We started the day by getting our Covid tests; it couldn’t have been easier, all rumors to the contrary. What the newspaper reports of long lines with multi-hour waits failed mention was that this was for free testing; paying a small amount at a labratory reduces the wait to…zero.
Our plan for the day was to explore some new neighborhoods. But it takes awhile to get anywhere on foot in the Centro: too many shopping temptations for those who will remain unnamed, too many courtyards to stick one’s head into.
The green oasis of Parque El Llano lies just past the botanical garden; at its center is the obligatory statue of Benito Juarez. Gotta give ‘em a break here: after all the place is named after him (official name since 1872: Oaxaca de Juarez). At the park’s edge is a lovely new modernist hotel called Grand Fiesta Americana. I had made a blunder and cancelled our reservation at the Parador San Miguel, and had booked here as a backup. We might just stay here next time: lovely modernist architecture, a pool, and an interesting location.
The streets behind the hotel lead into the Jalataloco neighborhood, which we all found captivating. Colorful houses, busy residential life, lots of cafes…what’s not to like.
The colonial church at the heart of the parish lovely, and it is flanked by two incredible Coquito trees planted in the seventeenth century.
We found yet another hotel candidate, the City Centro, smaller but more of a Oaxaca feeling and just as lovely.
I haven’t talked much about art in Oaxaca. Part of that is because all the museums are closed. But there is still lots to ponder. We popped into a gallery in Jataloco that specialized in Mexican Modernism, and they had a nice selection of Rufino Tomayo’s work.
And then there’s the street art, which is everywhere.
Sue was beginning to drag…little did we know that she had a bug! We made it to our first stop, the tiny Mondo Cafe; we had come drawn by reports of great iced mochas, and on a hot day that was very enticing. As it turned out, I was the only one to have the mocha…but it was terrific.
I walked Sue back to the hotel for a siesta while the others went to get their Covid tests. Sue felt worse, not better, so I joined the others for the final stages of our tour, this time to the neighborhood around the Plaza de la Cruz de Piedad.
The streets around the plaza are some of the most colorful in Oaxaca…and full of colorful characters.
Patti recognized the place where her mother had purchased fabric on trips to Oaxaca. The building is now the Institute of Oaxacan Artesans; it displays the work of some of the best craftsmen in the region.
Just down the street is the start of the area of town known as Los Arquitos de Xochimilco. In the eighteenth century, the San Felipe aqueduct supplied the town with water; now the arches of the aqueduct frame the doorways of homes.
All this tourism made us thirsty…or at least it made Patti, David, and I thirsty. Mary Lou turned pale at the thought of more mezcal and bailed…but we hopped a cab for a famous mezcaleria, In Situ, which offers more mezcals than I can count. We shared a flight of three: a blend, an Arequeno, and a Texpetete. Each one was extremely interesting, and the bartender was very helpful in understanding not just the different agaves but the geography of each palenque. Watch out Patti! That agave stave might fall at any moment!
Dangerously enough, I discovered that it wasn’t far to La Casa Grande, the mezcaleria run by the great Real Miners paleque…in fact it was right next door. Uh oh. We shared three more shots, two remarkable blends and another Arequeno. These were a different class altogether, really world beaters. But we weren’t done yet: an Aussie and his Mexican friend had wandered in, and they convinced us that we had to try an agave distillate from the state of Jalisco. And we were glad we did…it was remarkable!
As we walked back toward the Zocalo, we found where all the immigrants who had been occupying the Zocalo had been moved. I’m afraid I don’t understand enough about the situation to comment, but it can’t be a good thing.
Sue was still under the weather and didn’t feel up to dinner. As it turned out, she didn’t miss much. We went to a recommended place called Las quince letras (we wondered to what the fifteen letters referred; Patti figured it out: the name of the restaurant has fifteen letters). We saw right away that there wasn’t a Mexican diner in sight. And the food was pretty mediocre (although I ordered badly). But no amount of bad food could put a damper on what had been a glorious week in Oaxaca.