Apart from its mole and artesania, Oaxaca is probably best known for its Guelaguetza, a festival of epic proportions extending the entire month of July. The Zapotec word for ‘offering,’ guelaguetza represents a sort of communalistic system of reciprocity through the everyday interaction of individuals. The best description I have found of the custom is the following from oaxacainfo.com:“The mason may build a brick oven for the baker with the understanding that the baker will provide cakes for the weddings of the mason’s three daughters (though at the time of the building they may be ages 8, 10 and 14). The town upholsterer might re-do the undertaker's furniture, thereby guaranteeing that his funeral will be take care of. The community might also come together to see that people in unfortunate circumstances are looked after.”
The festival brings together the region’s best artisans to peddle their handmade wares to the thousands that pack into the town. Dawn ‘til dusk the streets surrounding the zoc
alo are awash in gold, silver and turquoise jewelry, brightly colored woven rugs and enormous, brilliant still lifes of mangoes and watermelon. Vendors set up shop in church plazas, offering the dangerously addictive Oaxaqueño fare: tamales filled with mole negro, chapulinas (for those of you into spiced, lime-y roasted grasshoppers) and the legendary chocolate drink of the Aztecs, meant to be consumed cold and unsweetened as the wealthiest of those ancients did centuries ago in their quest for vigor and wisdom. In fact, the Europeans have the Aztecs to thank for their introduction to chocolate. Once Cortez brought it back with him to the Spanish court, they just sweetened, added water and popped into the fire for a few minutes. Voila, the first Swiss Miss and the point of no return for every female in the eastern hemisphere.
On the last two Mondays of July, there are two enormous Guelaguetza performances held in the amphitheater atop Cerro del Fortín, providing unique entertainment and a breathtaking view of the city. These performances showcase the respective dances and customs of the sixteen different indigenous tribes from across the state. Tickets closest to the stage are a staggering $50, but those who have begun to figure out the Mexican way (and who are prematurely destitute), will find that tickets for the top rows are free . . . if you don’t mind a bit of queuing and occasionally having people no taller than your chest inadvertently gain intimate knowledge of your perso
n. My favorite exhibition involved a live, apparently indifferent turkey being tossed about like a rugby ball in the midst of a lively dance that involved lots of foot-stamping, bowing and skirt-twirling. The highlight of the show is the presentation of Centeotl, the goddess of corn, depicted by the teenager who demonstrated the greatest knowledge of local customs in a Little Miss Oaxaca-esque pageant held earlier in the year. In keeping with the spirit of offering and sharing, representatives from each tribe threw food and gifts to the crowd after their performance. The turkey, I noted however, was kept a close eye on in the revelrous melee.
The festival brings together the region’s best artisans to peddle their handmade wares to the thousands that pack into the town. Dawn ‘til dusk the streets surrounding the zoc
alo are awash in gold, silver and turquoise jewelry, brightly colored woven rugs and enormous, brilliant still lifes of mangoes and watermelon. Vendors set up shop in church plazas, offering the dangerously addictive Oaxaqueño fare: tamales filled with mole negro, chapulinas (for those of you into spiced, lime-y roasted grasshoppers) and the legendary chocolate drink of the Aztecs, meant to be consumed cold and unsweetened as the wealthiest of those ancients did centuries ago in their quest for vigor and wisdom. In fact, the Europeans have the Aztecs to thank for their introduction to chocolate. Once Cortez brought it back with him to the Spanish court, they just sweetened, added water and popped into the fire for a few minutes. Voila, the first Swiss Miss and the point of no return for every female in the eastern hemisphere.On the last two Mondays of July, there are two enormous Guelaguetza performances held in the amphitheater atop Cerro del Fortín, providing unique entertainment and a breathtaking view of the city. These performances showcase the respective dances and customs of the sixteen different indigenous tribes from across the state. Tickets closest to the stage are a staggering $50, but those who have begun to figure out the Mexican way (and who are prematurely destitute), will find that tickets for the top rows are free . . . if you don’t mind a bit of queuing and occasionally having people no taller than your chest inadvertently gain intimate knowledge of your perso
n. My favorite exhibition involved a live, apparently indifferent turkey being tossed about like a rugby ball in the midst of a lively dance that involved lots of foot-stamping, bowing and skirt-twirling. The highlight of the show is the presentation of Centeotl, the goddess of corn, depicted by the teenager who demonstrated the greatest knowledge of local customs in a Little Miss Oaxaca-esque pageant held earlier in the year. In keeping with the spirit of offering and sharing, representatives from each tribe threw food and gifts to the crowd after their performance. The turkey, I noted however, was kept a close eye on in the revelrous melee. What wealth the region lacks monetarily seems to be somehow amply compensated for in the Oaxaqueño culture of artistry, gastronomic distinction, effusive generosity and over 400 years dedicated to the study of throwing one hell of a party.
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