San Bartolo and Monte Alban, Oaxaca (Day 15 - 12/1/14)

Oaxaca is only a couple of states south of Mexico but in a lot of ways it feels like a whole other country.

Today is the day I almost broke. I haven't felt homesick at all during this trip but by the time that today gets to 4pm I feel like I am pretty much done.

Last night I slept terribly. I had these stabbing pains in my stomach. I guess you can only be fearless about Mexican food for so long. Despite the grasshoppers and bucket tacos and other assorted street foods, I think it was a simple piece of chicken in mole sauce that got me in the end.

My frustration has also been escalating due to phone issues. I won't bore you with the details but we'll just say that Vodafone is charging me incorrectly and I was unable to contact them because they were disallowing my calls to them. A girl from Vodafone had assured me back in Australia that if I had issues I could simply chase them up when I got back home, but this morning a new text message tells me that my entire account will be locked if I fail to contact them. Yet I am unable to call them.

That's the short non-boring version of the story. I begin to freak out because we've been using my phone to book hotels, day trips, and transfers between cities. Yikes!

So, between this and my stomach cramps, I am a little over things.

But we soldier on. What else can you do?

We have most of the day in Oaxaca so we decide to grab a taxi and see some things outside of town.

It's hard to know if you have a 'safe' taxi driver in Mexico. Guide books and similar sources tell you that if you just use the gold-and-red government-certified cabs in Mexico City then you'll be fine. This however doesn't seem to extend to other cities like Oaxaca... the taxis don't look the same, so we decide to just trust our hotel when they refer us to a guy sitting out the front. Unlike Alejandro, he speaks no English, so it takes a bit of time checking the phrasebook and pointing to maps to establish our route. Language barrier aside, he seems a little odd. He laughs and smirks a lot while staring at us in his rear view mirror, has a weird orange toy monkey hanging from the roof, and spends a lot of time talking to someone over the CB in Spanish. The Duck becomes a little scared, interpreting his laughter as being directed at us, and this in turn makes me question his trustworthiness and I become uncomfortable and paranoid.

I try to fight this feeling and rationalise things. If this guy did anything bad, it would jeopardise his job as a reputable taxi driver used by a tourist-friendly hotel, yeah?

We'll come back to this guy and his story later. Suffice to say, he drove us to two places outside of Oaxaca and we did eventually make it back to the hotel, but not without incident.

The first of our two locations is San Bartolo. The Duck has had it in her head since we left Australia that we have to visit this town because Bartolo is our last name.

San Bartolo - home of Oaxaca's famous black pottery

 

San Bartolo is a fairly quiet town; a little rundown even, and not really a destination for tourists. I begin to question whether it was worth coming out here (to be honest, I was sceptical from the start). The Duck sniffs something out though. Oaxaca is known for its distinctive black pottery, and most of this is created in San Bartolo. We find some local artisans in an open one-level building and pick up a range of gifts from them (most of which will shatter in our bags on the trip back home... but, hey, isn't that part of the majesty of travel?)

A variety of crafts stalls were pocketed all around this building

All kinds of black pottery

San Bartolo Church

 

The next stop is Monte Alban, Oaxaca state's most important and famous archaeological site. Our driver takes us up a long and winding mountaintop road to Monte Alban and agrees to wait in the carpark for us. Monte Alban is a Zapotec citadel that dates back to 300 AD. It's pretty breathtaking, with huge staircases built into the mountainside, and walled ball courts sunken into the ground, tunnels that snake into the sides of mountains, and a thin layer of grass that covers everything and gives the ruins a sense of life. We spend a while just walking around and being in it.

I don't feel very good about these skulls being displayed in the museum at Monte Alban, but then again I don't feel very good about the fact that so many people were sacrificed by the Mesoamericans. I don't really believe in objectivity but I do try to withhold judgement due to the fact that the Mexican and Indigenous cultures of Mexico aren't something that I'm a part of. What's interesting about the skulls above is the circular holes in the top - this is called trepanning; an early form of brain surgery carried out with a hand-drill.

Cool statuette.

The pictures don't really do Monte Alban justice - it's a large citadel perched on the top of a mountain, and features some pretty sophisticated architecture.

When we return to the carpark we attract the unwanted attention of a local hawker trying to sell... heck, I can't even remember what it was he wanted to sell, but the point is that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I was emphatic with him and even frowned at him with my sternest face. Still, he followed us to our driver's car, and persistently petitioned us to buy his wares. What made it even more awkward was that our driver was fast asleep, laid back in the front passenger seat with his feet up.

I yell, "Hola!" a few times but he does not wake. The local salesman, possibly thinking that we'll pay him for his assistance, starts saying something to me. I think he's trying to tell me how to say 'wake up' so I repeat his words to the driver. Taxi driver still does not rise.

Well. This is awkward.

The Duck, myself, and this hawker just stand around for a few minutes like work acquaintances at a forced Christmas party. Why won't this guy just go away? He stops trying to talk to us but remains standing with us in the car park while the driver continues his siesta, and he just stares at me. He's not going to get a sale out of us. Does annoying someone really work as a sales technique? I stare back at him.

Screw it.

I start knocking on the car's window with a renewed vigour. I don't want to continue standing with this weird local guy. The driver finally awakens with a sheepish grin.

In our travels around Oaxaca we've noticed a Walmart, so we ask the driver to take us there so we can buy some new luggage for our trip out of Oaxaca. He seems to understand but we end up at the fleamarkets in downtown Oaxaca, confirming that he does not understand us at all. Both myself and the Duck are done with this guy and his laughing conversations on the CB, so we decide to use the opportunity of being in a public place to finish our day trip with him. He seems a little put out that we don't want to continue driving around with him and begins to calculate our fare. I just give him 600 pesos (which is intentionally more than we should owe) and he pretends this is exactly the right price. The transaction is over and we're both happy.

We get out of the back of the cab, waiting for him to pop the boot so we can grab our purchases from San Bartolo. Still wary of him, I keep my door open while we indicate for him to open the trunk.

You know what he does? He starts driving off!

"Woah woah woah!" I shout (a universal sound, I'm sure). I refuse to let go of the door even while he drives. The door clangs against a motorbike parked in the street as I'm dragged along and the driver stops the taxi with a sudden lurch. He laughs and plays it off as forgetfulness when I angrily point to the boot. Duck thinks it wasn't on purpose, but I'm not so sure. We grab our things and head into the markets to see if we can find a bag to put our stuff in.

Oaxaca markets

I don't like markets at the best of times. These were a little too claustrophobic for me.

Oaxacan cheese. Yum!

With all my worrying, and the added pressure of needing an extra piece of luggage before we leave Oaxaca tonight, things start getting a bit tense between myself and the Duck. By the time we get a new backpack we're not really talking much, and the long walk back to our hotel is both physically and emotionally draining.

While repacking our bags at the hotel, Vodafone finally call me and agree to delete all the weird debt that has accrued on my phone. It's a small win but a win nonetheless. We head to Oaxaca station for our transfer to the next stop on our journey, the town of San Cristobal de las Casas. The back of my neck is sunburnt; it's so hot it feels like freshly cooked bacon. The bus leaves at 7pm; a coach that will take 11 hours overnight to get to its destination. I think I might just be tired enough to sleep through it. 

Look, I know I already posted a picture of a Mexican toilet previously, but this picture features a pedal-operated flush. Why don't we have these in our public toilets? I'd be far more likely to flush a public toilet if I didn't have to do it with my hand!

Oaxaca City and Santa Maria del Tule, Oaxaca (Day 14 - 11/1/14)

Mitla; the Zapotec 'city of the dead'

I feel so tired. As nice as Oaxaca's Hotel Mision de Los Angeles is, I had a hard time sleeping due to the noise. Part of this is due to some kind of celebration down the road with a big Mexican brass band and more fireworks. Maybe this celebration is something that happens every night in Oaxaca. I don't know. It's not really anyone's fault, it's just part of the local colour, but damn, I wish I'd slept more. I'm less forgiving of the screaming kids who were running around the hotel circa 1 AM, and the loudly gossiping woman who seemed to be right next to my head all night.

Yes, I am officially old. No longer the rager, now the enraged.

Today I am really feeling the frustration of not knowing enough Spanish. I can say a few things that get me by; hola, gracias, cuanto, muy bueno, etc. When I order a continental breakfast, however, it becomes really confusing because I'm not sure what it entails - IE. Will the staff bring it out to me? Or should I use the buffet they had? Is the bill meant to be cash, or is it was added to our hotel tab? And so on. What we had for breakfast doesn't really matter that much, but feeling so isolated amongst all the espanol-speaking staff and fellow patrons doesn't feel like a very positive start to the day.

The Duck and I have been trying to add new Spanish words to our vocabulary every day and today's words are 'bano' (toilet), 'sanitarios' (bathroom) and 'donde' (where). We have another day tour today, this time on a little bus filled with tourists from other parts of Mexico. The guide speaks English but seems put out that we can't understand the local language as it means she has to say everything twice. Sorry lady, we paid knowing that you spoke English! She'll say stuff in Spanish and the others will laugh, and then she gives us a flat two-word explanation (sans joke). It's sans awesome.

Here's what we saw today:

The widest tree in the world (apparently)

El Arbol del Tule

This 2000 year old Montezuma Cypress is the thickest-trunked tree in the world. It's circumference is a whopping 42 metres - 14 metres in diameter - and it stands in a fenced-off garden outside a brightly-painted church in the town of Santa Maria el Tule (which, from what I can gather, translates as 'The St. Maria Swamp'. Great name). 

This tree is yet another perspective moment. It dwarfs everything around it, and it would be a peaceful experience listening to the church bells clanging overhead while we observe it but - goddammit - the people of Oaxaca really love their firecrackers. First you hear the keening wail descending from above in an extremely high pitch like a bomb dropped from a plane, and then the explosion rocks the pit of your stomach, cracking loudly like a shotgun blast in the immediate vicinity. Kids are crying, people are jumping out of their skins everywhere... apparently they like this. It sure isn't the church as I know it. And if that isn't enough punk rock Catholicism for you, a guy playing a tuba comes marching out of the church like he owns the place. Outstanding.

I have a tuba. Tubas are cool now.

Mexican churches are the most beautiful churches I've ever seen

Oaxacan Traditional Weaving

Our first tourist trap of the day is a weaving operation out in the cactus-sticks. We listen to the business owner explain the dying processes used to get all the bright colours used in Oaxacan rugs. The Duck enjoys it but I'm a bit bored by it especially when we then get assigned 20 minutes to look around and buy something.

Mezcal Factory

Mezcal is apparently what most of us really mean when we talk about tequila-with-the-worm-in. Like tequila, mezcal is made from the cactus called agave, but it undergoes a different process before its distillation. I guess it's a bit like the difference between whiskey and bourbon. They both taste a bit wrong to me (mezcal and tequila), though mezcal less so than tequila.

The guide takes us through the creation of mezcal stage-by-stage, and we watch a donkey drag a millstone around a small circle with some encouragement from one of the workers in the distillery. Duck is a bit sad watching the beast of burden but she brightens up a bit when she witnesses it eating from the agave it crushes. She wonders if all these people know that the burro has had its slobbery face in their mezcal before they drink it?

We try about 8 varieties of mezcal. This array of local alcohol excites the Mexican tourists a lot, but for me it's 8 varieties too many.

This is where mezcal comes from.

 

This was the most exciting part of the day for all of the other tourists on the bus.

Mitla

It's hard coming to these ruins after seeing Teotihuacan in all it's godlike glory, but they're still fairly impressive nonetheless. Mitla is known as 'the land of the dead' but our guide doesn't really explain it to us very much so I'm unsure why. It was built by the Zapotec civilisation around 900 AD and its most fun feature is an underground crypt that we have to virtually crawl into. Getting to the ruins is a story in itself. 

All day the driver of our van has been hooning about, and when he gets to the village of San Pablo Villa de Mitla, with all its tiny paved laneways, he seems to show little regard for pedestrians, dogs, or oncoming traffic. His journey slows right down, though, when we suddenly get stuck behind a church procession with a full brass band and, you guessed it, more crazy firecrackers. It's a little bit funny as the van creeps slowly behind the hundreds of people marching up the street to the church.

Need a knife? Just grab some from the markets.

Maya crafts at the markets

A lot of Mexican toilets require payment for entry. This helps ensure that the toilet is clean, case in point - see the picture above. Mexican public toilets are on the whole far cleaner than Australian public toilets.

San Pablo Villa de Mitla

 

The church is a rather beautiful-looking piece of architecture and, much like the Basilica in Mexico City, it has been built directly on top of pre-Hispanic ruins. The ruins are very much visible around the base of this large church, the story being that the Spanish decided to do this so they could keep the 'devil' trapped within the Zapotec tombs (they saw the indigenous civilisations as Satanic... or so they say. It's also helpful to build your church on top of indigenous ruins if you're wanting to subjugate several million natives).

Mitla is unique amongst Mexican ruins for its intricate fresco work.

The Zapotec civilisation flourished between 700 and 1500 AD. It's estimated that approximately 1 million of Mexican's indigenous people are Zapotec.

 

Hierve al Agua

You'll recall that I mentioned Mexican road rules (or lack thereof) when we first got to Mexico City. Well, imagine this cavalier attitude on a narrow clifftop road in a bus averaging 60-70 kms an hour. I was overjoyed. The bus dodges donkeys loaded up with sticks, rogue bulls, local farms that have been built out onto the road, and more oncoming traffic that didn't have the sense to stay at home rather than risk the road-hog that is our bus driver. I'm not really overjoyed at all, I actually find it a particularly hairy ride. After about an hour of this I'm practically wedged under my own seat and, thankfully, we finally reach Hierve al Agua - the petrified waterfalls.

These are clifftop springs that contain so much calcium that the water and resulting pools are a milky white, and there are also rock formations that bubbles over the cliff edge like cascades frozen in time. It's a similar phenomenon to the limestone formations found in caves. It's a strange sight but I find it a bit nerve-wracking watching all kinds of people teetering on the edge while ankle-deep in water. Call it culture shock but there seems to be no commonsense in this country. I'm all for freedom and if you're only going to jeopardise your own personal safety then I guess that's your choice - but c'mon, there has to be a happy medium. I laugh at the sign in the carpark, "20 pesos to maintain your protection". What protection? I see a whole family literally climbing a cliff wall so they can take some photos and no one gives a shit. While trying not to freak out too much at the Duck's own willingness to get pretty close to the edge, I see two Black Vultures gracefully swinging across the valley in lazy arcs. That's gotta be a sign, right? I think the vultures know something the Mexican tourists don't.

Hierve al Agua is an interesting ecological feature but the day really takes it out of me, and the hair-raising drive back down the mountain has me ready to crawl back into my hotel room.

See that edge where the pool is? That's a cliff.