on the flight home all i can think about is the vibrancy that i could instantly sense; art on walls that convey a true knowledge of spirit- art that shows the rootedness to the earth – murals of corn squash roots mothers and many other sacred symbols cover the buildings – no permission needed to paint on the walls. i met good natured, friendly people. all babies were basically nursed and worn on their mothers. ancestral traditions are strong, even while enmeshed with colonizer/hispanic reach.
american culture, on the other hand, feels sterilized by corporate entities. your local town stripped of local resources to serve the starbucks, the mcdonalds… local food culture in California feels like a small trend after viewing the reverence folks have for the corn squash beans in Oaxaca. the people have a deep understanding of how their lives are sustained and have been for a more than a few millennia.
we visit the ruins of monte alban, right above oaxaca city. i can feel the spirit of these farmers and earth builders and priests. wow. mountains and butterflies and the power of these indigenous pre-hispanic peoples. i get a sense of what true heritage is. the ancestors of these builders still meandering the streets and sowing the seeds. i feel deeply displaced from the land of my ancestors, the Scandinavian fjords and farms. … only just settling in california where i was born and raised for the last 100 years. (displacing indigenous people in their /my wake.)
in oaxaca the colors are bright the food is rich and the people seem content- the mountains are tall and cool like a california coastal forest. today we cooked casear amanitas with local leaves and spices and cheese. i saw so many familiar faces blooming in this forest at nearly 9000ft in elevation. lupine, and zinnia, and buttercups. pines and oaks. we went to the cloud forest with a friendly local to mushroom hunt. we cooked food in their little Comedor, diner, up on the mountain, run by a woman, her parents, and her children.
while on our trip we get a call at 2am to from the sheriff to evacuate. when we get home we won’t get to go home. as the fire grows i worry for my ducks, my cat, my garden that i’ve been working in all spring and summer. if the fire wants to eat my house, it will. i try not to think about my treasures: a spinning wheel i inherited from a mentor and Auschwitz survivor- woven cloth from my bestie cousin who passed suddenly last may. my sheep skins. my library. i definitely dont want to ruminate on the logistics of paying the mortgage on a burnt house. (MY HOUSE DID NOT BURN THANK YOU FIRE FIGHTERS.)
we walk through the streets—PINK and GREEN flash through the skies. food. chocolate. street dogs. puedo tocar los perros en la calle? – no, es muy peligroso. (estoy triste)
i am inspired by the wild and artistic community of mitla- signs read MITLA, un pueblo magico as you enter the town. i’m obsessed with where we get to stay CASA LYOBAA— i make notes because i want to remember the decor- tiles hanging plants and tapestries dried flowers in ceramics
i had a lesson of authenticity while in oaxaca- i ate at an open air restaurant with plants like pomegranates growing high into the trellis, and a wood fired tortilla oven over to the side. i thought: HIPSTER. but not in accusation. the word i was reaching for to describe the mood was beyond my grasp. it was beyond cool— too cool to be natural– surely some contrived result.
later someone told me, an ex pat with the composting and egg raising CASA LYOBAA, that the word was authentic. *duh*Oaxaca is very authentic. a rootless crew in Berkeley could bend over backwards trying to create such a radical cafe, and attempt to capture such an ambiance. in oaxaca it’s real, true, genuine. working with what they have. like plants growing through pergolas and local clay decor. no need to minimize or maximize their importance or uniqueness. just the pure stuff of soul.
shop til you drop. take my pesos. por favor. yooo- and between chris, teddy, and i , we were mostly spanish speaking capable. 🙂
A platter of locally sourced indigenous traditional foods, shared with my love in mitla.
It was delicious.
Chris and I attacked the food
Like people who hadn’t eaten in days.
Chili Relleno fresh cheeses
Blue Corn tortilla with bean paste
Smoky strips of meat I didn’t identify..
Cactus-
It’s inspiring and humbling to partake in a food culture that’s so connected to their roots with reverence.
We ate Honey ants ground into a Smokey chili sauce with corn smut (huitlacoche)
The ants come out right before the rains
For one day-
And Everyone goes out to gather them.
The little old ladies go out into the grasses with a butterfly net and catch grass hoppers by the pile, to boil and season and sell at market.
Chopolinas- 
Also, cups and cups of chocolate.
I learned from *local *native * Daisy that a really foamy cup is the result of great skill and marriage readiness. 
in the end, i felt extremely proud of my family. especially with the two mile walk through LAX.
of course, travel inspires. new questions and ideas fill the head: what is this creative community here? could i live here? (and make friends and host a rad airbnb?) why do i stay where i stay?
we came home to stay at my folks, as we were under mandatory evacuation for fire.
my garden survived. thank you oaxaca and MEZCOUTING for your hospitality. <3 shout out to daisy, suites de la parra, and casa lyobaa (paul and slyvia are serious artist community radicals.) unnamed taxi driver who spotted us two days in a row and got a rich tip.
it was a privilege – stay curious and humble, friends
xoxo dolly
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