El Mercado

I walked down Calle de Armenta y Lopez for what seemed like an hour. By the time I found the buses that would take me to the community that makes the black pottery, it was already 4 'o clock. I decided that trip would be better for another day. So what to do on the far south side of town at 4pm?

Obviously, go find the big market that I have heard so much about. Oaxaca is more or less a grid, yet I still manage to get lost here. On my search for the big market, I found a mini art market that left me uninspired, then walked past a nudie movie theater, and finally found myself on prostitute row. Like any good traveler, I tried not to gawk and kept walking perhaps with a brisker pace. Eventually I found my way into the "big market" as Nikki has referred to it. Big does not even begin to describe it.

I braced myself as I entered, not sure what to expect. After strolling around a few rows and understanding that at least to my analytical capabilities, the market appears to have no clear order, I just dove in. Hoping to spend most of my time in the area with lots of crafts, every once in a while, I found myself in the middle of one of many seafood sections. Trying not to inhale, I would quickly work my way out in search of more painted animals. In my five weeks in Mexico, I had bought zero gifts or crafts for myself. In the market, I was determined to crack the seal.

It seems that older Mexican women are my soft spot. I can easily refuse a man trying to sell me shirts or a young woman with straw baskets. But, the old ladies with painted animals and woven napkins had me at hola. Though, I did manage to resist the old lady selling fried grasshoppers. When I first resisted, she seemed shocked, and thought maybe I did not realize that she also had the small grasshopper variety. Pushing the platter of grasshoppers into my face, she raised her voice and tried again with a worried look as if I had not really heard her the first time, "Chicitos, chicitos?!" I held out this time, but I am sure during my next visit to the market, I will be eating mini grasshoppers.

I only had an hour of market vigor in me, but I left energized for more. As I strolled home, I passed a dilapidated church. I stopped inside to rest my soul and soles. These past few days, I have been struggling with the transition from my beach life back to city life. I am still doing yoga and writing, but something has felt missing. Yesterday, sitting in the church with the other retired people who seem to spend their days in the churches, I felt a spark.

At the beach, I spent countless hours with the waves and the sunsets and the fellow travelers. Here in Oaxaca, there are other treasures to surrender to. It's the mountains, the markets, the churches, the colors, the art, my Spanish teacher who I adore. Neither place is better or worse, and both can inspire great joy if I can keep paying attention.