Looks like we made it

With less than two weeks left, we will not accomplish everything we set out to do here.  But on Sunday we crossed an item off the list that we had not expected to achieve.  It might mean that we truly have integrated into Oaxacan society.

Here is what happened:

As in many metropolitan areas, including San Francisco and the East Bay, Oaxaca has a couple of magazines that feature glossy photos of local happenings and people.  In any given issue of the Oaxaca versions, there are pictures of fancy weddings, proud parents with their matching children, over-the-top quinceaneras (girls’ 15th birthday parties), business’ anniversary galas (usually next to a paid advertisement for the featured business), and so on.

Natalie and I enjoy flipping through the magazines to see if we recognize anyone.  Thanks to our connection to the school and to some of the friends we have made, we do surprisingly well.  We usually know at least one person in each issue.

Last Sunday the four of us were at a café watching the U.S.-Japan Women’s World Cup final.  (A great game for those lucky enough to see it.  Initially I was disappointed that the U.S., who dominated the whole game, lost in penalties.  But I felt better after Natalie explained what this meant to Japan.  Japan had considered pulling out of the tournament after the disastrous earthquake but instead it rallied behind the team as a symbol of hope during a dismal year.)  The café where we watched the game had a collection of the Oaxaca magazines.  Always one to introduce competition into an otherwise relaxing moment, I grabbed a few issues and challenged Natalie to see who could recognize someone first.  We both felt stumped after about ten minutes without finding anybody.

Suddenly Helen, who we did not even know was playing, shouted, “I see José Miguel… and his sister… and his Mom!  I win!”  Sure enough, there was a picture of one of Helen’s best buddies from school with his family and a couple other school families at an art opening.  Hands down, Helen was the winner.

José Miguel is wearing the superman shirt.  His mother, on the far right of that photo, was class mother for Helen's class.

But wait.  A couple minutes later, without even sounding too excited, Natalie said, “Oh, here are some people we know.”  You guessed it.  Our moment had arrived.

We are in the bottom right of this photo spread in Intro:  Estilo, Arte y Sociedad.

We were photographed at the blessing of the new pool across the street, where Gabriela runs her swim school, Al Água Patos.  My parents were there, but they are not in the picture.  Max also missed out on the picture, because he was off getting food.  (Helen is the little spot attached to Natalie's hip.)  Max will have to wait for another occasion to make it into the society magazine, maybe as a visiting soccer star.  As for our people-spotting game, I still consider Helen to be the winner, but Natalie came in a close second.

Speaking of crossing things off the list of things to do, yesterday I checked off another item by spending two hours with Joel the butcher at his stand in the Volcanes market.

Joel's meat stand

A popular way to serve meat here is as tasajo -- an extremely thin slice of grilled or sautéed beef.  I often have wondered how they cut the meat so thin, so I asked Joel, who owns the stand where we buy most of our meat, to show me.  Joel invited me to sit behind the counter and watch him prepare the cuts.  Besides meat, we discussed bike riding, customs around death and cemeteries, knives and knife sharpening, how Joel got into the butcher business (his father started it; his brothers truck the meat up from Chiapas; and his wife and son run a stand at a different market), the advantages of an android phone over an iPhone, and more.  We sampled some mezcal, and Joel gave me a bottle to take home.  Joel also sent me home with a recipe for the meat I bought, which involved sautéing it with potatoes in a sauce made of tomatoes, onions, garlic, oregano, mint, and salt.  It was good, but I was glad the meat came pre-cut.  Demonstration aside, it takes a lot of practice to cut a true tasajo.  --Harrison