|After four weeks, one gets into the rhythm and feeling of a place.The sights, sounds, smells and character of this city seep into my pores, the soft light and continual warmth of the sun bathes everything. We wake up in our hostel to the sounds of the two Mexican girls scrubbing the pavement in the large courtyard that is filled with plants, trees, parrots and singing wildbirds. There is the sound of voices from the common dining table, today we are joined by a yong archeologist who reminds me of my niece and yesterday a couple from Marblehead, Mass who we go to the ruins at Monte Alban with. How did such an ancient people carve the top off of a mountain and build magnificent dwellings and poyramids, create the first written language in the continent and use astronomy to guide their lives and plant their crops?
After a lovely $4 three course dinner and a siesta, I am off through the local park at 7 for a kundalini yoga class in Spanish taught by a young artist. Perfecto. The night air is warm, the windows are open and I walk back through the well lit streets thinking of the wonderful food, sweet people and amazing art and music. I love this place that is filled with color and sound, ballons and ice cream and fresh juice on every corner. The city is clean, but it is in a large valley surrounded by mountains and thereis no burn ban so the smog some days is hard on my lungs. Art and culture are strong here with many indigenous groups contributing.
My three weeks of Spanish classes are over and now I am free to visit the museums, shops and colorful markets where they sell everything, including live turkeys for dinner. I took a cooking class with a friend from school in a nearby village. Her kitchen was outside, dirt floor, wood oven and completely charming and clean. When we went to the market it was full of Zapotec women in their aprons and shawls and lovely black headed braids, none of them over five feet tall.