desert mountains along the coast for a couple more hours before arriving in Camana.

We had planned to spend the night at the beach, close to Camana, but after getting a taxi the 5 miles there, we learned that absolutely no motels and only one or two restaurants were open.  Another 3 weeks, that place would look like Myrtle Beach in July!  Our taxi driver, like so many people, talked to us about his family and children, asking about our family.  We went back to Camana, and found a hostel.  The little town was blissfully quiet, the air was heavenly thicker with humidity.  After almost a month in high and dry air, I gulped huge breaths of air and moisture.  We took a walking tour of the tiny town, mostly consisting of the mercado.  The town is a coastal crossroad, and fields surrounded the town.  Coming into town, we passed fields of corn, tomatoes and, to our amazed eyes,  rice.  The waves washing on one side of the road, rice fields on the other!  Each field was dammed with hand-shoveled levees.  The water table is very high here, less than 30 feet, so irrigation is easy.  In the market in town, we saw many 50 pound bags of the locally grown rice and corn, most of which was sold for chicken feed. 

    We found a small parrillada restaurant, a barbeque place, and while we had couple of beers, sketched a plan for the next part of our adventure.  The first photo in this post is of the chairs and tables in that restaurant, which were made from tree limbs. Ever resourceful, everything is used, in anyway possible.

The next day, we thought we'd go a little further north, still hoping to find a beach town.  Catching a bus from here was not easy.  The next morning, I asked at no less than 6 bus stations for a ticket to the next town, about 3 hours north.  There is no central bus station, the locals knew the system...eventually, we found the correct bus, and luckily even got a seat.  The road was curvy, but thankfully not as tortured as yesterday's road from inland.  Again, we passed narrow strips of irrigated land, with shacks for housing, all along the way.  If there was electricity, it was from generators, we saw no power lines.  Corn, melons, onions, rice and a couple of olive groves.  We also passed many miles of newly planted fruit trees, irrigation lines snaking past each little tree.  In a few years, this area will support more jobs for pickers and packers.

Got off the bus in a tiny unforgettably  named coastal town, not pretty at all.  We walked across the road, looking for comida, lunch.  We found a little restaurant, with a window no one seemed to notice, that looked over the ocean.  We ordered this gorgeous plate of mixed seafood, with french fries, of course.  It was about the most delicious meal I've ever tasted!

The idea of spending an afternoon and night here was not appealing, so after lunch, we found the collectivo station, the place to get a ride to the next town.  For some reason, we're in no-man's-land here, the buses come from the south, but don't continue to the north.  So, 10 adults, 3 children, and all our luggage crammed into a mini-van for the two and a half hour drive to Nasca.  At least the music the driver chose was nice!

Nasca was dusty and dry, but we knew it would be more accomodating than the last town.  We found a clean, cheap hostel, who promised hot water (not), and then found a beer.  Cristal, another new-to-us beer.  A lager, but it was so pleasant to sit outside in the warm, easily breathed air!  Later, we found a "nice" restaurant for dinner.  I ordered ceviche, again. I can't seem to get enough of it!  Being a "nice" restaurant, the presentation was as beautiful as it was tasty.  The pisco sour was beautiful, too, but I didn't take much time to look at it!

We talked about seeing the famous Nasca lines tomorrow, but the small plane ticket is very pricey, and it is very, um, twisty/turny trip.  Not for me, after the last two days in the bus.  I'm sorry to miss this national treasure, but not sorry enough for the torture of the plane trip.  We will move on to Paracas, and the giant sand dunes.  Nasca is a pleasant town, with a pleasant plaza.  Glad to have stayed here.