Trans-Mexico Continues

[ San Pablo Villa de Mitla, Oaxaca ]

After far too much hesitation and trepidation I am back in the saddle, back on the road, back to the perpetual task at hand. In a practical sense, most of you know what that is: daily, improvised forward motion into unknown territories and situations with the assistance of a giant purple fatbike named Fargo.

We—Fargo & I—left Oaxaca yesterday to begin the next chapter of our journey southward.

Our route has changed names, from Trans-Mexico Norte to Trans-Mexico Sur, and it is now summer, aka the rainy season. It rains nearly every night, the whole night through; the evenings are colder; I’m going to spend many nights huddled in a wet tent, alone with my thoughts and the sound of the rain; things will be greener than I’ve grown accustomed to.

Otherwise, however, my job will be más o menos the same. There will be lots of pedaling, too much pushing, and an ongoing internal monologue regarding the supposed impossibility of an Escheresque route that always always always appears to be going uphill. There will be lots of new people to meet, engage with, observe, befriend, and learn from. When we’re really lucky there will be strange new experiences to enjoy, internalize, document, and be transformed by. (In this regard, at least, I have been living a charmed life, so expect to have some fun!)

So why not get started with a few images from yesterday’s ride out of Oaxaca, and today’s hang-out in Mitla. It’s a nice mix of the oh-so-typical and the magical, right down to the mutha-flippin’ FLAT TIRE I was gifted this morning.

Take care, queridas Transglobalistas, and let me hear from you in the comments; I’ve missed you all!

Adiós, namaste, ciao, and farewell,
—jim

One good thing about living somewhere a few months: you learn the shortcuts. Turns out there's a bike path that goes all the way from Oaxaca to El Tule and takes about 14km of highway riding off the table. It was still a little wet and muddy from the previous night's torrential rains, but it was mostly clear and far better than fighting 6-8 lanes of city traffic to get out of town!
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I spent more highway time today than any other day of my trip. This particular passage could be called The Mezcal Corridor, as it is lined consistently with artisanal producers, farms, and distilleries.
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Arriving for the second time in Tlacolula de Matamoros. This time NOT on market day (which is Sunday). It truly is the City of Tuk-tuks. And for what its worth, unless you're specifically shopping for Mezcal, I advise you to visit on any day BUT Sunday.
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Is it me, or does this particular tuk-tuk look like it's about to do a barrel roll??
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The façade of the Templo de Santa María de la Asunción Tlacolula, which houses the more famous...
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...Capilla Del Señor De Tlacolula, where I was encouraged to enter and take photos during the ongoing mass.
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As I left the chapel, this young mariachi asked me to take his photo, which I was only too happy to do.
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Mariachi portrait #2
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I took this photo from far away, but she knew I was aiming her way and gave me a nice smile. Also: tuk-tuks!
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Looking backwards after 41km on the highway (and a fantastic lunch). It was a bit painful, but a joy (and relief) to be back on the bicycle. The views weren't too bad, either.
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Riding the back roads of Mitla, trying to find el Centro and, from there, my pre-booked room. (I booked a non-refundable Airbnb the night before so I couldn't talk myself out of My Oaxacan Departure). Somehow, at this intersection I felt eyes upon me. Zapotec eyes, I believe, as this town is famous for its Zapotec ruins, language school, and culture. It's actually a very tiny village, but the ruins have made it a tourist destination and the center of town is full of artisans' shops and wares.
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My host Guillermo. He is also one of the local craftsmen--a woodworker--who sells his wares in town.
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Guillermo in his workshop.
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A view of the workshop from the roof of my room. Probably doesn't scream "Airbnb!" but you'd be surprised. My accommodations are new, well equipped, spacious, and well cared-for.
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This morning I removed what I thought was a piece of grass from my tire. Turns out it wasn't grass, and the removal initiated a sound; something like "psssssssssssssssssssss...." Not a good sound, but somehow reassuring.
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Nope. There are no thorns in Mexico. I've never had a flat. And I don't even know what the word "patch" means! It's true! Obviously!
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On the other hand, the sun did come out this morning and my hosts have a washing machine. All my clothes are clean, dry, and happy! (That's a big thing when you're traveling by bike, I promise.)
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Two things about the developing world are far superior to the West. Actually many more than two, but let's start with two: (1) They don't throw things away, they fix them and (2) as you see here, even when something can't be fixed, it can be ingeniously repurposed. This old and very dead box spring mattress now serves as a gate at the entrance to the property. Works brilliantly, and they're in the process of decorating it so it will eventually look as interesting as it in point of fact is.
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<soapbox>Another thing that the USA is wayyyyyy behind on: heating water with the sun. Even in the rainy season you get hot water almost 24-7, and you don't have to kill the planet to do it.

I lived with water heated this way for the first time in Nepal; lived with it for years there and since. It's rarely ever been so much as an inconvenience, and there is no non-whiny, non-selfish, non-ecologically destructive reason that most places on the planet can't use this incredibly simple solution. </soapbox>

Another thing that the USA is wayyyyyy behind on: heating water with the sun. Even in the rainy season you get hot water almost 24-7, and you don't have to kill the planet to do it. I lived with water heated this way for the first time in Nepal; lived with it for years there and since. It's rarely ever been so much as an inconvenience, and there is no non-whiny, non-selfish, non-ecologically destructive reason that most places on the planet can't use this incredibly simple solution.
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Overview of the Trans-Mexico Sur. Essentially 1100km from Oaxaca to the Guatemalan border.
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Applying stain and polish to the raw carvings.
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My hosts finishing up some of Guillermo's carvings. We were sitting in a small, tin-covered, three-sided room as the evening's rain poured down beside us. (I'm definitely glad I'm carrying the flash and softbox so I have the opportunity to capture images I otherwise couldn't even attempt.)
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The Transglobalist
Photographer, cyclist, paraglider pilot, backpacker, skydiver, writer, explorer, musician, hitchhiker, digital nomad, and American dissident.

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