You Can't Get There From Here...

Mexico is the only country I have every been to where everybody is always late but all public transportation leaves early. While you may be wondering how it is that a society can operate in such a way, I'll have to defer to somebody else on that question because I have no freakin' idea.

Today started earlier than I usually like to get up. It was my job today to take an intern from Michigan to a small village of ~450 people called San Miguel Tequistapec (te-kwees-ta-peck). It is the case, 'round these parts, that a pueblo is named for the patron saint of the local church followed by an indigenous name. This was a concession by the conquistadors, having grown tired of wiping out entire populations, so that they would be allowed to build their churches on what we would call tribal land. Spaniards of the time used this combination of names, as well as the mass conversions taking place in all of conquered Latin America, as evidence that the natives were receptive to "civilized life" and "the one true God." The fact of the mater was the tribal jefes had seen their neighbors disappearing quickly and it was Vatican law that no Christian people could be enslaved; hence the mass conversions. That being said, these communities are less the melding of two cultures and more the aftermath of about 300 years of imperial subjugation.

To get to San Miguel Tequistapec (and you have to say the whole name every time because there are like 10,000 San Miguels in Mexico...made that mistake before) you have to take a series of buses. When I went to a planning meeting with the folks at Museos Comunitarios, the organization this specific intern would be working with, it was presented to me that we were to board a single bus bound for Mexico City and that we were to tell the driver that we wanted to get off at the 2nd toll booth near San Miguel Tequistapec. It is a rare feeling for me in Mexico to go into a transportation situation and know exactly what I am doing; when I got up this morning to catch our 7:15 bus I thought that I did.

When we reached the ticket window I asked for two tickets to Mexico City but that we would be getting off early, thinking that there might be a price break.
"No se donde esta Tequistapec" I don't know where Tequistapec is, he said...crap. I asked him where the phantom toll booth is thinking that it might give him at least some idea but he firmly replied that there are hundereds of toll booths in Mexico and the 2nd one was really relative; but in Spanish and he didn't say "relative". I was simultaneously informed by several other patrons of Autobuses Sur that I was holding up the line and that I couldn't take a bus to Hollywood from here. Very helpful people in Oaxaca, very very helpful. After some talking to the driver, who coincidently had a brother-in-law from San Miguel Tequistapec, if ound out that I needed to get to Coíxtlahuaca (co-chit-la-waca); so I got back in line. After waiting again I was informed: "no puedes ir allí de aquí señor," you can't get there from here. The bus was quickly filling and I wasn't in a standing-room-only mood so I went back to the driver asked him how to get there and he informed me that I needed to go to Noíxtlahucan (no-chit-la-wacan); so I bought the tickets and made him break the largest bill that I had with me mainly because I couldn't give him the finger in front of the intern.

Upon reaching Noíxtlahucan we learned that we had an nearly two hours to kill so we tried to find a restaurant. When we arrived the first thing we saw was a sizzling cow skull on a very greasy griddle.
"We have the brains, the cheeks, the tripe, and the chorizo." I looked at the intern, who had returned from another trip to Chiapas some three hours before we started on this adventure, and she was so close to a dry heave that I thought it best we leave. We found a place that had good 'ol quesadillas, coffee, and a color tv, and we waited.

On the next leg of the trip the bus blew a tire because that's how they roll down here. But it was surprisingly easy to identify the 2nd toll booth and when we arrived there was somebody there to meet us.
"There was some confusion about the time." He said.
"Si, our bus blew a tire."
"No, I mean they told me you would get here at 8:00." And it was 11:30. I told him that we left at 7:15 so there is no way we could have gotten there by 8:00, furthermore we had called his boss to tell him we would be late.
"I don't have a phone." He said.

I thought it important at this point to find out what time the bus to take us back was since I am leaving for Nicaragua on a 6:30 flight tomorrow morning. He told us that it was at 3:00 so we had 4 hours. By this time it was noon and I did not know if he was just not good with numbers or what the deal was.
"You mean three hours?" I asked.
"What time do you think it is?" He asked back.
"Noon," I said.
"We don't observe horario verano (Mexican daylight savings) here, it's only 11."
"Ah." I said.

San Miguel Tequistapec is a beautiful place with scenic views and salt-of-the-earth people. The town is located around a central plaza with the Church of San Miguel standing prominently in the center. The pueblo was settled late for the region, that is, there are cave drawings nearby that date to the 1520s, which is odd considering cave drawings are most commonly much older than that indicating that the locales were pretty far removed from foreign colonization. It is the case that the church was really the first "modern" building to arise in San Miguel Tequistapec so its construction, while on the backs of natives, reflects European styling and not native tastes. Everybody we spoke to had mixed feelings about the church: while they are a devoutly Catholic people that love God and Jesus they recognize that it was there fallen forefathers that are entombed in its walls. I found this profoundly interesting because it must really tear at them; how can you hate the home of somebody you love so much? However, everybody was in agreement that things were on the upswing: the plaza was being rebuild with local red stone while the stones for the church were all imported. There was a clear sense of pride throughout the community that they were building part of the church for themselves.

We talked about a lot of things while I was there, the Pope (Benedict is definitely not as popular as Juan Pablo II down here), the government, and clean water; all in all I think we accomplished quite a bit. We will be returning there soon to do some additional work with an archaeological museum that has been started there and hopefully to talk more about what we can do to bring clean water to the 450+ living there in an affordable and sustainable way.

We returned to rain in Oaxaca but that's good news because it means that the rest of this year's first tropical depression has cleared Central America. We will visiting a water filter factory similar to the one that I hope to start here so that we can avoid some of the beginners mistakes. Hopefully I will be able to post a few videos when we get are there but we are unsure of the kind of internet access we will have; but if all else fails we'll be back on the 7th.

Those are some of the things were working on down here, more from South Central LA (Latin America) as the story unfolds.