La Fiesta del los Lunes del Cerro
10:50 pm
It is raining. And lightning-ing. And thundering incredibly loud but not too frequently.
Gabriel, Gloria and I just returned from the fiesta de los lunes del cerro. Lunes del cerro means "Mondays of the mountains." It is part of La Guelaguetza celebration. It is a time when people from all the surrounding villages come to Oaxaca city for a big annual fiesta.
They were nice enough to take me out on the town.
We left in the car about 9 p.m. and drove downtown to El Centro. We found a row of booths along the side of a street. The street wasn't wider than other streets or closed - there were just about 30 little booths made of green metal supports with low-hanging tarps over them set up along one wall of the street.
Each booth was manned, or I should say womanned - by two or three tiny women in colorful Indian dress, most of them under 5 feet tall. I am huuuuuge here.
They were behind a counter, in front of which was a bench that would seat two or three people. To one side, a small firebox was topped with a large comal - a terra cotta disk that looked somewhat like a wok, and was really, really hot.
The women patted large circles of masa into tortilla rounds, then gave them a good squishing in a large purple square tortilla press. They then topped them with a salsa made of dried chiles, onions, cilantro, shredded chicken and cheese, then folded them and sealed the edges. It smelled delicious. I couldn't wait to try what they were making.
The one they made for me had mushrooms and squash blossoms and stringy rubbery white cheese called quesillo. (I didn't know it then, but quesillo was to become a constant theme in my life.)
Several glass quart jars of salsa sat atop the counter, both red and green. I chose a nice fiery red.
Yes, I know I have made every gringo eating error in the book in less than 2 days. I have eaten raw fruit, drank agua de pina (pineapple drink) no doubt made with unfiltered water, eaten food made by women outside with their bare hands, not a rubber glove or sink in sight.
I also had atole de chocolate, a typical local thick smooth rich drink made of chocolate and cornstarch, served hot in a clay bowl. It was muy rico (which means delicious, not rich) but a little hot to drink on a tropical night.
Under those tarps with the comales blazing, it was even hotter than out walking around, which was plenty warm and a little humid.
We walked around in hopes of finding a band playing, but they had already called it quits, maybe because it was beginning to rain.
Mexico creaks and groans along like a 50-year-old Ferris wheel. Tonight, on the night of the biggest cultural event in town all year, the biggest and most famous church, Santo Domingo, was sitting there in the dark.
View from Santo Domingo
Gloria said it is usually lit up. Hundreds of people milled around out front, walking around in the dark, vending small items like cough drops, cigarettes and toys, or talking, all out in the shadows.
It is raining. And lightning-ing. And thundering incredibly loud but not too frequently.
Gabriel, Gloria and I just returned from the fiesta de los lunes del cerro. Lunes del cerro means "Mondays of the mountains." It is part of La Guelaguetza celebration. It is a time when people from all the surrounding villages come to Oaxaca city for a big annual fiesta.
They were nice enough to take me out on the town.
We left in the car about 9 p.m. and drove downtown to El Centro. We found a row of booths along the side of a street. The street wasn't wider than other streets or closed - there were just about 30 little booths made of green metal supports with low-hanging tarps over them set up along one wall of the street.
Each booth was manned, or I should say womanned - by two or three tiny women in colorful Indian dress, most of them under 5 feet tall. I am huuuuuge here.
They were behind a counter, in front of which was a bench that would seat two or three people. To one side, a small firebox was topped with a large comal - a terra cotta disk that looked somewhat like a wok, and was really, really hot.
The women patted large circles of masa into tortilla rounds, then gave them a good squishing in a large purple square tortilla press. They then topped them with a salsa made of dried chiles, onions, cilantro, shredded chicken and cheese, then folded them and sealed the edges. It smelled delicious. I couldn't wait to try what they were making.
The one they made for me had mushrooms and squash blossoms and stringy rubbery white cheese called quesillo. (I didn't know it then, but quesillo was to become a constant theme in my life.)
Several glass quart jars of salsa sat atop the counter, both red and green. I chose a nice fiery red.
Yes, I know I have made every gringo eating error in the book in less than 2 days. I have eaten raw fruit, drank agua de pina (pineapple drink) no doubt made with unfiltered water, eaten food made by women outside with their bare hands, not a rubber glove or sink in sight.
I also had atole de chocolate, a typical local thick smooth rich drink made of chocolate and cornstarch, served hot in a clay bowl. It was muy rico (which means delicious, not rich) but a little hot to drink on a tropical night.
Under those tarps with the comales blazing, it was even hotter than out walking around, which was plenty warm and a little humid.
We walked around in hopes of finding a band playing, but they had already called it quits, maybe because it was beginning to rain.
Mexico creaks and groans along like a 50-year-old Ferris wheel. Tonight, on the night of the biggest cultural event in town all year, the biggest and most famous church, Santo Domingo, was sitting there in the dark.
View from Santo Domingo
Gloria said it is usually lit up. Hundreds of people milled around out front, walking around in the dark, vending small items like cough drops, cigarettes and toys, or talking, all out in the shadows.
posted by Suebob at 5:05 PM
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