Monte Alban en domingo pasado

I went to Monte Alban the on my second day in oaxaca (sunday). I spent a large part of that day wandering around the Zocalo and the historic center visiting the mercados, getting a free map and really great advice (the parts I could understand atleast) from two girls at an information desk, and taking pictures off graffiti while passersby looked at me like I'm crazy. I ended up at the internet cafe near where I was staying at about two en la tarde. I enjoyed seeing the historic center but I felt a little disappointed that I hadn't planned out what I wanted to do with the day. I tried to ask the man who runs the internet cafe if it was too late to take a bus to Monte Alban. My spanish is, well, awful really and he spoke no english... so I resorted to opening freetranslation.com on the computer and we typed back and forth to translate. He told me that he lives near Monte Alban and that he could take me. I know what your thinking. This sounds super fishy. So I told him when I needed to be back here and basically straight out said that my mom would not want me to take risks like this. Ultimately, my instinct told me that he is a good person. I went to grab my sweater, came back and we were off.

This is the kind of situation where, in retrospect, you wonder what it is that motivates a person to go out of their way for you. At the time, part of me (the careful-fearful-paranoid part of me) thought that the scenario in general seemed like the motivation could be a very awkward better-to-be-avoided one. But as soon as we got in the car it became clear that Javier is very proud of his identity as both a Oaxacano and Mextico. He deeply loves oaxaca and monte alban and was really excited to tell me about dia de los muertos, foods of oaxaca, his mextico background, and point out places of interest along the way. The neighborhood he lives in is right below Monte alban, he pointed it out as we passed the large clusters of buildings painted in cool blues, vibrant oranges and reds. At Monte alban he tried to get me in for free, and I probably could have passed if I were wearing jeans and just less touristy stuff in general... but instead I paid the small fee and Javier and I started walking to the tombas. Monte alban was built mostly by zapotecs, but the tombas (tombs) were later used by mixtecos and it was so much more appropriate to visit this sacred place with Javier rather than a clump of tourists. As we walked around Javier was able to point out what things were originals or replicas and showed me his favorite viewpoints. From that elevation we could see oaxaca and the surrounding villages/pueblos and he told me where to go for alibres, for other specialties and also told me about Mitla. He added that in his opinion Monte alban is much more beautiful than Mitla, in such a way that also conveyed that this bias is intentional and due to his ties to the land in oaxaca and monte alban.

Javier is also an architect, I wonder if & how his studies as an architect affected the way he sees monte alban. I just stood there in awe of the hand built structures. A beautiful sacred place. I reminded myself as I was walking that this is sacred ground, because I think that is something that is easy to forget after so many years of tourism and postcards and guidebooks and archaeologists "discovering" what many of their ancestors intended to destroy. And it is strange to be there with tourists that chose to wear "traditional" attire that they purchase in boutiques in town...

On the ride back Javier continued my lesson in oaxacan culture by telling me that it offends him when men whistle and act machismo towards women, and that it is best to ignore them. He also taught me some oaxacan spanish, expressions and such. The ride back to the internet cafe went by quickly with our laughter and attempts to converse. I was really amazed that we could communicate as well as we did. I could almost forget that we didn't speak the same language at some points, which sounds ridiculous now that I write it down. When he said good bye he taught me one final word: cuidate.

After my conversations with Javier, I went to see more of the areas surrounding the zocalo with a confidence that I could communicate. And with my confidence in my communication skills and overall presence in Oaxaca came my appetite (funny how that happens) so I was very happy to find a street vendor selling grilled elote before heading back to my comfy bed.

My parents and my physical therapist Amber (hi amber!) would be happy to hear that I climbed up and down the steps of the ruins without knee problems. hurray!

incredible.
Earlier that day I had Champurrado y pan muerto at the mercado de novembre 20. Champurrado is a hot chocolate drink with maize in it, so it had a soup-like quality. Oscar from the Mexico City airport said I had to try it, thanks Oscar!