MOTORCYCLES, SCOOTERS, OAXACA AND SURVIVING
Cautionary note: The third week of May, 2008, Hertz in Oaxaca changed its downtown location from a side-street, to the main drag, the pedestrian walkway known as Alcalá, about a block and a half up from the zócalo. The new digs are larger and storefront. However, in one of the windows are parked four or five 125 cc scooters for rent, at the very reasonable price of 250 pesos per day. The Hertz management are good people whom I’ve known for years. However, travelers and should take extra precautions if contemplating renting a scooter. The temptation is now right in front of you. Bombing around downtown Oaxaca or on the nearby highways is very different from renting a motorbike in Cancun, The Dominican Republic, Puerto Escondido and other beach resorts. It’s much more dangerous in my opinion, so be forewarned and make sure you exercise added caution if you’re a novice or lack a lot of experience, yet still insist on renting. In the space of one year, in motorcycle accidents one acquaintance has been killed, and another ended up confined permanently to a wheelchair … and these were experienced, Oaxacan cyclists. In Oaxaca, rules of the road are different, and in any event are not enforced very often; at many intersections there are no traffic lights or stop or yield signs, so you just have to know; frequently traffic lights don’t work (especially during rainy season); it appears to me that most motorists are uninsured (insurance is optional in the state); and, impaired driving is a much greater problem here than in the US or Canada. While penal reform now exists in Oaxaca, its implementation is proceeding very slowly, and here in the city we are still subject to a Napoleonic / inquisitorial regime … meaning that if you get in an accident and someone is injured, even if you believe it’s not your fault, you could end up behind bars, if only for a brief period of time. Please, be careful. To date I've been riding my motorcycle in Oaxaca without incident, but am vigilent at all times, to the extreme.
Alvin Starkman
Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast
http://www.oaxacadream.com
Alvin & Arlene Starkman
Sierra Nevada 164
Col. Loma Linda
Oaxaca, Oaxaca 68024 Mexico
7/20/2008
Rainy season in Oaxaca
STORMY WEATHER: RAINY SEASON IN OAXACA
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
From May until well past summer’s end, Oaxaca can be subject to extreme weather patterns. While we’ve all experienced torrential downpours and damaging winds, here in southern Mexico the region’s utility delivery systems ---which at the best of times have lacked quality control and are now (mostly) outdated---make for storms which affect most of us in ways we have seldom if every experienced. Whether you’re at an internet café, in the comfort of your hotel room or home, on the road or in a restaurant, Oaxaca’s meteorological marvels will impact you in new and different ways.
Rainwaters may wash out roadways in lower-lying areas, and as a result you may experience traffic delays. Road closures and virtually impassable conditions may dictate that you make alternate plans for or perhaps just delay a couple of days that anticipated trek up to the Sierra for a weekend ecotour. The sheer volume of precipitation flowing down steep inclines in a brief period of time coupled with the clogging effect of debris are contributing factors.
Depending on wind direction, occupants of homes, offices and retail establishments may find themselves mopping up. The use of weatherstripping is the exception rather than the norm. So be patient if the level of service you expect is not forthcoming when climatic conditions curtail the ability of your waiter or salesperson to attend to your needs. Oaxacans tend to “go with the flow,” after having endured months of draught and the resultant periodic shortages of water for daily predominantly commercial consumption, and challenges to maintaining crops and gardens. It’s part of the cyclical nature of life, and we quickly become stoic about tolerating and adapting to such temporary natural occurrences…even the minor earth tremors (something different to tell the folks back home).
But it’s the impact that the storms have on electricity that is stunning, both while the skies are thundering and for perhaps 12 hours after the last bolt of lightning has illuminated the cerros. One television may be out of commission while another in the same household may be working, but without sound. The computer may not come on after the fireworks have subsided, yet the lights are on. Some bulbs may be operating at full capacity, while others are not…they may function at a reduced candlelight level, or may simply flicker. One phone may work, another not. The refrigerator may be operating but not the microwave. Causes? For one, Oaxaca lacks a sophistocated regulatory framework which might otherwise control matters such as gauge of electrical wire and overloading of circuits. While “obra suspendida” notices (stop work orders) are not uncommon, they result more from a failure to submit basic drawings to the authorities, than from the substance of the construction.
Your reward for tolerance and understanding is the knowledge that soon all will return to normal, and when you are able to get out on the road you may be blessed with a triple rainbow…it’s all part of the magic of Oaxaca. The city will appear fresh, ultra clean, and have a green tinge to it, many buildings having been constructed of pale green cantera stone mined from local quarries, the cantera taking on deeper tones after a rain. Oaxaca has been called the City of Jade because of this phenomenon.
Rains and their temporary effects on services ought not to put a damper on one’s Oaxacan travel plans for this time of year. The color of the hills and mountains changes from nondescript beige to brilliant green, the temperature range is pleasant at both extremes, and the fiestas are plentiful and filled with unmatched pageantry. Keep your vacation itinerary in tact and you won’t be disappointed. For $1 you can always pick up a rain poncho on the street. Most of my pre-residency Oaxaca travel experiences were throughout the summer, and yet here I am, a Oaxacan looking forward to whatever comes my way.
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene offers a unique Oaxaca accommodations experience, as owners of Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ), a member of the Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast Association (http://www.oaxacabedandbreakfast.org). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004.
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
From May until well past summer’s end, Oaxaca can be subject to extreme weather patterns. While we’ve all experienced torrential downpours and damaging winds, here in southern Mexico the region’s utility delivery systems ---which at the best of times have lacked quality control and are now (mostly) outdated---make for storms which affect most of us in ways we have seldom if every experienced. Whether you’re at an internet café, in the comfort of your hotel room or home, on the road or in a restaurant, Oaxaca’s meteorological marvels will impact you in new and different ways.
Rainwaters may wash out roadways in lower-lying areas, and as a result you may experience traffic delays. Road closures and virtually impassable conditions may dictate that you make alternate plans for or perhaps just delay a couple of days that anticipated trek up to the Sierra for a weekend ecotour. The sheer volume of precipitation flowing down steep inclines in a brief period of time coupled with the clogging effect of debris are contributing factors.
Depending on wind direction, occupants of homes, offices and retail establishments may find themselves mopping up. The use of weatherstripping is the exception rather than the norm. So be patient if the level of service you expect is not forthcoming when climatic conditions curtail the ability of your waiter or salesperson to attend to your needs. Oaxacans tend to “go with the flow,” after having endured months of draught and the resultant periodic shortages of water for daily predominantly commercial consumption, and challenges to maintaining crops and gardens. It’s part of the cyclical nature of life, and we quickly become stoic about tolerating and adapting to such temporary natural occurrences…even the minor earth tremors (something different to tell the folks back home).
But it’s the impact that the storms have on electricity that is stunning, both while the skies are thundering and for perhaps 12 hours after the last bolt of lightning has illuminated the cerros. One television may be out of commission while another in the same household may be working, but without sound. The computer may not come on after the fireworks have subsided, yet the lights are on. Some bulbs may be operating at full capacity, while others are not…they may function at a reduced candlelight level, or may simply flicker. One phone may work, another not. The refrigerator may be operating but not the microwave. Causes? For one, Oaxaca lacks a sophistocated regulatory framework which might otherwise control matters such as gauge of electrical wire and overloading of circuits. While “obra suspendida” notices (stop work orders) are not uncommon, they result more from a failure to submit basic drawings to the authorities, than from the substance of the construction.
Your reward for tolerance and understanding is the knowledge that soon all will return to normal, and when you are able to get out on the road you may be blessed with a triple rainbow…it’s all part of the magic of Oaxaca. The city will appear fresh, ultra clean, and have a green tinge to it, many buildings having been constructed of pale green cantera stone mined from local quarries, the cantera taking on deeper tones after a rain. Oaxaca has been called the City of Jade because of this phenomenon.
Rains and their temporary effects on services ought not to put a damper on one’s Oaxacan travel plans for this time of year. The color of the hills and mountains changes from nondescript beige to brilliant green, the temperature range is pleasant at both extremes, and the fiestas are plentiful and filled with unmatched pageantry. Keep your vacation itinerary in tact and you won’t be disappointed. For $1 you can always pick up a rain poncho on the street. Most of my pre-residency Oaxaca travel experiences were throughout the summer, and yet here I am, a Oaxacan looking forward to whatever comes my way.
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene offers a unique Oaxaca accommodations experience, as owners of Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ), a member of the Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast Association (http://www.oaxacabedandbreakfast.org). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004.
Rules of the road in Oaxaca
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
Give one example of an oxymoron. You guessed it. But just when you think you’re comfortable driving in this city, apparently without hardfast or enforced regulations, there you are, transito (a traffic cop) waving you over, giving you a ticket, removing your license plate or towing your vehicle. Watching and learning what other drivers do does not provide any comfort or assurance that you won’t end up paying a fine, perhaps with your car having vanished, or being honked at by other motorists. All I can do is offer some understanding and explanation, and the rest is up to you.
Let’s start with the premise that this particular local government employee isn’t paid all that well, and therefore has limited “resources,” in the multiple sense of the word. I’ve been told he earns about 6,000 pesos per month, and also that he earns about 2,000 pesos per month and relies on making the balance of his wages “on the street.” Keep this is mind, or search for your own statistics. One thing for sure is that he probably earns less than the average Oaxacan (about 65,000 pesos annually according to most recent statistics)…not like the law enforcement officers we know who retire in their fifties with good pensions to then start a second career in the security field.
I’m convinced that no one knows the traffic laws and that whatever is being enforced is done so haphazardly or on a whim. The point is that even when you think you’re doing the right thing or know the law, you may still be pulled over, fined or bear the wrath of irate motorists. What follows is a smattering of assistance for would-be Oaxacan drivers, constituting acceptable driving practices, not necessarily the law…nor what will keep you out of trouble. But over the past fifteen years I’ve only been pulled over three times…once for a u-turn in a major intersection, another time for driving without plates, and recently for simply not knowing what to do in the middle of a weird-looking intersection with even stranger traffic signals (to date not a single fine).
Keep in mind that frequently lanes aren’t clearly or at all marked, and lights aren’t always working, at least for one direction of traffic. When you see two or more transito directing in an intersection, do not assume that they’re working in unison. I recently saw one officer clipping his fingernails while apparently directing traffic. If it’s sunny and hot, a lone officer might seem invisible, and your only indication he’s around will be the sound of his whistle blowing…he’ll be out of the intersection, watching and directing traffic from under the awning of the building on the corner, in the shade.
WHO HAS THE RIGHT OF WAY?
Many intersections don’t have yield or stop signs, or lights. Most up and down big streets have the right of way, as do most major cross streets, but it’s a matter of learning over time which street is which, what constitutes a big or major one, and even once you’ve done so, being cautious upon entering every intersection because you don’t know if the other guy knows. At traffic lights, green has the right of way, but not immediately. You’re probably accustomed to driving in a jurisdiction where there’s a delay of a second or two between the other driver getting the red, and you getting the green. No so in Oaxaca. Before proceeding, edge out carefully to see how many drivers will be speeding through the red. They say that semáforos (traffic lights) are suggestive only, so at times there will be drivers stopping and then proceeding through a red. Though illegal, this is not an uncommon or unaccepted practice…it just happens, and I bet those going through reds in this context get into less accidents than drivers proceeding immediately upon seeing a green, or those going through unmarked intersections.
TURNING
You’re not supposed to turn right on a red after stopping if it’s safe to do so, unless there’s a sign with an arrow. Breach this one and you’ll be honked at more than for going straight through a red! Sometimes right lanes are reserved for right turns only, so watch for them, or understand why the guy behind you is honking when you obey the red light…there’s probably a green arrow somewhere telling you to turn right. The car on your left might also want to turn right. Regarding left turns, the same holds true. But more often there will be two or three lanes of traffic wanting to turn left, including you…but before making your left turn, ensure the driver to your left also plans to turn left, and not go straight. Buses seem to be allowed to turn whichever way they want from whichever lane they’re in, and because they’re bigger than you, be careful, if you can see them through their exhaust. Unless you plan to turn, the safest place to be and to avoid angry motorists is the middle lanes. On occasion you might even happen upon a far right lane reserved for left hand turns! But wait. Beginning in May, 2006, road “improvements” on the main east-west thoroughfare in the city, Niños Héroes de Chapúltepec, started to reach completion. Instead of there being the usual left hand turn lanes, we now have, a block before an intersection, traffic signals directing you to veer to the far left hand side of the roadway, cutting across oncoming traffic lanes. Then, when you reach the intersection where you want to turn left, there are additional traffic lights. It’s hard to explain the concept, the chaos and the danger to both drivers and pedestrians. Think of it as driving along a North American roadway, and then all of a sudden you have to become a British driver, but just for a block and a turn. The government placed officers at these new intersections to familiarize drivers with these new lanes, which is admirable…but these instructors of insanity are now gone, after the powers who be decided that Oaxacans are now familiar with the grid pattern, so what happens to non-Oaxacan drivers, such as tourists. Will Hertz now double its insurance premiums?
PARKING
You’ll learn to double park, even though you loathe those who do so and create the traffic backlogs. Sometimes tranisto blows his whistle, sometimes he starts giving you a ticket, or removing your plate, and sometimes he does nothing. Pick your spots, keep a passenger in your car who knows where to find you, and be quick. The vehicle you’re blocking will on balance be patient, since the driver was probably double parking an hour earlier. When parking close to a corner, the key is to do so on a street where cars can only turn in the other direction so there’s no chance of you getting clipped. You’re not supposed to do it, but most often it’s overlooked. However, if you’re close to the corner of a street onto which bus traffic turns, watch out because the bus won’t be able to make the turn, and transito will do whatever he can to remove your vehicle. Don’t worry much about barely making it into a parking spot, because Oaxacans seem to have a knack for getting out of small spaces. Watch for driveways since sometimes they’re pretty hard to see. In parking lots, take note of early closing hours.
SPEEDING
I don’t know the city speed limits, nor do the vast majority of Oaxacans. Topes (speed bumps) will dictate your speed, as will the driver behind you. Regarding the former, sometimes they’re marked and sometimes they’re not. Notice the number of repair shops for tires and springs, and signs for alignment and balancing. Attack the topes slowly, and if possible on an angle. Highways often have speed limits marked, but gauge your speed as you would in the city. While the toll-road warns of radar in operation, the only place I’ve ever seen it is on the road from Acapulco to Mexico City. However, you can be pulled over without radar, the fine is very stiff, you’d better have cash on hand, and recall that there’s no presumption of innocence.
AND REMEMBER
In Oaxaca to get a drivers’ license there is no road test or eye exam. You either take a written test or pay someone a bit of money, a very common practice.
Alvin Starkman received his Masters in Social Anthropology in 1978. After teaching for a few years he attended Osgoode Hall Law School in Toronto, thereafter embarking upon a career as a litigator until 2004. Alvin now resides in Oaxaca, where he writes, leads small group tours to the villages, markets, ruins and other sites, is a consultant to film production companies, and operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast (http://www.oaxacadream.com), a unique bed and breakfast experience.
Give one example of an oxymoron. You guessed it. But just when you think you’re comfortable driving in this city, apparently without hardfast or enforced regulations, there you are, transito (a traffic cop) waving you over, giving you a ticket, removing your license plate or towing your vehicle. Watching and learning what other drivers do does not provide any comfort or assurance that you won’t end up paying a fine, perhaps with your car having vanished, or being honked at by other motorists. All I can do is offer some understanding and explanation, and the rest is up to you.
Let’s start with the premise that this particular local government employee isn’t paid all that well, and therefore has limited “resources,” in the multiple sense of the word. I’ve been told he earns about 6,000 pesos per month, and also that he earns about 2,000 pesos per month and relies on making the balance of his wages “on the street.” Keep this is mind, or search for your own statistics. One thing for sure is that he probably earns less than the average Oaxacan (about 65,000 pesos annually according to most recent statistics)…not like the law enforcement officers we know who retire in their fifties with good pensions to then start a second career in the security field.
I’m convinced that no one knows the traffic laws and that whatever is being enforced is done so haphazardly or on a whim. The point is that even when you think you’re doing the right thing or know the law, you may still be pulled over, fined or bear the wrath of irate motorists. What follows is a smattering of assistance for would-be Oaxacan drivers, constituting acceptable driving practices, not necessarily the law…nor what will keep you out of trouble. But over the past fifteen years I’ve only been pulled over three times…once for a u-turn in a major intersection, another time for driving without plates, and recently for simply not knowing what to do in the middle of a weird-looking intersection with even stranger traffic signals (to date not a single fine).
Keep in mind that frequently lanes aren’t clearly or at all marked, and lights aren’t always working, at least for one direction of traffic. When you see two or more transito directing in an intersection, do not assume that they’re working in unison. I recently saw one officer clipping his fingernails while apparently directing traffic. If it’s sunny and hot, a lone officer might seem invisible, and your only indication he’s around will be the sound of his whistle blowing…he’ll be out of the intersection, watching and directing traffic from under the awning of the building on the corner, in the shade.
WHO HAS THE RIGHT OF WAY?
Many intersections don’t have yield or stop signs, or lights. Most up and down big streets have the right of way, as do most major cross streets, but it’s a matter of learning over time which street is which, what constitutes a big or major one, and even once you’ve done so, being cautious upon entering every intersection because you don’t know if the other guy knows. At traffic lights, green has the right of way, but not immediately. You’re probably accustomed to driving in a jurisdiction where there’s a delay of a second or two between the other driver getting the red, and you getting the green. No so in Oaxaca. Before proceeding, edge out carefully to see how many drivers will be speeding through the red. They say that semáforos (traffic lights) are suggestive only, so at times there will be drivers stopping and then proceeding through a red. Though illegal, this is not an uncommon or unaccepted practice…it just happens, and I bet those going through reds in this context get into less accidents than drivers proceeding immediately upon seeing a green, or those going through unmarked intersections.
TURNING
You’re not supposed to turn right on a red after stopping if it’s safe to do so, unless there’s a sign with an arrow. Breach this one and you’ll be honked at more than for going straight through a red! Sometimes right lanes are reserved for right turns only, so watch for them, or understand why the guy behind you is honking when you obey the red light…there’s probably a green arrow somewhere telling you to turn right. The car on your left might also want to turn right. Regarding left turns, the same holds true. But more often there will be two or three lanes of traffic wanting to turn left, including you…but before making your left turn, ensure the driver to your left also plans to turn left, and not go straight. Buses seem to be allowed to turn whichever way they want from whichever lane they’re in, and because they’re bigger than you, be careful, if you can see them through their exhaust. Unless you plan to turn, the safest place to be and to avoid angry motorists is the middle lanes. On occasion you might even happen upon a far right lane reserved for left hand turns! But wait. Beginning in May, 2006, road “improvements” on the main east-west thoroughfare in the city, Niños Héroes de Chapúltepec, started to reach completion. Instead of there being the usual left hand turn lanes, we now have, a block before an intersection, traffic signals directing you to veer to the far left hand side of the roadway, cutting across oncoming traffic lanes. Then, when you reach the intersection where you want to turn left, there are additional traffic lights. It’s hard to explain the concept, the chaos and the danger to both drivers and pedestrians. Think of it as driving along a North American roadway, and then all of a sudden you have to become a British driver, but just for a block and a turn. The government placed officers at these new intersections to familiarize drivers with these new lanes, which is admirable…but these instructors of insanity are now gone, after the powers who be decided that Oaxacans are now familiar with the grid pattern, so what happens to non-Oaxacan drivers, such as tourists. Will Hertz now double its insurance premiums?
PARKING
You’ll learn to double park, even though you loathe those who do so and create the traffic backlogs. Sometimes tranisto blows his whistle, sometimes he starts giving you a ticket, or removing your plate, and sometimes he does nothing. Pick your spots, keep a passenger in your car who knows where to find you, and be quick. The vehicle you’re blocking will on balance be patient, since the driver was probably double parking an hour earlier. When parking close to a corner, the key is to do so on a street where cars can only turn in the other direction so there’s no chance of you getting clipped. You’re not supposed to do it, but most often it’s overlooked. However, if you’re close to the corner of a street onto which bus traffic turns, watch out because the bus won’t be able to make the turn, and transito will do whatever he can to remove your vehicle. Don’t worry much about barely making it into a parking spot, because Oaxacans seem to have a knack for getting out of small spaces. Watch for driveways since sometimes they’re pretty hard to see. In parking lots, take note of early closing hours.
SPEEDING
I don’t know the city speed limits, nor do the vast majority of Oaxacans. Topes (speed bumps) will dictate your speed, as will the driver behind you. Regarding the former, sometimes they’re marked and sometimes they’re not. Notice the number of repair shops for tires and springs, and signs for alignment and balancing. Attack the topes slowly, and if possible on an angle. Highways often have speed limits marked, but gauge your speed as you would in the city. While the toll-road warns of radar in operation, the only place I’ve ever seen it is on the road from Acapulco to Mexico City. However, you can be pulled over without radar, the fine is very stiff, you’d better have cash on hand, and recall that there’s no presumption of innocence.
AND REMEMBER
In Oaxaca to get a drivers’ license there is no road test or eye exam. You either take a written test or pay someone a bit of money, a very common practice.
Alvin Starkman received his Masters in Social Anthropology in 1978. After teaching for a few years he attended Osgoode Hall Law School in Toronto, thereafter embarking upon a career as a litigator until 2004. Alvin now resides in Oaxaca, where he writes, leads small group tours to the villages, markets, ruins and other sites, is a consultant to film production companies, and operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast (http://www.oaxacadream.com), a unique bed and breakfast experience.
Death of an infant in Oaxaca
Where divergent religious customs merge ...
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
Daniel Perez Gonzalez was a beautiful baby. His parents Flor and Jorge thought so; my wife Arlene and I agreed. Few are able to share our certainty, though, because we were among the very few to see him alive. Daniel was born in one of Oaxaca’s well-known clinics. I welcomed him into the world along with Arlene, our then 13-year-old daughter Sarah, and Daniel’s abuelita (grandmother) Chona. From the womb, the nurse passed our newest extended family member into three sets of anxiously loving arms---Chona’s, those of his big sister Carmela (Sarah’s closest friend in Oaxaca), and then Sarah.
We have a long and colorful history together, my Jewish family in my previous hometown of Toronto and my devoutly Catholic family here in Oaxaca. Chona is our comadre and matriarch of her family. Not six months earlier she and her grandchildren had shouted Mazel Tov at Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah in Toronto. Over the years we have raised many a glass of mezcal at milestone birthdays including quince años (the fiesta when a young girl turns fifteen, with similarities to the Bat Mitzvah); we have eaten matzoh together for Passover in Toronto; and we have welcomed many a Christmas, New Year’s and Dia de Muertos together in Oaxaca.
But it was Daniel’s death that reinforced for me, through much laughter and many tears, the profound irrelevance of cultural differences in the face of universal rituals surrounding death.
On the day of his birth, it was easy to imagine that Daniel’s life would unfold like Sarah’s. At 8 pounds, and with a full head of black hair, the baby looked extremely healthy. Like my wife’s, Flor’s pregnancy had been full-term. Like Sarah, Daniel was born by caesarian section; like Sarah, his mother’s umbilical chord had been wrapped around his neck, causing temporary respiratory distress and the need for a few days in an incubator. But we didn’t worry, his father and cousin both obstetricians with connections in the Oaxacan medical community. He would receive the best post-natal care available, and we would dance at his wedding one day.
But then their paths diverged. After two days of life, we mourned little Daniel’s death of respiratory distress, beside his coffin in Chona’s living room, with family, friends and compadres.
Between the birth and the death came a crazy-quilt of only-in-Mexico experiences that resonated with my memories of the mourning process my Canadian family had undergone when my father Sam died a few years earlier.
Most Oaxacans accept that death hits you at home---literally. Daniel left the hospital in a white, ornately-adorned satin-lined coffin, bound not for a funeral home, but for the livingroom of the family compound. Once he was settled atop a table covered with fresh linen, with a large silver crucifix behind him, my compadre Javier and I were dispatched to the Mercado de Abastos, to buy white gladioli and flower arrangements. This was a far cry from the somber discussion of formal arrangements at Toronto’s Steeles Memorial after my father’s death.
In this passionate and expressive country, even death rites are incomplete without the drama of shouting and accusations. At the cemetery I learned that Daniel was to be interred in a low tomb-like grave atop Tia Lolita, his great-great-aunt who had died in 1990, who was layered over yet another relative who had died in 1982. But when we met with the head undertaker, el presidente, at Lolita’s graveside only hours after Daniel’s death, we were advised that annual fees hadn’t been paid in ten years. Much shouting ensued, but in the end, after heated debate, el presidente had successfully “extorted”, as was his right, thousands of pesos for arrears of government taxes and administrative fees---plus about 1000 pesos in the likely event that Daniel would require a boveda (literally a vault, the rebar reinforced concrete slabs designed to keep the grave’s occupants in an orderly configuration). And we still weren’t done. Only once Chona had presented sufficient historical documents to convince everyone that she indeed had the requisite authority to bury Daniel alongside Lolita were the appropriate certificate and receipts issued.
Back at Chona’s home mourners had begun to arrive. Shortly thereafter Jorge and I dropped off 150 various pan dulce, to be used to dip into the traditional hot chocolate served to those attending such gatherings. I then experienced another profound frisson of déjà vu . The notably slower pace of Oaxaca’s mañana society was gone. With efficient dispatch, Chona and family transformed the home into a grieving chamber, arranging for necessities such as chair rentals, and ordering attendees off to kitchen duty. There under Chona’s roof I traveled back in time to my mother’s kitchen, crowded with friends and relatives I hadn’t seen in years, just after my father’s funeral. I could hear my mother’s friend Rayla organizing who would bring what meals into our home during shiva---the week of mourning that follows the burial of a Jew.
Then there were the inevitable tragicomic moments. When I gave my father’s eulogy, I couldn’t resist telling a story about him that made reference to a shared moment that involved passing gas. In Mexico, the black humor of death is even more visceral. When Chona and I went back to the cemetery to ensure that preparations for the burial were well underway, we found el presidente and his aide a half-foot down, at the top concrete plate of the vault---along with part of a human jawbone. Chona was outraged, and began shouting, “that can’t be Tia Lolita!” We came up with many theories for the mystery bone, all revolving around the amorous activities of the dead, none repeatable in this newspaper. That kept us going until we finally came across the complete skull of Tia Lolita, still covered with the traditional fine headcloth to prevent mosquito bites. We ultimately concluded that a few years back someone else had been buried alongside Lola. Mystery of the extra jawbone solved. Here in southern Mexico, multiple burials in the same grave, at times at different levels, and at times involving the removal of bones after several years of non-payment of fees, may occur. In any event, in return for a handsome gratuity el presidente agreed to clear away a spot for Daniel’s cajita, and hide Lolita’s head and any other remaining bones in a sack at one end of the grave opening. The funeral would take place the next day, not unlike the dispatch with which Jews bury their dead---but very different from the traditional adult Oaxacan death custom characterized by several days of prayer, visitation and other rituals prior to burial, similar in purpose and function to the Jewish period of shiva after the interment.
Later that evening back at the house, we listened to a cassette recording of nursery rhymes. Although we in the Judaic tradition are not permitted music during mourning, these tunes seemed appropriate. Arlene tenderly placed a small rattle beside Daniel, in accordance with local custom. A young woman led a 20-minute prayer, strikingly similar in nature to the Kaddish or mourners’ prayer in a shiva home. Then more food---a rich mole negro with bolillos, tortillas, salsa---and more prayer. When the padre finally arrived late, there was the obligatory humor about the clergy; someone joked that he had just shown up for a meal.
By the following afternoon, we were placing a bountiful display of flowers into the back of a pick-up. Javier and I took final photographs of the baby, and then Jorge placed his son into the back of a 1980s white stationwagon, for his final journey.
The cemetery ritual combined the continuing familiarity of my own Canadian experiences with Mexicana. A few soft prayers, a few handsful of earth placed atop the coffin, and incongruously our two congenial cemetery workers placed the concrete slab back between the remaining portions of the lid to the vault, then mixed and applied cement to seal the boveda. Reminiscent of Jewish custom, Chona asked Javier and I to assist with the shoveling of earth, then invited everyone home for comida.
Back at the house there was no music. Idle chatter took its place. Eventually, once most of the people had left, and only the barren white altar and the slowly burning mourners’ candles remained, Arlene and I decided to go downtown for a walk, sad and emotionally drained, but oddly comforted. After a Oaxacan funeral for a Catholic baby, I felt exactly the way I did the first time I walked outside after arising from my father’s shiva.
Alvin Starkman, a resident of Oaxaca, has elected to change the names of his Oaxacan extended family, out of respect. He operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ), a member of the Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast Association, an organization dedicated to ensuring its members adhere to the highest standards in Oaxacan lodging accommodations by providing environmentally friendly practices, procedures and facilities, support for the local populace, and value-added service.
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
Daniel Perez Gonzalez was a beautiful baby. His parents Flor and Jorge thought so; my wife Arlene and I agreed. Few are able to share our certainty, though, because we were among the very few to see him alive. Daniel was born in one of Oaxaca’s well-known clinics. I welcomed him into the world along with Arlene, our then 13-year-old daughter Sarah, and Daniel’s abuelita (grandmother) Chona. From the womb, the nurse passed our newest extended family member into three sets of anxiously loving arms---Chona’s, those of his big sister Carmela (Sarah’s closest friend in Oaxaca), and then Sarah.
We have a long and colorful history together, my Jewish family in my previous hometown of Toronto and my devoutly Catholic family here in Oaxaca. Chona is our comadre and matriarch of her family. Not six months earlier she and her grandchildren had shouted Mazel Tov at Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah in Toronto. Over the years we have raised many a glass of mezcal at milestone birthdays including quince años (the fiesta when a young girl turns fifteen, with similarities to the Bat Mitzvah); we have eaten matzoh together for Passover in Toronto; and we have welcomed many a Christmas, New Year’s and Dia de Muertos together in Oaxaca.
But it was Daniel’s death that reinforced for me, through much laughter and many tears, the profound irrelevance of cultural differences in the face of universal rituals surrounding death.
On the day of his birth, it was easy to imagine that Daniel’s life would unfold like Sarah’s. At 8 pounds, and with a full head of black hair, the baby looked extremely healthy. Like my wife’s, Flor’s pregnancy had been full-term. Like Sarah, Daniel was born by caesarian section; like Sarah, his mother’s umbilical chord had been wrapped around his neck, causing temporary respiratory distress and the need for a few days in an incubator. But we didn’t worry, his father and cousin both obstetricians with connections in the Oaxacan medical community. He would receive the best post-natal care available, and we would dance at his wedding one day.
But then their paths diverged. After two days of life, we mourned little Daniel’s death of respiratory distress, beside his coffin in Chona’s living room, with family, friends and compadres.
Between the birth and the death came a crazy-quilt of only-in-Mexico experiences that resonated with my memories of the mourning process my Canadian family had undergone when my father Sam died a few years earlier.
Most Oaxacans accept that death hits you at home---literally. Daniel left the hospital in a white, ornately-adorned satin-lined coffin, bound not for a funeral home, but for the livingroom of the family compound. Once he was settled atop a table covered with fresh linen, with a large silver crucifix behind him, my compadre Javier and I were dispatched to the Mercado de Abastos, to buy white gladioli and flower arrangements. This was a far cry from the somber discussion of formal arrangements at Toronto’s Steeles Memorial after my father’s death.
In this passionate and expressive country, even death rites are incomplete without the drama of shouting and accusations. At the cemetery I learned that Daniel was to be interred in a low tomb-like grave atop Tia Lolita, his great-great-aunt who had died in 1990, who was layered over yet another relative who had died in 1982. But when we met with the head undertaker, el presidente, at Lolita’s graveside only hours after Daniel’s death, we were advised that annual fees hadn’t been paid in ten years. Much shouting ensued, but in the end, after heated debate, el presidente had successfully “extorted”, as was his right, thousands of pesos for arrears of government taxes and administrative fees---plus about 1000 pesos in the likely event that Daniel would require a boveda (literally a vault, the rebar reinforced concrete slabs designed to keep the grave’s occupants in an orderly configuration). And we still weren’t done. Only once Chona had presented sufficient historical documents to convince everyone that she indeed had the requisite authority to bury Daniel alongside Lolita were the appropriate certificate and receipts issued.
Back at Chona’s home mourners had begun to arrive. Shortly thereafter Jorge and I dropped off 150 various pan dulce, to be used to dip into the traditional hot chocolate served to those attending such gatherings. I then experienced another profound frisson of déjà vu . The notably slower pace of Oaxaca’s mañana society was gone. With efficient dispatch, Chona and family transformed the home into a grieving chamber, arranging for necessities such as chair rentals, and ordering attendees off to kitchen duty. There under Chona’s roof I traveled back in time to my mother’s kitchen, crowded with friends and relatives I hadn’t seen in years, just after my father’s funeral. I could hear my mother’s friend Rayla organizing who would bring what meals into our home during shiva---the week of mourning that follows the burial of a Jew.
Then there were the inevitable tragicomic moments. When I gave my father’s eulogy, I couldn’t resist telling a story about him that made reference to a shared moment that involved passing gas. In Mexico, the black humor of death is even more visceral. When Chona and I went back to the cemetery to ensure that preparations for the burial were well underway, we found el presidente and his aide a half-foot down, at the top concrete plate of the vault---along with part of a human jawbone. Chona was outraged, and began shouting, “that can’t be Tia Lolita!” We came up with many theories for the mystery bone, all revolving around the amorous activities of the dead, none repeatable in this newspaper. That kept us going until we finally came across the complete skull of Tia Lolita, still covered with the traditional fine headcloth to prevent mosquito bites. We ultimately concluded that a few years back someone else had been buried alongside Lola. Mystery of the extra jawbone solved. Here in southern Mexico, multiple burials in the same grave, at times at different levels, and at times involving the removal of bones after several years of non-payment of fees, may occur. In any event, in return for a handsome gratuity el presidente agreed to clear away a spot for Daniel’s cajita, and hide Lolita’s head and any other remaining bones in a sack at one end of the grave opening. The funeral would take place the next day, not unlike the dispatch with which Jews bury their dead---but very different from the traditional adult Oaxacan death custom characterized by several days of prayer, visitation and other rituals prior to burial, similar in purpose and function to the Jewish period of shiva after the interment.
Later that evening back at the house, we listened to a cassette recording of nursery rhymes. Although we in the Judaic tradition are not permitted music during mourning, these tunes seemed appropriate. Arlene tenderly placed a small rattle beside Daniel, in accordance with local custom. A young woman led a 20-minute prayer, strikingly similar in nature to the Kaddish or mourners’ prayer in a shiva home. Then more food---a rich mole negro with bolillos, tortillas, salsa---and more prayer. When the padre finally arrived late, there was the obligatory humor about the clergy; someone joked that he had just shown up for a meal.
By the following afternoon, we were placing a bountiful display of flowers into the back of a pick-up. Javier and I took final photographs of the baby, and then Jorge placed his son into the back of a 1980s white stationwagon, for his final journey.
The cemetery ritual combined the continuing familiarity of my own Canadian experiences with Mexicana. A few soft prayers, a few handsful of earth placed atop the coffin, and incongruously our two congenial cemetery workers placed the concrete slab back between the remaining portions of the lid to the vault, then mixed and applied cement to seal the boveda. Reminiscent of Jewish custom, Chona asked Javier and I to assist with the shoveling of earth, then invited everyone home for comida.
Back at the house there was no music. Idle chatter took its place. Eventually, once most of the people had left, and only the barren white altar and the slowly burning mourners’ candles remained, Arlene and I decided to go downtown for a walk, sad and emotionally drained, but oddly comforted. After a Oaxacan funeral for a Catholic baby, I felt exactly the way I did the first time I walked outside after arising from my father’s shiva.
Alvin Starkman, a resident of Oaxaca, has elected to change the names of his Oaxacan extended family, out of respect. He operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ), a member of the Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast Association, an organization dedicated to ensuring its members adhere to the highest standards in Oaxacan lodging accommodations by providing environmentally friendly practices, procedures and facilities, support for the local populace, and value-added service.
7/11/2008
Caldo de Piedra --- Oaxaca restaurant review
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
Campesinos working the land or tending flocks in the river valleys and hills of the Sierra Norte would stop, fish for trout, or perhaps gather lobster-like langostinos after the first rains in May, and then cook their bounty in an unusual way. They would place their catch in a half-gourd filled with river water and freshly picked aromatic herbs, heat rocks from the banks to red-hot, then place them in the bowl and watch their meal quickly poach in a boiling broth.
Caldo de Piedra, located a few minutes outside of Oaxaca on the highway leading to Santa María el Tule, ceremoniously replicates the age-old custom before your eyes. The restaurant is a large, simple palapa with an open kitchen. The menu is effectively non-existent since all that is served are generously filled quesadillas and similar appetizers, your choice of three soups (the caldos), and non-alcoholic beverages.
The owners boast that this traditional meal preparation dates to pre-Hispanic times, and was practiced in their home village, San Felipe Usila, in the district of Tuxtepec.
Service is uncharacteristically fast. Waitresses are eager to attend to orders, and more importantly answer all queries about your comida’s preparation, so be sure to ask to go over to the two kitchen areas to bear witness to the procedural pomp. On the one side are women working over metate (grinding stone) and comal (large round clay “stove-top” used for cooking over an open flame), hand-making tortillas for filling with your choice of quesillo (the famed Oaxacan string cheese), mushrooms, squash blossoms and more. On the other side unfolds the curious convention. A substantial helping of your choice of raw, medium sized shrimp, red snapper, or a combination of the two is placed in a jícara (the half gourd) with a selection of chiles, onion and leafy herbs including requisite cilantro. A blender off to the side is used to prepare a tomato-based liquid which is then poured into each vessel. With the aid of a large wooden tong, a couple of baseball sized river stones are plucked from a flaming fire pit, gingerly placed in each gourd, and voilá, your meal starts to boil. Rocks are added a second time, following which each comida-in-a-pot is brought to the table.
Flavors remain distinctly discernable to the extreme, given that fresh ingredients are combined on the spot. The chef/proprietor is in complete control of process so as to assure the proper degree of doneness (with only one cooking method and a choice of only three main dishes, it’s pretty well guaranteed). It’s low-fat protein, herbs, vegetable and tortilla, yielding ideal fare for the diet and health conscious, in a region of the state noted for pretty well the opposite … and they even serve coca light (diet coke). It’s all so simple, making the experience gastronomically rewarding, while at the same time awe inspiring.
NOTES:
Open daily, noon to 7 pm.
Price with beverage and shared appetizers, 125 pesos pp.
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin reviews restaurants, writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples and families to the craft villages, ruins, towns and their market days and other sights, and is a special consultant to documentary film production companies.
Campesinos working the land or tending flocks in the river valleys and hills of the Sierra Norte would stop, fish for trout, or perhaps gather lobster-like langostinos after the first rains in May, and then cook their bounty in an unusual way. They would place their catch in a half-gourd filled with river water and freshly picked aromatic herbs, heat rocks from the banks to red-hot, then place them in the bowl and watch their meal quickly poach in a boiling broth.
Caldo de Piedra, located a few minutes outside of Oaxaca on the highway leading to Santa María el Tule, ceremoniously replicates the age-old custom before your eyes. The restaurant is a large, simple palapa with an open kitchen. The menu is effectively non-existent since all that is served are generously filled quesadillas and similar appetizers, your choice of three soups (the caldos), and non-alcoholic beverages.
The owners boast that this traditional meal preparation dates to pre-Hispanic times, and was practiced in their home village, San Felipe Usila, in the district of Tuxtepec.
Service is uncharacteristically fast. Waitresses are eager to attend to orders, and more importantly answer all queries about your comida’s preparation, so be sure to ask to go over to the two kitchen areas to bear witness to the procedural pomp. On the one side are women working over metate (grinding stone) and comal (large round clay “stove-top” used for cooking over an open flame), hand-making tortillas for filling with your choice of quesillo (the famed Oaxacan string cheese), mushrooms, squash blossoms and more. On the other side unfolds the curious convention. A substantial helping of your choice of raw, medium sized shrimp, red snapper, or a combination of the two is placed in a jícara (the half gourd) with a selection of chiles, onion and leafy herbs including requisite cilantro. A blender off to the side is used to prepare a tomato-based liquid which is then poured into each vessel. With the aid of a large wooden tong, a couple of baseball sized river stones are plucked from a flaming fire pit, gingerly placed in each gourd, and voilá, your meal starts to boil. Rocks are added a second time, following which each comida-in-a-pot is brought to the table.
Flavors remain distinctly discernable to the extreme, given that fresh ingredients are combined on the spot. The chef/proprietor is in complete control of process so as to assure the proper degree of doneness (with only one cooking method and a choice of only three main dishes, it’s pretty well guaranteed). It’s low-fat protein, herbs, vegetable and tortilla, yielding ideal fare for the diet and health conscious, in a region of the state noted for pretty well the opposite … and they even serve coca light (diet coke). It’s all so simple, making the experience gastronomically rewarding, while at the same time awe inspiring.
NOTES:
Open daily, noon to 7 pm.
Price with beverage and shared appetizers, 125 pesos pp.
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin reviews restaurants, writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples and families to the craft villages, ruins, towns and their market days and other sights, and is a special consultant to documentary film production companies.
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