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De-Stressing in
Oaxaca
This article is from the
The
Mexico File newsletter.
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by Robert B. Simmonds
Robert B. Simmonds, Ph.D.,
is the publisher of Mexico File and the brother of Dave Simmonds. He is a
psychologist in private practice in San Diego. This was his first trip to
Oaxaca, which he took for the purpose of de-stressing. This article is the
first part of a two-parter, which concludes with the October issue.
Whenever I talk to people
about their Mexico travels, I usually hear, once they have arrived, that they
suddenly feel calm, whole, complete, and welcomed. They feel like themselves
again. They describe their traveling experiences as “magical,” and then when
they haven’t been there for some time, they talk about needing a “Mexico
fix.” (I’ve concluded that while a Mexico venture may not be as cheap as
xanax or ativan, it seems a whole lot healthier – and it’s more fun than
learning diaphragmatic breathing or progressive muscle relaxation.) So, after
going through my normal stress buildup for several months, I decided to take a
Mexico trip myself to see what this magical elixir was all about. I wanted to
understand the elements of de-stressing that are found in Mexico travel.
Everything logical
suggests that a Mexico trip would be a stress-inducer. After all, there’s the
tension of the flight (and, yes, traveling these days involves longer lines,
metal detectors, and humbly taking your shoes off, and you can’t even use the
usual tension-reducers like answering the customs agent’s question, “Where
were you born?” with a meant-to-be-humorous “Guatemala” answer). And
negotiating your way through the language barrier and the cultural
differences, not to mention the fact that there are no Diet Cokes in Mexico
(they’re called “Coke Light” instead, and they do have sugar in them), all
seem, on the surface, to represent the ground from which stress grows.
Yet, I had none of that.
The Continental flight from San Diego to Houston and then straight down to
Oaxaca was a breeze. Yes, the shoes came off, but everyone was so nice about
it and helpful that I rather enjoyed the experience. To get your electronic
ticket and boarding pass, you put your credit card in the slot, answer a few
questions on the screen, and then slide your passport through the passport
reader – and off you go. The lines were minimal.
Traveling with the right
people really minimizes stress. I asked my friend, James Bachrach, a couple of
months before I traveled if he wanted to go along on a trip to Oaxaca, and he
was eager to go. James is a therapist in San Diego – and very easy to get
along with. And I emailed my friend, Elisabeth Tatum, before the trip to ask
if she were planning to be in Oaxaca at the same time we were – and, by
coincidence, she said that she would be there for three of the days that we
were in Oaxaca. Elisabeth, a therapist in practice near Santa Cruz,
California, travels to Oaxaca frequently. She has established a nonprofit
organization to sponsor a boy’s orphanage in Oaxaca (www.vida-nonprofit.org),
and she goes down as often as she can to work with the kids and the staff –
and she spends the donations on computers and other projects. So, there we
were – three therapists with good boundaries and flexibility – and I couldn’t
have asked for a better, less stressed group of traveling companions. (My
wife, a licensed clinical social worker, didn’t have any time off, so she
stayed home and took care of our dog.)
One idea I had about
travel as a de-stressor is that you get away from the normal cluster of things
you worry about. Your normal daily routine vanishes. There’s no more concern
about fighting traffic, paying bills, picking up bread at the store, thinking
about who said what to whom, getting to places on time, keeping the dentist’s
appointment, watching “Survivor” on Thursday nights. While traveling, you live
in the here and now. The present becomes your universe. Your focus turns to a
restaurant to try out for dinner tonight, or popping into this shop or that
one for a moment. If you miss the tour bus to Mitla, there’s always mañana. Or
never. Whatever. Let yourself go and the trip becomes what it will become. (Hmmmm....
why can’t we do this at home?)
Once we landed in Oaxaca,
we took a taxi straight to the hotel. La Casa de la Tía Tere was a real find
(and thanks to Maryanne Wilson, a Manhattanite who contributes articles to MF
from time to time, for suggesting this place). This 20-room bed-and-breakfast
hotel has rooms for $50US a night and their four bungalows with kitchens,
dining and living rooms, out back by the pool, are $60 per night (and $30 a
night for a lengthy stay). They have free internet service and they serve
breakfast every morning. This place is absolutely quiet – and very clean.
You’ll probably do business with Lili, who is delightful, and she’s quick to
pick up on the meaning of your words in English, as well as hand gestures. She
seems to spend long shifts at the front desk. And if you go out the door
without an umbrella on a rainy day, she’ll stop you and thrust one into your
hand. You’ll meet other travelers at breakfast and poolside – everyone is
social and, for the most part, European (although we met up with a nice group
of people from Salem, Oregon). Tia Tere is at Murguia #612, eight blocks from
the zocalo. Call them from the US at 1-01-866-578-4655. You can reserve a room
online at www.casadelatiatere.com or email them at tiatere@prodigy.net.mx (on
the reservation form online, don’t fill in the information about your credit
card, but fill out the rest of the information – and then give them a call a
couple of days later to confirm that you are reserved). So, another conclusion
about de-stressing on a Mexico trip – find a nice, clean, quiet, and friendly
place to stay. (On the other hand, there’s the Hotel Monte Albán, right on the
zocalo, which, at about $10 a night less money, carries the disadvantage of
not being quiet at all, especially if you have a front room with a balcony –
although the view from those rooms of the always-moving zocalo is positively
mesmerizing.)
I bought a $30 phone card
and called home to San Diego twice, with $4.00 left over. But basically, I was
without a phone or the internet for my entire time in Oaxaca. James pays a
small monthly fee on his Verizon account so that he can make calls to and from
Mexico. I didn’t even take my cell phone with me. And I tried to do an email
home to Cheryl, but it took me a very long time to learn that the “@” sign is
made by pushing Alt-Q, rather than by capitalizing the “2.” So, I finally got
an email composed, only to learn that I was unable to send it. So, I gave up.
I had no telephone and no emails. Ahhh....the joys of de-stressing.
The people of Oaxaca
struck me, on first glance, as aloof – or at least seasoned urbanites. They
don’t usually smile and show eye contact when you pass them on the sidewalk.
They go about their business and you go about yours, to the extent that before
long I was entertaining fantasies about being the Ugly American. It’s
certainly a contrast to Tijuana, Ensenada, and Cabo San Lucas, for example,
which are more blatantly tourist-oriented. (But then I didn’t have to put up
with the hawkers in front of every store front shouting, “Hey, Meester
America. Come see what I have for you. It’s almost free.”) Although my first
impression was that the residents of Oaxaca were distant, this definition
falls apart once you talk to them. Once the social boundary has been breeched,
the smiles and warmth begin, in a way that I seldom see back in the US. This
reflects the heart of Mexican culture – a family orientation,
community-mindedness, genuineness, an appreciation of beauty, a spiritual
orientation, and a desire to do, and be, good. Without exception, the Oaxacans
I talked to were nurturing and caring people. As I walked down the sidewalks
(which I did a lot of, shoulders touching the wall beside me, sometimes made
of rocks quarried 500 years ago), I wanted to take photos of the faces. They
looked like genuine faces, faces with character. And that is de-stressing.
(Incidentally, don’t take photos of people without asking their permission and
giving them ten or twenty pesos.)
Oaxaca has a wealth of
tourist sights and a good number of shops that cater to travelers, but the
shops have a boutique-y feel and there’s not much bargaining. (However, you
can usually get a 10% discount if you pay in cash.) Compared to some other
places in Mexico, Oaxaca lacks a touristy feel. The shops specialize in
hand-made crafts from the surrounding villages. It was nearly impossible, for
example, to find Taxco silver – the few silver shops I saw all carried silver
from Oaxaca state. And there was gold jewelry in abundance (especially at Oro
de Monte Albán at Alcalá #403). The shops carry hand-embroidered dresses,
weavings, alebrijes (hand-carved animals, brightly colored), black and green
pottery, masks, leather, baskets, coffee, Oaxacan chocolate and mescal. A
special shop to visit is MARO (Mujeres Artesanias de las Regiones de Oaxaca)
at Cinco de Mayo #204. This cooperative was started by a grass-roots group of
women artisans from the villages surrounding Oaxaca. In the shop they sell
their wares and demonstrate how they are made. There’s nothing like a good
shopping spree for de-stressing. I bought, not to mention coffee and
chocolate, weavings for my office, as well as silver jewelry and a flamingo
alebrije for Cheryl (she’s a flamingo freak) that, fragile as it looked,
survived the plane trip back to San Diego. Oaxaca is one of the poorest states
in Mexico, and it gratified me to spend a little money there – and I was more
than generous in my tips in this state where the average daily wage is under
five dollars a day.
One of the best ways to
de-stress is to have a massage – a luxurious full body massage with an
emphasis on foot reflexology, and maybe some aromatherapy thrown in just to
complete the experience. We took a four dollar taxi trip to San Felipe village
in the northern suburbs of Oaxaca City and were dropped off at Hacienda Los
Laureles (Hidalgo #21, www.hotelhaciendaloslaureles.com). This boutique hotel,
which is expensive (at $225 for a single), was created in the late 1990's by
Peter and Ligia Kaiser, a German couple who had managed hotels in Africa,
Europe, and the U.S. They remodeled an old hacienda and created a paradise
with hanging vines and tropical trees. The hotel also has temazcal therapeutic
hot room and spa services. I had a $60 full body massage by a masseuse with
strong and sensitive Mexican hands. New age music played in the background. It
was a massage in paradise. Finally, my stress had gone away. I was back to
myself again.
This is part one of a two
part article on my Oaxaca trip. For the October issue of MF, we’ll go to Monte
Alban, Mitla, a Guelaguetza, the Hotel Camino Real, all the good food to be
found in Oaxaca, and a glimpse of El Presidente.
A Cold, Luscious Glass of
Creamy Milk
Several days into my
Oaxaca trip, sitting at an outdoor café with pan dulce and a cappuccino in
front of me, looking onto the constant buzz of the zocalo, just after a
drenching rain, while the pavement was still wet, and a band was playing in
the gazebo in preparation for President Fox’s tour of the newly rebuilt zocalo
– I suddenly had a craving for a glass of milk. Except for a little
full-bodied milk that I had poured on my cereal at the Tia Tere a few days
before, I realized I hadn’t had one of my staples for about a week. I think it
was the pan dulce that triggered it off. Since I usually drink fat free milk
and since I was on vacation, I thought that nothing could be better than a
frigid glass of that creamy, whole milk you can get in Mexico. Ah – nurturance
and fulfillment.
So I asked my waitperson
if she could bring me some leche. And there it appeared – some cream in a
silver creamer, presumably for my cappuccino. “No, no,” I said before she
left. “Leche!” – as I mimed with my hand the act of drinking a glass of milk.
After several minutes she returned with a cup of very hot, scalding milk
(McDonalds could have been sued over the heat in this cup) – with espresso
froth on top! My waitperson beamed with pleasure as she brought it to me. I
found my nurturance and fulfillment in the joy in her eyes. I said “gracias,”
and I tipped her well. (And the first thing I had when I got back to San Diego
was a cold glass of fat free milk.)
Robert B. Simmonds,
Ph.D., is the publisher of Mexico File and the brother of Dave Simmonds. He
is a psychologist in private practice in San Diego. This was his first trip
to Oaxaca, which he took for the purpose of de-stressing. This article is
the second part of a two-parter, part I of which appeared in the
August/September issue.
I found that my Mexico
fix in Oaxaca completely erased my San Diego worries. I had no computer, no
cell phone, no clients, no billing deadlines, no newsletter editing, no
traffic nightmares, and no snooty twenty-something-year-olds trying to act
professional. I was in an ancient culture that embraced me and awakened
within me archetypal memories of gentleness, compassion, community, and
human dignity. I became the person I like to be in Mexico. My feet were on
the ground again.
Monte Alban and Atzompa
On the second day of our
week in Oaxaca, we booked a van tour to Monte Alban, which lies just west of
Oaxaca in the mountains. Monte Alban stands as one of the most spectacular
archaeological ruins in Latin America. This great city, originally called
Danni Dipaa, was first built about 2,500 years ago – and was rebuilt a few
times during its 1,200 year reign. It was the seat of the Zapotec empire,
which sat between the Teotihuacans to the north and the Mayans to the south.
The Zapotecs controlled a swath of Mexico from the Pacific to the Gulf of
Mexico – and they were matriarchal and nonviolent. For 500 years B.C., this
advanced culture had permanent temples, a priesthood, a calendar, written
language and numerals. By 1000 A.D. the population of Monte Alban declined
for unknown reasons – it may have been because of drought, perhaps disease,
perhaps revolt. The people moved into the Valley of Oaxaca down below and
were eventually invaded by Mixtecs from the north.
Monte Alban, for me, was
one of the most mystical places I’ve ever seen. I climbed the temple stairs
for a good view of this ancient city (the Zapotecs, of short stature, must
have had strong knees to deal with these ergonomically incorrect stairs.
And they certainly had a better ability than I to withstand the thin air at
an elevation of about 7,000 feet – of course). One way to visit Monte Alban
is to take the tourist approach and marvel at how these primitive people
could create such interesting buildings and pottery. It’s good for a couple
of hours of entertainment, and the tourists feel somewhat educated by the
end of their tour. But I tried something else. I stood atop a temple and
imagined myself as a Zapotec, 2,500 years ago, my eyes half closed and
peering off into valleys and mountains in the distance. I saw the same scene
that they must have seen (except for the houses in the valley down below). I
felt a surge of connection to the universe, similar to what I imagine these
ancient ones may have experienced. I wondered why the Zapotecs built this
city here, in this place. What magical powers they must have associated with
this location.
Our tour guide, a very
bright and well-educated Zapotecan, told us that there was a research study
done in which audiotapes of the Zapotecan language were taken to Japan to
see if the Japanese could understand any of it. And it turned out that the
Japanese could understand about 40% of the words. He also described the
Zapotecans, in comparison to other Mexican Indians, as having distinctly
Asian physical features. He inferred that the Zapotecans are distantly
related to the Japanese. (The scientist in me would question this, of
course.)
On the way back from
Monte Alban we stopped at Santa Maria Atzompa, a crafts-oriented town of
5,000 specializing in green-glazed pottery. We stopped in the center of town
at the Mercado de Artesanias, where the local artisans bring their wares
(although all along the road into town, many houses display their pottery
and weavings out front). I wasn’t eager to buy any of the pottery, which,
because I was so hungry, I had a hard time enjoying. My hunger lured me into
a little eating place at the Mercado (plastic chairs, plastic tables, dogs
sleeping on the floor) – and it was there that I had the best chile relleno
I’ve ever had. I know I was hungry, but this is no exaggeration. The corn
tortilla was filled with beef, nuts, raisins and the right mixture of
spices. It was clean and from the earth. For the rest of my trip I went to
some top Oaxaca restaurants and ordered chile rellenos, but none of them
compared to what I had at this little roadside stand. (Chile rellenos in
Oaxaca are not made with cheese, as they are in the U.S.)
El Tule, Mitla, and
Teotitlan
On the fourth day of our
week, we took another van tour, this time to the east of Oaxaca. The little
village of Santa Maria del Tule, nine miles from Oaxaca, boasts the largest
tree in Mesoamerica. El Tule is a 2,000-year-old cypress with branches
reaching fifteen stories high. The trunk is the size of a house. Looking up
into the branches, you see masses of birds flitting between the branches
(although Elisabeth, one of my travel companions, claimed she could see
angels and fairies – this tree does have that kind of magical quality).
Several years ago, Highway 190 ran too close to the tree and posed a danger
to it. So they moved the highway, and now the tree can continue on until the
end of its natural days.
Once you’ve seen Monte
Alban, the other ruinas near Oaxaca might seem a bit disappointing, at least
to the casual visitor. Mitla, 31 miles east of Oaxaca, was called, in
Zapotec, “Liobaa” or “place of the dead.” It reached its apex in about 1350
A.D. and held a population of 10,000. The city remained intact and in use
for generations after the Spanish conquest. We noted that the old ruins of
the temples had been torn apart by the Spaniards and the stones were used to
build a church in the adjacent village, San Pablo Villa de Mitla. The
edifices at Mitla are mostly rubble now, but several of the buildings retain
their exteriors so that today we can imagine what the old city looked like.
There are tunnels within the ruins that you can explore.
Again, I got hungry
while I was at Mitla. And it led to the best quesadilla in the world, as far
as I’m concerned. I’ve never tasted a quesadilla this good. Outside of the
ruins at Mitla there is a permanent market set up with craft booths – and
one place for food. A woman makes quesadillas, and apparently nothing else,
on a portable stove. The one I bought (for about 20 pesos) was unbelievably
good. I sat and ate it alone, and then three nursing students invited me to
their table (my first inclination was to refuse the invitation, but then I
remembered that I was in Mexico and not the United States. So I went over.)
All three of these people were from the smaller villages in the Oaxaca
Valley. They were genuine and grounded. They were trusting and happy. It was
liberating being around them.
Teotitlan is a village
of weavers. The weavings are displayed in front yards and porches. If I had
been driving a car, I would have stopped at nearly every house. We were led
into a demonstration of spinning the wool, coloring it with cochineal and
other dyes, and weaving. There was a treasure trove of Zapotec weavings in
this shop. I bought a wall hanging and a notebook and I would have gotten
more if I thought I had the luggage space to hold it.
The Food
The best food is in the
villages around Oaxaca City and not in the city itself. And in Cd. Oaxaca
it’s hard to find an outstanding restaurant. I thought I would have luck at
the Camino Real (Calle Cinco de Mayo #300; 951-516-0611), but the beef with
two kinds of molé (green and black) was just a bit above average. The
setting is second to none, however. We ate twice at Catedral Resaurante
(Garcia Vigil #106; 951-516-3285), because the first try was so good that we
had to go back again. The service is attentive, the food is consistently
excellent, and the ambience (especially next to the fountain) is elegant and
conducive to enjoying a fine meal. But there was another restaurant I really
enjoyed – La Olla Restaurante (Reforma #402; 951-516-6668). This is a
special find (and was recommended to us by Jean Cockelreas of Salem, Oregon,
who was tour-guiding a group of Oregonians). This is fine cuisine, or as
close as I found in Oaxaca. The food is organic – clean, fresh, and tasting
like nature. (But their chile rellenos were still not as good as the one I
had in Atzompa.)
El Presidente
The zocalo, in the
months before I visited Oaxaca, underwent a renovation, one that turned out
to be quite controversial. But it was finally re-opened, with some of the
plans scaled back in light of the opposition to the changes. And President
Vicente Fox came to examine the new zocalo on my last full day in Oaxaca. I
went to the zocalo for a late breakfast and couldn’t find James, my
traveling buddy. It had been raining that morning and I had an umbrella. A
band was playing classical Mexican music in the bandstand. Almost overnight,
they laid new bricks, scooped up all the dogs, planted new flowers in the
flowerbeds, and got the plaza spiffy clean. Post-adolescent young men in
black military uniforms strutted around the zocalo. Most people seemed to
ignore them. I saw the president’s entourage of about 50 men, most in white
shirts and dark trousers, approaching, and it walked right past me. The
presidente held hands with his wife, who was dressed in orange. Fox stayed
at El Camino Real, along with the governors of five states, all of whom were
there for a meeting.
El Camino Real and La
Guelaguetza
Lynne Doyle contributed
a superb article on the Hotel El Camino Real to the July 2005 issue of
Mexico File in her “Las Joyas de Mexico” column. Originally founded in 1576
as the Convento de Santa Catalina de Siena, this huge edifice housed
novitiates for hundreds of years. In 1862 the sisters had to leave the
convent in the Juarez reforms, and after that the building languished as the
city hall, a school, and a movie theater. Walking the corridors, I wondered
how it must have felt to be there when it was a convent, in a peaceful
religious setting with fear-inducing enforcement of rules.
The price of a room at
Camino Real is nearly prohibitive ($200 to $400 per night), but spending
time in the courtyard of this paradise is free, and not to be missed if
you’re in Oaxaca. James, Elisabeth and I drank margaritas while Schumann
played peacefully on the speakers.
Every Friday night El
Camino Real puts on a Guelaguetza. Get your tickets before (about $35, which
includes the Guelaguetza and a buffet meal of very good Oaxacan cuisine). A
guelaguetza is a costumed show of folk dances with a band accompaniment. And
it is impressive. As for me, the guelaguetza, which we attended on our last
full day in Oaxaca, was a celebration of my week. I had come to Mexico to
relax and get in touch with the genuine human spirit that’s ubiquitous in
Mexico. And I did just that. But the guelaguetza, which served as a real
capper to the week, wasn’t the end. Something funny happened the next day,
and it made me feel like Elvis Presley or the Beatles.
The Kumbia Kings
When James and I
deplaned in Mexico City for the transfer to the Continental flight to
Houston, we were met by screams, the screams of adolescent girls. As we
walked closer to them, the screams only increased in intensity. I know that
I had a good week in Oaxaca and I needed some validation for that, but this
was over the top. Still, it was nice to let my imagination take hold. “Thank
you, thank you, young ladies...” My flight of fancy, however, was disturbed
by a group of young men crossing my path, one by one. And every time one
walked in front of me, there was another chorus of screams. I looked over at
the screamers and saw that they were carrying a sign that read, “Welcome
Kumbia Kings.” (The Kumbia Kings are a Mex-Tex band based in McAllen, Texas
– and they’re all the rage in Latin American these days.) Welcome to America
in the 1960's. Welcome to Mexico in the 2000's.
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