Small City?

On embarking for our trip, we knew five people in Oaxaca.  One is the godmother of a couple that lives with my sister in Inverness.  One is the godmother's daughter.  Two are a mother, Taylor, and her 10-year-old daughter, Cati, that Natalie and I met when we came here in June to scout schools and a place to live.  And one is a rug-maker from a nearby town that spends a month each year in the Bay Area selling Christmas trees.  Helen and I met the rug-maker, Mario, on a rainy evening in Berkeley last month at the house of some new friends that recently had spent a year in Oaxaca.  Five people.

This morning, as the 40-seat Aeromexico jet prepared to take off from Mexico City to Oaxaca, the man in the seat in front of us turned around to say hello.  He asked, "Aren't you Susanna's friend?"  It was Mario.  What were the chances?  He offered us a ride to the hotel, but we politely declined.  He understood why when, an hour later, he saw the cart with our bags.

Just as we were preparing to enter this foreign place, we ran into somebody we already knew and who already knew us.  It was a nice way to arrive in the city that, for the next seven months, will be our home.

Harrison