The solemnity of a snowflake light gobo

DAY 3

Day three begins with a delicious breakfast at one of my favorite breakfast places in the city, Naturel. We pig out on fresh fruit smoothies, mine with banana, strawberry, almonds and rose flavor. Holly's with, um, something else. After the main course, enchiladas verdes for Holly, which she ordered all by herself (woah), and entomatadas for me--I order a tea so we have time to digest and look over Holly's guidebook to make a somewhat-plan for the day.

We head north through Colonia Reforma, the neighborhood I lived in in college, to the Fuente de Siete Regiones; each statue of this giant fountain presents a traditionally-dressed woman from one of six regions in Oaxaca. I'm standing in front of the Mixtecan woman, the region where I do most of my project work. The fellow on top represents the valley of Oaxaca; he's performing the Danza de la Pluma (feather dance).


We hop a bus south into town to walk around, visiting the Zócalo again, snaking back and forth to different shops. This time out we're smart, and arm ourselves with hats. That March Oaxaca sun is brutal!

After the sun and walking has defeated us, we make our way back up north towards home. There's nowhere safe to be in the city at mid-day--the 90-degree heat is just too much. So, it's time to get off our feet, enjoy the shade of my porch, and a bite to eat. And just so you all know what kind of stellar host I am, here is a shot of me cooking a feast for Holly...












This is us on my street. Arm shot!

We take a tiny siesta like good Mexicans. Then we pretty ourselves up to head back into town. Oscar, my musician friend from Tlaxiaco, has invited us to join him at a free concert in town at the beautifully-maintained Alcalá Theater. A woman named Alejandra Robles is playing with a 7-set band that includes, guitar, violin, two saxes, guitarrón, bass, cuatro, and some kind of drum of which I don't know the name. Her music is described in advance as a mix of Mexican Folk music and Carribean music. That just about describes it. The band was fantastic. The singer even performed the heal-heavy tapping common to the Son Jarocho music of Veracruz. One of the unique elements of the concert, and I find this to be true of all the concerts I've attended at this theater, is the distinct lighting design. Obviously someone has invested some money in moving lights--like the kind you see at rock concerts. And that same someone, I will wager, is totally jazzed to run the light board during live events. He just can't get enough of scrolling through the various gobos and colors. For instance, say we're in the middle of a slow, solemn song where the singer is drawing out the story of a woman distraught from the death of her son--that is the EXACT moment in which this dude chooses to scroll the central light over the snowflake gobo, it's blinding white light twirling and twisting, bouncing like a teenage girl. Awesome.

Unfortunately, neither of us snapped pictures of the theater from our private box overlooking the whole thing. All I have to offer is this shot of me in my seat texting someone.

After the fun we wander along the car-free street towards Santo Domingo. The streets are littered with tons of 20-somethings. It's out-on-the-town night, folks! We head off on a side street to a small restaurant with a rooftop terrace that overlooks the illuminated Santo Domingo. It's quiet and retired--so we can digest the food and the concert. And now, to bed!