PEACE IN THE VALLE of Teotitlán

In Spanish valley is spelled “Valle” and pronounced “Baa-yeh”—”Peace in the Valley”. Last week was my third trip to Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca, and every time I come back smitten by the calmness and tranquility of the valley.

Thanks to my dear friend and tour guide extraordinaire, Norma Schafer, I continue to be exposed to the sweet spots of Oaxaca City and the surrounding Tlacalula Valley which includes the rug-weaving village she lives in. This time we were both overly tired so we opted out of our planned day trip to the City and concentrated instead on the valley markets and artisans sprinkled in between times of restful quiet while writing or reading. It was comforting for both of us to have each other’s companionship without constant demands and a rapid pace.

I always plan my trips there to include a Sunday since that is the only day of the Tlacalula (I love saying that word!) market. It is a beehive of activity, vibrant and alive. Town streets are closed off to cars and lined with vendors of every description…food, drinks, chocolate, painted gourds, baskets, toys, kitchenware, and my favorite (just kidding) – live turkeys. It’s a trip to see those birds carried out upside down by the women of the village. Poor guys.

This time the market was so crowded that we had to step very carefully to avoid bumping into customers or falling. Hauling a folding cart behind me that gradually became overladen with goodies was quite a challenge through that narrow passageway and by the time we were only a few blocks from the parking area, I was exhausted and in pain (hips – thank you compressed discs!). Bless Norma for stepping up to a handsome young Venezuelan wearing a sign asking for help. He and his wife and 3-month-old baby (born in the jungle) were desperate to cross the border into the US, dangerous as it is. Norma promised a handsome tip if he would shlep our goods to the car. Without hesitation, he took on my cart and all our bags and we headed out. After unloading, beaming with gratitude, he smiled widely as Norma handed him a few bills. The craziness of the parking area included a 10 peso per hour charge (about 59 cents an hour)…and a middle-aged Mexican couple leading 3 tethered goats around our car. There is never a dull moment at the market.

Having been to the market before, I had an idea of what I wanted to purchase this time and I pretty much stuck to it. Painted gourds, baskets, and chocolate. Being with Norma makes it twice as much fun since local artisans recognize and greet her. Being her friend makes me one of theirs and everyone hugged me as well as her. Along the way, we ran into a pair of artisan potters who greeted us with big smiles all around. Next in line with hugs were Norma’s landlords, Fe and Lola, master weavers in Teotitlán del Valle, and their daughter, Janet, member of a group of professionals working to revive and preserve the Oaxacan indigenous language of Zapotec. She is also a weaver, as are her brothers Eric and Omar.

One of my favorite things to do there is to see the molinos, the mills where cacao beans (and corn) are ground by hand in large grinders. This time I saw barrels full of raw and roasted beans as well as bundles of corn husks waiting to be stuffed with something wonderful. I purchased flat bars of hardened chocolate combined with almonds, cinnamon, and sugar, made for the famous hot drink I love. You haven’t had hot chocolate (chocolate caliente) until you’ve had it made from Oaxacan chocolate. I also bought chunks of the stuff from a restaurant and a neighbor as well and learned that every family has its own recipe for turning the beans into those chunks. I ended up with about 5 kilograms of the stuff by the time I packed up to leave.

The valley that Teotitlán sits in is vast dry and colorless this time of year for the most part. There is an occasional mural or sherbet-colored house and the church sports brick-red trim, but mostly the valley is gray and brown. With a serious lack of water. Still, I love it. I love the feel of residing in an authentic indigenous village where the second language is Spanish and the first is Zapotec, with an occasional speaker of English. Norma tells me that to stay here for any length of time you must speak Spanish. Immersion school for real. I think I did pretty well. But there’s a lot to learn.

Every weekday morning the women of the village walk to the local market – or are carried to and fro by the numerous Moto-taxis serving the community. Most of their food is purchased here at booths of vendors selling everything from almond milk to pizza along with fresh fruits and veggies, bread and pastries, freshly made chocolate, sugar cones (piloncillo), handmade aprons (nearly every local woman wears one), dishes, cal – chunks of hard calcium used to seal clay pots and comals (flat steel pans used for cooking tortillas) as well as live chickens and turkeys. This time there was even a vendor of bubble wrap for packing all my goodies. Norma and I stopped for a treat and a cup of my favorite coffee – café de olla. If you read my summer post about chocolate drinks, you know how much I love this stuff. Next door was a vendor with fresh tamales – four for 20 pesos, about $1.18. Unbelievable. After a leisurely stroll through the friendly market, we wandered over to the church, sat quietly after taking a few photos, and then ventured back to the car.

On the edge of Teotitlán, we stopped to see Juana, whose daughter weaves and assembles extraordinary bolsas (purses and totes). Further on, between Teotitlán and Tlacalula is a town called Mitla, an extension of the wide valley leading out of Oaxaca City. Here we visited Arturo, the weaver; Armando, the dollmaker; and Epiforio, the antique dealer. These folks work from their simple homes in attached studios. When Norma visits with friends who are most likely customers, they welcome you with, literally, open arms. You fall in love with these artisans when you experience their kindness and their hospitality and you see how hard they work. It’s nearly impossible to walk out without buying something. And when you do, you know you have made their day a little better.

Tucked back on a crazy dirt road marked by three tumbled boulders is a top-notch artisan restaurant called Mo-Kalli, run by Catalina and her daughters. The food is amazing, as are the service and the atmosphere. What a treat!

Between Norma’s house and her landlords’ stands a large weaving studio, complete with a trampoline for Eric’s 6-year-old son. And maybe even for Eric. Inside is a wide-open space filled with looms, tables, and pastel-colored yarns made with natural dyes. Signs of the family business (Fe and Lola have been very successful) are scattered around the large family home where a beautiful loom shines in the sun and wool from local sheep that has been carded and spun is wrapped around racks to dry in the sunlight.

On my last night, Norma invited Fe and Lola and Fe’s sister Ernestina for dinner. Over a yummy meal, the conversation was primarily in Spanish, though Fe speaks a bit of English and understands even more. Some Zapotec was spoken among the 3. Slowly the talk came around to condolences for my loss, but also for the more recent loss of Fe and Ernestina’s mother. Ernestina cared for her mother for many years and she is lonely and heartbroken. It showed on her face. As I tried my best to convey my own story tears welled up and I offered my apologies. “It is part of life”, they told me. “You have to have faith that God will take care of it.” On parting, hugs were offered all around as I was told that I would always be welcome in their homes. Mi casa es su casa is for real here.

It is tranquil in the village of Teotitlan del Valle, except for some stray dogs in the distance. I am at peace there. It is a simple place, a kind and friendly place. Maybe having companionship after a year and a half of living without my 20-year partner is part of that calm. Tranquila…calma…I see now how very much I want/need to live in a simple, quiet way. Norma has offered her little house whenever I want to come. I pray that for a month each year I can steep myself in the tranquility of the Valle.

I didn’t get a picture, but standing in line in the Oaxaca airport, not quite certain that I was in the right place or that I would know how to ask, a young Mexican woman approached me with a smile. “Here, come with me. I’ve already gotten permission”, she said, pointing to the 5 or 6 customers between us. She asked to take my larger suitcase and moved me up to her place in the line. “There!” she said. “You don’t need to be back there.” We settled into a friendly conversation with her niece by her side. Turned out that Tatiana lives in Florida but had been in Oaxaca for her mother’s funeral. “What made you come to help me?” I asked. “I pay attention”, she said. “I like to help elders.” It was strange to be called an elder but so it is. These are the things that make Mexico.