Where am I? Good question. An update from Southern Mexico.

view from my palapa (terrace) near Zimatlan, Oaxaca

Hola Amigos!

On Monday I left Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, heading south to the state of Oaxaca, Mexico.

In Puerto Vallarta I spent long days in the studio working on my 1008 Paintings Project since early December, and ended my stay there with the retreat workshop: How to Be a Gorgeous Genius. The retreat was an incredible experience, and I’ll be writing more about that and my own take-aways in coming posts.

Where Am I?

Oaxaca state is in Southern Mexico, bordering Chiapas. Chiapas borders Guatemala. Ten years ago, I began travelling and leading creativity workshops in Oaxaca, drawn by the rich artistic traditions of the people indiginous to this land. Oaxaca City, which is inland right in the center of the state, and home to many Mayan ruins like Monte Alban, is a high desert valley surrounded by green mountains. The city is a mile high, like Denver, Colorado in the U.S.

How Am I?

I just remembered this thing about the altitude today, and realized that there is some adjustment the body needs to make when going from sea level to high altitude in just a few hours. I’ve been physically exhausted, but there is also the component of culture shock, even though I’ve been here before.

Estoy Contenta

I am happy. Very happy. My heart is just happy in this place, that’s why I keep coming back. So the physical changes, and the post-workshop processing, and the fact that I’m having to communicate 100% in Spanish now, is taken in that context.

I’m staying at the home of my friend Marco’s family, most of whom I’ve never met before. They have given me a lovely room to stay in while I search for a furnished apartment in Oaxaca City. They live in a small (tiny) village outside of Zimatlan, Mexico, which is about 20-30 minutes to Oaxaca City. Or 10 minutes, if you are in a taxi with a particularly aggressive driver. I can thank Rick Steeves’ Spanish phrasebook for learning how to tell the driver to please slow down or else: Voy a vomitar (I’m going to throw up).

The mercado in Oaxaca, grilled meat entrance

Yesterday my hostess, Julia, and her daughter, Abigail, took me to eat at the market in Oaxaca. They offered to go to a restaurant, but I love the market. It’s where mostly locals go to eat. Going with them was a great opportunity to find a food stall (out of hundreds) that would be good and safe for me to eat at without getting sick.

We settled in at Fonda Flores, and all I know is that we entered the city block size market at the grilled meat entrance. After a few turns through a maze of very similar looking stalls, we arrived here, Julia looking for the amarillo (yellow) colored benches.

I’m not sure I could ever find my way back here alone. There are some aisles, and then some very narrow pathways, not unlike the souks in Morocco. Beware of the generous samples of Mezcal handed out from vendors as you wander. Being a bit buzzed can only add to the disorientation.

Our meal came right out of these pots on the stove. If you think you have a small kitchen at home…

I ordered one of my favorite dishes from Oaxaca: Mole Negro. It was perfect in every way, fortifying me for the apartment hunt, which like most things in Mexico, do not happen in a straight line or according to schedule or plan.

Me, Julia (center) and Abigail at the counter

Related posts:

1. How Living in Mexico is Like Zen Practice: 1008 Paintings Project Update #6
2. Adrenal Glands (Take Refuge): 1008 Paintings Project Update #5
3. Disorientation: 1008 Paintings Project Update #4