This and that 27
Jan 2013
One joy about living in Mexico is that we
learn something new every day, or we find something new to admire, or marvel
at.
Some cities, and Oaxaca is one, take very
seriously their cultural, historical, and even botanical patrimony. One of the
categories of notable things on the tourist map of Oaxaca, handed out free at a
half dozen kiosks scattered around town, is “Notable Trees.” They list 16 of
them, mark them with little green numbers on the map, and identify them by
species, date planted, and the name of the planter. The fig tree on the Calle
de Libres (#83) was planted by General Miguel Bravo in 1813. Go, Oaxaca!
While we’re on patrimony: the city wants
people to notice what is falling apart, or being wasted, or is in danger of
disappearing. The hope is that (1) someone will do something about it, and that
(2) it will shame people into taking better care of what they still have. So
the city posts signs on crumbling buildings saying “Building in Bad Condition.”
Strangely, they post the same signs on decrepit trees: “Árbol in Mal Estado.”
The Ayuntamiento (City Office Building) in
Tlacolula, a town 25 km southeast of Oaxaca, posts a price list for all of the
services and certificates and permits that one can obtain there. Like, for
example, to get married in Tlaocula (and in Mexico all marriages are civil:
church ceremony is optional), it will cost
you as follows (remember, 12.5 pesos
currently = $1).
To get married at the registry office: 879 pesos
To get married at home on workdays
from 9:00-3:00 1919 pesos
To get married at home on workdays
after 3:00 2118 pesos
To get married at home on non-workdays 2719 pesos
For foreigners to get married at the
registry office: 1637 pesos
For foreigners t.g.m. at home on work
days during business hours 3838
pesos
For foreigners t.g.m. at home on work
days in non-business hours 4235
pesos
For foreigners t.g.m. at home on
non-work days 5426 pesos
[“Note:
the fees for foreigners apply even when only one of the partners is foreign.’]
So
in case you were thinking of tying the knot hereabouts, now you can budget
ahead.
Mexico uses a progressive rate system
for electricity. The first 100 kwh you use costs you X pesos. The next 100 kwh
costs you 1.5X pesos. The third 100 kwh costs you 2X pesos. And so forth. And, I’ve
been told, as a kicker, the highest rate you qualify for is applied to all that
you use. T
he purpose, supposedly, is to encourage conservation, to make certain
that poor folks who are minimal users get their electricity at a rate they can
afford, and to discourage people from illegally tapping into the electric line
of their cousin who lives next door, because it would raise the cousin’s rate.
So the strategy for the wily user is to finagle as many electric meters as
possible, since each one registers as a separate account. Oh, the infinite
capacity of humankind to game the system!
Most Mexican drivers tend to speed. Most
Mexican roads are pocked with holes. Most drivers speed less on hole-pocked
roads. It’s expensive to fix roads. Lots of people find employment fixing
automobile suspension systems. There are ambiguous incentives to quickly repair
roads. QED.
Linda drove into an unmarked hole
today in front of a florist’s shop and it took four bystanders to pull the car
out. The florist’s comment: “Hunh, there used to be a box marking that hole.”
And then there are the topes.
For some reason we got to thinking about Mexican
toponyms (urbonyms? loconyms?). Most towns have two names, one dating to the
good old days before the Spanish conquest, and another imposed by the victors.
The pre-Columbian names refer to gods or their attributes, and/or salient
geographic features. The Spanish names also index revered deities, either
saints and members of the Holy Family, or 19th-century heroes of
Mexican independence (Juárez, Morelos, Allende), or 20th century
heroes of the Mexican Revolution (Villa, Zapata). Thus Ocotlán de Juárez, San
Martín Tilcajete, Santo Tomás Jalieza, and so forth. In the state of Oaxaca
alone there are seven San Pedros: San Pedro Amusgos, San Pedro Huamelela, San
Pedro Ixcatlán, San Pedro Pochutla, San Pedro Tututepec, and San Pedro
Zanatepec. Well, six. We escaped: we live in San Pablo Etla, not San Pedro. Newly
founded colonial cities with no pre-Columbian antecedents got Spanish religious
names that usage over the centuries sometimes shortens. The southern Puebla de
los Angeles became Puebla; the northern one became Los Angeles. Hometown names
from Spain that were reutilized in colonial city-foundations sometimes stuck
and sometimes slid. Antequera eventually morphed into Oaxaca (of course, it’s really
Oaxaca de Juárez, though nobody refers to it t
hat way: sorry, Benito).
Valladolid lost out to another Independence hero and became Morelia, named for
Morelos.
Linda and I have moved down the hill from
our little cubby-house with its outside windswept living room, to Karen and
Tammy’s manse down the hill. Huge rooms (living, study, two bed, dining,
kitchen); two porches (front for the morning sun, back for the late afternoon);
a very large back yard filled with fruiting and flowering trees and the birds
and butterflies that graze on them. The wall on the south side of the yard
borders a paved road, no less, with four speed-bump topes and two killer vados,
dips for the water to run off. The walk up from here to bird the dawn fields
with Bill takes about ten minutes.

Last night the paved road below our house was
filled with dancing giants, processional banners, torches, and a calenda, a little platform on which to
carry the image of Saint Paul, whose day is this coming Tuesday, and for whom
our particular Etla is named: San Pablo de Etla. For a full week the streets in
this patch of foothills will be hung with cut-paper banners, the church will be
decked out with fresh flowers, the air night and day will be shattered with
fireworks, there will be sports contests at the school, and brass band music
will rise into the air from various parts of the valley (anyone who lives in
Mexico can tell you that tubas carry the farthest). Wherever two or more are
gathered in St. Paul’s name, liters, gallons, and jeroboams of mescal (the local potent, fermented
cactus squeezings) will be consumed. The festivals of the other Etlas in the
valley (San Agustín Etla, San Sebastián Etla, San Pedro Etla, etc.) will follow
in due course.
In case you are worried, Mexico will never
run out of saints. There are thousands, each with his or her own particular
physical attribute so that you can recognize them on the church altar: Saint
Lawrence carries the grill on which he was roasted; Saint Catherine the wheel
on which she was martyred; San Martín de Porres a broom. Each saint special
sphere of guardianship. San Rafael looks out for the sick; Saint Agatha for
people suffering toothache; Saint Lucy for the near- and far-sighted; and so
forth. Some of our personal favorites: San Día, the steward of summer afternoon
picnics; San Gijuela, who protects you from people who are hard to get rid of;
and San Ovagán, who is invoked when you see someone doing something
extraordinary.
(Begging your pardon for the Spanish puns) . . . that’s all for now . . .
Linda & David