Back at home now, after a pretty uneventful trip back. With one exception. While at the Mexico City airport between flights, a woman came over to me saying, "Joanna? Joanna Liss?" It took a couple of seconds before I recognized her. It was Natalie Jordan from EF, where I had worked with au pairs and families for a number of years. I see her posts on fb periodically, and knew that she was now a vice president of EF, and the director of the Au Pair program. I was very impressed that she recognized and remembered me. I can't even remember how many years it's been. Loring took a picture of us which she posted on fb. It got a lot of likes. Mostly from people that know her, of course. She knows a lot of people. But I recognized a few names.
First I wanted to describe our encounter with Norberto Ventura, the alejibre maker. I mentioned him a few posts back. He is from a family of artisans that make these wonderful carved and painted fanciful creatures. There is a village about a half hour from Oaxaca that is replete with alegibre artisans. Some of the tours from the city go there as well as a couple of other artisan villages, one where the artisans make black clay pottery, and another where there are weavers. It is similar to what I found years ago in Peru, certain areas where people made textiles, others where they carved gourds, a city that I stayed in where they made small alter type scenes made out of potato clay. I am not sure which of these crafts are continuing to be produced by younger generations, but it seems in Oaxaca that they are. You see the alejibres in all the craft shops in the city.
Our connection with the Ventura family dates back seven or eight years. We had Norberto and his father Fabian do a presentation at our house for one of our salons. I had arranged it with Nina Hasan, a Boston area woman who had made a short film about the Venturas a while back. She brings the Venturas every year around Day of the Dead and they do presentations at one of the Harvard Museum and elsewhere, and sell their creations. We did the same at our house. Fabian died a few years ago. Norberto now does the carving and his wife does the painting.
I had assumed they wouldn't be hard to find in the village, but I was wrong. The town was indeed replete with studios of alejibre makers, with signs on their doors. But no evidence of the Venturas. I stopped at one place and asked the person. I assumed everyone would know each other. Finally, as we were walking around, a man on a motorcycle with a young girl on the back pulled up and asked if he could help us. I told him who we were looking for. He said right away, he's my friend. He pointed us in the right direction and said it was a blue door, and that he'd let Norberto know we were coming. And said he had a studio too, and he hoped we would come visit him afterward. His name was Benito. We walked down the street but saw several blue doors and no sign with the family name. Eventually a man came out from behind a blue door and waved at us. It was Norberto. There was no sign on the door or anywhere.
Their studio was also their house, which was pretty modest. They had partly finished but unpainted figures on the ground next to a tree, and others in a wheelbarrel! and a table with some figures and containers with paint. We met his wife, and his mother. They had bags of figures all wrapped and ready for the upcoming market in town, which I believe is weekly. They unwrapped creature after creature. And of course we bought a few, two little ones for the grandkids although they will hopefully go on a high shelf until they are older. And Loring surprised me for choosing one for us. It happened that we both were drawn to an octopus, done largely in black and white, contrary to most of the figures which are very brightly colored.
Norberto remembered comig to our house with his father. He continues to come up every late October to early November and do presentations at Harvard, the Museum of Science, and I think at a few other venues, artisan fairs or shops. So perhaps we'll go visit him at one of those places this winter. Or maybe have him come to our house again, if the timing works out and if there are enough salon attendees who didn't meet him before.
We did go by Benito's studio, which Norberto had described as "very big." And indeed it was. It was actually a huge showroom, featuring Benito's work as well as that of other members of his family. I wasn't clear on if all the artisans were relatives. There were many rooms, and Benito gave us a tour of them. Some pieces were huge, and museum quality. And very expensive, in the thousands of dollars.
So, to return to our last days in the city of Oaxaca. We wound up staying at "Up in the Clouds" for the whole six days. It was pretty hot a couple of the afternoons, but the other days were cooler. If we were at the room mid to late afternoon a shower really helped alleviate the heat. And most days we took a break from our sightseeing in the afternoon, sitting in a cafe on the Zocalo in the shade, me drinking fresh squeezed lemonade, Loring a beer. It made me realize the reason for the siesta, not just to take a break from work but to take a break from the heat of the day. Not that it's observed much anymore, where people don't usually work close to home and it isn't practical to go home midday. I guess in the countryside there are places where people are still able to take a break. But I didn't see any evidence of shops or businesses being closed in the middle of the day. Of course, that's also when I was sitting in the shade and sipping lemonade, so perhaps some did.
As far as fiestas, it seemed that every day we were there, in the city, there was some kind of music or event. The first night, which I previously described, was the most elaborate. But the second night there was also a parade, although much smaller, that we watched from our rooftop abode. There were some large papier mache puppets as well as a brass band. It seemed to be a birthday celebration.
And the following days and evenings there were brass bands. One day in our walks and between visits to museums we saw at least four different bands, although we never heard any of them playing, just walking to some destinaation to play. They were wearing military style uniforms but I don't know if they were actually military, and we never discovered what the occasion was. And then, on our last night, we went to a restaurant on the Zocalo again. We had seen them setting up a tent and stage earlier, and thought we might see some kind of show. There was no performance that night, though, it must have been for a subsequent day. But, there was a brass band, and lots of people dancing, which was wonderful. They were mostly Mexican, and quite a variety of folks. There was a tall young man in a suit with an older woman who we guessed was his mother or even grandmother. A few very short older men very snazzily dressed and very graceful with their partners And one young couple who had their camera set up on a tripod, no doubt to be posted online before long. They were really hamming it up, rather over the top but they were having fun. It was the perfect last evening of our trip.
Oh, and if you are wondering, I never did try the grasshoppers, although I was tempted. Our last restaurant had an item on the menu that was guacamole with a side of grasshoppers. I kid you not. They, and other restaurants, also had items on their menus with grasshopper sauce! But I just didn't quite have the nerve or the stomach and didn't want to ruin my appetite for my last meal. Which was delicious, by the way. I was kind of tired of guacamole and tostados. They had crepes on the menu, which were a little thicker than the French version. And filled with chicken and in a green sauce that seemed similar to the green mole we'd had one night, but wasn't described as such on the menu.
And that brings to an end my Mexican saga. I hope you enjoyed reading about it, and I recommend your visiting, both the beach and the city.
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