A Taste of Home

In a few days, our trip will be half over.  Even though we will be here for another three and a half months, the reality that this experience will end is beginning to set in.  Each of us, in our own way, is thinking about it.  Helen, for instance, recently asked if she can visit her Mexican school “on some of the days” when we get back to Oakland.  Max said it would be good to stay here for a year, instead of for seven months, to get “really fluent” in Spanish.  Today, Natalie took videos out the bus window on our way back from running errands while the kids were in school.  She wants to remember “just how cool it all is,” which I understand.  As for me, I am starting to take things off the list of what I hope to do here.  For example, it is looking less likely that I will learn to play mariachi music.

While it will be hard to leave Oaxaca, last week we were treated to a wonderful reminder of what we have to look forward to when we go home.  We had visits from Natalie’s sister and niece, Tamara and Macey, and from our good friends Valerie, Michael, and Sam.  We spent a couple of days alone with each of them, and three days with everybody together.  We managed to do a lot in a short time.  

Such as... Tamara, Macey, Natalie, and I went with our neighbor, José Manuel, to see the ruins at Mitla and the huge tree at Tule.  All of us went to Monte Alban, except for Max and Helen, who had school, and Natalie, who had a brunch with some school moms.  Natalie took everyone to the Santo Domingo church and museum.  We shared a kilo and a half of grilled meat and vegetables with our friend and tutor, Mercedes.  We hung out at the Zócalo.  We wandered around town and bought lots of crafts (and two pairs of shoes for Macey!).  We went to a mega-candy store so Tamara could buy treats like sugar-salt-jalapeño packs for her Spanish students.  On Michael, Valerie, and Sam’s last full day we took a bus to Ocotlán, where we visited the workshops of a master knife-maker and a blind sculptor.  And in between all the sight-seeing, the kids played dolls, dress-up, Club Penguin, catsup war, computer games, and more, and we spent hours sitting by the pool drinking lemonade and other, stronger beverages.  

Here are some pictures.

Max and Sam, showing their impeccable table manners.

Helen giving Macey an earfull.

Tamara and Macey at Mitla.

Macey and I have a similar attention span for ruins.  Here:  Mitla.

Here:  Monte Alban.

Macey and Valerie climbing stairs at Monte Alban.  Macey surprised us by zipping up the stairs.

Sam scared us by running down the stairs.

Michael at Monte Alban, connecting with a student.

Macey and Sam at the Santo Domingo Museum.  Wishing they were in school?

Better than a museum:  the candy shop.

Sam went to soccer practice with Max, and played.

Cousins at the Zócalo.

Neat storefront.

Knife-making demonstration.

Sam and Max with Max's classmate Caleb.  Helen dancing hula in the background.  We did not buy the sword, but Sam bought a fishing knife and I bought a machete.

Helen, Max, Sam, and Macey walking home after school pickup.  Yes, Max is holding Helen's hand. 

As much fun as we had and as many things as we did, the best part of the week for the four of us was to spend time with people who know more about us than we have been able to share in the last three months.  We are making many good friends in Oaxaca, several of whom we hope will become lifelong friends.  But nothing like a week with people who already are lifelong friends and family to make us appreciate home.

And now, here is something you might not know about cockroaches.  They may be able to survive a nuclear holocaust, but cockroaches do not last long in a glass of wine.  I learned that a few nights ago.  At first, I could not figure out why the wine I was sipping tickled my lips.  Then I locked eyes with a drowning cockroach that was trying to climb into my mouth.  In the time it took me to spit the wine onto my shirt and then rinse it out, the cockroach died.

Ya no puede caminar.

This has happened to me before, in New Orleans.  Who said lightening never strikes twice?  --Harrison