Week ending January 31st 2010

Hoorah. The clouds have returned.

The week began with no water in our little flat. The round black plastic header tank which sits on top of the roof, a feature of all houses in this part of Mexico, finally emptied, and when we began the motor to pump more up, it wouldn’t go. Handy, we thought.

We took a bucket and borrowed some of next doors water from their header tank, appropriately placed close to ours on the same patch of roof. We’ll replace it some day. We washed the dishes and flushed the loo with it, but obviously couldn’t wash ourselves in it. We’ve lost weight, but not so much that we could fit into the bucket.

Clothes also remained unwashed. This continued for 48 hours, until a kindly neighbour sorted out the motor pump. We had plently of time during those very long hours to consider what it means to have no water.

At Casa Hogar this is a frequent problem. Later this same week, their supply dried up - again. That’s twice so far, since we’ve been there. And that’s not counting the regular issue with the boiler, which is more temperamental than a 1974 MG Midget. Washing small children in cold water isn’t much fun for them - or us.

When the kids’ water runs out, they go without a wash, dishes only get washed in the left over clothes washing water, and loos aren’t flushed very regularly. As you might imagine, ‘issues’ build up pretty quickly, when you’re dealing with more than two dozen children…

Thankfully, their problems in this regard will soon be over. A very generous benefactor has decided to pay for the installation of two 5,000 litre water tanks, plus the necessary pumps and pipework, to overcome the shortage. When the council, in its infinite wisdom, cuts off their supply in future, it won’t matter, because 10,000 litres will last for weeks. And when it returns, they’ll pump more into the tanks to re-supply. Water cut-offs only last a couple of days at a time in Oaxaca. As I write, the huge pit is being readied for the tanks.

Nobody drinks the tap water here. It wouldn’t be very wise, apparently. Everyone has to buy the large blue bottles of water, commonly found in offices nowadays. However, we do occasionally also see dirty looking water trucks driving around town guaranteeing their water is safe for human consumption.

At 14 pesos, a bottle isn’t going to break our bank. But in the State of Oaxaca, the daily minimum wage is only 40 pesos. That’s two British Pounds, or just over 3 US Dollars.

We use a bottle in about 6 or 7 days, and that’s only because we have drinks in town. A family would go through one in considerably less time, particularly as many of the families here include three or more children. Casa Hogar is visited by the bottle lorry on a regular basis and we don’t like to think how much money is spent providing clean water for 30 people to cook with and to drink.

In amongst all the dust however, everyone appears impeccably turned out. We sometimes feel rather underdressed in our fading t-shirts, and old trousers. My feet have never been so consistently dirty and cracked as they are right now. The dust is omnipresent, though fine enough to forget about it for much of the time. Until one sneezes…

This week we’ve had some excellent food. At Casa Hogar we have a late breakfast at about 11am, which varies daily. Eggs feature highly, usually in scrambled omelette form, as do tomatoes, jalapeñoes, chipotles, onions and bread. Mexican bread, which tends to be flat and round and heated over the stove, and known as tortillas, make good sandwiches, and an excellent replacement for a spoon.

We also have bacon or sausages sometimes, but this morning (February 2nd) we had tamales. These are essentially cooked ground maize rolled into doughy long sausages, with chicken and mole (pronounced ‘molay’). They are wrapped in maize leaves, rather like the corn on the cob husks in England. The mole is a dark brown, slightly sweet sauce which accompanies the tamales - and whilst we had our bout of food poisoning after consuming some mole in La Paz a couple of months ago, we dove in today. And with just cause.  :)

Our second course consisted of sweet tamales, with raisins; and a cup of Mexican coffee. Yum. And very filling. I could only eat 2 tamales plus half of Joy’s…

Evenings usually find us cooking pasta, traditionally a cyclist’s ‘favourite’. Or perhaps I should use the word ’staple’, as the frequency of its consumption becomes a little tedious after 9 months… Or we dine out at one of the eateries in town - of which there must be in excess of 200. A dinner can cost from 2GBP.

Week ending January 24th 2010

Playtime for the kids at Casa Hogar.

After a few less than balmy days, where we witnessed grey fluffy things floating in the sky, it warmed up. Slightly cool in the mornings as we catch the bus from the town centre, by 10am it’s boiling. This week has seen fewer woolly hats and gloves but hey, it’s still winter y’know.

As our flat is situated on the first floor in a small, almost organically developed concrete complex of low level (and some might simply say quirky) design, we can sit on the gently sloping (concrete) roof of the flat below us. The view is lovely. Across the mostly flat roofs of downtown Oaxaca, the occasional church spire pierces the monotony, whilst beyond the city limits the hills in three directions enclose the city. The sun goes down behind one of the hills and as it does, it creates in stark ochre relief the opposing hills, cloaked in thick vegetation and heavy with heat. Car horns, police sirens, noisy buses and clubs with loud music continue into the night, but with the dark comes a reduction in temperature. The concrete walls slowly release their heat and allow us to sleep.

Nick and Laina have a good time with the kids and on day two they begin work at 12pm, to cover the afternoons, just as our shift finishes.

Swing time

Joy and I are having a great time at Casa Hogar. The kids are fun, but the work that the team does is excellent, bathing them, clothing them, feeding them and teaching them, all the while with love and attention. Arturo, one of the sons, really believes that with their care they are slowly changing the way that children see the role played by men. Up until the time these children join Casa Hogar, the men in their lives have consisted of abusers, alcoholics or simply as invisible. ‘Machismo’ is very much alive and (unfortunately) kicking in this country, as Arturo attests to, but with the love of Coco, her husband Pastor and their sons as role models, these kids are truly seeing something quite different, and it makes them smile. But if you were to meet Coco, Pastor, Arturo, Andres, Jose Maria and Ivan, then you would too. (www.hijosdelaluna-en.org)

We meet Rodrigo today, a teacher from Oaxaca who is heading up a construction team of teenage school girls. Honestly. Casa Hogar has managed to attract the attention of Rodrigo, who has to date overseen the construction of another similar structure, consisting of ‘tetrapak’ milk carton walls and a concrete roof. Sounds intriguing…

The ground floor slab was laid today - no foundations appear necessary - and tomorrow work begins in the tiny grounds of Casa Hogar on a library and games room. The reason being that after they have eaten, the kids can relocate to somewhere equally dry to continue playing, freeing up the dining room to allow for cleaning; an operation that takes a not inconsiderable amount of time… (Whilst it is difficult to imagine at the moment, southern Mexico’s rainy season is approximately 6 months long, beginning in May).

From what I understand, the materials and labour for the project are entirely free, as Rodrigo and his friends have involved a small Mexican airline in funding the project. And strangely enough, the central government is not involved. Photos to follow.

We have also located a place in town to take some more Spanish lessons, which are sorely needed, and apparently includes Mexican cooking lessons, salsa classes and a filmnight in the deal. We start on friday, and not a day too soon.

Hola, como estas? Friday came and went. We visited Casa Hogar on saturday as one fothe boys had a birthday (and some cake, a party and some food). How could we resist? Another piñata took place, during which the usual scrambles for sweets occured, and the inevitable crying which rapidly followed. Armfuls of sweets were carried off to hidden places, but the long arm of the law (Arturo and Andres) sought out the stockpilers and redistrubuted in a thoroughly evenhanded way. I even got some.

Sunday saw us on a rickety old bus with Nick and Laina, bouncing along an equally rickety old road to Mitla, a fabulous Zapotec temple city, which dated from the 2nd to the 16th centuries. The informality of signage and presentation belies the significance of this place, which is one of the finest standing archaeological ruins in the whole of Mexico.

Week ending January 17th, 2010

Another fabulous flower

Joy had been struggling with a sore throat, headache, cough and cold for a few days, but bravely made it into work. I didn’t. A little sore tummy prevented me from getting out of bed, but I did manage to make a cuppa just as she was returning, somewhat earlier than I had anticipated. It transpired that she had got on the wrong bus, took the grand tour of the entire State and returned, too embarrassed to go to work half way through the morning.

Tuesday saw Joy get on the right bus and Joff remain in his sick bed. However, using the internet is considered therapeutic, so we managed to visit one in the afternoon to catch up.

The rest of the week saw us comparing illnesses with Eva and Francisco, a couple about to leave the country for a new life together in Canada. Best of luck to them both, Toronto is freeeezing at the moment….

By friday Joy was fine, except for coughing at night time, which kept us both awake. After geting rid of the funny tummy, Montecuma really did wreak his revenge on saturday. Still, me having no food for another 60 hours might not be a bad thing, according to Joy….

The weekend saw me in bed with more stomach problems, politely called ‘digestive issues.’ Joy bounded around like zebedee (the character from the Magic Roundabout not the old testament). Sunday saw us meet Nick and Laina, from the US, who wanted to learn Spanish and work at the Casa Hogar with us. They moved into the room below ours, right in the middle of town. Bingo. Excellent price, particularly given the location, but for that, we must of course trade certain aspects of comfort that we might otherwise assume integral to any form of accommodation…. Astoundingly poor concrete design and construction, windows that cannot - and have never - opened or closed fully, bare electric wires in bathrooms, less than 50% of electric points functioning, bulbs missing, ants as roommates and hot water heaters as temperamental as hollywood starlets, certainly lend the word  ’character’ to the tourists’ lexicon, but unfortunately in the company of other words equally colourful - but less than polite.

Week ending January 10th 2010

The new year began gently enough. Traffic light, temperatures warm, people smiling and music everywhere.

A work of art, Casa Hogar style

We’ve been back to Casa Hogar for the week, three hours a day laughing with the kids whilst washing and cleaning. On wednesday evening there was a posada for the children, which involved the attendance of the volunteers, the donors and a small horse, on which all the children took turns sitting, whilst being walked around the dusty grounds of Coco’s family’s back yard. Celia, a tall 5 year old from Honduras with short tousled hair ran up to me, open arms and requested  I pick her up. On settling in she asked whether I was her dad. I looked over at Joy who reflected my rather sad face. I could only respond with a sorrowful ‘no’.

Dinner followed, during which the piñata, a colourful seven pointed orb hanging heavily overhead, was swung at by the children one at a time, with sticks, in an attempt to smash and grab the sweets contained within. Needless to say, it was moved up and down in order to avoid the bigger ones from smashing it too early on in the evening. And, once finally broken, 20 seconds of mayhem ensued, as 25 boys and girls crawled on the floor, in their best clothes, to grab anything they could get their (until then very clean) little mitts on.

They were then given a small parcel of presents which included a pair of shoes and some food, before being taken to Coco’s house, so that the adults could have their tomales and drinks in peace. (Tomales are maize husk covered ’sandwiches’ with either sweet or savoury middles, wrapped in a maize bread. And so much tastier than my description gives credit.)

Coco gave a lovely speech in which she thanked all those concerned with the charity, particularly her boys and requested that more people be informed of its work, in order to help with funding. A huge water tank is being prepared for installation, ideas are being discussed regarding the embryonic website, child protection is being considered by Joy (who used to teach it at university level) and I’ve been asked to assess whether a concrete roof would be feasible to replace the pressed steel, asbestos and plastic ones currently in situ. Things are moving forward, as they have done since Coco began the charity 8 years ago.

Lesson time for the kiddies

It’s now an offical NGO, and while its funding is not secure, it’s in a better position now than it ever has been. For more information, and an opportunity to help with funding, see www.hijosdelaluna-en.org

The rest of the week passed pleasantly enough, but on saturday morning we briefly thought we had been transported home. It was grey, rain was hammering on the roof of our little room, and it was almost cold. Brrrr.

Sunday and our neighbours, Eva and Francisco drove us to Teotitlan, a village consisting almost entirely of carpet and rug weavers. It was fascinating, and we ended up buying a large tailor made, cochineal dyed, hand made rug from Manuel, who assured us he would have it finished before we flew home in March. Fingers crossed.

A very Mexican meal followed, at the newly opened Chinese buffet, before retiring for a well-earned, mid afternoon siesta. Marvellous.

Week ending January 10th 2010

A 1000yr old cactus in Oaxaca

The people contribute vastly to the character of a place, and Oaxaca is certainly no different. As we walk through the streets we see a collection of folk that reinforce the richness of culture that we find ourselves in:-

• Little indian ladies sit on the pavements cutting up fruit and bagging it for sale, usually accompanied by their children, who seem as bored as the stereotypical teenager in Britain;
• roadworkers wander to work in their worst clothes, their shirts literally hanging off their backs;
• children running to school in their crisp white shirts and navy jumpers, some even sporting oversized anoraks and woolly hats and gloves  (it’s cold at this time of year, after all);
• brown as berry beggars holding out plastic cups as they wander from pillar to post;
• bespectacled university students chatting in groups, as they trip over their Hugh Grant scarves, carrying books close to their chests, their slicked hair standing proud against the uncommon wind;
• teenagers drifting along, oversized headhones on, jeans hanging down around the knees, shoes with laces unlaced and usually hosting a vacant stare;
• and the ever present policemen, wearing body armour, steel helmets and huge jackboots carrying nonchalently their machine guns, standing singly and in pairs, in strategic locations throughout the city centre, (like outside Burger King) staring suspiciously at passers by - though the occasional one is spotted smiling and texting his friends or buying a drink from a vendor in the road;
• soldiers whizzing through the city, standing on the back of military pick up trucks, toting guns whilst remaining hidden behind black balaclavas;
• …. and tourists, gringos and Europeans alike, wandering, bewildered, through the city, reading guide books and drinking coffee in the zocalo.

All of life really is here; and it’s fascinating.

Joy infront of the one of the many churches in Oaxaca

Week ending January 3rd 2010

Beautiful courtyard in Oaxaca

We’ve been here for over two weeks and have just realised that our blog fails to describe what we see and experience on a daily basis in Oaxaca. So here is an attempt to correct that.

The city is essentialy C18th and built in Spanish colonial style. It is laid out on a large grid (see googlemaps for a better idea of where we’re staying.) The roads in the centre are being relaid, and in the process stamped concrete ‘cobbles’ are replacing old tarmac. Most of the roads are one way and, whilst I understand from local people that the noise has increased because of car wheels vibrating on the roads, the average speed of the drivers in town has not.

On any given street in the historic centre one might find a single or double storey building, many of which are made of mud brick walls reinforced or in parts replaced by later brick or concrete block, with reinforced concrete post and beam between. The large majority of doorways and window openings are framed in the classical style with moulded friezes, porticos and pilasters. Doors themselves can be quite grand, even for simple dwellings, with heavily moulded relief in the panels. Immaculate hotels stand cheek by jowl with ramshackle buildings with no roof, wonky walls and padlocks on iron gates.

Doctors surgeries and architects studios vie for attention with internet cafes (like the one that this post is being written from) to carpenters workshops, clothes shops, eateries of all sorts and pharmacies. Behind sometimes rather dull doorways are fantastic courtyards, with collonades in the Spanish style, bedecked with plants and fountains. As someone else recently described this effect, these buildings are like oysters - drab on the outside, but jewel-like within.

There are dozens of beautiful, colonial era churches as well as Santo Domingo cathedral, municipal buildings like the old library and the town hall and the crowning glory, from our point of view, the main town square, the zocalo, a two part plan filled with huge old trees offering shade in the summer heat, a bandstand, a lovely stone pavement, and all lined with attractive restaurants and hundreds of toursts and vendors selling shawls, carpets, turned bowls, pottery, balloons, wooden bookmarks, tortillas, empanadas, quesadillas, cheese, hotdogs and pizzas. This area is where the music and much of the festivity has taken place over the last month, and it has been wonderful.

Looking up from almost any street, one can see the mountains beyond. Thick green with vegetation, they loom over the city in 3 directions, as Oaxaca sits at the confluence of 3 valleys. Whilst at 1550 metres, the hills surrounding are at least several hundred metres higher and sometimes shrouded in cloud.

On the streets cars, trucks, motorbikes, scooters, the occasional cyclist, buses and taxis all vie for space on the two lane roads that march across town. At any given traffic light, it seems a game is played by the drivers of vehicles parked behind the unfortunate soul at the front of the queue. As quickly as possible after the light turns green, one must hoot aggressively to the obvious slowcoach heading the queue. If forward movement is not registered within a nano-second, others are legally required to join the cacophony until, perhaps as much as an entire second passes, before movement is acknowledged. Jostling for space and undertaking is obligatory, as is carrying a motorcycle helmet on one’s motorbike handlebars (just in case it’s needed). Protective clothing for these brave folks is obviously illegal, and any sort of consideration for those oddballs who attempt to cross the road on foot is also outside the bounds of the law.