Leaving Oaxaca is like leaving an old friend, my family. It has always been thus, and my heart is heavy.
This is a real life trip! Not vacation. I’ve learned so much ─ how to get water, go to the doctor, keep the cockroaches away, do the laundry, shop at the markets, cook for myself! My Spanish has improved just by listening and speaking; the Oaxaqueños are patient and sweet with me. Mostly I’ve been in the city ─ lived in three different neighborhoods ─ and I’ve been out to Monte Alban (first time in 7 years) and the market at Tlacolula (not since 15 years). I’ve haunted the Zocalo ─ it’s best in the mornings when the vendors haven’t yet cluttered it’s beautiful plazas ─ listened to the state band, attended the Anteguerra ─ a lovely musical ensemble and children’s Christmas choir ─ gone to an art opening, lunched with friends, watched the New Years Eve fireworks at Santo Domingo from bed, and learned about renting apartments and building houses. Attended an Anglican service and a Catholic Mass ─ neither are quite right for me. Could I start a UCC in Oaxaca? I’ve been writing!
I want to live here. I knew it a week into the visit. I have one immediate and important thing to tend to ─ learning how to manage my allergies in this dry season when dust and pollution hang heavy in the air. I must also plan dear old Dexter’s care. This is a tough place for a big old dog ─ he’d have to stay in the house, going out only at certain times to a park where there is space for him to walk. Maybe he’d be happy enough just being with me. We’ll see if he lasts the year or so before I move.
Thank you, dear friends, for riding along with me on this journey. It’s been that much more joyous, inspiring and enlightening because you have followed and encouraged me. Nos vemos pronto, we’ll see each other soon.
