Musings - Journaling in Oaxaca

(free-flow thoughts just as I jotted them down in the moment)

Hair, clumpy and tangled, blows in the pulsing breeze.  My small triangular table barely fits in the cage jutting out of the café - Café los Cuiles.  

This trip to Oaxaca is so full circle, I worry I may never return.  (I first visited in 2003)

The church bell rings incessantly.  The evening sun is still hot on my back.

The lime water is too sweet.  Warm, except on the surface where a single ice cube floats.

I'm almost entirely drained.  My feet throb, my back aches, my glutes feel torn and burn.  I'm walking a good number of miles every day.

It seems surreal to watch the humans interact with one another as the sun kisses the avocado green trees on the artists' park.

One thing I do know - I've loved these last days, visiting hotels, spas, gyms, and everywhere else, familiarizing myself with the city in a more intimate way than I've ever met any city - the wealth and the poverty, the nightlife and the tranquil silence, hitchhiking and on city transport, knowing I'm not a tourist and finding myself carrying an attitude toward them... 

I see my reflection in the class panel door as I stretch up on the bars - I look elegant, I feel beautiful. 

Warm lime-aid and tired muscles

I stopped writing and took a picture.  Scott said to take one every time something caught my eye.  I've taken a lot of photos of beautiful moments I'd otherwise only hoped to remember.

I inhaled my avocado stuffed with tuna salad while watching a white, balding guy with a semi fancy looking camera take a picture of...  My eyes followed the direction of his lens.

Why do we care what fancy photographers see, but not what captures the gaze of small children?

I caught him later; he took my photo.  Chilango, and he hoped I liked his shots.  Encantada.

Behind the bars

My mind is still in a frenzy - what a busy day!  Still physically drained.  DF, USA, MOM!, friends, medical bills, racing racing to make money -


The sun is almost done kissing the trees; my back is no longer warm.

And...  And I started to write a thought for someone reading this, but right now I'm only writing for me.


Done.