With an 11 hour overnight coach journey ahead of me (this time I have 3 layers on and my sleeping bag at hand so I should be a bit cosier!), I’m now ready to write up about my last couple of days in Oaxaca. I know my last entry had a pretty unpleasant edge to it, what with the run-in with the would-be robber, and, if I'm truthful, it has been hard to put that totally behind me. However, I’m generally happy to report that things got a lot better for me in Oaxaca. In fact, I felt pretty sad just now leaving the hostel where I met a range of great people and had some much needed spirit-lifting laughs.
It’s funny, even staying in a place like that for such a short period of time, I saw people come and go, made small connections, and felt like quite an ‘old timer’ after 3 days. Although, as I mentioned in my last entry, some of the rules and regulations of ‘Hostel Pochon’ were rather finicky, it was the perfect place to fall in with an easy-going and good-time crowd. Therefore, looking back, I’m quite glad things turned out the way they did now with Jesus and the failed phone-numbers...
So, I think I signed off on Friday night as I was just about to go for tacos and beer with Aaron, Mike and Steve – a good move as it introduced me to ‘Tacos Alvare’. This was a place just around the corner from the hostel that served up such cheap and yummy tacos that I went right back there the next night for more and could become a very overweight addict if I stuck around! So much for me saying the other day that tacos were a dainty little snack – at Tacos Alvare you got a hearty and carnivorous plateful of steak, ham and bacon, chopped up together with stringy melted Oaxacan cheese. Mmm, then served with a pile of warmed tortillas and various ‘picante’ (spicy) garnishes. Probably not good for the coronary arteries but good for ‘hitting the spot’ if you’re starving. It was the kind of food that makes me glad my veggie days are behind me!
Anyway, it was comforting in many ways to go out on Friday night with Aaron and Mike, two travelling buddies from the States who met while working at a holiday camp, and Steve, from Norwich, who used to work for Royal Bank of Scotland, but who is currently taking a bit of a career break (probably good timing considering what I’m hearing about the ongoing financial doom and gloom back home). As we chatted and ate, they were sorry and sympathetic upon hearing about my ordeal earlier in the day. However they also highly amused and inspired to hear about my assault of the aspiring assailant with my Rough Guide. They reckon I should write to Rough Guides telling them this story – perhaps even suggesting that next year’s Mexico edition comes in a weightier format for fending off would-be attackers, or with a free flick-knife enclosed! It was a funny conversation that continued when we went back to the hostel with some take-away beers to sit out in the courtyard with Graeme, a Scottish teacher doing some voluntary work here in Oaxaca, who is also taking a break from work to travel the globe.
At some point in the evening our humourous and beer-fuelled chat turned to the perennial ‘traveller’s issue’ of awful toilets - and it was here that I innocuously mentioned the ‘She-pee’ that my friend Charlie had bought me as a practical parting gift before I set off on my journey. Little did I know that this would cause such a stir and such frenzied curiosity amongst 4 guys who had had a few cervezas (although I suppose I should have guessed!)! The rest of the evening was pretty much taken up with me fielding wide-eyed questions from them about this small funnel-like contraption that, well, allows a lady to pee standing up like a man, should the need arise. How big was it? What was it shaped like? Had I used it? Did it spray? Most of all, could they see it?! I suddenly kind felt like I was the spokesperson for She-pees at a press conference that had been whipped up into a media-storm! Late at night I didn’t really want to go rummaging around in the darkened dorm for the funny little device (which I thought I’d tucked away inside one of my hiking boots at the bottom of my back-pack). However, I appeased them all by promising that I would show it to them the next day - if they were lucky!
On Saturday I ventured out cautiously to explore a little bit more of Oaxaca. Memories of the afternoon before were unfortunately still fresh in my mind, and I felt a bit edgy and jittery at first. However, I left my camera in the hostel locker that morning, and only went out with enough pesos in my pocket for a coffee and perhaps a couple of museum entrance fees. This helped me to adopt the kind of approach that I think I will need to maintain for the rest of my trip – I’m just going to go around with as little as I need in terms of money and valuables, conceal it as well as I can on my person, and hold on to the fact that nothing amongst my belongings is worth more than my own safety and well-being. Just telling myself that, and taking that attitude (based very much on all the lovely messages of commiseration and support that a lot of you have sent me), gave me a lot of strength. You’re all so right – why should I let a clumsy and random street-robber (especially one who can be thwarted by a girl chucking a guide-book at his head!) jeopardise all the wonder and excitement that I’m sure still lies ahead for me? Pah! I hope the guy feels suitably emasculated as he tends to his Rough Guide inflicted bruises…
Anyway, having had that little rant, I’ll get back to Oaxaca. It’s a very arty little town with lots of great galleries, cafes, libraries and independent cinemas. In fact, I discovered that one such cinema had a free screening on Saturday evening of a Colombian film that Paco, my Spanish teacher from the first week at ‘The Spanish Cat’, had recommended – ‘La Virgen De Sicarios’. I therefore decided to put my Spanish to the test and go along to the 6 o’clock screening.
Ultimately, I don’t regret having given it a try. However, I have to say it wasn’t a great success. I could barely understand any of the dialogue and could only speculate about the plot, which seemed pretty bleak. It appeared to centre around a sinister looking older man with a liking for picking up young rent boys - all of whom seemed to be tied up in the highly unsavoury cocaine-trafficking cartels that menace the Colombian city of Medellin. Countless people got killed in grisly shoot-outs in the film, their bodies being casually stepped over by the protagonist and his young ‘companions’ as if they were mere pieces of trash. It wasn’t really my cup of tea and, unless there was some clever redemptive message that I just couldn’t pick up with my paltry Spanish, I had to conclude that Paco’s idea of a good film differed from mine. Not wanting to instill any more fear in myself after the events of the day before (I’m travelling to Colombia – but will be giving Medellin, which does have a notorious reputation, a wide berth), I snuck out of the cinema early and left before the end. I knew that the rest of the crowd from the hostel were planning a bit of a night on the tiles, and I thought that my time would probably be better spent with them, than trying to make sense of such an unpromising picture.
So back at the hostel (where a few new people had arrived and been welcomed into the fold), more beers were being consumed in the courtyard as a night out in Oaxaca was being planned. Of course, as soon as I shored up, the conversation went straight back to She-pees (it was irrepressible - whatever we were discussing, be it Barack Obama, the economy, the environment – we were never more than ‘5 degrees of seperation’ from the subject of She-pees). In the end, I had to stick to my promise and discreetly show Aaron, Mike and Graeme mine. It seemed to make the two boys from Missouri, and the one boy from East Kilbride very happy and, from the response I got, I think it pretty much made their trips! Forget the 7 wonders of the world - they saw the wonder of a She-pee! So I have to say another big thank-you to Charlie for buying me that – I haven’t used it to have a tiddle yet, but I have discovered that it is a great, if slightly incendiary, conversation starter!
The rest of Saturday night unfolded in various bars around the centre of Oaxaca (the first was my favourite – an alternative little dive where we saw a Mexican teenage emo-band doing Franz Ferdinand covers, which was kind of surreal). A lot of the crowd went on to drink mescal - another spirit made from algave, not unlike tequila, but more a speciality of this particular region. I still felt a bit poorly with my cold so was taking it easy on the boozing front and just had a few sips of the drink (in one bar we had it poured from a bottle with a tangle of scorpions in the bottom). However, the others were knocking it back. It’s clearly pretty potent and quick-working stuff as in next to no time half of the gathering were getting pretty boisterous. We ended up in a club that took me straight back to being about 18, where we could scarcely move, but where everyone was trying to dance to teenage Latino beats. I lasted until about 2.00am, when my sniffles got the better of me and I returned to the hostel with Emile (a room-mate who was also feeling a bit fluey). I have no idea when the others in my dorm returned, but there was a lot of very heavy snoring when I awoke the following day, which I think was most probably mescal induced!
Trying to feel as fresh as I could the next morning (but still feeling a bit ropey) I tried my best to face the hostel breakfast of luminous fruit jelly and omelette (I won’t be sorry to change my breakfasting habits now I’m moving on). This was before heading off with Dan, a journalist from Cornwall, to see the local Zapotec ruins at Monte Alban. This site was a short bus ride away and afforded some more views of pyramid-like structures where gory sacrifices and strange ball-game rituals took place years ago. It was quite interesting, and, I guess, a means of passing half a day whilst getting some fresh air. We stopped for lunch afterwards in the market (the most bustling and authentic place to eat in Oaxaca it seemed) and had chicken ‘mole’, as Oaxaca is supposed to be the best place to sample the rich chocolatey sauce. Once again, I have to report that it’s not my favourite thing ever (maybe the intense, quite grainy textured chocolate takes a bit of getting used to in savoury dishes). However, at least I can say I’ve tried it.
The rest of Sunday, apart from going to a little photography gallery and catching up on e-mails, I did very little and actually snoozed off on my bunk at about 8.30pm – a good move I think, as it meant I woke up this morning feeling much refreshed and more or less cold free. A little group of us in the hostel decided to hire bikes for the day and to set out to explore a couple of the little villages surrounding Oaxaca. A few wrong turns led us out into a housing estate and onto a construction site at first in the morning (not the most beautiful surroundings!), but in the afternoon we made it to a pretty little village called San Felipe and ended the day feeling that we’d had some decent exercise and seen a bit more of the area. As it was my last night in Oaxaca I went for a final drink in the zocalo with Graeme and Zoe (a veteran traveller, who arrived in the hostel yesterday and joined our cycling crew today). It was pretty cold come evening-time so rather than a beer I opted for a hot chocolate made with real Oaxacan chocolate – thick, dark and slightly spicy. It was very delicious and warming, and a good move before heading back to the hostel to say some fond farewells and get a taxi to the bus station.
So now I’m en-route to San Cristobal, looking forward to seeing Mum and Dad again and, once more, to making the most of a bit more upmarket accommodation (ah, a room of my own rather than one full of snoring strangers, and hopefully a shower that doesn’t smell of stale wee!). San Cristobal has been a favourite destination of many of the travellers I’ve met over the past couple of days so I’m looking forward to it and will report again shortly on what it has to offer.
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