Tag Archives: The Arts
Editor’s Letter
By Jane Bauer
“Perfection is achieved not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
One of my favorite things is to rearrange a room and I have found that many spaces benefit from having things removed rather than added. The trouble is we get so attached to having stuff and having things the way they are.
Even if you don’t consider yourself as someone who concerns themselves with design, most of us add our own signature to a space. Think for a moment about your living room, picture it in your mind if you aren’t there. Visualize each item that you have chosen and ask yourself why? Is it for its sentimental tie to a past event – a display of photographs perhaps? Maybe the object has a practical use – a candy dish, or a foot roller you keep tucked under the couch. Why have you arranged the furniture the way it is – to maximize light or seating faced towards the television set?
What about the colors? Were you intentional as you filled this space or did it become layered over itself with time? What might be taken away? How does the room reflect who you are and your habits?
In this issue our writers explore design. We didn’t limit the topic to home design or architecture or clothing and it was fascinating to see what people came up with. From papel picado, to the clothes we wear to the buildings we spend our lives in, what is clear is that no corner of our lives is untouched by design. Unknowingly, we have each curated our lives, piece by piece over time.
You may not consider yourself a symbol of design but the truth is that we all are. Our style is reflected in our clothes, our haircut, our living room, even the plates we choose to eat our dinner off.
As we approach this commercial season what if instead of adding more stuff to our ever-growing piles, we became intentional about the spaces and objects we already have? Decluttering your space has been shown to reduce stress and anxiety, and lead to greater creativity.
Let’s lighten our load as we vault into 2024!
Papel Picado
By Julie Etra
The first time I saw them, I had no clue what these colorful and seemingly whimsical hanging, decorations were. Perforated placemats? Rectangular doilies?
Papel picado (literally, perforated paper), also known as banderitas (little flags), is the traditional hand-crafted, brightly colored decoration seen throughout Mexico. Papel picado is hung from wooden dowels or string, a bit like laundry on the line, during numerous celebrations and holidays, including patriotic/historical events, coming-of-age parties for girls (quinceañeras), baptisms, Christmas, and Day of the Dead (more about that later).
Amate – Early Mexican “Paper”
Before the arrival of the Spaniards, “paper” was derived from thin bark, called amate (amatl in Nahuatl), and was used primarily to create codices (pre-Hispanic manuscripts) common in the Aztec and Mayan cultures. Painted codices depicted history, customs, land ownership, sacred rituals, and a variety of other painted symbols. Most of the pre-Hispanic codices were destroyed by the Spaniards, although the creation of codices by both indigenous peoples and the Spanish continued.
Amate is derived from various fig trees; several species were used depending on the location. These included Ficus aurea, strangler fig, and Ficus cotinifolia, predominant in the Maya civilization. The oldest known amate paper in Mesoamerica was made in what is now the state of Jalisco from Ficus aurea, and dates to 75 CE. Other species of Ficus were used in what is now Morelos.
Pre-Hispanic peoples also used amate to decorate religious shrines and accompany burials – these decorations are thought to be the early antecedents of papel picado, and its use in Day of the Dead celebrations, although there is mixed evidence on whether their makers used cutouts as part of these decorations.
Today, amate is used not for papel picado, but in bark paintings, an artisanal, handmade traditional art form. Bark paintings depict culture and rural and folkloric life through colorful and vivid landscapes. Scenes portrayed include parties, parades, weddings, cock fights, and bucolic farms. No doubt you have seen these paintings for sale in Huatulco, in the zocalo in La Crucecita or Santa Cruz, and in many shops.
Historical records indicate that the bark from the small Jamaican nettletree (Trema micranthum) was also used to make paper; its use has been recently resurrected by the Otomi people of the altiplano (high plain) of central Mexico. Volcanic rock was and still is used to beat the bark, which is then soaked overnight to soften in preparation for painting or applying embroidery.
Papel Picado of Today
Forty-odd years after conquering Mexico and other areas of Latin America, Spain colonized Asia, ruling the Phillipines from 1565 to 1898. From there it began trade with China; one of its most interesting imports to Spain, and then Mexico, was papel de china, colored Chinese tissue paper, or papel de seda, silk paper from Japan.
Papel picado surged in popularity in the colonial era (19th century) in the state of Puebla. Indigenous workers on large haciendas, who were more or less indentured servants, were forced to buy what they needed in the “company store” on the hacienda. Tissue paper was often a form of payment to the workers, or they bought it themselves. Imported Chinese cut-paper stencils were also popular; Mexican craftspeople used them as the Chinese did, to create designs for painting and woodcarving – and for papel picado.
Papel picado in its current form most likely originated in the town of San Salvador Huixcolotla in the state of Puebla, east and south of Mexico City (Huixcolotla means “place of the curved spine” in Nahuatl). At least four artisans from San Salvador Huixcolotla are known to have developed designs and produced the cut-paper banners; as the Mexican revolution came to an end, papel picado production spread beyond Puebla into next-door Tlaxcala, and then beyond. On September 22, 1998, the state of Puebla published a decree that declared San Salvador Huixcolotla a Cultural Heritage site and the cuna (cradle, or birthplace) of papel picado.
San Salvador Huixcolotla is no longer the only town in Puebla where the papel picado artisans and workshops are located; other Puebla centers of production are San Martín Texmelucan, Zacapoaxtla, and Tehuacán. Indeed, papel picado is made in many Mexican cities and towns, as well as in the southern and southwestern United States.
Making Authentic Papel Picado
While mass-produced papel picado is often cut by machine, particularly when made in the U.S., and some papel picado is now made of plastic film for added durability, there are dedicated artisans still practicing the art of hand-made papel picado. Outstanding papel picado is characterized by the density of the cuts and the elaborate, diverse designs, which commonly include legends, flowers, animals, patron saints, and other religious figures depending on the event or holiday.
Up to 100 hojas (sheets) of tissue paper, or other thin papers such as rice paper, can be stacked up; sometimes they are folded, which makes matching patterns. The stencil pattern (patron) is drawn on sturdy manila paper, derived from hemp, which is placed on the top of the stack of hojas.
The stencil is then cut into the sheets with mallets and chisels (fierritos), which provide greater accuracy and more detail than scissors. Once cut, the sheets are separated and glued to threads, which can reach more than five meters (16.5 ft.) in length; these are called guides, strips or pasacalles (pass over the streets).
For Día de Muertos, papel picado is hung over streets and on the ceilings of shops, in homes and draped over ofrendas (altars commemorating deceased loved one). For this holiday, patterns of skulls and other objects typical of ofrendas, such as food, flowers, and alcohol (particularly tequila) prevail. Of the four elements (fire, water, earth, and air) that appear on the Day of the Dead altars, the banderitas represent air.
Red and green paper dominate Christmas papel picado, while weddings are dominated by white hojas, representing lace, and frequently depicted with doves, hearts, and other appropriate figures.
If you ever put on parties or events that reflect your Mexican experience, you really need to include some banderitas – you can buy a 14-foot plastic “paper full of wishes” banner on Amazon for $7.99. As for the bark paintings, we purchased two a few years ago in Oaxaca City. They are inexpensive and a lot of fun – and, they’re earthquake-proof since they don’t shatter and can be hung safely anywhere.
Footwear in Mexico
By Jan Chaiken and Marcia Chaiken
One of our shared characteristics is flat feet. As children, we were among the very few who, while running around a pool, left footprints that displayed a complete foot with no open arch space. But the similarity in our feet ends there; one of us wears a US men’s size 13 shoe and the other a US women’s 5.5 (Mexico, size 22.5). For the latter, looking for smaller than average dress shoes that provide comfortable support was always a challenge in the U.S. – but not in Mexico.
Shopping for Mexican Shoes
For anyone in the United States or Canada whose feet are smaller than the shoes that local footwear brands bother to sell, traveling and shopping in Mexico provides them with a welcome opportunity to explore footwear in a great variety of styles, colors, materials and price ranges. That’s because Mexico has a long history of designing and creating footwear for a population whose mix of foot sizes differs from what is found in the US and Canada.
Production of footwear in Mexico developed gradually out of traditional work of artisans using locally available materials. Now it is one of Latin America’s major industries and collectively aspires to export to the entire world. But that is a comparatively recent development, as the first exports of footwear from Mexico to the United States occurred in 1951.
Before the Spanish conquest of Mexico (16th century), shoe making was already a creative endeavor. As throughout the world, once homo sapiens decided to stand on their own two feet and roam, there was a recognized need to protect soft soles from thorns and other sharp objects. Sandal-type foot coverings were made from bark, animal skins, plant fibers and, in Mesoamerica, from rubber. The nations indigenous to Mexico were creators of prototypes of the earliest artisan shoes – huaraches, an iconic Mexican style of sandals that continues to be popular today. Huaraches were traditionally made from woven leather strips but now are also of synthetic materials, with a distinctive, open-toed design. They come in various styles, from simple everyday versions to more ornate, decorative options. These shoes are not only comfortable and suitable for Mexico’s warm climate but are also a symbol of Mexican craftsmanship.
The conquistadores (and later their families) brought European design expectations with them and created a demand for footwear that was far more elaborate than simple huaraches.
Charro boots, or botas vaqueras, are also a distinctive style of Mexico. Charros are skilled horsemen who participate in rodeo events, and their attire, including the boots, has been widely adopted by Mexicanos. The boots typically feature pointed toes and high heels, have intricate designs and embroidery, and are acceptable at even formal events.
The Mexican Shoe Industry
Although Europeans who flocked to Mexico included shoemakers who started cottage industries to supply locals with footwear, Mexican shoemaking became centralized as the world shifted to mass production. Consider León, a city in the state of Guanajuato that is unofficially considered to be the footwear capital of all of North America – it produces more shoes annually than any other city on the continent. Nearly every major footwear company in Mexico has its headquarters or outlets in León. How did that happen? Well, León is surrounded by cattle ranches, which provide a large supply of hides for tanning, not to mention numerous cowboys needing boots. León also has a ready supply of water for tanneries. Talented shoemakers established factories in León initially to make rugged cowboy boots but gradually expanded to a wide variety of footwear.
While most shoe stores sell shoes for both men and women, the patterns of shopping and purchase differ greatly between them. In Mexico approximately 70% of all footwear purchases are for women’s shoes. Sometimes you may spy a husband or boyfriend just sitting placidly in a shoe store awaiting the woman’s decisions, and perhaps completing the final purchase. Studies show that approximately half of women’s purchases arise out of desire for style or variety rather than for need. A typical average is four pairs of shoes for work, three for exercise, five pairs of walking shoes, and three more for special occasions. Men, by contrast, generally consider only comfort, durability, and cost when buying shoes. Their wardrobe contains on average one pair for casual outings, one for sports or exercise, and two pairs of dress shoes.
The Story of Grupo Flexi
When we first travelled extensively within Mexico (over 25 years ago), quality shoes were readily available only in major cities, notably Guadalajara and Mexico City. Now they are plentiful even in Huatulco, and shoes can be purchased in other outlets such as Coppel or sections attached to supermarkets. Flexi is our go-to store in Mexico and is a typical mid-range store competing against brands such as DSW, Zappos, and ASICS.
Founded in 1935 under the name CESAR, Flexi is now a multi-national company with stores throughout North America, and exports to Europe and Asia. In 1998, Flexi had 30 stores in Mexico; by 2014, it was 300. By 2015, it was producing 16 million pairs of shoes a year; today it produces 22.6 million pairs a year. With $56.4 million in revenues, Flexi is the leading shoe manufacturer in Mexico.
Grupo Flexi now has over 400 physical stores in Mexico, perhaps 4,000 shops within other stores, and stores in a half-dozen other countries; it also runs a strong online business built on the latest SAP technology for e-commerce. Originally focused on outdoor boots, especially worker boots for men, Flexi now has designers who try to keep ahead of the latest styles and materials for women’s shoes.
Therein lies the rub. Finding comfortable dress shoes in size 22.5 for flat feet is not really easy even in Mexico’s Flexi shops. Once found and worn literally to shreds, they cannot be replaced with exactly the same style since designers have moved on to later fashions and models. The only solution is to buy several pairs of exactly the same shoes and hope that customs inspectors do not jump to the conclusion that they are being imported for resale and therefore are not duty-free. But the good news is that the need to shop for shoes in Mexico may prevent us from even considering giving up our annual winters in our home away from home.
Indigenous Fashion Meets Modern World
By Brooke O’Connor
Clothes mean nothing until someone lives in them.
— Marc Jacobs
How we dress is an identifier. We signal to others our status, our preferences, and our priorities. We find it endearing when a multimillionaire wears “normal” clothes, and we see middle-class people going into debt for designer wares. Yet something interesting is happening in the fashion world, and it has everything to do with identities changing, bringing out an emphasis on pride in our roots.
High Fashion in a Traditional World
One designer at the forefront of this movement is Carla Fernández. Just last October, she received the first annual Designer of the Year award for fashion from Latin American Design (LAD), the promotional organization for creative design in Latin America. LAD held a Fashion Week in Washington, DC, to present the awards; Fernández gave one of two Design Talks, “Fashion as Resistance: A Conversation with Carla Fernández.”
The Carla Fernández Casa de Moda (Fashion House), founded in Mexico City in 2000, focuses on preserving and rejuvenating the rich textile traditions of indigenous and mestizo communities in Mexico. She operates a “sister” business, a mobile studio called Taller Flora, A.C. (Flora’s Workshop, nonprofit – http://www.tallerflora.org/), with the motto “The Future is Hand-Made.”
The partnership demonstrates that ethical fashion can be cutting-edge, creative, and forward-thinking, while still incorporating painstaking artisanal techniques and traditional design. By acting as a catalyst for transformation in the world of luxury fashion, Carla Fernández is actively supporting the preservation of ancient indigenous methods and the individuals who safeguard this invaluable heritage. You can look at or purchase her designs at http://www.carlafernandez.com.
The Traditional Huipil in the Modern World
The huipil is an excellent example of fashion coming full circle for daily wear. Derived from the Nahuatl word huīpīlli, it is popular traditional attire worn by native women in Mexico and some regions of Central America. These cap-sleeve blouses, which are roomy and comfortable, are typically crafted by stitching together two or three rectangular fabric pieces, leaving openings for the head and arms. They may also feature ribbons or fabric strips or embroidery.
Huipiles come in various designs, some of which are intricate and hold significant meaning. The dressiest huipiles are worn at velas, days-long fiestas that celebrate culture and tradition, most prominently in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.
The style of a huipil can indicate the wearer’s social class and ethnicity; in addition, methods of design and decoration creation within each community can also be conveyed through the huipiles, providing insight into the wearer’s locality.
The huipil, commonly worn in this tropical climate, is usually lined with cotton to ensure comfort. Back in the early twentieth century, fabrics for huipiles were manufactured in Manchester, England, and then exported to the Isthmus as sewing machines became more prevalent; machine-made patterns with chain-stitching gained popularity, complementing the traditional hand embroidery work.
The evolution of fashion has been shaped by macro socioeconomic trends, including capitalism, rising consumption, and shifting interpretations of national symbols. Huipiles have changed style and importance as their makers have incorporated traditional indigenous patterns into contemporary fashion.
The huipil’s evolving designs tell a story of cultural exchange between indigenous traditions and Western modernity. In the classic Mayan period (300-850 CD), weavers created translucent, white-on-white fabric for huipiles, which was used until the modesty requirements of the Porfirian era dictated a change to opaque muslin; up until then, women wore slender wrap skirts – these were replaced with wider skirts worn over multiple petticoats.
The huipiles and skirts represented different social classes. Women with limited economic resources usually wore plain huipiles, kept the wrap-around skirts, and braided ribbons into their hair. Women of higher social status wore clothes with ruffles, lace collars, gold fringes, and silk scarves. Indeed, you couldn’t be admitted to many public fiestas unless your dress was deemed suitable for a gala.
Traditional Traje – A Modern Choice
Today, we see a resurgence of Latinas choosing traditional clothing over fast fashion and homogenized looks. Mexican women, for example, proudly wear their indigenous attire in everyday life and on important occasions. Latinas in the USA are no different; they have embraced this fashion trend. Some people wear indigenous clothes as a fashion statement, while others wear them to embrace their mixed heritage as mestizas. Some see it as a powerful way to reconnect with their indigenous roots and challenge colonial beauty and cultural norms.
This shift in attitude toward indigenous textiles, dresses, and shirts marks a significant departure from previous generations, who considered them outdated, unfashionable, and an invitation to discrimination. Mexican-Americans who came of age before the 1970s were discouraged from speaking Spanish or showcasing their cultural background. Families made efforts to blend into white American society, and educational institutions and cultural establishments reinforced this by advocating for the use of only one language. Countless Mexican-Americans faced discrimination, both in the past and even today, especially when speaking Spanish or embracing their traditional attire.
The concept of Mexican clothing has been evolving and adapting to the younger generations. Anyone can pair a simple blouse with intricate flower embroidery and jeans instead of a traditional skirt. The new fabrics are less fussy and can be washed in a machine instead of by hand.
Latinas increasingly recognize indigenous communities’ rich diversity and appreciate their unique creativity. Each design and stitch holds a special meaning for every community, highlighting the importance of cultural representation.
What You Wear – Is It “Cultural Appropriation”?
The Oxford Dictionary defines appropriation as “the action of taking something for one’s own use, typically without the owner’s permission.” Does that mean you shouldn’t buy Mexican-style clothing?
Purchasing and wearing clothes made by local artisans sends money into the community and into the hands of the people produce the clothing. Take advantage of the opportunity to purchase handmade, sustainably-produced, items that will last many years and never go out of fashion.
November 2023
Editor’s Letter
By Jane Bauer
“By standing together in unity, solidarity and love, we will heal the wounds in the earth and in each other. We can make a positive difference through our actions.”
Julia Butterfly Hill
This month our writers explore political parties and revolutions. In my cooking classes I always say that the recipe for a revolution is a few very wealthy people controlling everything while poor people do all the work. This has been true during most of the large revolutions of the past that were a reflection of class struggle.
With technology and the decline of environmental quality, we are seeing a new kind of revolution and it doesn’t care how much stuff you have- in fact the less the better.
Back in 1997 Julia Butterfly Hill ascended Luna—a giant 1,500-year-old redwood tree near Stafford, California, and spent 738 days in a tree to protest the logging industry. Her act was seen as radical and perhaps crazy- there is no denying it was a huge commitment. However when examined through the lens of today, while an outrageous act, the philosophy behind it is being embraced more than ever.
People are fleeing urban areas for cleaner air, access to water and nature – planning for survival in an ever growing hostile world. Peasant life is the new rich. With carbon dioxide levels on our planet at the highest they have been in 4 million years, we have seen a rapid increase in temperature, which is leading to drought, forest fires, dying coral, melting permafrost, loss of biodiversity and decimated crops.
Where this will take us is anyone’s guess. As a species we are slow to make immediate changes for long-term gain- we are impatient and want what we want now.
Thanks for reading,
Jane
From Ireland to India: Novels and the Revolutions that Inspired Them
By Carole Reedy
In hindsight, the stories told of revolutions often seem thrilling. Revolutions themselves are frequently portrayed as virtuous, noble, moral, and/or ethical, and they usually make for exciting reading. In the details, however, lies the reality, which often doesn’t bear out the romance of our perceptions.
Heroes emerge, but there are also the stark realities of revolution, explored in the books selected here. Looking in depth at significant revolutionary figures, famous or not, offers a fresh take on the subject of revolution and those who voluntarily or involuntarily dedicate their lives to a cause.
These highly respected authors have penned unique and well-researched books that mutually illuminate via their distinctive perspectives.
Ireland: A Star Called Henry, by Roddy Doyle (1999)
Doyle’s historical novel is set in Ireland during the 1916 Easter Rising, culminating in the eventual truce signed with the United Kingdom in 1921.
Swashbuckling young Henry Smart tells us his story, from his birth to a poor Irish family through his 20s as a member of the Irish Civil Army. Doyle’s colorful fictional characters are intertwined with the real strugglers for freedom, such as Michael Collins.
This is the first of a trilogy in which Henry escapes to the US in the second book, but returns to Ireland in the third.
Doyle received well-deserved praise for his lyrical composition, though the novels have been criticized for being overly graphic. Personally, I find this exactly the attraction: Doyle’s staccato style full of colorful imagery is the element that not only moves the story but reveals the conjugations of revolution.
Readers can’t help but experience a range of emotions while Doyle enlightens us on Irish history.
France: A Place of Greater Safety, by Hilary Mantel (1992)
The grave. That is the place of greater safety to which Mantel refers in the title of her all-encompassing 872-page-turner about the French Revolution. She tells the story of the Revolution in the late 18th century through the lens of the three major players, coincidentally all lawyers and friends and all executed by guillotine in the Place de Concorde, Paris, in 1794. At the time of their deaths, none had reached the age of 40.
George Danton was the ambitious young lawyer who has been described by several historians as “the chief force in the overthrow of the French monarchy and the establishment of the First French Republic.”
Camille Desmoulins, the charming conspirator and radical pamphleteer, is best known for his role that led to the storming of the Bastille. Although a schoolmate of Robespierre and Desmoulins as well as Danton, Desmoulins and Danton later distanced themselves from Robespierre, criticizing the excesses of the Revolutionary Government.
Danton and Doumoulins were executed side-by-side on April 5, 1794.
Maximilian Robespierre, slight of stature, diligent, and ironically terrified of violence, is often thought of as the “brains” of the Revolution. His role was complicated, as is the entire period of this history.
Mantel has taken a complex series of events and used these three major figures to weave a cogent and satisfying tale. Instead of simply viewing these powerful intellectuals as revolutionary figures, we see them as men in their relationships with others and among themselves.
Most readers are familiar with the late Mantel’s Wolf Hall series, the trilogy that tells the tale of Thomas Cromwell and the beguiling story of England in the 16th century, complete with the colorful Henry the VIII and Anne Boleyn, just two of the starring personages of the series.
For my part, A Place of Greater Safety is the crème de la crème of all of Mantel’s varied and intriguing novels.
Mexico: The Death of Artemio Cruz, by Carlos Fuentes (1962)
We often think of Fuentes’ masterpiece as a novel of the Mexican Revolution, 1910 to 1921, although dates for revolutions are arbitrary since the reverberations seem interminable and unremitting.
The timeline of the novel runs from 1889 to 1960 to give the reader a perspective on the Mexican character. Fuentes uses rotating characters to demonstrate “the complexities of a human or national personality.”
Carlos Fuentes is to Mexico what García Márquez, Julio Cortázar, and Mario Vargas Llosa are to Colombia, Argentina, and Peru, respectively. He was, and still is, one of the most admired writers in Mexico, with distinguished recognition worldwide.
It was often thought he deserved the Nobel Prize for Literature, but like so many venerable writers (Philip Roth, Javier Marías, Salman Rushdie) he was somehow overlooked.
Women: Women Talking by Miriam Toews (2018)
This daring story, based on fact, tells of the courage of women in a Mennonite community who decide to determine their own future and that of their children after suffering abuse from the men in power. The actual incident took place in a Mennonite community in Bolivia.
The novel was transformed into a successful and tense movie (2022) despite the fact that the action is solely women talking. The detailed depiction of the women is at the core of the book, and the perfect and precise casting contributes to the success of the movie. Directed by Sarah Polley, Frances McDormand, Rooney Mara, Jessie Buckley, and Clare Foy dominate the screen with their superb skills.
India: Midnight’s Children, by Salman Rushdie (1981)
After a hundred years or more of struggle for independence from Britain, India was partitioned into the new states of Pakistan and India in 1947, a haphazard and tragic map devised by the British. While the former “colony” was finally free from British rule, in the years that followed perhaps even more blood was shed amongst Muslims and Hindus in the chaos that ensued after partition.
Enter Salem, a boy born with a powerful gift of telepathy at the precise hour in 1947 that India was freed from British rule. Thus another surrealistic tale from the master of storytelling begins.
With magical realism, the formidable Rushdie gives us a history of family and country during the havoc and muddling of the authorities in the years following 1947.
Midnight’s Children won the Booker Prize in 1981. In addition, it was awarded the “Booker of Bookers” Prize in both 1993 and 2008, celebrating the 25th and 40th anniversaries of the Booker Prize. Unfortunately, Rushdie was once again overlooked for the Nobel Prize this year.
Next month: My favorite reads of 2023.
A Cultural and Culinary Concierge for Oaxaca
By Anna Von Frances
Mario Rubén Ramírez López, better known as the cultural guide Mario Come Oaxaca (“Mario Eats Oaxaca), is already waiting for me at a corner table in the back of a blink-and-you’d-miss-it Middle Eastern restaurant tucked away on a cobblestone side street in Xochimilco. I don’t have to look for him, even though the restaurant is relatively full, because his presence, although subtle, commands attention wherever he goes. There is a sort of fairy dust that Mario emits, that it-factor prerequisite of 70s rockstars – people are naturally drawn in. Mario somehow manages to be understated and over the top in the same exact breath. He’s wearing a traditional Oaxacan dress and giant faux fur sandals – he does not blend, and yet, you feel at home with him. In fact, he’s so at home, he’s like a ballerina gliding her body through the space around her.
Mario also seems to glide though markets, past street vendors and around restaurants, comfortably working any room in front of him. His love of Oaxacan food, art, culture, and the people who create it is so infectious you can’t help but get excited yourself. I mean the excitement is palpable.
He doesn’t care that I am late. In fact, he doesn’t even mention it. In some ways we are meeting for the first time but have been in contact for years. I have been taking note of all his recommendations and writing to him about tours and restaurants since I found him three years ago in the midst of the pandemic.
I hesitate to describe “Mario Come Oaxaca” as a food tour, or even an “experience,” because both would come off as trite. Mario is more of a culinary concierge to the city than a tour guide, and it shows. As both a chef and artist in his own right, he has a very carefully curated selection of food and art vendors, built up over decades of working in Oaxaca. Going out with him is an intimate experience – he’s simply inviting you into his culture, and sharing his best recommendations. Eschewing Airbnb and all other mass marketing strategies, he simply books through his social media channels. Want more information? Click the link and you will be directed to his personal What’sApp – which is exactly how we met three years ago and have stayed in touch ever since. It feels as if we are friends and I imagine that is how all his guests feel. It is effortless how he navigates these relationships (which are really his work), always inviting you in and making time for you, always offering you a menu suggestion or a great mezcal.
There is no equal to Oaxaca in terms of its culinary prowess. Mexico, as a nation, enjoys a UNESCO designation on its cuisine, but Oaxaca is the jewel in that crown. It’s where the tortilla, tomato and cacao were born, the cuisine is literally and figuratively endless. In a world of culinary kings, Oaxaca is a king maker. For generations, it’s been a tourism beacon to international chefs, foodies and Mexicans looking to get caught up in an infectious cultural cornucopia of mezcal, cacao, corn, and mushrooms.
Since COVID, however, Oaxaca has been flooded with a new kind of mass market tourism that has made it harder to get straight to its authentic heart. People have always flocked to Oaxaca to eat, but now they are driven more by price point and Instagram selfies, which has somewhat muddied the waters.
Looking for a tour online can be overwhelming. The commodification of Oaxaca is ever present online and in the streets. Lineups have formed. The hot sauce is not spicing like it once was. Day of the Dead is sponsored by international vodka brands now, bringing in electronic music DJs from Europe. Mario calls this the “Coco effect,” after the Pixar movie, which may have had a heavy hand in it. But for me it’s more of a global trend – vaguely reminiscent of a homogenized Starbucks lineup.
We need hosts like Mario more than ever. His story starts in an all too familiar place: three years ago, he was working as a chef in the kitchen of a mezcaleria and lost his job because of COVID and had to move back to his home town of La Mixteca, which is almost at the border of Puebla to the north. Mario was already known around town for his impeccable taste, regularly invited to share a mezcal and his recommendations at the tables of guests in restaurants he worked in. From his family home, he put out some feelers on his Instagram page and booked his first tour within an hour. And things have only grown since that first timid post.
What drew me to him was his taste. Bar none. So many guides who were once locals-in-the-know have been swallowed up by the Starbucks line up and now work with big brands for cash, shedding the small local artisans that made them so popular in favor of branded content and paid-in-full vacations. Mario is a staunch foodie – as a chef, he’s always on the hunt for quality, and there is no shortage of it to showcase in Oaxaca either. You come to Mario when you want to discover something new, when you really want to learn how to eat. And the best part is, whether it’s your first time and you want a proper intimate introduction to Oaxaca cuisine, or you have been a hundred times and you’re looking to up your game, he has both covered with style.
In recent years, Mario has added tours out of the capital city to towns in the Isthmus, as well as the north; most notably his tour to Huautla, home of the mushroom majesty herself, María Sabina. Each of Mario’s tours is off the beaten path and works with locals who are featured directly. On these tours you will still get salsas that pica and mezcal served in unmarked bottles.
To get the best out of his experiences, Mario suggests, “that you come with an open mind, ready to integrate into the culture.”
Here are his top favourite haunts to take visitors to:
- Mercado de Abastos: “My number one, because it’s the largest market in Oaxaca, where you will find anything and everything.”
- Tianguis de Tlacolula: “It’s the oldest market in the state, where corn and cacao were previously exchanged for goods.”
- A tie between the markets of Ocotitlan and Zaachila: “They may not be as well known, but they have retained their essence and authenticity.”
For more info or to book a tour, please visit his Instagram page directly @mario.come.oaxaca.
Photo by Guillermina Foto @ stamatti_foto
COTTON: Politics and Production in Mexico
By Julie Etra
Did the Mexican Revolution start with a prohibition on “underwear”?
Cotton, Coercion, Morality, and Modernization
Porfirio Díaz, the 33rd president of Mexico, was a complicated and controversial character; by the end of his seventh (and last) term, many considered him a dictator whose policies led directly to the Mexican Revolution. His successive administrations focused on modernization, economic development, and trying to “Europeanize” Mexico.
In the late 19th century, Díaz prohibited men from wearing the traditional white cotton clothing known as calzón de manta. This very Mexican clothing originated in pre-Hispanic times, particularly in the warmer regions of Mexico. It consists of loose-fitting, long-sleeved white shirts and pants, woven from 100% cotton and often tied with a colorful red or blue belt. The design promoted cooling airflow next to the body, and Porfirian administrators saw it as peasant underwear – immoral and definitely not modern.
Calzón de manta was worn particularly by campesinos (rural farmers), and Díaz associated these clothes with the backward, uneducated, and unrefined lower classes; from his perspective, calzón de manta symbolized a Mexico that prevented social and economic growth. Some urban communities, including Guadalajara, required that men arriving from the countryside remove their calzon de manta and rent more appropriate pants, including a type of denim, before entering the city.
Historian Florencia Gutiérrez, Ph.D., of the Colegio de México, ties the prohibition on calzón de manta to the Porfiriato’s concern with eliminating alcoholism and improving personal hygiene; as for calzado (footwear), huaraches were bad, too.
All about Cotton
But cotton, it turns out, is not just a peasant fabric despised by 19th-century elites. Cotton is called algodón in Spanish; the word is ultimately derived from the Arabic name al-qutun. Cotton is known as ixcaxíhuitl in Náhuatl, and taman, piits’ in Mayan.
The scientific name for the species cultivated in the western hemisphere is Gossypium hirsutum; its origin and evolution may be parallel to that of Gossypium barbadense, a cotton that emerged near eastern Sudan in the Middle Nile Basin around 5000 BCE.
The first cultivated cotton fabric of the species G. barbadense appeared around 3000 BCE in the Indus River Valley (present-day Pakistan). Around 2500 BCE, Chinese, Egyptian and South American civilizations begin weaving cotton fabrics. Although Mexico claims to be the origin in the western hemisphere, the oldest cotton fabric was found in Huaca Prieta, an archeological site in Peru, and dated to about 6000 BCE. It is hypothesized that Huaca Preita is the western hemiphere’s site of domestication; cotton seeds and rope dating to about 2500 BCE have also been found in Peru.
Some of the oldest cotton bolls (the mature flower) were discovered in a cave in the Tehuacán Valley in Puebla, Mexico, dating to about 5500 BCE. By 3000 BCE, cotton was being grown and processed in Mexico and the southern United States (the town of Algodones on the Arizona-Mexico border is currently dedicated to dental tourism). In the 1700s, cotton was grown in the Keres and Tiwa native American pueblos in southern Arizona, then sold to other pueblos. Drought and lack of arable land, combined with raids by the Apache led to the demise of cotton cultivation in the area.
Columbus found cotton growing in the Bahama Islands in 1492, and by 1500, cotton was known generally throughout the world. In the United States cotton is said to have been planted in Florida in 1556 and in Virginia in 1607. By 1616, colonists were growing cotton along the James River in Virginia.
Cotton’s Cousin – the Lovely Hibiscus
Cotton is closely related to hibiscus and they both reside in the mallow family, Malvaceae, which also includes the common hollyhock (Alcea rosea), globe mallows (Sphaeralcea), and checker mallows (Sidalcea).
Hibiscus plants are tropical ornamental shrubs, common around Huatulco, and one of my favorites, given all its varieties and showy flowers. Hibiscus is not native to Mexico, with India and Africa the disputed origins. However, we do have a beautiful native with sealed petals, Malvaviscus arboreus, found along trails and the forest edge. According to a 2007 article in the Boletín de la Sociedad Botánica de México (Bulletin of the Botanical Society of Mexico), the Malvaceae family comprises 2.7% of all species in the Huatulco National Park, with 11 genera and 18 species. (You can learn more from Diagnóstico de los Recursos Naturales de la Bahía y Micro-cuenca de Cacaluta (Assessment of the Natural Resources of the Bay and Micro-Basin of the Cacaluta River), available at the UMAR bookstore for 258 pesos).
The Malvaceae family also includes Hibiscus sabdariffa, aka flor de jamaica, whose fragrant and sticky calices are steeped to make the delicious beverage, agua de jamaica; this plant, however, is native to Africa, having found its way through trade routes to the West Indies and on to the tropics of Mexico and Central America.
Much to my irritation, hibiscus is also a favorite food of iguanas, and in my stubbornness, I continue to replant them and try to protect the younger plants, usually to no avail. I sometimes catch the athletic reptiles devouring the flowers and tender shoots. Our friend Juan just laughs at me, gestures, and points at his stomach, indicating that they make a fine stew and medicinal soup, at least the black and white iguanas.
Mexican Cotton Today
Today, all cotton is obtained from four domesticated species; of these, the Mexican highland cotton (G. hirsutum) comprises 90% of world production. Countless traditional Mexican clothes – way more than calzon de manta – and fabrics are woven from cotton. It is also used in the production of rope/twine, paper, banknotes, cooking oil, packaging, cosmetics, hammocks, and even livestock feed.
Cotton production in Mexico occurs primarily in the border states of Baja California, Chihuahua, Sonora, Tamaulipas, Coahuila, and the centrally located Durango. Cotton requires both water and some fertilizer, along with a warm climate and full sun – these northern Mexico states provide ideal growing conditions. In 2021 approximately 164,000 hectares were under production, with the primary market being the U.S., followed by El Salvador.
In terms of world production, India and China vie for producing the most cotton worldwide, with India in the lead for the moment, followed by the U.S., Brazil, and Australia. In the 2018-19 growing season, Mexico was the world’s 9th-largest producer, but as Mexico has outlawed genetically modified (GM) cotton seed and the herbicide glyphosate, it has dropped back to 13th in worldwide cotton production. Press reports indicate that some Chihuahuan cotton farmers are looking for alternative crops, because non-GM cotton seeds don’t produce well enough to be profitable.
Mexican Cotton for Your Home
For excellent quality hand-woven cotton tablecloths, napkins, bedspreads, etc., you can look in any number of weaving shops in La Crucecita, mostly in the south end of town – for example, Casa Textil Escobar is located on the corner of Cocotillo and Bugambilia, while Textil Arte Huatulco is closer to the central square, at Flamboyan 116.
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