And what a day to be introduced to this wonderful city. Unbeknown to me before I arrived, this weekend is the annual ´Guelaguetza´, an all-singing all-dancing festival of Oaxacan folklore and custom. I orientated myself a little to the main streets of the Centre around the architectural Zocolo, street after street running into treasures such as beautifully crafted churches and temples, peaceful, cosmopolitan squares, countless interesting art galleries and museums, artisan craft markets and the buzz and pace of a youthful, vibrant community. Oaxaca is famed for its cultural prowess in Mexico, leaflets being thrust into my hand as I paced the streets inviting me to private gallery showings, free open-air music concerts and traditional cooking courses. I got the feeling I was going to like it here.
The most pervasive posters for today were those inviting all and sundry to the Guelaguetza Auditorium, a ridiculously steep climb up the hillside to the highest point in Oaxaca. I joined scores of crowds, mostly Mexicans from the Oaxacan state, mixed with some intrigued foreigners as myself, to ascend the steps to the sky-high show. Opportunistic traders lined the narrow pathway, creating even more of a cattle market of the crowds, and there certainly was no queuing to enter the grounds: we bumped and jostled, tightly packed, vendors squeezing between the masses to sell ice cold drinks and lollies, to obtain the best free seats. I managed to squash myself in next to a family of about eleven on the stone steps, and had the height advantage to e able to see over the countless bobbing heads in front of me. All in all, 10000 sombrero-topped, excitable spectators crammed into that auditorium, with astounding views down to the stage and then on out across the whole of the city to the mountains in the distance. What a stage for a performance; and performance it was, a band blaring out traditional songs whilst luridly costumed dancers performed their magnificent, sometimes comical dances with utmost professionalism and sincerity, each dance greeted by roars from the crowds as patrons of the different regions in Oaxaca State cheered for their local dancers. The Guelaguetza is a strange fusion of indigenous Zapotec and Mixtec rites with Christian celebrations for the Virgen del Carmen - a fantastic example of the seamless joining of two seemingly worlds apart cultures I have seen all over Guatemala and Mexico.As the skies opened into a thundrous downpour and umbrellas popped upover the sombreros, suddenly hundreds of people whipping out plastic capes to sell to the unprepared (such as myself), I scurried back down the hill into the centre of town. As evening fell and the skies cleared to a warming, clouded sunset, tourists spilled out into the Zocalo to enjoy the free performances there: weekending families, couples and myself happily strolled around watching clowns perform, a live marimba band play sonorous, beautiful tones into the warm night air, local artisans selling traditional pieces such as tiny carved painted animals and all sorts of hand woven materials. I sat, happy and relaxed, at one of the cosmopolitan square-side cafes to enjoy a famed Oaxacan hot chocolate and watch the world pass by.
The only flip side to all this delight were the street children. Having come here to work with a streetchildren´s charity, I was expecting the problem to be visible. But I didn´t account for how much it would affect me: a I sat, late at night, large, doleful eyed children with ruffled hair and bare, tiny feet would walk up to my table holding out little trinkets to sell, sent by their parents from across the pavement. And walking back along the tourist-thronged streets, I had to step around countless whole families preparing to sleep on the streets that night, holding out hats for money but never intruding on people, quietly accepting their fate as they all huddled together, the youngest children fast asleep in their others arms while their sleeps ran
and played and laughed in the road. Whilst the playful kids didn´t seem unhappy as such, you could see the look on the parents´ faces, pleading with you ´Please don´t let my children grow up like this´. I returned to my room, upbeat yet disheartened, excited yet bewildered as to my day of explorations. As I sleepily clambered into bed, I wondered how I would be able to resolve myself to the fact of enjoying being a tourist here, taking in all the wonderful cultural opportunities, whilst stepping over less fortunate young people trying to make a living playing accordion or selling gum on the clean, cobbled streets. But then that is why I am here, to work with an organisation who is trying to tackle this problem: as ever, not one person by themselves, but joining forces to try to improve the situation for at least some people. Tomorrow, I will discover the work they do, and for that, I will prepare myself with sleep.
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