Mujer afortunada

Ojos: These past several months I have had a nice bit of fortune to have been able to re-meet folks that I haven't seen for several months or nearly years. Almost awkward laughs, what counts as small talk, dredging up or releasing memories, hugs, laughs no longer nervous or strained. There's almost a routine because we make it up in our minds that time changes things. But, eyes, eyes never change.

Yet, sometimes they do reveal new things- Alfredo says I have los ojos de una mezcalera.

Bocas: The 3 things I most associate with Oaxaca: Chocolate, Mole, and Leo's laugh. All of which I already miss.

Manos: Our last afternoon in Oaxaca and Leo drives us out to the Presas, just outside of the city. It's called the dams, but there are no dams. Leo calls it the laguna or lagito (little lake) but it is more like a rapidly moving river, hurried along by constant gusts of wind. Leo asks if I've ever had my palm read, and I haven't. He takes a pen, begins marking mi linea del destino, mi linea de la vida, mi linea de inteligencia, mi linea de suerte. Tengo mucha suerte y mucho valor. Thus, I will travel a lot, seek adventure, meet good people everywhere I go. I realize I am in my future already but that time is hard to tell on the palm of one's hand anyhow. He also told me something that few, if any people, in my life have ever told me (hence I find it a little difficult to believe at this point)- that I have las manos de artista. Artist's hands. Well, I suppose I should start developing skill then if the talent is lying already in my hands, waiting for something to pull it to the surface. Leo is an artist, too. Leo and I have similar hands yet very different lives. Our hands are covered in lines that fill our minds with possibilities of what may have happened already and what will surely happen now. We become less certain of the past and more certain of the future. Leo laughs and assures us that he will only tell us the nice things.

Muchos leones

Tiempo tormentoso: Every Oaxaqueño that I've met so far talks about Oaxaca in terms of how things were before what happened last year and how things are now. Time is now split here in this way, a split that cuts deep into the hearts of the people of Oaxaca. Depending on the person, they name the events of last summer and fall as "los problemas que tuvimos", the problems we had, "el conflicto," "la guerrilla," the little war. Some people don't like to talk about and others do. And when they do, usually the topic comes about indirectly but with questions the person will open up and describe where they were, how the streets looked, their emotions and thoughts about the events, the consequences or the government. Everyone asks if we heard about it in the states and how. The streets appear tranquil here but people confide in me that organizing is still going on, that right now the resistance is resting, taking its time. Others are grateful for the tranquility and for being able to again work and leave their homes at night, though most Oaxaqueños that I've talked with still are nervous about being in the streets too late at night, mostly because of the memories and for not any actual, direct threat. Yet people remind me that if a police officer assumes you are part of the APPO or a sympathesizer that it could lead to problems, and they also mention that there are many more police in Oaxaca than before the events of last year happened. The memories and the present relating to the political situation are like a conversation that everyone is having in private, in hushed voices, behind closed doors, never knowing who to trust or with what information. The local government works hard to cover up political art work and spray painted slogans as soon as they appear on walls and doors, they strain themselves to clean up this city for tourists and language students. Certainly, everyone wants Oaxaca to be safe for all, but the type of calm in the air right now doesn't signify safety to me, but more like the calm before a storm, one that is quietly brewing under our feet and behind cement walls. Oaxaca, te llevo en mi corazón.

Suerte: However my improvement in luck coincided with my Abigail returning to Oaxaca, I am happy about it. Through a series of lucky accidents and coincidences, we were able to have our own room, free of charge, in a 5 (no less) star hotel, complete with swimming pool and endless breakfast buffet. People treated us not as backpackers or hippies but as important dignitaries, no matter that we ran around in our barefeet and didn't bother combing our hair before breakfast (we were just going to jump in the pool anyhow). And not only all of this, but we ended up making new friends, mostly musicians from el DF, and having a great night of playing music, singing and conversation. At times I found myself thinking, "I do NOT belong here," but then I would remember the incidents that led to that moment, and they clearly indicated otherwise.

Que onda: Last night I got to meet one of the organizers of a network of community radio stations in Oaxaca and over coffee, we discussed the state of community radio in Oaxaca. He told me that Oaxaca has the most community radios of any state in Mexico, but that after the events of last year more and more radios are facing repression and closings on the part of the government, with extra pressure put on by Televisa, the media giant who already controls 68% of radios in Mexico. He mentioned that one thing he thought particularly scared the government and CEOs was when the women's movement took over some radio stations in Oaxaca and, with the help of university students, even elderly women learned how to broadcast in a matter of hours. He said that event in itself destroyed the myth that radio is expensive, complicated and better left to the media corporations. Knowing that people can truly take the media into their own hands, communicate their own stories and news based on their own needs, is inspiring to me- and dangerous to others, but especially to those in power. The spirit of the people of Oaxaca continually amazes me.

Que bonito es volar: Aprendimos a bailar, bailando juntos. Que lindo. We've also met several folks from the states and more musicians from Oaxaca, mostly trovalistas. Folk singers and they mostly sing Cuban songs or other popular Latin American folk songs and are buena gente all around. We have incredible luck in meeting people, generous people who expect nothing in return, talented people who share their skills, interesting people that share their stories and ideas. It's nice knowing so many wonderful people in this world exist. I will surely miss Oaxaca but hopefully will return on my way back up through Mexico. Tomorrow night we are hopping on a night bus to San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, leaving us with one more night of trova in Oaxaca.

Mezcalando

Biznaga: Sometimes I look around at the other travelers, swirling around me in comfortable walking shoes and sun-blocking hats, guidebooks and cameras in hand, a supportive backpack on their backs, their eyes anywhere but where their feet are falling, and I try to imagine myself traveling like this young couple or that lone elderly woman. It's quite difficult. Once I did travel hostel by hostel, utilizing a guide book to locate museums or parks on a little map that I would later tear out and stash in my pocket, filling my days with activities and photographic opportunities. This trip has been very different and now I can't imagine traveling in any other way. We set out to arrive in a city, find folks on couchsurfing or Hospitality Club, and after a series of emails and phone calls, we seek out a perfect stranger's home for our free housing. For food, rather than even bother to seek out cheap cafes or restaurants, we instead head to the local market and buy fruits, vegetables and tortillas, or even more simply, a tamal or a quesadilla (or a tlayuda, in oaxaca). For filling up our time, we make friends with our hosts and their friends, wander around and meet strangers in the street, or look for the cheapest live music venues we can. Also, our talks about the Bee posters connect us with folks in almost every city we visit. I suppose speaking the language helps some but I can't help but wonder why more folks don't travel this way. It's far less stressful (except for perhaps with the lodging), at least for me, especially in terms of not having expectations for how the day will go and only expecting that good things will come of setting out each morning and relying on instinct and the knowledge that each day is a new day. On this trip each day has not only been just a new day but often a new adventure in itself, a new life, or a new way to see the world. Is it as easy to be transformed by traveling without having this sort of freedom? How do other people find ways to truly connect with the lands through which they pass? And with the people they meet? These questions run through my mind but then I realize, to each their own. I prefer to move along at the speed of the energy around me with patience and curiosity and asi ando de maravilla.

Mapa: Oaxaca has been an interestingly difficult city to navigate for all of us, though its relatively small size should be simple. Yet, it has been incredibly easy to find things we are looking for in another sense, such as a spontaneous desire for a certain taste or a warm bed to sleep in. I feel very comfortable here in that sense because I can move around knowing that I ultimately don't have much to worry about. I suppose I should have this feeling in all places I am in but sometimes I don't and here I do, and it feels nice.

Preguntas: People keep asking me what things I've seen in Oaxaca or done. Nope, in my week in a half I haven't visited a single museum or lugar turístico, other than Monte Alban. Then they ask, well what do you do each day? Although they don't say it, they implicitly also ask, "What's the point of traveling if you won't spend money or take pictures?" So, what have I been doing? Well, I've been to the market enough time to know exactly where to go for either a tamal, a pair of pants, or a piece of sweet bread. I've met Oaxaqueños from many different walks of life and had good talks over beer or coffee or a home cooked meal. We did 2 pláticas about the Bee posters with, mostly, folks from the states who are here volunteering with various projects. We've seen an amazing guitarist whose laugh and smile could change anyone's life. One of our friends, whom we met while traveling, was brought on stage en La Nueva Babel to sing some of his own songs and the intercambio in that cafe will always be a bright memory of this trip. Mole and chocolate in themselves have been worth waking up in the morning for. Pleasant surprises meet us at every corner and even unpleasant surprises just push us towards other things we could not have expected but end up fine or good or wonderful in the end. I spent two days just moving around between visits to the organic market where I saw almost every person I've met in Oaxaca so far, worth it for both the food and also for the women who makes the tostadas there who asks every woman who approaches her, Que te doy, mi reina. What can I give you, my queen. My, the people in Oaxaca are some of the nicest I've met.