Mexican Markets

Today was one of those days I enjoy being alone. I decided it was going to be a photography day so I woke up and caught Senora Yolanda’s (mi Madre de Oaxaca) breakfast. It’s always good but today was especially tasty, tamale con pina (pineapple). I have never had a tamale back home to compare this to but I did have one just the other day. In my cooking class we made a savory version with a black bean mixture and some type of leaf native to Mexico called yerba, (not the tea). Those were good but my breakfast today definitely tops it. Traditionally tamales are made by taking a cornmeal mixture and adding various other additions and then spreading everything onto a corn-husk. The husk is then folded and tied together into a neat little package. Finally these packages are then steamed for about an hour until the tamale has a doughy, dumpling like consistency. Senora Yolanda’s pineapple tamale was very light and just sweet enough to make it suitable for breakfast, definitely a great way to start the day out! After breakfast I headed straight to the bus station. Didn’t know exactly where it was but this gave me a couple opportunities to practice my Spanish. I’m getting pretty good a speaking without pausing too often and I did well on my walk but every now and then I get nervous and fall flat on my face. Once at the station I decided to share a taxi instead of take the bus so I hoped and tried to ask if it went to my destination but the only thing that came out was a nervous laugh. “Vamos Tlacolula?” Tough to pronounce, not remember. Luckily the taxi driver knew what I wanted and explained that he was going my way.

Once at the town I found out that I had arrived a little early. Most of the vendors were still setting up their tents and there was almost no one in the streets shopping. No worries though, this gave me the chance to catch the end of Mass at the beautiful cathedral in the center of town. Pretty interesting to see mass in this part of the world and if you ever get a chance I recommend it. Even if you’re not Christian it’s rewarding to see just how devout these people are. Every aspect of the mass is held with the utmost of respect and the turnout puts my own parish to shame; I only had room to stand in the back. To my left there was a confession stand and they were actually hearing confessions right then. The priest performing the sacrament was great he could have been a monk straight out of the 1600s. He looked like an easy hundred and he hade the biggest, bushiest white beard. This was exaggerated by his lack of hair on his head and his scrawny old body. To top it off he was dressed in a robe fit for the pope. Not something you’d see back home! After church all the families hurried out to their stands and I was left with an almost empty interior to take pictures of. I had only brought my film camera so I can’t share any pictures right now but I’m pretty confident that what I got turned out pretty good. The best part of the cathedral was the little chapel attached to its side. Every inch of it was covered in ornate woodwork and larger than life size paintings of biblical scenes. Furthermore, in stark contrast to the churches of Europe this wasn’t just a tourist attraction; in fact I felt quite out of place. I had to sneak my photos when the pious, timeworn grandmas weren’t scoffing at me. I’m pretty sure as one hobbled past me she muttered some curse at me. No worries though, once I said a couple prayers with them I was free to get all the pictures I needed. After that I headed out in search of the one scene that brought me here.

Probably won’t interest too many of you, just a regular old vendor but it had great lighting and when I spotted it my last time here I new I had to come back to get the shot. I quickly loaded my camera with some color film and walked over to get the shot. As I formulated what to say to the vendor I took a test shot. Unfortunately to my surprise my camera did nothing but make a strange noise and then the power abruptly cut off. Shit! I turned it off and then on again. Nothing. Changed out the film. Still nothing. Finally I took the thing apart but to my horror it still remained silent. I was freaking out. This meant that not only would I not be able to use this camera but that I’d have 200 dollars worth of film slowly deteriorating as it sat unused. Wasn’t too happy about that. I returned defeated, without my amazing photo and without the use of a camera that I have grown to love. Luckily back at the house I learned that it was the lens that was broken, not the camera. Not that much better but at least I can still take pictures. Went out again for photography only this time in Oaxaca’s markets.

First one I went to was 20 de Noviembre. This market has the craziest, most disgusting meat vendors. Not to say that they are unclean, just that to most American eyes they’re enough to make one puke. All the meat is hanging on hooks in cramp little stalls and none of it is refrigerated; guess this is why you so rarely find a steak cooked rare. To make things even more uh.. interesting, none of the meat displayed is what I would call normal. The most recognizable cuts are fresh pigs feet and the entire skin of, well, something. From there we move on to stranger and stranger sights until finally coming to a piece?/ product?, I don’t even know to call it that almost had me asking “what the f*ck is that?” to the vendor. Luckily I stopped myself and began talking to the guy next to me. He was wearing a T-shirt that said Budapest on it and this started a conversation that lasted a couple minutes. I actually understood most of it and he was so happy that I was trying to talk to him that he started to have the vendor (his friend) give me free samples of the meat! Great I thought. I get to try all the things I was trying to avoid. What was first given to me was enough to scare even me off. It was a big brick of what appeared to be chopped up fat, grey meat and various other mysteries. I think it is Mexico’s version of an olive loaf and from what I could understand it was mostly pork fat. Not wanting to be rude I took my slice with a generous helping of salsa and dug in. It actually tasted all right, very fatty but definitely stomachable. The only thing that got me was the consistency. In general it was like pate’, smooth and easy to bite but then it also had little hard bits to it! That made me fight the gagg reflex. Nothing worse that finding little grisle in meat, it always leaves you wondering just what it was you ate! I did however manage to swallow it and afterwards got the picture that motivated my to endure this in the first place. My new friend with the Budapest shirt then quickly took me out the door and down the street. All the while rambling on about some kind of a fiesta. He kept saying it was “muy traditional” and I assumed it was the Geulaguetza, the huge festival that everyone keeps talking about. When I got to his little apartment just off the market I soon found out that it wasn’t quite the same thing. In fact it wasn’t that traditional either. What he was actually inviting me to was a fiesta where tradition Mexican dresses were being worn by men. I had to laugh. I knew he was gay and figured he was inviting me to a party with him and his friends but I really thought this was going to be some native Mexican festival. The pictures he was now showing me were definitely not depicting some indigenous ritual. All in all though it looked like a lot of fun and I decided that my buddy (actually cant remember his name) was harmless. Besides, how could I turn down the offer to be the photographer of a genuine drag fest in Mexico? I asked if I could bring friends and he said bring as much as I wanted. So it was settled. I said adios and was on my way to Mercado Abastos.

            Abastos is huge, the biggest market in Oaxaca and possibly the biggest in Mexico. I heard people joke around about bringing a map and I laughed at them at the time but once in it became clear that they were only half joking. Much of the market is comprised of collapsible metal structures but that is where the order stops. Shops are strewn out in every which way, seemingly without any organization. One second you’ll be ducking underneath handmade leather goods and the next you’ll have fruit and flowers pushed into your face by the determined vendors. Given my track record for getting lost I was sure to keep close to the border. As I wondered around I ended up in the center of about half a dozen grills cooking up Tlayudas. One vendor spotted me for the gringo that I am and joked that it was a Mexican pizza. I smiled and agreed to try it. I talked to him for a little and was a good sport at being the but of his jokes. He and his wife had a good time and when I asked him how much for the “pizza” he told me it was on the house. That’s the great thing about Oaxaca. Most of the shops are still little old mom and pop specialty stores and everything is made fresh on premise. I make fun about the markets and vendors but at the end of the day it really is much more rewarding than back home and the food is not to be missed. Anyone tourist who has been scared away from the street food has truly missed out on an important part of Mexico. I’ll be sure to report on the food and more later. Plus I promise next time I’ll have more pictures and less writing. Thanks for reading my rant.

Adios,

        Justin.