Casa De Juarez

 It was still dark when I heard a rooster faintly crow in the distance.  I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed listening to the evolution of sound --growing and changing as the sun rose in the sky.  There were still chirping lizards chiding their taunts.  The birds were warming up and in a half hour they'd be in full concert just to announce the arrival of the sun.  Then the car traffic builds steadily, and soon the buses follow making their first rounds.  As the neighborhood wakes up, a cow's moo will sound followed by a catchy jingle "Gas de Oaxaca".  The gas trucks announce their arrival so you have time to obtain your refill.  The men in the water trucks shout "Agua! Agua!" for the same reason. But my favorite morning sound which also reprises in the evening originates from a man, his food cart, and his bull horn.  He probably shouts "Tamales! Tamales", but it is never really clear, and we have fun inventing alternatives--"coffee! coffee!" "Kraft Macaroni!" or "Small Ponies!"  I always clutch Pat's arm and beg him to leap out of bed and buy ten of whatever it is.  One time we were zig zagging our way around the city early, and we heard him three times!  Still, I swear I never saw him.  He is a phantom, an essence, and what I love most about this city.

Today we journeyed to a couple of markets, the home of Benito Juarez, a plaza, a cafe, a restaurant, and the zocalo.  Along our walks, I tried to photo each thing that delighted or fascinated me.  I guess it is a stream of conscience photo-journaling experiment.  It's the details that I love and that really make a place unique.  The small things are clues to the lives of the people living in the city walls not unlike the funerary urns found in Monte Alban or the elaborate embroidery of the blouses in the market.  I will miss seeing women elbow deep in a bowl of tejate stirring its frothy goodness or the women in their beautifully tiled room, steeped in shadows, talking and quietly sewing at pedal footed machines.  A black bow marks their door indicating the house is in mourning.

Tonight is our last night in Oaxaca.  We leave on an overnight bus for Chiapas tomorrow evening where we'll begin new adventures in a new colonial town, then a trip to the ruins at Palenque, an adventurous crossing to Guatemala where we'll swim in a lake and visit pyramids before finally visiting with good friends in Guatemala City.

Two weeks from today we'll be in our beds in Oak Park falling asleep to sounds of a distant El train rumbling on the tracks, ambulances roaring down Roosevelt Rd., and the teenage neighbor kids laughing on the front steps making the most of their long, warm summer nights.  But not just yet--tomorrow, I'll wake up early and hear "Tamales! Tamales!" and then I'll leap out of bed, grab my purse, and find out what is in that cart!!!        Or, maybe not.  What is life without a little mystery anyway?