OAXACA, Mamà

It took her getting there to learn how to pronounce it.

Not Ocsara, not Oacacca, not Ocsaca… Uahaca. That’s how an Italian would pronounce it.

My mother had gone through a tough period at home and she needed some stress-free travel with her daughter, so she joined me wondering around the state of Oaxaca for three weeks.

After meeting in Puebla, we got dropped off in the centre of the city of Oaxaca by a blablacar, a group of drunken tourists came up to us at once wanting to chat and surely something else. We found the closest hotel, Las Rosas, where we hid our luggage from the midday sun. The afternoon hot and stuffy air was getting ready for the evening rain as we walked around the white stone streets of the beautiful city. A great vibe flew in the air, the tranquil rhythms, smiling people, gourmet delicacies to taste and many art galleries kept us entertained, especially in the artist district of Santo Domingo. We were having coffee as it started to rain and a marching band with a group of graduates dancing in the streets paraded past us. We followed them in the crowd, taking in the wet excitement, and then headed to the central market to look around the hand-stitched clothing, herbs and spices.

The next day we woke up early to take a day trip to the famous pools of Hierve el Agua: Boil the water? Anyone who claims to be even half british cannot miss such a spot… although in fact it has nothing to do with drinking tea.

It takes a long windy off-track road from the village of Mitla on a truck all the way up and half way down the mountain to get there: it’s so worth it. There’s two emerald-green, natural infinity pools overlooking the mountains and a petrified waterfall… Due to the lack of shade, the strong afternoon wind and the excitements to follow, the daytrip did costed me a downfalling of my immune system…

Or maybe it’s because mummy had come to take care of me?

On our journey back, a couple got on the truck and immediately began an entertaining and intensive show of drunkenness. I started a discussion with the eldest of the two crazy dudes by telling him off for littering his cigarette buds in nature; the situation got out of control when I decided to hang myself out of the van and therefore encouraged the two in performing stupid acrobatics. The youngest of the two felt challenged to do something much more daring, so just jumped off the truck in motor. We I laughed uncontrollably watch the guy get up from the dust, bleeding from his lip with the face of a child that realizes that humans can’t fly. No, I didn’t feel bad for him: he had entirely asked for it; but we did for the driver who immediately saw his income at risk.

After we had calmed the driver saying that it had been entirely the victim’s fault, he turned to his friend and said: “what am I going to tell my mama?”.

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