Gueleguetza Day

So another adventure unfolds. Brooke is in Spanish class in the morning and I run to the store and to get some pants hemmed which costs only $3 (I think I pay $17 or so in the states). We grab some lunch and head back to the casa for a little siesta before the official Gueleguetza dance in the evening at the stadium above the city.

It is a bit of a hike to the stadium so we catch a cab. He drops us at the bottom of some steps and says the stadium is on top. Mind you, these or no ordinary steps, they go up about ½ mile and are beset with obstacles (think of those steps to mount doom in Lord of the Rings, yes I know I am a dork). They are wide enough to walk normally but there are vendors of every variety on both sides and a freakin’ mob of people. The going is a bit slow, but we have plenty of time so no worries. There are a lot of people going up to catch the show and a lot of people going down who didn’t get into the free seats. We run into our friend from the States, Alex, who didn’t get one of the free seats and we make plans to meet up with after the show(more on him later). Feeling priveliged because we got tickets before-hand we roll up to the top looking for the ‘will-call’ booth. Oh silly us, what were we thinking. There is no sight of any ticket both or anything with ticketmaster on it. We walk around the entire stadium which takes an eternity because of the aforementioned mob. Seriously, I didn’t realize how big of an event this was and people really wanted to get in. There was near rioting when the free seats started to run out, but no actual rioting because I think every policeman in the country was here to quell any disruption.

Ok, so no ticket booth, now what. I am kicking myself for not reading the ticket instructions better, I just assumed it would be easy and we would work it out. It mentioned something about bringing ID and my credit card and I thought that would cut it, but no. Well hell, we went back down the stairs of doom to find an internet connection to check the instructions again. We find one quickly and I read that we were supposed to go to the ticketmaster booth in the city center at a pharmacy. The show has started by now so, we sprint down to the pharmacy. They tell us, oh no, you need the other pharmacy. Great, so we sprint down several blocks to that one. I ask around and nobody seems to have any idea what I am talking about. They keep referring me to somebody else. I show them the paper that says they have the tickets but get blank stares. I even see the ticketmaster sign near the cash register and hold it up, but nothing. Somebody tells me that I can probably get in with the paper and my id. Fine, I am running out of options here.

We catch a cab back to the stadium to try our luck. The guy actually takes us to the top this time so no steps. Sweet, things are turning our way. I go to the gate where we are supposed to enter and try and work some magic. I bust out the passport and paper and try and explain to the guy that ticketmaster didn’t have our tickets, and please let us in. Nope. I try begging. Nope. I try getting indignant and raising hell. Nope. He didn’t even seem to mind. Just call ticketmaster he says. I tried the ‘I came all the way from America for this’ spiel. Nope. Let me talk to somebody in charge, your boss. Nope. The cops posted about a foot away are making Brooke nervous, but they couldn’t care less. A few more minutes of begging and cajoling and we give up. Oh well, chalk this one up in the loss column. We start walking away and a guy in a Gueleguetza shirt asks us if we are having a problem. I am about to break down here and I am just spent and tell him yeah. He says no problem and whisks us away. He pushes through the crowd at another gate, hands us off to a friend who makes way for us and ushers us in. It all happened in about 10 seconds and we can’t believe our luck. It was almost surreal. Just some good Samaritans who felt the plight of some poor Gringos and took pity on us.

Well hell yeah, we are in the show and are able to catch the last half. So what if we have to stand, at 5’8” we are freakishly tall and can see over everybody. (Milissa, this is a great place for you to catch a show because nobody taller than you will ever step in front of you.) So $1 Sol’s

and a decent vantage point and we settle in. Dancers from each village take their turn on stage to thumping music. After each set the dancers throw stuff to the crowd. Masa, rice, bread, yerba borracha (a herb you make tea with when you are hungover), fruit, vegetables, pineapples and other assorted crap. We are a bit high up to catch anything, but probably for the best, who wants to lug a pineapple around the city for the rest of the night. The few pictures we have don’t do it much justice. Once the bootleg DVD hit’s the street stalls I will pick it up and we can subjugate everyone to it.
A wicked storm starts to blow in.

Lightning strikes on the nearby hills and a massive rain cloud come. Nobody seems to care and we have rain gear and dollar Sol’s so fudge it. It rains and the show goes on. Kinda fun actually, and after the helluva time getting here nothing can dampen our spirits.

So more dancing and then the finale. What a finale. Fireworks shot from right behind the stage accompanied by the blaring bass of the Gueleguetza song. They are so close that flaming embers are falling into the crowd. One already extinguished ember even fell into my beer. It is freakin nuts. Flames and fire everywhere.

It is wild. There is even some sort of flaming sign that is shooting sparks all over a car parked in the street. Ah, Mexico. This goes on for several minutes. It is really something. These pictures may give some sort of reference, but hell.

The show ends and on a firework high we make our way out. We walk down back to the city, grab a bite and meet up with our friend Alex at a bar. So Alex used to work with us at Chuck Schwab. He left the company about two weeks before us. At his going away happy hour he said he was leaving the country and going to a place called Puerto Escondido in Oaxaca Mexico, have we ever heard of it. Uh yeah dude, not only have we heard of it, we have been there a couple of times, and I even asked Brooke to marry me near there. What kind of crazy coincidence is this? At that time, he didn’t know we were leaving the company and doing the exact same thing. We couldn’t tell him since nobody knew we were leaving yet, so we just let it go. Once we put in our resignation we let him know we were going to be in the exact same place at damn near the same time. Pretty wild, so we made plans to hook up. Now, without a phone and with spotty internet access, meeting somebody in a foreign city is tough. We made some tentative plans over email, but kept missing each other until we randomly ran into each other in the mob going to the Gueleguetza. Well, at least we hooked up. It would have been a freakin’ crime to miss each other. After several beers, mezcal’s, bitching about work and other assorted stories we closed down the bar and went to grab a Tlayuda (like a giant corn tortilla empanada). It seems to be the post-bar food, this place doesn’t even open until 9pm. Hicks, think of it as your Mexican Whataburger. The restaurant was cool, they were cooking on charcoal in the street, but we sat inside to eat. Alex was leaving the next day to go back to Escondido, so we made some plans to meet on the coast and made our way back to the hotel around 3am to sleep off another adventure.

Que un dia!

What a day! It started slow enough. We got up early-ish to go to the market nearby to get some veggies and some meat right when they butcher it so it’s not sitting around all day. Not much refrigeration, so get it early or don’t get it at all. A quick breakfast of fresh OJ (so delicious) and some bolillos at the market and then we pick up what we need. Avocados, pasilla peppers, corn masa, squash blossom (tastes like spinach), tomatillos, cilantro, pork loin and some chile marinated pork cutlets. $8 in all, not bad.

Then we hit the apartment to put the food up and head out for second breakfast. The place across from our apartment is always packed, so we wait a few minutes for a table. Sit down and get some coffee we are jonesing for. It is a madhouse and the waiter rattles off what they have. I ask him to speak slower to no avail. I understand enchiladas coloroditas, and I mumble something about eggs. A tamale comes by (not sure if it was ours) but we take it and eat it. One of the best I have eaten. Chicken, some light tomato sauce and peppers and piping hot. Then comes whatever we ‘ordered’. Mine is a flank steak on top of cheese enchiladas with a red mole. Brooke gets some eggs on top of the same. We scarf it down and then head to the Central Abastos.


Ah, the Abastos. On any given day it is the largest market I have ever been to. Anything you could want is there. Oh, but on Saturday it explodes into a living breathing organism of monumental proportions. The smells, the noise, the sights, everything is multiplied by several factors. You start getting near and you feel the energy level rising. Stores, hawkers, buses, cars, people everywhere. We wander along the periphery and run into the livestock section (the petting zoo as Brooke likes to think of it). Big goats butting horns, baby goats, big pigs with their foot on a leash, little piglets sleeping in a pile, chickens, bunnies, you name it. I would have loved to have taken a picture but I didn’t want to be ‘that guy’. Furniture vendors, ceramics, rugs, clothes, shoes (my god the amount of shoes), fruits, veggies, meats, bootleg CDs & DvDs, peppers, spices, honey, toys, housewares, tools, plastic crap. And mangoes, 2.5 pounds for $1.50, viva Oaxaca! This place is a labyrinth, dirt floors, marble floors, wood floors, covered, not covered; it is just a maze and wandering about in any direction is just a blast. It is like being lost in the forest, ‘didn’t we just pass this section of baby clothes, or is it different from the last one’? Somehow we found our plate guy Miguel. We always seem to find him and we have bought plates from him the last couple of times, and wanted to add to our collection. A couple of plates, bowls, coffee cups and some shot glasses for use sooner rather than later. Using the sun and some landmarks on the surrounding hills we find our way out and lug our crap back to our room just in time to beat the afternoon rain. Siessstaaa zzzzz…..


Hanging out absorbing the day. The owner comes by and we pay her what we owe. She mentions some things going on that night, a parade and what not, and we make a casual note of it. We make some guac and chorizo and have some mango margaritas on our rooftop deck. Feeling good we wander down to the center with the goal of getting coffee and checking out what is going on. We find some good organic coffee, 1 mission accomplished. We walk a couple of blocks and then IT IS ON.




Dancers, music, costumes, fireworks, holy crap it is a giant parade coming down the street. It is all the people participating in the Guelaguetza parading down the street. The only way I can describe it is like Mardi Gras and 4th of July but with less breasts and flags respectively. Every troupe has their own costumes and their own music and their own dance. The crazy thing is, that everyone watching seemed to know the dances and joined in at various points. I was dragged into the melee to dance and then Brooke got lassoed in as well, good fun. The parade went on, costumes, music, people, it was just indescribable. I could use another beer at this point, but lo and behold, what is this, guy with bottle of Mezcal? offering me a shot, viva! He had a clear bottle and individual plastic shot glasses. there we go, much better. Uh, oh, my mouth is numb, oh well, just go with it. In typical Mexican fashion, the parade route is poorly planned out. It gets stopped up and we end up having to walk down to catch everything. It is great though. Around the Zocalo things don’t stop. Another dance troupe, a Capoera troupe (Brazillian dance, look it up), BMX demonstration more dancing. We hang out and grab a beer in the Zocalo. I pick up some earrings for Brooke because they are beautiful, only $1 and because the little boy selling them melts her heart.


Ok, so the night is winding down and we head home. We buy some ice cream, I give her 100 pesos and get 120 pesos in return. Alright, I get ripped off the other way for once. This is my karmic reward for getting counterfeit money from a vendor in Guatemala. Down the street, another dance troupe is performing. They men are stomping and making a racket dancing with their beautiful women in their dresses. At several interludes the men and women shout dirty love limericks at each other that pleases the crowd immensely. They finish up and we go home.

And as we end the night on the rooftop, a beer, a shot of Tequila and some fireworks as music plays in the background and the night fades away.

Da Airport

Some rules to make a note of when you fly:

1. If over the age of 10, no shorts
2. Don’t be a jackass
3. No top hats (seriously, someone was wearing a top hat)
4. No dressing like a Malaysian hooker

Seriously people we are trying to have a society here. That is all.

Trip went well, we were a little delayed in Mexico City, but luckily we had a friend there to help us pass the time.