At some point in the night, probably while Polo (our new friend and couchsurfing host) and I were sharing a smoke and discussing UFOs, someone, or a group of someones, bashed in Berta’s backseat window. Ela was quietly sleeping, resting off the stomach problem that had ruined the first part of her day, Polo and I were really getting somewhere toward a comprehensive theory of everything, and that sneaky bastard was snickering to himself while he hauled our suitcases away to rifle through them, and, finding only my portable stereo, probably flung all of Ela and my favorite clothing into a nearby dumpster. Maybe the thief stopped to admire my peacoat or Ela’s bamboo flute before tossing them aside. We will never know.
Tasteless and rude.
Anyway. We woke up this morning to find glass all over the bench seat and pavement. Ela’s backup camera bag and our extra luggage had been left in the car. Face-palm. Only ourselves to blame for that one. We’re driving around with a California license plate a.k.a. bulls-eye on our bumper. Of course, all of our valuables were inside with us, but we did lose a hard drive full of footage… most of which was backed up. Again- painful lessons.
We saw that our day’s plan had taken a detour. Rather than spending a leisurely day with camera in hand, driving through the breathtaking Oaxacan countryside, searching out the best mole we could find, and arriving with a sunset over one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen… we faced a very different itinerary.
I will say this- attitudes remained positive. What could have been an absolute catastrophe had resulted in, well, just a bummer, and as we had our breakfast and morning coffee, we were still joking and laughing.
Polo, who’s given name is Salvador, truly has been a savior to us. First, he gave us a place to stay. We found him through couchsurfing, which he joked to us was a mistake from the beginning on his part- That he had thought it was a way to get a surfing coach, but instead had stumbled onto that very fascinating and delightful online social experiment which connects travelers to places to stay. The only currency involved is cultural, and Polo is a very wealthy man in this regard. Our conversation ranged from his Zapotec heritage, to his time in states, to comparative theology, to extraterrestrials, to real magic, to the craft of storytelling, and even to information technology.
When he saw what had happened this morning, he dropped whatever plans he’d had for the day and decided to guide and assist us on the new path that had been laid out for us. After breakfast, we were off to admire the natural splendor of the municipal police headquarters.
Paperwork done, Polo helped us to find a replacement window at a fair price. While it was being replaced, he took us on a walking tour of the mercado central, which seemed endless. He guided us through labyrinthine passages of fruits (9 varieties of banana, 8 varieties of avocado, 24 varieties of mango…), veggies, fried insects, raw meat, fresh bread, mescal, iphone chargers, quincañera dresses, baby parrots, chocolate, mole, DVDs, machetes, televisions, lumber, cement, auto parts, tlayudas, tacos, cold drinks, live pigs and goats, and a never-ending stream of smiling, frowning, laughing, grimacing, focused, spaced-out, hard-working, eating, drinking, smoking people. So many people.
When it was about time to return to Berta the Jeep and pick her up, Polo mentioned that we’d seen about ten percent of the market.
The work of the day over, Polo took us to one of his favorite places to eat, which serves pre-Spanish caldo de piedra, or ‘stone soup’. Traditionally, stone soup is made only by men, and specifically for the women in their lives. Everybody eats it, but it’s a cherished pastime of mutual respect that is also delicious, and quite fun to eat.
Red-hot stones are taken from the fire and plunged into the bowl before you, instantly setting the water to boil and cooking the fish and shrimp, peppers, onions, cilantro, and garlic into a light and filling meal. Fresh, hand made-tortillas are torn into chunks and dropped into the soup, and one is left to add homemade salsa, salt, and fresh lime as desired. We sipped a bright fruit drink over ice, a perfect compliment, and a drizzle played on the tin roof over that cool, campfire-scented restaurant.
All of us satisfied and full, Polo brought us to see the Arbol del Tule, an ancient, sacred tree that has been recorded as having the stoutest trunk in the world. Measuring 11.4 meters in diameter, and with its broad, leafy branches enveloping the entire square into its calm and shady embrace, one could say… it has a grounding effect.
We were instructed to walk around the tree seven times with our wishes in our minds, and told that these things do often come to pass. I wondered if, even if I had never heard such a legend, I might tell visiting friends to do the same, just to see if they would do it. Well, we did it, prompting more than one curious look, and because they have a fuente de sueños (fountain of dreams) next to the tree, we tossed our last U.S. pocket change into the fountain, thinking only good thoughts.
In the center of the fountain, two hands extend from a statue, resting on an open book. Ela took a moment to meditate on her coin, then tossed it. The coin sailed through the air, landed in the center of the book, and did not move. Ela and I looked at each other significantly.
The coin remained there, between the stone pages, held above the water by the fountain of dreams, beneath the Arbol del Tule, the most stoutly grown tree on planet earth.
Oaxaca.