Gringos, Burros, and the End of The World

Un nino in front of a shrine in a cathedral in Oaxaca. Today is the national holiday for the Virgin Guadalupe, and to celebrate they hold a huge carnival where the parents dress the children up as saints and they pose for pictures in front of decorated shrines.

I've been intimidated about this blog post since launching this thing. Must make profound observations! Must regale with unprecedented tales from highlands Mexico! Which has effectively thwarted adventure on my journey so far. Or so I'm convinced.

Truth be told, Mexico is incredibly easy on its visitors. I arrived in Mexico City late Monday evening to the task I had been dreading-namely hiring a taxi in one of the biggest cities in the world and communicating my destination in my Spanish that habitually places the stress on the wrong syllable (truly the most critical step in prononcing Spanish words). Alas, the Benito Juarez airport, in an act of compassion for gringos like me, has divided the entire city into zones and labeled them on a map. Which means, effectively, you just have to tap a spot on the map, grinning your compliant turista grin. The airport does not, however, apply judgement when the destination you've selected is close enough to spit at, quietly taking your fee and summoning your two block ride.

I then found myself inside the home of the most gracious Mexican woman who spoke less English then I do Spanish. Somehow my need for a bed and a meal was communicated (with the aid of a helpful fellow traveler with perfecto espanol) and I, along with a couple others who happened upon the place at the same time, were served the freshest tortillas con cebolla (onion) y guacamole y some kind of mortor and pestle ground chilies and shown to an austere but homey private room with a matrimonio (queen sized) bed, all for 200 pesos or about $15. Muchas gracias Mexico...

Today I arrived by bus to Oaxaca city. The difference between Oaxaca and Mexico City is perceptible the moment you step off the bus, if only in ways that defy explanation. Several indigenous cultures intersect in the Valles Centrales de Oaxaca, amidst a strong Roman Catholic presence. The combined Catholic piety, shamanic superstition, intact indigenous culture, colourful artisanal wares and decadent food makes Oaxaca unlike anywhere I've ever been.

Certain coincidental trends usually makes one wonder if coincidence is truly the operative power or if something else is at work. From the Mexican-American man I shared the flight from Chicago to Houston with who enlightened me to Mexico's current socio-political state and gave me good advice for 'surviving' Mexico, to the tragically-nerdy-but-pure-hearted young Mexican who gave me a 6 hour lesson on the bus ride to Oaxaca on everything from the socially stigmatized burro (donkey) to Zapotec theology, I have crossed paths with people at every turn of this jounrey so far who have enhanced my experience of Mexico immeasurably. Here's to hoping the trend continues.

Right, and I couldn't write a post about Mexico without addressing the impending apocalypse. This is what I've ascertained so far: the only people observing the end of the Mayan calendar are non-Mayans. In particular, Caucasian, new-age, transcendentalists with a penchant for hallucinogens who believe it signals the end of an era in human thought, but not the end of the world. So rest easy?

Update: This post was written yesterday but an unreliable internet connection meant I wasn't able to post until today.