Latin American Lifestyle and Art (LALA): Oaxaca (Mexico)

Oaxaca is both city and state (like New York, New York) and I have high expectations of it as far as my gallery is concerned. Oaxaca is famous for the artistic and cultural expressions of her indigenous people (predominantly Zapotecs and Mixtecs) and within the city are several small but impressively curated galleries featuring the work of artisans from across the state - in both contemporary and pre-columbian styles. I am searching in particular for excellent examples of alebrijes (brightly painted wood carvings), barro negro (black pottery) and textiles to build my knowledge before traveling to the rural villages to buy directly from the artists workshops.

Searching the galleries of Oaxaca City on foot is a pleasure - the city seems made for walking. On tree-lined streets and wide pavements you pass seamlessly by stately spanish-colonial buildings and through shady city parks. On this lovely spring morning many of the trees are covered with pink blossoms and fountains send sprays of water in to the air. The chilly morning air quickly retreats from the sun and I am stripping off layers of clothing until at midday the heat is too fierce and I make my way to the cool shaded arcades of the Zocolo in search of lunch. I pick a table on the terrace with a good view of the park and order a mole amarillo. It is delicious and the complex flavours impossible to describe - smoky, slightly picante, earthy, nutty.

I stay too long at my table watching the parade of shoppers, buskers, and merchants. I do not relish my job for the afternoon - to find a shipping company that will carry my products back to Honduras. I fear that my limited Spanish is not up to the task and that, in general, logistics are going to be troublesome. My fears are quickly proven to be well-founded on both counts. At the first company on my list, my inquiries are met with blank looks of incomprehension. I believe my Spanish to be at fault so start supplementing my communication with mimes, drawings and other visual aides. This generates quite some amusement but not the “yes-certainly-Señora-we-can-ship-your-delicate-wood-carvings-safely-to-Honduras” kind of response I was looking for.

The helpful girl at Estafeta Mexicana is very determined to get to the bottom of my request.

HER (with an impatient tap of long painted fingernails on counter top and one raised eyebrow): “You want to ship the boxes where exactly?”

ME: “Honduras”

HER: “Yes, but what country?”

ME: “Ah... Honduras, Honduras is the country”.

HER (looking highly skeptical): “Where is this country.....Honduras? How far away is it?”.

ME: “Not far. Its south-east from here. Just next to Guatemala”

HER (with open-mouthed look of horrified disbelief): “In Central America?”

Me (with relief) “Yes, right! It’s in Central America”.

HER: “You want to send your boxes to Central America?”

ME (wishing I had also long painted fingernails to tap impatiently on the counter top) “Yes. Thats right. Honduras in Central America. I want to send the boxes to Honduras in Central American”.

Then follows a lengthy discussion with her colleagues in rapid spanish, of which I follow absolutely nothing. Based on the horrified looks they send my way I start to worry I that something got lost in translation and I accidentally told her I want to ship my first-born child to Peru. Or some such thing.

Finally I get a quote for a standard sized 20”x20” carton with 25 pound of weight to the Honduran port city of La Ceiba (Roatan it seems is not possible). Its my turn to send looks of horrified disbelief over the counter. The estimate is wildly expensive and far more than I have in my budget. My feeling of despondency grows as I get a similar response (both the horrified looks and the quote) from the next five shipping companies I visit (strangely enough the quotes for air freight are slightly less than for ground transport). It seems none of them routinely ship goods to Central America and, quite frankly, can’t imagine why anyone would want to.

Day grows to a close. I am tired and disillusioned. My feet are hot and sore. I am no closer to solving the logistics problem but have a valuable cultural learning. Mexico is part of North America and Central America is. a. different. continent. Not part of North America. It seems this geo-political distinction, of which I was only vaguely aware, is actually very significant.

There is an abundance of trade and supporting logistics to the north. To the south, not so much. Actually, none. On learning that I live and work in Central America the people of Oaxaca are puzzled, concerned, bewildered, and always sympathetic. They want to know “but isn’t it very poor/dirty/dangerous/primitive down there?” “Isn’t the food very bad?” “Are there even cities like this down there?”

The perception of Central America as a vastly inferior sub-continent is not working in my favor and people quickly loose interest in my shipping dilemma (no doubt putting it down to yet another inexplicable gringo idiosyncrasy. We are after all the ones who seek a better quality of life by leaving behind the developed world and traveling south). I am loosing interest myself by this point and decide to call it a day. I am filled with inspirations and great ideas from my morning in the galleries. I am eager to get on with the fun business of shopping and leave the frustrating boring business of logistics behind. I will leave early the next morning for the village of San Martin Tilcajete where can be found the most accomplished alibrije artists. I will visit the atelier of Jacabo and Maria Angeles who are considered by many to be the true masters of this art. I will buy many many lovely alibrijes. I will sort this shipping thing out later. It will work out. It always does.