(Home) sick

23 Nov

20121128-224846.jpg

20121128-224541.jpg

I woke up feeling so weak and with a lot of nausea. I was still wondering which could have been the cause of my sickness. The beers, the oaxaca cheese, the chipotle, guacamole, the british ladies farts, the precarious market food and drinks; i also remembered that on the way back to the hostel the night before we had stopped to drink a mezcal with a worm inside. i know it couldnt have been this one the cause, but still i had a ripugnant feeling. i would have never imagined to try a similar thing.

Contribuiting to my sickness could have also been just a homesickness; it was exactly 30 days far from comfortable life, food, family, frienda and ordinary life. I googled the word homesick and i sent my twin sister some funny pictures.

I was still feeling half dead, but if i wanted to proceed my day i had to get a move and stop thinking about unpleasant things, so i tried to reborn and joined my new travel companions at a cafe in the Zocalo, another area that was declared cultural heritage site by Onu. Beautiful. A big square with alongside cafes and restaurants. Whateverkind of food and gadget vendors, amatorial and professional singers, a whole family celebrating a 3 year old boy birthday with loud music and other people celebrating an ordinary Sunday with their beloved.
My three travel mates were sat at a cafe, from far away i could see them and greeted them warmly, and the closer i got, the closer i saw this 50 something man smiling at me enthusiasticly. He stood up and when i looked at him concerned he realized i was not actually looking for him. He said to me : i thought you would have made my day today and thought you were greeting me. Now, it was bizarre but i couldnt avoid to return him the smile, saying buenas tardes and sit down with my people instead.
Before to sit down at the table with the guys i went to buy a gatorade hoping it would help me to feel better after the horrific night. At the counter, again a 50 something man started to ask me questions and said: did you go to hierve el agua? I replied not, and that i was about to leave the following day to Mazunte. He replied : you should stay in oaxaca, you have way much better beaches in brazil!
I would have loved to hug the old man just for confusing me as a brasilian, but it is crazy how often this has happened to me in this trip, both in US and Mexico. I have never looked italian, people around the world has always confused me for a spanish or a latin american, i guess this is nice. Actually i wish i have been southamerican in another life.
Going back to my current beautiful life: an italian traveler loving Mexico.
We walked towards the Santo Domingo church and its former convent, now a great Oaxaca-related museum; where You could find artifacts from various pre-Hispanic temples (including Monte Alban) and other Oaxacan archeological sites are.
The patio was amazing and full of colorful big, long worns. I took beautiful pictures of this strange animals.
inside the museum i particularly liked an actual human skull embedded with turquoise, unique in its genre. The lower teeth were natural, but the upper teeth, eyes, and nose were made of shell, and it was used for magic and religious aims.
I was fascinated by the jewelry: beautiful collars and objects that had been found in the tumbs by archeologists, they looked simply amazing. I would have loved to wear one of those collars at least for one hour of my life.
Walking through the tombs I stopped at the number 7, my lucky number, where the main topic was death.
Lately maybe because of the closeness to mexican culture, I am seeing death differently. This doesnt mean that it doesnt scare me, but it is like probably im getting concious of the fact that we all have to die at some point.
I always think that egoistically i would like to die before anyother close member of my family because i dont want to suffer. But then i try to be realistic and think that this is life and i have to try not to be so scared.
I had a huge loss many years ago, when i was about twelve years old and had the most beautiful and energetic grandmother as a second mother.
I called her a morning to tell her happy birthday, she told me that she would bake all the morning for me and my twinsister since we were going to her birthday party.
We bought her a nice present and after school we waited as usual to my mother to come and pick us up to go and celebrate her.
We waited so long that afternoon at the school entrance, i still remember the vivid orange color of the public telephone trying to call my grandmother and tell her we would be late. Anybody would answer. Later we found out that my mum would have never came to pick us up that afternoon. She was crying her mum’s death in a hospital, just the day of her birthday.
That is why i probably am living this topic with special sensitivity in mexico, and because i so wanted to celebrate my birthday here, to understand this mystic thing that makes all us human fragile and vulnerables.
Birth and death seem quite peculiar in my family. I was born on the day of the death and my beautiful grandmother died on the day of her sixtysixth birth day. Kind of bizarre, i believe.
I dont even know why i started to talk about this matter, but now i want to be back again to write about my beautiful mexican adventure.
We went to Casa Oaxaca in the afternoon and i loved it. Stylish, good food and nice ambiance. We enjoied a marvellous sunset from its terrace, with tall cactus making it even more exotic.
Once back at the hostel we tried to convince Jeremy and Martin to leave to the coast with us in the following morning, but we ended up packing at 10 pm that night and taking a 11.30 pm bus to Pochutla, the main bus station to get to the beach of Mazunte.
Again this is the beautiful thing of not booking in advance. We were supposed to leave the day after but we preferred to continue the trip with our lovely mates and it was actually a funny ride.
We had about 6 hours journey, we slept a little bit and talked as well, arriving to Pochutla quite early in the following morning; a taxi took us straighht to the Posada del Arquitecto, a lovely spot recommended by Diana, the nice girl met in Cholula.

20121124-185800.jpg

20121124-185851.jpg

20121128-225145.jpg

20121128-224615.jpg

20121128-224654.jpg

20121128-224723.jpg

20121128-224749.jpg

20121128-224906.jpg

20121128-224927.jpg

20121128-225020.jpg

20121128-225058.jpg

20121128-225125.jpg

20121128-225201.jpg

20121128-225250.jpg

20121128-225306.jpg

20121128-225402.jpg

20121128-230913.jpg

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: