Oaxaca State, located in south-central Mexico, encompasses spectacular mountain terrain as well as equally dramatic coastal regions. The mountains encircling Oaxaca City are home to a variety of indigenous peoples that ply equally varied folk-crafts, such as rug weaving, pottery throwing and jewelry making. Within the city proper lies a central district and a typical Mexican zocalo or city square. Town life revolves around multiple shops of various stripes as well as a central park where the locals like to promenade in the evenings. Moreover, music groups perform in the centralized gazebo in the evenings.

Near to the square, there is an enormous cathedral, built by the Spanish in 1585. Overlain with gold, creating a dazzling, glimmering effect, the altars and ceiling in the interior serve to highlight the unparalleled esteem in which their builders held these structures. The conquistador Spaniards erected these ornate churches throughout Mexico and they stand in testament to the ambitious and aggressive designs of the foreigners. Fortunately, the local indigenous tribes have survived in terms of culture, language and the aforementioned crafts.

The local Miztec and Zapotec indigenes practice prize-winning rug making and their products are world renown. A couple of Mexican artist Deigo Rivera reproductions woven into wall hangings are on display at the city art museum. These are particularly apt as Rivera was an outspoken champion of the common people and they figure prominently is his works. One piece, a reproduction of “The Flower Carrier” portrays a man, assisted by what appears to be his wife, strapping a large basket filled with lovely pinkish-purple blossoms to his back. The replication of the colors, intricately woven into the tapestry, would make Diego proud.

These artisans are fairly common in the surrounding hills. They exhibit their wares in their humble homes, opening their doors to any who may wish to view and/or purchase their goods. Intricate rug weavings and colorful pottery products are on display alongside fine metal-worked sculpture and smaller jewelry pieces.

When negotiating price with a particular craftsman (or his representative), “Para mi, para ti”, i.e., “for me, for you”, was a common refrain in reference to the relative discrepancy between an offered price and the stated one. Given the exchange rate, the difference, when seen in terms of relative wealth, can sometimes be lost when dealing in foreign currency.

As in many parts of southern Mexico, there are ruins in Oaxaca State, specifically Monte Alban. These sit on a rise overlooking the valley, commanding a striking view of the farmlands below and the rolling hills encircling them. There is a large temple on the grounds as well as various carved monuments to the deities that watched over this ancient city site. There is also a ball court here reputedly used in games that served as a proxy for wars between ancient tribes. These rules of these ancient games are lost to history but, observing the courts, one can just imagine the intensity displayed to the gathered throngs.

After our foray into the hills, we found a hotel above the city overlooking the vast valley below and its concomitant farmlands. These appeared as they do from a plane flying overhead: an immense patchwork of greens and browns interspersed with farm-buildings and modest homes. At night, the center of the city glowed with a thousand lights laid out before, with the shining floodlit cathedral occupying center stage like the jewel in the crown of the metropolis that it was.

During our stay, the hotel was host to a group of antique racing-car enthusiasts that arrived in the middle of the night. Awakened by the roar of innumerable engines it wasn’t until morning that we learned of the cross-Mexico road race in which they were participants. There were all manner of European and American made racecars represented there. Back in the real world, I worked at a reinsurance company where my boss at this time was an avid racecar fan. I took numerous photos of these cars and took great pleasure in seeing his awed reaction to them.

We devoted a week to Oaxaca City and environs, and after that, flew in a small puddle-jumper, i.e., propeller driven aircraft over the coastal range – a horrific, turbulence plagued flight – to the beach town of Puerto Escondido. This town proved to be well worth the extra effort to reach. Following the week spent in the city, we were ready for some seacoast relaxation.

The beach at Puerto Escondido encompasses two entirely separate worlds. On the one side, lies a quiet family beach, lined with small craft and a few fishing boats with still more sail boats anchored just offshore. A group of rocks protects the breaking surf from the open ocean here, leaving mild swells easily navigable by children and other weaker swimmers.. South of this rock formation is an entirely different matter.

Zicatela, the name for this stretch of sand, is a prime surfer’s beach, possessing one of the best breaks on the west coast of Mexico. At times, the surf here forms a so-called “pipeline”, curling over before it breaks. The waves are also periodically fierce, and as such, somewhat intimidating to out-of-towners. Lying on this beach, under a “palapa” (a grass-roofed umbrella of sorts), quaffing cold beers to stave off the blistering sun, I witnessed more than one overly adventurous, neophyte surfer hobble ashore holding his head, obviously humbled by the raging sea.

On one particularly brutal day, when the waves were double-overhead, in surfer’s parlance, I watched as a lone intrepid surfboarder made his way out beyond the break-line. This was a day when most of the gathered surf community decided to forgo any attempt at challenging the breakers, leaving their boards stuck upright in the sand like so many teeth loosed from a leviathan.

Meantime, our plucky anonymous champion appeared suddenly, far out on the sea, beyond the clutch of other daring souls who bobbed in the sea. These seemed ostensibly ready to give the waves a ride but on this day they chose to defer. The man of the moment took the first likely candidate and gave it the ride of his life, eventually crashing and rolling up to the shore, there to re-enter the roiling and frothing seas, paddling out for one more go at his death-defying diversion. The man had major kahunas, as the locals say.

Farther south along the coast, sit Puerto Angel and Hualtuco, the latter is a major resort area envisioned at that time as an environmentally friendly addition to the Mexican tourism industry’s body of destination resorts. Having never visited this area, however, I am at a loss to make any informed judgment on their subsequent successes in this area, relative or otherwise.

There are a number of lodging choices in Puerto Escondido, most catering to the surf crowd. One more traditional hotel, Hotel Santa Fe, sits opposite and nearly astride the aforementioned rock formation between the two beach sectors. It is therefore conveniently located with ready access to the town and the broad expanse of Zicatela. It is an elegant old hotel, outfitted with the usual trappings: fine rooms, a spacious pool and a comfortable lounge area.

Oaxaca State is, in all, diverse as it is picturesque, offering everything from Colonial urban settings to authentic indigenous culture to laid-back beach communities, something, literally, for everyone to enjoy and remember.

© Stephen Alexander 2008

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