Travel
Southern Breeze
With ancient ruins, exotic foods, and native wares, Oaxaca is a one-stop getaway for heat-plagued Texans.
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Though Yagul is not as impressively preserved or restored as Monte Albán, the location has a charm all its own. I climbed to the highest point of the hillside ruins, where the haunting silence was broken only by the whisper of the wind and the call of a circling hawk. Then from the stream bank below came the sound of someone whacking on a piece of bamboo with a machete, followed by the notes of a flute under construction. A few more whacks and the tuning improved, singing out a melody of lost Zapotec music, here and then gone again across the mountains.
After a while, another car arrived at Yagul, and out stepped two visitors from Mexico City who had flown down for a friend’s wedding. Connie, an elementary school teacher, and Luis, a lawyer and bodybuilder, graciously offered us a ride. Our next stop was the town of Mitla, with pre-Hispanic ruins consisting of entire walls of incredible inlaid stonework forming the intricate geometric patterns still found in the pottery, clothing, and rugs of the area. This highly detailed ornamentation distinguishes where the Zapotecs performed what have been referred to as “heart-wrenching” human sacrifices.
Connie and Luis later dropped us off at the rug weavers’ village of Teotitlán del Valle. The Oaxacan rug craft has shown a strong resurgence in the past few years, with the best weavers once again using natural dyes made from wood moss, leaves, and tiny scarlet cochineal insects. We wandered from house to house, watching the weavers at work and looking through vast piles of beautiful rugs. The best ones are not cheap—averaging $250 for a three-by five-foot throw rug.
After more shopping, it was time to eat, and we naturally chose Tlamanalli, a small restaurant in Teotitlán that the New York Times has called one of the ten best culinary destinations in the world. Run by Abigail Mendoza, the sister of weaver Arnulfo Mendoza, Tlamanalli serves traditional Zapotec food in a big airy room with an open kitchen at one end.
The following day I found an even better restaurant, perhaps my favorite in all of Mexico. A short cab ride from Oaxaca, the Nuu Luu, in the northern suburb of San Felipe del Agua, is a picturesque outdoor spot perfect for a Sunday afternoon repast. Beneath a lovely flower-shaded patio, Guadalupe Salinas Gómez serves a veritable feast. Welcomed like family, we were each handed an aperitivo consisting of mescal crema, grenadine, and orange and lime juice in glasses whose rims had been sprinkled with spicy salt laced with powdered gusano—the worms that come in bottles of mescal. There is no menu at Nuu Luu; the food just arrives: roasted chapulines (“grasshoppers,” a Oaxacan specialty that tastes like hot salted peanuts with legs), nopales (“cactus pads,” finely sliced and sautéed), guacamoles, fried pig skins, tiny boiled red potatoes, and savory cheese-filled quesadillas. The sopa ranchera was followed by chicken with mole amarillo, calabacitas (“squash”), chicken in banana leaves, rice, black beans, and a large bowl of incendiary chipotle sauce.
We washed this dinner down with cold Bohemias. Over lunch I struck up a conversation with a charming one-toothed gentlemen named Beto Palacios Gonzales, a famed local tour guide better known as Mr. Oaxaca. He was staging a banquet for some visiting Mexican businessmen, and he invited is to watch the entertainment: a guelaguetza (a traditional folk dance in spectacularly colorful costumes), then a large marimba band, and finally a weaving demonstration. Two and a half hours later, my companions and I rolled out of the place, having spent the paltry sum of $13 each, including the cervezas.
You can eat wonderful food in a different Oaxacan restaurant every day for a month, but I recommend the oaxaqueño food at El Topil (near Hotel Stouffer Presidente); the goat barbacoa spareribs at La Capilla in the town of Zaachila (a beautiful drive on the way to the ruins of Cuilapan); and the pre-Hispanic food at Yumenisa, which serves armadillo, iguana tacos, and other rare delicacies for the brave of heart. Finally, even if you can’t afford the rooms at the Presidente, you’ll be welcomed at their dining room (try the big Sunday buffet) or the poolside bar in the courtyard for a two-for-one happy hour with complimentary appetizers.
What with shopping, touring, eating, and taking long siestas, my visit to Oaxaca began to blur into one long happy memory. One experience, however, stands out. My visit coincided with a full lunar eclipse, and I was determined to see it from the ruins at Monte Albán, which from the plane had seemed like a natural observatory. At its peak, from A.D. 300 to 700, this Zapotec city had 25,000 residents and was the capital of two hundred settlements in the area. By the twelfth century, the Zapotec culture had fallen into ruins and the Mixtecs had moved in, reusing old tombs to bury their own dead.
I tried to persuade a couple of cab drivers to undertake this journey by celestial navigation, but the first said I was borracho (“drunk”) and the second said I was crazy. I could hardly blame them. The site—which lies at the end of a perilously steep and winding road—closes at five-thirty and the eclipse was booked for midnight.
At last I gave up and headed to the zócalo, where I took a seat at an empty cafe and leaned back for a better view.
“¿Sabe usted qué es?” asked my waiter nervously, pointing at the vanishing sliver of moon. (“Do you know what it is?”)
“La sombra de la tierra,” I told him. (“The shadow of the earth.”)
He didn’t seem to understand. I held up two coins from the table to the streetlight—a five-peso piece for the sun, a two-peso coin for the earth—and had him hold a fifty-centavo piece for the moon. When I moved the earth, its shadow fell on the moon.
“La sombra,” I explained.
He whistled low in understanding.
A short time later, I noticed my waiter inside the cafe holding up two coins for the pretty girl running the cash register, who seemed delighted by his demonstration.
“La sombra,” I heard him say to her. Then he looked over his shoulder and gave me a glorious smile.
If You Go
Hotel Stouffer Presidente, Cinco de Mayo 300, (52) 951-6-06-11. The swankiest place in town. Double $145-$160.
Hotel Victoria, Lomas del Fortín 1, 951-5-26-33. Bungalows amid gorgeous tropical landscaping. Double $100-$145.
Hotel Monte Albán, Alameda de León 1, 951-6-27-77. Located in a four-hundred-year-old building. Double $38.
Casa Colonial, Miguel Negrete 105, 951-6-52-80; U.S. reservations 800-758-1697. Special tours this summer include the annual Guelaguetza Festval (July 25 and August 1). Rooms $35 per person, including a huge breakfast.
Mr. Oaxaca can be found at nine every morning at the Café Bar del Jardín.
Turk Pipkin’s last story for Texas Monthly was “Once Upon a Green,” April 1994.
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