Alvin Starkman  M.A., LL.B.
Try searching the Americas to find creators of folk art with more form, symbolism and importance to the development and sustenance of their culture, than those of indigenous ancestry in Oaxaca (wa–HAW–ka), one of the southernmost Mexican states.

Many so-called experts in folk art have mistakenly written that the origins of Oaxaca’s wood carving tradition date back fifty or sixty years, to a small number of carvers residing in one of the central valleys of Oaxaca, a few miles from the state capital of the same name.  The error has consistently been equating the recent commercialization of the art-form with its origins, and ignoring its pre-Hispanic roots and subsequent development.

Jacobo Ángeles lives with his wife María and two children in San Martín Tilcajete, one of three main native Zapotec villages, where most residents earn a living from carving and painting colorful figures, often generically referred to as alebrijes.  The others are Arrazola and La Unión Tejalapan.

At age 12 Jacobo began learning to carve from his father.  Later on he was mentored by village elders.  “Over the past few decades our craft has without a doubt changed dramatically,” Jacobo explains, “with the use of more synthetic paints, a tremendous increase in the range of figures being carved, and with domestic and international demand for our carvings growing exponentially and affecting how and what we produce.  But remember, my ancestors were carving animals right here in this region before the Spanish arrived in the 1500’s.  And we were using only natural paint colors which we derived from fruits and vegetables, plants and tree bark, clay, and even insects.  In my family we still use what we find around us to make paint for our figures, and our wood of choice continues to be the branches of the copal tree.”

San Martín Tilcajete is located about a 40 minute drive from the city of Oaxaca, along a highway leading to the state’s Pacific resort towns, including one of the oldest ports, Puerto Escondido.  Puerto Escondido was a hub for the export of coffee and other cash crops during colonial times, but is now a popular beach destination for Mexican and international vacationers alike.  Many travelers combine their sun and sand vacation with a visit to Oaxaca, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, searching out unique pieces of folk art including dance masks, pottery and clay figures, rugs and tapestries, and antiques from the colonial period forward.  And of course there are the pre-Hispanic ruins, galleries, impressive Dominican churches, museums, and renowned Oaxacan cuisine.

“My ancestors used a 20-day calendar,” Jacobo continues, “and each day was represented by a different creature.  So every Zapotec person had an animal with whom he had a connection, and each animal had certain characteristics which carried over to the individual.  For example, the jaguar represents power and ultimate strength, the frog is characterized by honesty and openness, the coyote watchful observation, the turtle always a troublemaker prone to breaking the rules, the eagle technical and strategic power, and so on.  My people used to carve figures of just these 20 animals.  They started out as small whittlings for good luck that people would keep in a revered niche in the home, or wear around the neck as amulets.  They also carved larger figures for their children to use as toys.”

After much probing, an almost forgotten story emerges of the use of decoys of wood and other materials.   Jacobo reveals:  “My people used a variety of methods to attract different kinds of game, but for hunting birds of prey, rabbits, and deer, yes they at times used decoys.  A painted wooden snake would be placed on the ground in an area where ants had trampled the grasses so the snake decoy would easily be seen by eagles.  To hunt rabbit, my ancestors would attach a rabbit tail to one end of a straw hat, and at the other end another tail with a face painted on it.  For deer, a crude wooden deer torso with real antlers would be placed in the tall brush.  So carving was historically important to our people for not only totemic and related reasons, but it was directly related to our subsistence.  All the written records from the period of the conquest, and not just local legend, confirm the importance of woodcarving.”

“But look at what we now carve.  While in my family we still use natural paints, and still carve our totems, we’ve transformed a simple yet important and symbolic tradition into something very different.  In our villages we now carve many more than those 20 animals because of collector demand.  More importantly, we’re able to make our heritage better understood and appreciated by the world.  In our own workshop, our painting depicts designs and representations of our culture … friezes from the ancient ruin at Mitla, symbols representing waves, mountains and fertility, the totems, and other metaphors for our culture, past and present.”

Indeed the world has taken notice.   Jacobo’s work is prominently displayed in The Smithsonian Institute, Chicago’s National Museum of Mexican Art, and elsewhere throughout the continent and further abroad, in museums, art colleges and galleries.  Jacobo regularly traverses the U.S. promoting Oaxacan folk art and his Zapotec heritage, teaching in a diversity of educational venues ranging from junior schools to university departments of fine art, and as honored speaker at art exhibition openings.

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A visit to the Ángeles workshop, accessed by a heavily pot-holed narrow dirt road towards one end of the village, affords an opportunity to learn about this extraordinary skill-set, from Jacobo, Maria — an excellent painter in her own right — and some two dozen other members of their family who produce some of the finest quality carvings found anywhere on the continent.

The men do most of the carving, while women do most of the painting, but the tasks are definitely not exclusively based on gender lines. Carving is done with non – mechanical hand-tools such as machetes, chisels and knives.  The only time a more sophisticated tool is used is when a chain saw is employed to cut off a branch and level a base for a proposed figure.

Except when a special order is received, the woodworkers in the family are given artistic license to carve whatever figure they wish.  A piece of tree trunk will “speak” to one of these specialists, and be the inspiration for creating a particular animal: the shape, thickness, and bends and twists in the piece come alive.  After the bark is removed, a detailed outline is drawn, defining the image with greater clarity and detail.  The sculpting in earnest then begins.

“From the female copal tree we are able to make figures out of one piece of wood, often very large and intricate.  This wood is soft and easy to work with.  The male tree is harder, and branches tend to be smaller and somewhat delicate, so we use it to make animals which we assemble in the process.”

The carving alone takes up to a month, at times longer.  The figure is then left to dry for up to 10 months, depending on its overall size and thickness.  Because of the properties of copal, and Oaxaca’s semi-tropical climate, the wood is susceptible to termite infestation.  Accordingly, during the drying process the piece is soaked in a gasoline / insecticide mixture for several hours.  As an added assurance, it’s then placed in an oven, just in case eggs have evaded extermination.  “All of our pieces are guaranteed to never have a termite [powder post beetle] problem,” Jacobo assures.

Since the figures are fashioned while the wood is green and more easily workable, the wood separates while drying. “There are a couple of members of my family whose main job is to fill the cracks before the painting begins.”  For this remedial work they use wood shims as well as a sawdust-glue mixture.  But even these slivers of wood and the sawdust have been cured.  “We’re proud of our work, and never want to have any problems with any of our buyers, whether someone is spending $20 or $2,000.”

In almost all cases in the Ángeles workshop, one person carves and another paints.  Once a figure has left the hands of the carver, all proprietary rights are released, and another member of the family is entrusted with the painting.  Nephew Magdaleno explains:  “Occasionally one of my cousins will come up to me and say ‘what do you think about these colors or this kind of design concept for this coyote,’ and I’ll give my feedback, but it doesn’t happen very often, and I’m invariably pleased with the result.  For me it’s the form that’s most important, and for whoever’s painting, it’s the imagery it captures.”

One cannot help but gasp at the sculpting genius which goes into each piece:  A starving dog scratching fleas, a bear with its paw in a honey pot, a snake constricting a wincing jaguar, a winged horse on its hinds, a woman with long braided locks and the body of an armadillo, or a deer, life-size by Mexican standards.  There’s something particularly arresting about each creation: the ever-so-flowing and realistic movement, a fanciful stance, or a familiar pose striking a chord with our popular characterization.  However the painting is anything but familiar.  No color goes untested and the intricacy of and variation in design is remarkable.

Theories abound regarding the beginning of the modern-day manifestation of the tradition.  Some say that because hallucinogenic mushrooms are native to this part of Mexico, drug induced revelations caused the imaginations of some to wander, ultimately becoming expressed in their carvings.  The better explanation is that knowledge of colorful, large, papier maché alebrijes or dragon-like forms which originated in the State of Mexico, eventually filtered down to Oaxaca, and were the inspiration for the fathers of contemporary painted wooden carvings.  “You know, it’s not accurate to refer to what we create as alebrijes, because to the older generation of Mexicans, and to true folk art collectors, alebrijes were developed near D.F. (Distrito Federal, or Mexico City, the nation’s capital), and what we do is completely different.”

Jacobo demonstrates how his ancestors created natural paints, historically utilized for dying clothing, painting buildings, and ceremonially as face and body decoration used for rites of passage, fiestas, prayer and other important occasions.  Today their primary use, at least in Jacobo’s family, is for painting the carvings.  He explains with the assistance of his machete and a tree trunk how he cuts away the reddish inside part of the bark of the male copal, allows it to dry, then toasts and grinds it:  “This is a primary base that we use, which allows us to create a range of colors, tones and shades. Just watch.”

Using his hands as palettes, Jacobo begins by placing a small amount of the powdered bark in one hand, squeezes juice from a lime, creating a brown, which he then places on an unpainted wooden owl.  “Yes the owl is also one of our sacred creatures, the great healer, quiet and humble.”  He reveals:  “Now over time, and in the sun, this color will change or fade and be absorbed into the wood.  So what our ancestors learned to do was take the dried sap from the copal tree and heat it up with honey.  The resulting liquid is then mixed with the paint, changing the color a little; see, it becomes a deep orange … but most importantly it acts as a mordent making the color permanent, and a little shiny.” He adds powdered limestone, and the color changes to black.  With the addition of baking soda and more lime juice it becomes a deep yellow, and with more chemical it miraculously becomes magenta.  A new base is then started, with crushed pomegranate seeds.  Magically the pulverized pink is transformed into green with the addition of limestone powder. Mixed with the magenta, it becomes navy blue. With the addition of zinc it becomes grey, and with more zinc, white.  Blue from the añil tree, indigo, is altered with the addition of bicarbonate, zinc, lime juice or the powdered lime mineral.  Corn mold, a black gooey culinary delicacy known as huitlacoche, when fermented and then powdered, yields ochre.  The red of the dried and then crushed minute insect, the cochineal, which feeds off its host nopal cactus, becomes orange with the addition of the juice of any of a number of acidic fruits.

The demonstration terminates with Jacobo asking, “what´s your favorite animal,” following which he finger paints a rabbit from the rainbow of colors on his palms, as only Alice could have imagined.

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With approximately 150 families now producing painted wooden figures in these and a couple of other smaller villages, the questions left unanswered remain:  What facilitated and drove more carvers to adopt the papier maché style of using brilliant color combinations, and how can everyone in these villages make a living from this solitary art-form?

As with other crafts in the central valleys of Oaxaca, their production wasn’t always the primary means of sustenance for the populace.  Traditionally, handicrafts were a hobby or part-time trade, beginning with very few items being sold to the odd passerby, adventurer or traveler.  In the case of rugs from nearby Teotitlán del Valle, there were trade routes that producers followed in order to effect more sales in other regions of the state, and in some cases beyond.  But the primary means of family survival was working the land and small-scale ranching.  And in the case of the carving villages, there never was a broader market, although in San Martín Tilcajete embroidered shirts, blouses and dresses were an extremely well-received craft throughout the 1960’s and into the 80’s.

Dramatic change in production and marketing of wooden carvings had its genesis in the 1940’s.  The pan-American highway cut through the Sierra Madre del Sur mountains, reaching Oaxaca, opening up the region to the north, in particular Mexico City and the border states.  Until then Oaxaca was relatively isolated notwithstanding a rail connection. By the 1950’s and early 60’s Americans and Canadians were prospering from the post-war boom, credit cards had been mailed to virtually everyone, and word spread of a new kind of vacation, in a third world country, Mexico.  Jet air travel facilitated the transformation.  The women’s movement meant more two income families, resulting in more disposable income for traveling.  Mexicana Airlines and Oaxacan travel agents partnered to begin offering tour packages, which further facilitated tourism to the region.

The hippie movement of the 1960’s and early 70’s brought Oaxaca to the forefront of the alternative lifestyle, with throngs of youth and their pop idols traveling to Huautla de Jiménez, then a tiny Oaxacan village, to eat hallucinogenic mushrooms with the now infamous healer María Sabina.  North American youth saw and purchased the first generation of contemporary wood carvings.

By the 1980’s, as a consequence of multiple factors, Oaxacan alebrijes had become well-established as folk art, with the market continuing to grow. The economic implication was that farmers and ranchers were able to spend more time carving and painting, and less time in the countryside and in marketplaces vending their produce and animals.   With a new toll-road opening from Mexico City to Oaxaca in 1995, access to the southern state became even quicker and easier, and safe. In good conscience, travel writers were no longer able to warn tourists about driving the switchbacks, back-road banditos, or cars overheating on secondary roads without service stations.

The future market for the artistry?   While the odd visitor to a Oaxacan coastal resort such as Puerto Escondido, or the more popular Huatulco, does visit the state capital and the workshops of carvers like Jacobo, most do not.  Within the next four years a new highway to the coast will open, cutting road travel time by at least a third.  Even more sun worshipers will visit Oaxaca, and marvel at the art of Jacobo and María Ángeles.

Since opening their family workshop in 1996, without a doubt Jacobo and María have singularly raised the quality bar for other villagers who aspire to mirror their success.  With Oaxacan wood carvings of superior quality now well established on the world stage, and access no longer an impediment, the challenge for others in San Martín Tilcajete will be to achieve the success of the Ángeles family through production of like quality, until now eluding most.

A challenge for all carvers in the region is to ensure a continuous supply of copal to meet demand.  A reforestation project spear-headed about 15 years ago by the late master of contemporary Mexican art, Rodolfo Morales, continues through his Foundation.  The Ángeles family with friends and other villagers spend the last Sunday of each July, in the midst of the rainy season, planting, a part of their sustainable living effort:  ensuring an ongoing supply of raw product, cutting only branches for making figures so that the tree continues to grow, reducing waste by utilizing the slivers and sawdust in repair work and any remaining twigs and branches as firewood for cooking, and using the sap and bark in paint production.  “And you know,” Jacobo reminds, “for generations we’ve been using the hardened sap as incense, mainly at religious cememonies.  There are even knifemakers down the road in Ocotlán, who engrave their hand-forged blades using a special ink made with the sap.  Have you visited the cuchillería of Ángel Aguilar?”

For high end collectors, we can only encourage the success of all efforts aimed at maintaining the growth and development of the Oaxacan woodcarving tradition, since it satisfies and advances our penchant for and obsession with quality hand-fashioned craftsmanship.  For the artisans in the region, aside from the obvious economic importance, it’s part of maintaining their Zapotec heritage and illustrating the richness of the culture to the broader world.

The workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles is located at Calle Olvido #9, San Martín Tilcajete, Ocotlán, Oaxaca  ( t:   951-524-9047 ;  w:  http://www.tilcajete.org  ;  e:  angeles@tilcajete.org ).

Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ).  Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984.  Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement.  He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples, families and small groups to the craft villages, ruins, colonial churches and more off-the-beaten-track destinations in Oaxaca state, and is a special consultant to documentary film production companies.

The Beginning: Roasting Cows on Islands

Pirates were originally, and sometimes still are, referred to as buccaneers.  This nomenclature comes from the French word boucaner, which is someone who roasts meat on a wooden structure.  No, early pirates weren’t avid weekend bar-b-quers.  In the 16th and 17th centuries they were, in fact, marooned sailors on the various tiny islands around Hispanola and Jamaica that lived off of cattle who had shared the same unlucky fate.  By smoking the cows on the beach, passing merchant ships would often be tempted to stop and see if any trading could be done.  The opportunistic marooned men would then attack the ships, stealing the vessel and its cargo.  It was definitely a poorly organized and petty operation done out of a necessity to get the hell off an island, but from these humble beginnings grew a fearsome and lucrative enterprise.

While the smalltiming buccaneers were busy trying to take ships by luring them towards tiny islands, European nations were beginning to develop their New World empires.  It is important to note that only Spain considered the Americas as a priority; the English, Dutch, and French all saw Asia as the land to exploit and concentrated most of their resources in the Far East.  As a result, Spain came to dominate the New World in the early stages and began reaping huge rewards.  The silver mines in Zacatecas, Mexico were turning out unheard of amounts of the shiny metal and all sorts of precious metals were being pillaged from the Incas in Peru.

The other European powers, namely the English, French, and Dutch, soon realized the immense potential of New World colonies and quickly rushed to catch up.  One way to do this was stymie the wealth the Spaniards were shipping out of Panama City.  But with much of the military tied up in European conflicts or protecting the Asian colonies, a more economical approach was taken: hire private ship crews to attack poorly guarded Spanish convoys in the Caribbean and Atlantic.  Because Europe was pretty much constantly at war in some form or another during the 16th and 17th centuries, it was quite easy for a government to legally declare open season on other countries’ vessels in the Caribbean.

The Middle: Creating a Pirate Business Model

The early privateers – mainly British sailors – got to like their new, legal lifestyle of plundering ships and continued to do so once peace in Europe had been reached and the other European countries had gained a stronger foothold in the New World.  Usually, this would have meant the end of piracy, as peace in the Caribbean among the countries was much more economical than warring.  But across the Atlantic, Europe couldn’t get its stuff straight.  Continuous wars and political upheaval allowed for the rampant, “illegal” piracy between 1650 and 1750.

With most military forces fighting in Europe, the waters of the Caribbean were nearly free of obstacles for pirates of any country.  And the region was target rich, as African slave labor increased the production of Spanish precious metal mines.  Pirate havens began to spring up around the Caribbean, with names that are still famous today: Port Royal in Jamaica, Nassau, and Tortuga.  Privateers remained vital for all parties involved (save for the Spanish), because the European wars were not cheap and needed financing from the New World riches.

The men (and sometimes women) that took to the pirate life did so during this period under a certain country’s flag, most likely the one of their homeland.  But they were less patriotic than they were opportunistic; the promise of personal riches and the freedom of sea were the real driving forces.  It is also during this period that the most famous pirate figures strutted their stuff on the decks of cannon-laden ships.  Henry Mo

rgan, that of the famous drink, was just as lethal as the rum named after him.  A lifetime pirate with a career spanning three decades, he is best known for the audacious sacking of Panama City in 1670.  Leading nearly 2000 pirates – one of, if not the, largest pirate armies ever assembled through the dense rainforest, Morgan took the city from behind and burned it to the ground.  He later even became governor of Jamaica.  Not bad for a pirate.

One of the most prolific pirates during this period was Bartholomew Roberts, a Welshman who captured almost 500 ships during his career.  He was all about excess and efficiency; with a huge fleet of pirate ships, each armed to the tooth, he was able to patrol large swaths of water in search of prey.

Then of course there is Blackbeard, the archetype pirate.  While his main claims to fame occurred off what is now the

Blackbeard aka Edward Teach

east coast of the U.S, he did venture often into the Caribbean.   Sporting a wide hat and wild hair, Blackbeard – aka Edward Teach – was about as outlandish as they come in the pirate world.  He wrecked havoc upon his fellow country, the English, with his impressive fleet of ships, including the famous Queen Anne’s Revenge.  During battle Blackbeard would light slow burning matches under his hat and in his beard, giving him the appearance of some kind of hellish monster.  When he was eventually killed in 1718 it is said that he was shot five times and stabbed 20 before finally succumbing to death.

The End: No longer heroes

The end of the piracy good times, during the first half of the 18th century, can be attributed to a few things.  One, the practice had just gotten to big.  What was once a somewhat controlled way to effectively attack enemy colonies had turned into a nightmare of privately enterprising privateers like Blackbeard, who preyed on any ship, no matter the flag.  Secondly, relative (emphasis on relative) had been reached in Europe and more naval resources could be sent to the Caribbean, nulling the need for privateers.  And there had been a general change in philosophy towards pirates; where they had once commanded great admiration among their countrymen (i.e. Morgan becoming the governor of Jamaica), they were now hunted men to be hung upon capture.  Despite their cunning and experience, pirate captains could not match up gun-for-gun with the hundreds of naval ships in the region.  While piracy in the Caribbean continued somewhat regularly up through the 19th century, the romantic images of swashbuckling characters was long gone.

With thousands of miles of coastline on both the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean, the country is a sportfisherman’s dream. The fish are big. The prices are low. But deciding where to go – and who to hire – is difficult and can make or break a trip.

Lower Baja – Cabo San Lucas and Loreto

Despite being close together geographically, Cabo and Loreto are yin and yang in terms of fishing.  Cabo is famous for big gamefish – marlin, tuna, shark, and dolphin – that prowl the steep banks off shore.  The fishing can be crazy at times, especially when large schools of baitfish congregate on the dropoffs.  Additionally, the sportfishing industry is well developed and there is no trouble finding a boat; however, the quality varies widely.

Loreto, on the other hand, excels in light tackle angling.  Fishing here is good year-round, with yellowfin tuna in the winter months and huge numbers of dorado in the summer.  Larger game, such as marlin and grouper, can also be found, but Loredo is really a light tackle paradise.

Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlan

Across the gulf and down the coast from Loreto is the billfishing mecca of Mazatlan.  Huge marlin congregate in large schools in the winter and spring months with sailfish, tuna, and dorado available year-round.  About every species of sportfish in the Pacific frequent Mazatlan’s waters at some point of the year, uncluding wahoo and roosterfish.

Similarly, Puerto Vallarta offers a buffet line of game fish species to target, from marlin to sailfish to tuna.  Any month of the year holds the possibility of landing a number of large fish in a day.  It may be a huge tourist resort town, but with so much competition among charter boats good deals can be found.

Cancun/Cozumel

Across the country on the Gulf of Mexico, the megaresorts of Cancun and Cozumel offer unsurpassed fishing in the gulf.  While the billfish are usually smaller than their Pacific counterparts, many people claim that their numbers are much higher in the gulf, with multiple hookups a day not uncommon.  Also, the smaller sizes of marlin and sailfish offer great opportunites to take these beasts on flyrods.  Speaking of fly fishing, the numerous islands around Cancun and Cozumel hold endless, virgin flats with tarpon, bonefish, barracuda, and permit.

photo provided by blackmarlinfishing at http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackmarlinfishingblog/2582943383/

Know of some other Mexican fishing hotspots? Reviews, tips, recommendations?  Share your knowledge below

Alvin Starkman, M.A., LL.B.

If visitors to Oaxacan cooking school La Casa de los Sabores came away with nothing more than great recipes and a gastronomic meal rich in unique herb- and spice-accented flavor combinations that are the hallmark of Oaxacan cuisine, they would leave fully satisfied. But a visit with owner and chef extraordinaire Pilar Cabrera also inspires and sates travelers with a sensual day-long immersion into sights, sounds, smells and, yes, tastes and time-tested recipes of southern Mexico.

As always, a recent culinary odyssey with Pili, as she is known, began at La Casa de los Sabores first thing in the morning – at 9:30 a.m. Over the next few hours, she introduced me and the others in the class to the wisdom and experience of her great matriarchal culinary tradition. Pili learned the basics and the subtleties, including the mysteries of the famed seven moles, from her grandmother, who learned from her grandmother before her. She is a Oaxaca-born master of southern Mexico cookery as well as international epicurean trends, capable of sharing the secrets of preparing the most multifarious meal with novice and expert alike – in English and in Spanish.

Our day began with Pili’s informal talk about the menu and the foods she was going to introduce us to in one of Oaxaca’s colorful markets. The extra attention to the key ingredients of Oaxacan cuisine kept us spellbound. “What we will achieve today with the chilis,” she told us, “is hot and tropical … with the Chile de agua, you will see we use it not only for flavor but color as well, and I will teach you how we keep this beautiful, brilliant green.”

Once prepared with this knowledge, we all embarked on a shopping trip to the well-known marketplace, Mercado de La Merced, armed with multihued bolsas – market bags – to carry the compras – purchases. Pili had readied a partial shopping list, but, she advised us, she always adds “surprises,” such as fresh foodstuffs which peasant women from the mountains sometimes bring down.

“When you have a chance to find something real special or unusual, you buy and incorporate into the comida,” she explained. “Today, for instance, we look for mushrooms, because they grow so beautifully in the rainy season. Also, we will see what kind of fresh fruit we can use for the dessert.”

Her insights into the unique stores and small factories enriched the short walk to the market. A rich bouquet drew us into a mill that was making chocolate from scratch. As Pilar told us about the ingredients – cacao, cinnamon, almonds and sugar – the owner welcomed us with, “do you want to taste?”

The lesson began in earnest when Pilar began methodically searching through the indoor and outdoor portions of the marketplace and exchanging pesos for its plethora of fresh produce.

“Look at that lady sitting there, what she has in those bowls,” she said. “She just brought those raspberries and blackberries from the Sierra Juarez. We can use them for the dessert. Notice how fresh and beautiful. The mushrooms beside them, see the size, how big and the bright orange color … this is the time of year, but not for our recipe today … Over here, we don’t buy the big green tomatillos. I prefer the little ones grown locally because they are not acidy like the others, and they have much more flavor, perfect for the salsa we are preparing today.”

She encouraged us to smell the herbs as she explained their use in particular Oaxacan dishes. “Today we use this hierba santa for the mole,” she said as she was examining samples of the fragrant leaf until she’d found the best and freshest for storage in one of our bolsas. “But we also use it to wrap fish and make tamales.”

Lynet who had been in Puerto Escondido on the Oaxacan coast for six months, expressed the wish of many as she lamented, “I wish I’d been in this class at the beginning of our trip.”

Our enthusiasm and our appetites grew once we returned to Doña Pili’s well-equipped, spacious kitchen. Its wide counters, food preparation island and eight-burner gas stove opening onto the lush courtyard dining area made this cocina into an ideal classroom.

While we were reviewing printed recipe sheets for the dishes we were about to prepare, she displayed our purchases in baskets filled with the components of each recipe to help us learn why we bought what. Then we spent the next two hours preparing a sumptuous four-course meal.

Mary, her sous-chef, did preparatory work such as halving limes, slicing chilies and preparing chicken stock and poultry for the mole, freeing Pili to teach us the rituals and secrets of Oaxacan culinary seduction. Sparks from Pilar’s hearth of experience ignited even the most learned in the class as she pointed, touched, and passed around each item we purchased, telling us how it would be incorporated into the meal.

Once the actual cooking began, she put her bilingualism to good use, giving instructions and asking questions in one language, then repeating it in the other, as required by some of her visitors. “Necesito otro ayudante para quesillo, I need another helper for the cheese.” Pilar might as well be a Maestra de Español, a Spanish teacher to boot.

Everyone learned each task and participated in the preparation of virtually all menu items. And as the group peeled, diced and sautéd, Pili’s gems of information flowed on.

We learned much more than how to achieve flavor. Pilar taught us techniques on how to attain desired tones and textures: “A lot of people ask me about cleaning mushrooms,” she said at one point, demonstrating the correct technique. “Now watch to see how we clean and seed this kind of chili,” she pointed out while preparing chile guajillo for the mole. “Once we start cooking these chile de agua, we need to remember to always check them and turn them constantly.”

“Look for the hot part of the comal … now this is when you know when to turn it over,” she said while demonstrating the art and science of making tortillas.

Every once in a while a new recipe rolled off the tip of her tongue as we worked … other dishes we could prepare with this particular mole; different fillings for the quesadillas such as potato, chorizo or huitlacoche, the exotic corn mold … the texture we would want for the corn masa if we were making tamales rather than tortillas.

Soon, aprons removed, we were ready to feast. But first – “now before we sit down, remember in the market I told you there were two types of gusano worm? Here they are, so who wants to try?” she asked. “Now know about mezcal. Taste this one Alvin brought, and tell us how it seems to you. Here’s another kind. What do you think is different about this one?”

We sat down at a table exquisitely set with local hand-made linens, dishes and stemware. Bottles of Mexican and Chilean red wine were already breathing. The fine music of Oaxacan songstress Lila Downs serenaded us in the background.

Pilar reminded us that her grandmother and other relatives usually prepare their comidas with meat and all vegetables mixed together in the mole, a plate of rice on the side, and a bowl of broth. But our meal, like all the recipes she prepares with visitors at La Casa de los Sabores, would be her modern take on all the elements and flavor combinations of the best that contemporary Oaxacan cookery has to offer.

It was a celebration of every ingredient. We began with wild mushroom, onion, tomato, chili and cheese stuffing in the quesadillas de champiñones (mushroom quesadillas), complemented perfectly by smoky salsa verde asada (green sauce from the grill) served in its molcajete. Then it was time to calm our palates with bright yellow crema de flor de calabaza (cream of squash blossom soup), garnished with a drizzle of real cream, toasted calabaza seeds and indeed fresh squash blossoms. The main course or plato fuerte was mole amarillo – tender slices of chicken breast atop a sea of aromatic deep saffron-colored mole, accompanied by a medley of crunchy-fresh steamed vegetables. To conclude, arroz con leche (rice pudding), speared with a length of wild vanilla bean and crowned with berries that had been picked only the day before.

I left convinced that the grandest chefs at the most trendy Manhattan beaneries would be hard-pressed to compete with this petite Oaxaqueña’s ability to marry the region’s complex cooking with post-modern attention to color, texture and flare. For Pilar Cabrera, it comes naturally. For the rest of us, it comes with attending her classes.

La Casa de los Sabores Cooking School is located at Libres 205, in downtown Oaxaca. Maximum class size is 8, with private lessons available upon request. You can register for Pilar’s classes by calling (951) 516-5704 or e-mailing her at: bbsabores@prodigy.net.mx. ( Websites: http://www.laolla.com.mx ; http://www.mexonline.com/sabores.htm )

Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ), a unique Oaxaca bed and breakfast experience offering the comfort and service of a large downtown Oaxaca hotel, in a quaint suburban setting with the personal touch of country inn style Oaxaca lodging. . Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin reviews restaurants, writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, and tours couples and families to the villages.

“You live were!?” is usually the first question I get when I tell North Americans that I live in Colombia.  Yes, Colombia, the land of Pablo Escobar, cocaine, bombs, and kidnappings.  Yes, Colombia, the land of Marxist guerrillas and right wing death squads.  Yes, Colombia, the land that in 1994 had a soccer player shot a dozen times for making a mistake in the World Cup.

But the real Colombia is not like this.  It is far from the violent images seen on television around the world.

The last six years have seen a turnaround in public safety that can only be described as remarkable.  Conservative president Alvaro Uribe, whose father was murdered by guerrillas, has turned a country that a decade ago was disintegrating into one of relative peace and stability.

But what about travel and living in Colombia?  This is a complex question, and since safety is involved, generalizations cannot be made.

The Big Three: Bogotá, Medellin, Cali

Chances are most travellers, and certainly expats and retirees, will end up in one, if not all, of Colombia’s largest three cities at some point.  But are they safe?

Bogotá- The largest city at around 8 million, the capital is the business, government, and education heart of the country.  If common sense is used, it is no more dangerous than any other large city in North America or Europe.  The eastern half of the city, including the main tourist areas, is comfortably safe during the day and common sense will keep the gringo safe at night (stay in groups, no dark alleys, use taxis, etc.).  However, the western half of the city – Cuidad Bolivar – is a sprawling mess of flavelas that is certainly not safe.  Ever. Luckily, there is not much of interest for the gringo here anyway.

Medellin- The city of eternal spring was not too long ago the city of eternal violence.  Murder capital of the world, kidnapping capital of the world, and a host of other accolades no one wants made Medellin (that’s Med-eh-jean) a definite no-go unless you were George Jung, the gringo drug runner played by Johnny Depp in Blow. However, it is now one of the safest cities in South America, with a murder rate of 32 per 100,00 residents.  Thats lower than Washington, D.C. and Detriot.  Plus paisas are incredible people and Medellin is fast becoming a beautiful place to visit.  Again, the same precautions used in any large city apply here.

Cali- The salsa capital of Colombia is, like the other two main cities, a relatively safe and enjoyable place as long as common sense is used.  Wallet in the front pocket, no fancy jewelry or watches, stay with groups during the night…you get the picture.  Always ask around as well for safe and secure areas to visit.

La Costa

This, of course, is Colombia’s tourist, retiree, and expat destination of choice.  And for good reason; whtie sand beaches, Cartagena, and the carefree attitude of Costeños makes a trip here memorable for years.  But where there are tourists, there are most likely pickpocketers..

Cartagena- Widely regarded as South America’s most beautiful city, Carta has been pushed hard as a tourist destination by the Colombian government for some time now.  The result is a good tourism infrastructure, security, and enough people to help if trouble does arise.  That said, small time thieves do target the gringo crowds, and expensive jewelry and watches, large purses, and the like should be left at home.  Also, there are many moneychangers on the streets-its best to avoid them as forgeries are common.  The further out of the city’s center one ventures, the more likely he is to run into trouble.  Many out of work soldiers (from guerrilla groups and right wing militias) live in the area and some resort to petty crime to make ends meet.  That said, Cartagena is a true jewel of the Western hemisphere and with normal precautions is pretty safe.

The rest of the country

Few tourists venture outside the main cities and the Caribbean coast, but those who do are richly rewarded.  However, some areas are dangerous for foreigners, and some are downright off limits.

Boyaca- A popular weekend destination for foreigners and Bogota residents alike, the department of Boyaca is called the heart of Colombia.  Villa de Leyva is its crown, a perfect Spanish colonial city high in the mountains.  And even more, it is a pretty safe place to visit.

The Southern Departments- The mountains give way to pastures and rainforest that stretch beyond the horizon.  This is wild Colombia- and part of the country foreigners should ignore or take extreme caution in.  Pickpocketing at gunpoint is the least of your problems here, as the rebel groups and drug cartels have been pushed into this region and make money by kidnapping gringos and Colombians alike.  If you want rainforest, fly from any  major Colombian city to Leticia, on the border with Brazil.  The town has a well developed tourism infrastructure.  If you want to be brave, go for it, but just about every Colombian I know would think thrice before travelling to departments like Putumayo, Buenaventura, and deep into Meta.

Conclusion

The safety situation in Colombia is very complicated and changes on a daily basis.  But it also overblown in many areas – people seem to reiterate the fact that they got mugged in Colombia!, while if it happened in London it would be written off as just a bad apple in the bunch.  Keeping to the main tourist areas, remaining alert, and staying in a small group should be more than enough to keep the average foreigner safe in the large cities and along the coast.

Colombia is certainly not without major problems, even though the country has improved drastically.  But it is an amazing country with colorful people, top notch attractions, and a real wild side.  Don’t let the horror stories or news programs scare you off; while crime does happen, it also happens in every country in the world.  True, Colombia is more dangerous than, say, Costa Rica, but on the other hand you aren’t coming into an all out warzone like some people would like to make you believe.

One week in Colombia and you will realize how wrong the stereotype is.

Have a different opinion? Additional safety information or updates? Please post them here, we’d love to hear from you.

photo provided by Rob Raincock at http://www.flickr.com/photos/30853953@N03/3033264799/

]]> http://www.latinworld.com/2009/safety-in-colombia-the-straight-truth.htm/feed 16 http://www.latinworld.com/2009/the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly-of-moving-to-panama.htm http://www.latinworld.com/2009/the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly-of-moving-to-panama.htm#comments Mon, 01 Jun 2009 15:28:52 +0000 Patrick Connelly http://www.latinworld.com/?p=1009 By Liz Small

Contributing writer to LatinWorld.com

Please look before you leap.

After reviewing the many articles that are available on the Internet on the subject of relocating to Panama and discussing the subject with friends and neighbors, we (a handful of full time Panama expat residents) thought we would try to present a realistic view of the “Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” of this major life style decision.

The Good

Depending on your choice of location in Panama, you will find the beaches and the beautiful oceans close at hand.  They are typically warm but breezy, thoroughly refreshing, and relatively clean.  Speaking of water, that which is intended for consumption, is fresh, pure, and entirely drinkable.  There are areas, however, where thoughtless use of pesticides has resulted in the need for the installation of home purification systems.

If gardening is your thing (or even if your prefer to just supervise), you will find an amazing array of tropical flowers (with orchids being particularly hardy and with many varieties available) and trees to plant throughout the year – different things during the two seasons, the rainy and dry months.  The climate consists of these two periods, both lasting approximately 6 months.  The dry season (or summer) starts in late December, early January and ends in mid May.  The rainy season (or winter) gets going around mid May and lasts until mid to late December.  Typically, a day in the rainy season begins with the sun out and clear skies. Then in the early afternoon, there is rain for an hour or so, and then the sun reappears.  Temperatures throughout the year (again depending on location) only vary 10 degrees or so (75-85 degrees during the day), the dry season being the higher.  The climate encourages a particularly lush environment which, in turn, provides the perfect habitat for a host of colorful birds, native animals, and exotic looking – some say “beautiful” – insects!

We have all found these things (the proximity to great beaches and oceans, the ability to be surrounded by a vibrant landscape while enjoying the magnificent weather) have greatly contributed to an easy adjustment to life in Panama.  Helping as well are the great roads which lead to many interesting sites and cities, the moderate cost of living, and the ability to meet and enjoy the Panamanian people.

The Bad

Favorite pastimes (reading best sellers, knitting, gourmet cooking, chatting endlessly with family members on the phone, or even receiving letters) sometimes have to be finessed or eliminated altogether.  Bring a good supply of books in the language of your choice – unless it’s Spanish, then “no problemo” – and encourage guests to bring some along with them when they come for a visit.  Ditto any special hobby needs or exotic ingredients which may be in short supply or unavailable altogether!  Better get hooked up on Skype or some other communication modality and be email literate.  Calling internationally and receiving mail is pricey!

Before you buy a piece of ground to begin to have your dream house built, please take into consideration the following:  the “ mañana” factor!  Everything goes at a slower pace here and there is no sense of urgency.  If you have left your ability to be patient wherever you have moved from, please go back and get it.  If you were never a patient person to begin with, please think long and hard about building versus buying an existing spec house or resale.   Retrofitting an existing structure is much easier than building from scratch.  Ask folks who have “been there, done that” and you will soon discover the wisdom of this advice.  By the way, those folks you asked for advice, they are your new “family” so try to listen carefully to what they are telling you and profit from their experience.  After you have listened and actually followed what they have told you and saved yourself no end of pain and expense, not to mention aggravation, have them over for dinner as a way of saying “Thanks”!   They may become your new best friends!

The Ugly

Have you have started to think Panama is synonymous with Utopia?  There are a few challenges of which you must be aware.  Traffic in Panama City can be daunting.  The lack of street signs combined with the curious driving habits of the cab drivers can often result in a hair-raising experience.  Are you used to having everything available at all times and in close proximity?  Unless you choose to live in Panama City, you will not enjoy that luxury.  Many  items (produce and paper goods to name two) have to be imported and therefore will not always be on the grocery store shelf and will be a bit more expensive due to importing costs.  We have a saying in Panama: “If you see it and want it, buy it!”  It may not be there the next time you go looking.  Also, there is a suspicion that some manufacturers send goods they would not be able to market elsewhere to Panama.  Quality can be an elusive characteristic.

Bienvenidos a Panama!

front photo provided by ethantate at http://www.flickr.com/photos/ethantate/2750089356/

first photo provided by seracat at http://www.flickr.com/photos/mserarolsbcn/3370563337/

second photo provided by Alexander H.m: Cascone at http://www.flickr.com/photos/cascone/1295936293/

Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.

We usually think of weddings and baptisms as rites of passage we attend on separate occasions. But November 27, 2008, marked the celebration of both in San Lorenzo Albarradas, Oaxaca: the nuptials of a couple in their early twenties, and the baptism of their three-year-old daughter. What resulted was a melding of highly organized custom characterized by extremes of indulging, giving, and all-out merriment.

San Lorenzo Albarradas (“San Lorenzo”) is a village with about 1,900 inhabitants of Zapotec ancestry, located 60 kilometers east of the city of Oaxaca, in southern Mexico. It’s accessed by a paved highway which, beyond the pre-Hispanic ruin of Mitla, winds as it ascends foothills of the Sierra Madre del Sur. San Lorenzo has the usual municipal building housing the office of its presidente municipal (mayor) and local police, a health clinic, school, marketplace, and of course Catholic church and cemetery. Residents engage in predominantly subsistence economic activity: cultivating corn, beans, squash, palm leaf and agave; tending sheep and goats; gathering firewood; and servicing the local population as well as tourist vans en route to and from San Isidro Roaguía (“San Isidro”). San Isidro, designated a marginal community by the federal government, is home to the bubbling springs and petrified waterfalls known as Hierve el Agua. San Lorenzo, San Isidro and environs are home to seven small, rudimentary yet wonderfully functional fábricas de mezcal (mezcal factories).

The marriage of Gladis and Eli and the baptism of their daughter Lexy were planned in early autumn. Santos and Lupita were selected as padrinos de la boda (godparents of the wedding), and long-time grade school friends Daniel and wife Alma as padrinos of the baptism.

If not through blood or marriage, then through compadrazgo (fictive kinship), most people are related one way or another in small Oaxacan towns and villages. On this occasion about a quarter of the residents were invited to partake in at least some of the festivities. Many have relations in nearby San Isidro. But as a result of a longstanding dispute between the villages regarding the right to exact a fee from tourists visiting Hierve el Agua, only recently resolved after years of Hatfield and McCoy antics, invitations were extended to only residents of San Lorenzo, apart from that extended to me and my wife Arlene.

As custom normally dictates, we arrive in town for the mass shortly after the designated 12-noon start time. Daniel and Alma, and Daniel’s parents Hilarino and Sara, had counseled that we would be expected to remain until the madrugada (middle of the night, generally until just before sunrise), and to thus be prepared. We really didn’t take the advice to heart. As once again custom normally dictates, we were just as clear that we would arrive fairly early on, with no guarantees regarding the duration of our visit.

We’d known Hilarino, Sara and family for about four years, initially as a result of purchasing mezcal from Hilarino’s roadside palenque (mezcal facility), and subsequently from eating and imbibing in Sara’s adjoining eatery. We’d broken bread in their home, and they in ours. We’d laughed and traded stories of differences in our respective cultures, and cried over the death of their forty-day-old grandson. They’d missed our 25^th anniversary, and we Daniel’s wedding. But for this occasion they required our assurance that our attendance at the festivities would not be pre-empted.

Booming bottle-rocket fireworks direct us to the standing-room-only church service. Guests cram the entranceway and sit under the shade around the courtyard. Dress ranges from Sunday best to workday usual. Gladis, Eli and Lexy emerge about a half hour after our arrival, shockingly early based upon our prior attendances at functions with a religious component. But perhaps ritual was rushed in anticipation of more important local custom to follow. In rural Oaxaca there is often not very much to rejoice, so when the opportunity arises, no expense is spared, figuratively and literally.

As rice showers the honored celebrants, and candies the rest of us, the six piece brass and percussion band begins with upbeat traditional song. I spot a familiar face, Santos the palenquero, competitor of Hilarino:

“Hilarino invite you? He’s my cousin you know.”

“And what about you and your wife?,” I ask.

“Lupita and I are the padrinos de la boda, so you have to come to our home with the procession. Hilarino’s coming too.”

I’ve yet to see Santos without his stiff, off-white cowboy hat, and this occasion is no different. Others wear the softer felt-like version in beiges, greys and blacks, many adorned with peacock feather. The groom, Eli, is dressed in a smartly tailored, very formal light olive suit with all the trimmings, while his bride is in a traditional white strapless gown with long train. Their daughter’s dress is equally appropriate, and yes, predictable. Several downtown Oaxaca retailers have found their niche marketing dresses for weddings, quince años (celebration when a girl turns 15, similar to the Bat Mitzvah in the Jewish faith), baptisms and confirmations. Clearly in San Lorenzo they go all out. In fact the young family, aside from being in this physical environment could have passed for urban Oaxacans of much greater means.

As the band, bride and groom leave the church grounds, Hilarino informs me that I’ll accompany him and others to Santos’ house, my wife Arlene will stay with the rest of his family at theirs, and we will reunite in a short while. Arlene and her group trail off. Close family members stop at the bride and groom’s residence to make final preparations for later festivities. Our procession walks about a mile further, to the padrinos’ home at the end of a meandering potholed roadway.

During 2005 – 2007, pavement of the main street through town was completed. However with few exceptions the rest of the roads are dirt, connected by narrow pathways. Land ownership is in the process of reform, with privatization on the way and promised for 2009. Homes range from extremely modest adobe construction with laminated metal roofing, to a number of large, contemporary-styled two storey clay brick and block abodes. Foundations are often made of locally mined limestone, known as cantera. The padrinos’ compound is somewhere in between, with a couple of buildings composed of brick and adobe, plastered and brightly painted, and a few outer structures for cattle, cooking and storage. The mezcal trade has been good to them.

Our arrival is greeted with fireworks. Without missing a beat the band takes its place aside a manger. About 15 of us are now inside a room with couches facing an altar where Gladis and Eli are kneeling. Additional seating is brought in, along with mezcal and then beer. I take both, as is now my custom, not unlike that of many others. I follow the lead of the elder to my right, pouring a few drops of mezcal on the floor, a sacrament in this village. I think back to the past 57 years of annually spilling ten drops of wine at Passover Seders, recalling the plagues heaped upon Moses’ people by Pharaoh. Chuckling ensues as I then knock over and spill Hilarino’s beer to my left. At first I decline a second beer, but after convincing I accept. After all, the bottle had already been opened for me. Where custom dictates, I rarely decline.

Beer and mezcal are the most typical alcoholic beverages served at rural celebrations in and around the central valleys of Oaxaca. Urbanites of the middle classes tend more towards tequila and scotch, usually Johnny Walker Red Label, simply referred to as whisky. But we all have our favorite mezcals, usually produced in small mom-and-pop operations peppering roadsides in specific regions of the state, usually much better than the commercial labels.

The presidente municipal, Hilarino’s brother, mistakes me for a priest acquaintance of his … a Spanish guëro (white person) with moustache and grey hair. “Not even close,” I answer to laughter. A couple of children begin rhyming off numbers in English. I inform that Arlene gives private English lessons. The ears of each in attendance perk up, since while learning English is valued, aside from very limited instruction in the local school there is no one to teach:

“I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Mayor,” I say. “Once privatization arrives, you find me a small plot of land or very modest home for Arlene and me to buy so we can spend the odd weekend in San Lorenzo, and I’ll make sure she gives free lessons to the kids.”

More chortling, and of course the obligatory “salud!” as we toast the idea.

Someone spots a bull seemingly charging towards the house, having broken loose from its tie. “No es bravo,” we’re assured, so we re-take our seats and continue with levity and further small talk.

After the better part of an hour, following the lead of Santos and the newlyweds we move outside to the covered dining area, taking our seats on benches accommodating about 20 of us. The band continues. More family has arrived and is milling about along with those involved in meal preparation. A large bowl of traditional hot chocolate is placed before each of us, together with two loaves of bread, one small and the other the size of a regular unsliced rye. This is pan de yema, a type of egg bread, similar to challah, the bread that accompanies many Jewish celebrations and Friday night dinner.

Pan de yema is a Oaxacan tradition, served at many rite of passage fiestas as well as for yearly celebrations such as Day of The Dead, when it’s known as Pan de Muertos. Many villages are known for the distinctiveness of their bread, some baked with cinnamon, others anise, and so on. Hot chocolate, a customary beverage in the state, is almost always accompanied by the challah-like bread. Oaxaca is known for its chocolate, made in small mills in virtually all towns and villages. Oaxacan chocolate is made from toasted cacao beans, sugar, usually a bit of cinnamon stick, and at times a small quantity of almonds. Many Oaxacans have their own recipes of stipulated percentages of ingredients, and so instruct the mill operator. Witnessing the simplicity of production is fascinating, and as a non-native Oaxacan, having one’s own chocolate made, even more so.

Barbacoa de chivo (goat, baked the traditional way in an in-ground oven) in a broth with vegetables arrives in deep ceramic soup bowls, along with tortillas and platesful of chopped onion, cilantro, cabbage, fresh chili and radish. “The radish will give you twice as much stamina,” I’m assured, to the amusement of all. More mezcal follows, this time pursuant to statewide custom because of its tendency to cut the grease of barbacoa, whether goat, sheep or beef.

Raw chopped vegetables and greens are traditionally served alongside barbacoa, enabling you to control level of spice and type of flavor, on your own. Another typical Oaxacan dish, pozole, is similarly served with accompaniments on the side, in this case including small dishes of chopped dried oregano and chili powder.

While we’re seated a teenage girl distributes clear plastic bags for carrying home the leftover bread. Some have eaten not a bite, while others have broken off chunks to use as dippers in the chocolate. None, however, comes close to putting a dent in all that has been given. We get up, and the next shift, including band members, takes its turn.

“Who decides who gets to eat first?,” I inquire, needing to know that I did not take someone else’s place. Hilarino enlightens:

“Everyone knows. That’s just the way it is. Those who stay sitting down near the band are aware that their turn will come later on, and that we eat before them.”

I am anxious to compare notes with Arlene about our respective comidas, so Hilarino agrees to drive us back to his house in an old pick-up. Arlene was sitting with eight women and children in a tiny dark living-room jam-packed with sofas and an entertainment unit crammed with electronic equipment … eating peanuts, drinking tequila, and watching Bambi II … for the second time. All unfolds while Alma, whose infant had died some eight months earlier, watches her 40-something-year-old mother nursing her own newborn.

Arlene whispers: “I’m starving. They didn’t feed us anything except this. It’s already three o’clock. We’re supposed to be waiting for the procession to arrive, and then we’ll all be going to the fiesta for comida.”

“Well I’m stuffed, and the barbacoa was great,” I respond, to her mild disgust.

“Have some of this bread. It was great with the hot chocolate,” I continue to tease.

We wait, and we wait, until I get bored with Bambi. To pass the time I go out to son Daniel’s adjoining pool hall to play snooker with him and a couple of friends:

“I just opened the place a couple of months ago. There’s nothing in town for kids to do at night except drink and have sex, so I figured that with a pool table, card games and dominos, and pizza and other snacks, it would be a winner.”

I would later learn to better appreciate Daniel’s motivation.

At long last fireworks resume, signaling that the procession is once again departing. We hear the band starting up far off in the distance. The procession has finally begun to retrace its tracks, heading back to the couple’s homestead, its outer fence now draped with white ribbon and floral bouquets. Earlier in the day we had noted two other homes duly decorated with white banners and streamers. We had been told that those residences were to be the focus of later festivities, but uncertain as to when and why.

We walk to the newlyweds’ home to await their arrival. The fiesta will take place in an open, dirt floor courtyard facing the village’s main street. Tables are set, adorned with flower arrangements. Smoke billows from the two, rudimentary in-ground ovens. Women are busy coming and going to and from two close-by buildings sheltering food and storing stacks of ceramic dishes and pails of plastic spoons. I spot another palenquero I’ve known for a few years, already mildly inebriated, sitting at a table holding court with his friends. But familiarity breeds comfort, so we join them, and there we continue to drink, more beer and more mezcal. At this household the latter is not of particularly good quality, so after downing a small plastic cupful I stick to seconds of the former. “How do you know the gringos?,” I overhear. I pipe up with the answer, correcting that we’re Canadian.

In Oaxaca most use the word “gringo” in a non-derogatory way when referring to or addressing Americans, yet are usually sensitive to its common connotation. While always setting the record straight, I make it clear that I know that no offence is intended and none is taken, and that I simply want all to be aware that we’re Canadians, and not gringos.

The procession arrives just as I’m finishing another hot chocolate (Arlene, her first), and contemplating what to do with four additional loaves of bread, two for each of us. This time all are super-sized. Once again I hear the ripping off the roll of plastic bags.

But the band and revelers pass right by the house. We hurriedly join in, stopping a block down the road to bring back baptismal godparents Daniel and Alma and everyone else still at their home. By now the pyrotechnics have become continuous and the music is at a feverous pitch. Some 50 well-wishers arrive back at the party. Slowly another 100 or so arrive and seat themselves. A rose bush is placed on each table, two on ours pursuant to the instruction of Sara: “You’ll take this one, so don’t forget. I’ll take the other, and someone else can take home the centerpiece.”

Hot chocolate No. Three is placed before me, along with two more loaves and a bag. And then more beer, followed by mezcal yet again, foreshadowing another heavy comida for me, and the first, at long last, for Arlene.

Mezcal in the pueblos is served from either a multi-liter plastic gasoline container (purchased new for selling and transporting the spirit), or a 2.5 liter plastic coke bottle. Purists, upon arriving home after purchasing in such receptacles immediately transfer their liquor into glass, the fear being that leaving it in plastic may taint the subtle nuances.

Barbacoa de res (beef) arrives, similar in presentation and with the same cut-up legumes and leafy herb as I had enjoyed only three hours earlier. But it’s not often one gets to indulge in such proportion. The band continues, the number of musicians somehow having grown to 10.

Bands are an extremely important part of Oaxacan society, cultures and the multitude of micro sub-cultures. Musicians are highly respected because of not only their training and talent, but because of what they offer the community: familiar tunes; an opportunity to dance ranchera, cumbia, danzon and the pinotepa; and more generally a medium for advancing the celebration.

Towards the end of the comida, Tupperware-style containers are distributed to everyone, marked “Recuerdo de nuestra boda, E y G, 27/11/08” (Souvenir of our wedding, etc.). In goes the leftover beef and broth. We decline to take home tortillas. We’re then showered with an array of gifts commemorating the baptism, each personalized with particulars of the event: a wooden basket containing suckers and other assorted sweets, adorned with pink ribbon and a small pink baby doll; a plastic bowl; a frilly, pink cotton doll blanket; children’s birthday loot bags. Everyone packs up his bounty. I walk back to our vehicle to stow away umpteen bags and containers, as well as the rose bush. I return with our wedding gift, placing it in a designated room.

Very few gifts at rural Oaxacan functions arrive in a wrapped box or gift bag with card affixed. Instead they are fashioned so that all in attendance will know who is giving what. The present, be it a set of dishes or mugs, a blender, clothing, linens or even a lamp, is taped or glued to a piece of decorated particle board, then shrink wrapped with cellophane. The gift can then be proudly paraded in front of everyone as it’s put in its proper place. Hence, often guests do not even include a card. Of course this makes it difficult for the recipient to know who gave what, unless he or she has a keen memory. But there are no worries, since thank you’s are not the norm, and sending a note of appreciation is unheard of.

Tables are quickly cleared. When they’re then folded, it signals that guests had better stand up. At the same time an 11-tier wedding cake is being assembled, along with a somewhat more modest cake in honor of the baptism. At first the taking down and setting up all seems rather incongruous, but only until the band takes to the street and guests follow behind, once again signaled by the commencement of fireworks.

By now it’s nightfall. We’re clearly a spectacle as we march through the town’s main thoroughfare, picking up more celebrants as we proceed, turning onto a dark dirt road, and then into an alleyway, followed by a right, continuing up a steep dusty gradient, and finally some 20 minutes later arriving at the home of the bride’s godparents from her own baptism. Tradition dictates that on the occasion of her wedding, they present her and the

groom, in the presence of the throngs, with a large wooden wardrobe. But not before prayer and advice. All the while the band’s tempo picks up and dancing begins on a large makeshift patio.

“Don’t you remember me?,” I’m asked by a young girl toting a four-year-old. “I used to work for Sara in the comedor, but now I can’t because I have to take my son to school every day. I’m already 21. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She appears closer to 16, slight, short and moderately attractive, clearly pretty enough to attract the attention of a local suitor. “I live with my parents and sister.”

The bride, groom, her godparents and other honored guests emerge from the well-wishing, together with four men holding up the white ribbon adorned wardrobe, and yes, dancing with it. We’re showered with candies. More beer. I accept, only reluctantly since it’s getting late and the thought of the drive back to Oaxaca begins to weigh on my mind. Next time perhaps I’ll opt for the bottled fruit drink being offered. If it’s good enough for young mothers to feed their infant children, then maybe it’s okay for me.

An older man passes out unfiltered cigarettes, in singles, from a plate: “It’s a tradition, so take one.” I comply, and get a light. More mezcal, this time much smoother. I decide that soft drinks can wait until a little later. The band continues, as do the four friends dancing with the closet. It looks heavy to me, but they persevere for perhaps 15 minutes. The merriment builds. Bags of goodies are distributed to the extraordinary number of young children, most supervised by teenaged moms.

The band leaves its designated playing area, and begins to trace its steps. The wardrobe follows, along with the rest of us. We stop at the bottom of a hill for more deliberate and formal dancing. Then at the residence of the bride’s godparents of her confirmation, tradition once again prevails: more drink, more candies, more cigarettes (this time filtered), and more milling about, but this time in a large, poured concrete floor courtyard of a relatively lavish looking home. And of course dance. These hosts are required to present the couple with a metate, the large grinding stone used for hand-milling corn for tortillas and tamales.

The metate remains a common and highly appreciated gift for special occasions, at least in towns and villages. It’s usually painted with brightly colored flowers along the sides, with a dedication such as “Souvenir of my wedding” followed by the year, or other wording appropriate to the occasion. At all weekly town marketplaces there’s at least one metate vendor, and at the large Abastos Market in downtown Oaxaca there are several metate stalls. Metates were traditionally as important to a Oaxacan family as a car for most Americans and Canadians today. Even though blenders are now a more common wedding gift, the tradition of gifting a metate in this and other villages remains well entrenched. And why not … its use probably dates back some 3,000 years, albeit in simpler form.

A man is dancing with the 135-pound metate strung across his back. A woman is parading a large galvanized aluminum wash basin, another gift. Someone else is entrusted with carrying a huge clay cooking vessel with a petate (palm leaf mat) rolled up inside. About 40 others are dancing, accompanying those who are presenting these additional gifts.

Now more under the influence than before, our third palenquero acquaintance takes me over to his wife for a chat. His daughter is also present, clutching her infant son.

“Our son’s getting married December 29, and we want you to come, so I’m going to give you a special invitation the next time you’re at my palenque.”

It’s common for people to give last-minute or unexpected invitations to rite of passage celebrations in both rural and urban Oaxaca, even, perhaps surprisingly, for the middle classes. Especially in the villages, extra tables are set up if necessary to accommodate additional guests, and there’s always an abundance of food and drink on hand. It’s a custom with which most North Americans are not familiar, and when confronted with such an 11^th hour offer or request to attend, we usually feel insulted or at minimum a little uncomfortable. But the intention is generally to honor and show respect and friendship.

We are now back on the street, once again with music, dance, fireworks, and upwards of 300 in the procession, having picked up invitees from the last two stops, and undoubtedly others along the way. The furniture-foursome continues, joined by metate-man and others, strolling with the most recent gifts.

We finally arrive back at the party site. The band repositions itself off to a corner. But now, with the last of the endowments having arrived, it’s time to take notice of the riches being heaped upon Gladis, Eli and Lexy. All presents are brought out, and each is given to a different person, to rejoice and dance with above the head. A spectacle of potlatch proportion ensues, with baskets, dishes, small appliances and every other class of gift hoisted to the starlit sky and spun around as the band plays on. Those not directly participating clap in unison.

Many are in the street, oblivious to the odd passing vehicle. Children are playing, men and women imbibing. A municipal police pick-up stops out front. The mayor goes over for a chat. All is under control.

Oaxacans returning from the United States to their rural Mexican roots, in the course of expressing their reasons for coming back home, frequently comment about the excessive regulation and control exercised by the American government over its residents:

“Why shouldn’t I be able to have a beer in the street out in front of my home as long as I’m not drunk?”

“Why can’t I keep the music turned up until midnight if I have a party only once a year?”

“If I can’t afford to keep my car’s catalytic converter functioning well, it’s not fair to pull my vehicle off the road.”

The bride and groom are getting more advice, and providing all assurances that they will be faithful and remain together, be good Catholics and lead forthright honest lives, always supporting one another. A conjunto, the more contemporary musical group with amplifiers, electric guitars, singer and MC, is setting up just as the band packs up. It’s after 9 pm. Chatter continues, now about the upcoming waltz, la culebra (snake dance), toast, and other traditions. Many comment that they’re ready for dessert. Dancing with a live turkey is not a custom in this village as it is in many others.

A young girl approaches, yet another former employee of our friend Sara of roadside eatery fame. She’s 20, with a two-year-old. But she’s holding her 15-year-old sister’s three-month-old. Her sister also has a two-year-old:

“So she had her first at thirteen?”

“Yes, I guess that’s right.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I don’t like boys, and I don’t think they like me now.”

“My parents are very strict. They never want us going out with boys, so we have to sneak around.”

“But don’t you see how it hasn’t worked? Look at your sister now.”

She looks confused. She doesn’t get it. In a flash the wisdom of Daniel’s one room billiard parlor strikes home. Giving young people something to do might just have an impact on the youth of his village.

There are class distinctions in the village of San Lorenzo Albarradas. But fiestas seem to transcend economic distinctions in terms of the guest list, at least for the middle and lower classes. Those with barely a skill set are noteworthy: the youngsters getting pregnant at 13, working for Sara for perhaps $6 – $8 a day, appearing to be going nowhere, and barely subsisting. Then there are Hilarino and Sara, and Santos and Lupita, with drive and motivation. Their children, while having families when relatively young as compared to current North American trend, aspire to be in long-term monogamous relationships, learn trades and attend higher education. They aim towards a future, while others seem to not. It’s perhaps never even entered the realm of their worldview.

But neither San Lorenzo nor San Isidro has a school beyond junior high. There is no preparatoria (high school) in the area. The closest are in the towns of Mitla and Tlacolula. It costs approximately $20 a week to get there and back by public transit, money that most don’t have. And if a family does send a son or daughter to high school, apart from the cost of doing so, there’s one less income earner in the household.

Arlene is whisked away to the waltz, forming a ring with young women and female children, arm in arm, while Gladis and Eli begin to dance. They hadn’t taken dance lessons. The circle moves ever so slowly to the right. Arlene catches on pretty quickly. The MC begins to call out names of guests to be honored by being invited to dance with bride or groom. Every other surname called out is Martínez.

A half hour goes by, with more drink, talk and laughter. Daniel asks me to participate in the long awaited snake dance. He instructs me to remove my glasses. I initially decline, but then recall from prior experience what it entails, so off they come. The bride and groom each stand on a chair about three yards apart, Eli holding onto the end of Gladis’ train. I and four other men grab onto the bride’s chair, holding it firmly, while another group does likewise with the groom’s. Women begin circling around the main attraction in the center, bumping into us and trying to topple us over, and consequently the bride and groom from their chairs. As the pace of the music picks up, likewise the movement of the snake … the women circling. So does the fervor in trying to knock us over. It’s a draw. Next the men do the same, but the bumps and grinds are more deliberate and severe. We are firm in our resolve to protect Gladis by ensuring that our feet remain firmly planted on the ground and our hands are not dislodged from her chair. Those hanging onto Eli are similarly steadfast. The second snake slithers away as the music dissipates, both newlyweds still standing.

By now, Hilarino and Sara have left for home to put their other son, a two-year-old, to bed. The village’s main street remains alive with drinking, coming and going, and of course sporadic bottle rockets going off. The conjunto is now playing in full swing as the next ritual unfolds. The groom, suit jacket removed, is being ushered around the courtyard by Daniel, so as to enable guests to write a congratulatory note on the back of his shirt, and then affix a peso bill to it with a safety pin. At the other end, Alma is similarly assisting Gladis. Gladis is approaching guests with a crystal slipper, inviting each to fill it with coins or bills. Alma, trailing, periodically empties the slipper’s contents into a decorative wooden box.

The expense involved in throwing a wedding in Oaxaca can be significant, and while most cannot afford much of the pomp and ceremony involved, they nevertheless pull it off. It’s tradition. There’s a saying that most people in Oaxaca have two jobs, one to meet their normal day to day expenses, and the other to fulfill their social obligations. Asking for direct contributions assists in defraying the cost. Honoring specific friends and relatives by asking them to be godparents of a particular aspect of the function further reduces the outlay; godparents of the music, the cake, the wedding rings, and so on.

It’s now 10:30, and it’s a long drive home over dark winding roads. Gladis and Eli continue to solicit contributions. Cider has been distributed in small plastic cups in anticipation of the toast, but no one knows when it will occur. And still to come are the cutting of the cake, the bride or groom having his or her face smashed into it, and other longstanding traditions, not to mention dancing to familiar song … sure to continue throughout the night.

To a person, our friends and acquaintances are shocked at our “premature” departure, Daniel ready to burst into tears, Alma pouting. Weeks earlier we had indeed spoken about spending the night and sleeping over, but not without qualification. I do a quick calculation of the number of drinks I have had over the past 10 ½ hours, to assure myself, and Arlene, that we’ll be safe for the drive home. I had been conscious of my intake all day and evening long, for that very reason.

A week later I see Alma at her mother-in-law’s comedor. She is clearly still disappointed, as well as angry. Many partied until six in the morning. Others closer to our age called it a night at about two or three. But there’s always an opportunity for us to redeem ourselves, perhaps at the next wedding in a month’s time, now that we are much better acquainted with the customs and traditions of San Lorenzo Albarradas.

Alvin Starkman has a masters in social anthropology from York University and a law degree from Osgoode Hall Law School. From 1986 to 2004 he was a Toronto litigator specializing in family law. Alvin now resides in Oaxaca where he runs a small bed and breakfast, Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast (http://www.oaxacadream.com), writes about life and cultural traditions in the central valleys of Oaxaca, and leads personalized tours to the ruins, craft villages, market towns and other sights.

front photo provided by vb_lady at http://www.flickr.com/photos/victoriaandchad/2823609404/

photo 1 provided by sauloruiz at http://www.flickr.com/photos/elsaulo/2735823677/

photo 2 provided by llhuicamina at http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilhuicamina/2561974398/

photo 3 provided by waywuwie at http://www.flickr.com/photos/waywuwei/123397519/

photo 4 provided by HD CMI at http://www.flickr.com/photos/moctezumah/2476929053/

photo 5 provided by edwinguerra at http://www.flickr.com/photos/edwinguerra/43871767/

photo 6 provided by horash perzabal at http://www.flickr.com/photos/el_horash/3010697795/

photo 7 provided by llhuicamina at http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilhuicamina/342228710

“I love Cinco de Mayo!  Although I’m not Mexican, its great to celebrate Mexico’s independence from Spain!”

-unnamed gringo

Cinco de Mayo has spread beyond Mexico’s borders and is now celebrated with gaudy sombreros and tequila shots all over the western hemisphere and Europe.  It conveniently falls right about the end of college semesters in the U.S., further accelerating the popularity of an agave-plant fueled celebration.  But I cannot tell you how many times I’ve heard gringos, with confidence that they are astutely informed and boasting their historical knowledge, explain how Cinco de Mayo is Mexico’s independence day.  Independence from Spain.

Now, the historian in me (I got my MA in Latin American history) cringes at this completely, disgustingly wrong proclamation.  Its like saying the Fourth of July is the U.S.’s celebration of the end of the Civil War.  But my inner snobbish history junkie usually stays quiet, not only to avoid embarrassing the ill-informed gringo but also because an explanation of the real meaning of Cinco de Mayo, complete with civil strife, Napoleon complexes (literally!), and an Austrian that falls in love with Mexican culture is quite a rambling tale.  But alas this, LatinWorld readers, is my chance to set the record straight without boring anyone to death at a bar.

Liberal leader Benito Juarez

Mexico in the middle of the 19th century was a place of turmoil and social uprisings (good to note that the U.S. was also having some minor problems…).  The poor, representing a significant majority of the Mexican population, had been gaining political strength since the 1840′s and by the latter part of the 1850′s were a real threat to the ruling conservative party and Catholic church.  To appease the growing unrest, liberal hero Benito Juarez was made vice-president under conservative president Ignacio Comonfort.  The idea backfired as Juarez turned out to be a real firebrand.  In 1857 the military abolished the Constitution, giving President Comonfort total power; however, in a strange twist in Latin American history, Comonfort refused to follow along with his own allies in the military and fled the country.

Mexico was thrown into chaos.  The ruling conservatives, with the backing of the Church, ruled with an iron fist.  The liberals, led by Benito Juarez, mounted a resistance and the War of Reform broke out in late 1857.  Over the next 4 years power shifted back and forth between the two sides and the Mexican economy collapsed.  In the end the liberals were triumphant and Juarez became president in 1861.

As stated before, the economy was in shambles.  And, as the name of the war indicates, Juarez was intent on radical social and economical reforms.  To stabilize Mexico the new president suspended interest payments on loans Mexico had with various European countries.  These loans were numerous and quite large, and France, England, and Spain were less than happy about the decision.  They banded together to force Juarez to pay up; military excursions by the three countries actually landed in Mexico.  However, it was quickly realized that France had imperialistic motives in Mexico and England and Spain withdrew.

France was ruled by Emperor Napoleon III, nephew of the great Napoleon Bonaparte.  With enormous shoes to fill, Napoleon III embarked on a massive military campaign across Europe to expand the French empire.  However, he failed miserably to live up to his uncle but saw an opportunity in Mexico: a large, resource-rich country wrecked by debts and weakness.  The emperor sent troops to occupy the port city of Veracruz in 1862 in a strong show of force.  The military intervention was supported by the conservatives and the Church in Mexico, who saw the opportunity to remove Juarez.  But the population of Veracruz, along with the nearby Mexican garrison, quickly became incensed by the French presence and demanded the foreign troops removed.  Napoleon resisted and sent the 6,000 man army towards the town of Puebla, where there was a garrison and some fortifications.

Believe it or not, the date was May 5, 1862.  The Mexican army in Puebla, veterans of the War of Reform, were outnumbered but benefited from strong fortifications and trenches centered around two forts, Fort Loreto and Fort Guadaloupe.  The French army attacked with full force; however, by midday their artillery had run out of ammunition and the infantry advanced without cover fire.  The Mexicans, well dug into the hillsides, massacred the French troops as the afternoon rains started to fall.  By late afternoon a Mexican cavalry charged all but wiped out hopes of a French resurgence, and the foreigners retreated back to Veracruz.

The final casualty count was only 87 Mexicans killed while nearly 500 French soldiers lost their lives.  Later that year President Juarez declared May 5th a national holiday in remembrance of the famous victory.  Thus, the reason for Cinco de Mayo.  It is NOT Mexico’s independence from Spain, which occurred in 1821.  If you really want to celebrate Mexican independence, you can do so on September 16th.  But you will probably be the only one at Tumbleweed’s on a Tuesday taking shots of tequila and eating less-than-edible enchiladas.  On second thought, that combination sounds disgusting, and LatinWorld in no way recommends celebrating in such a manner.

As for the French intervention, the setback at Puebla was quickly forgotten and French forces took Mexico City in 1863.  President Juarez and his cabinet fled northward to Chihuahua and a young Austrian archduke named Maximilian was installed as Emperor of Mexico.  The conservatives and Church were ecstatic, but a majority of the population lamented a foreigner ruling the country.  Despite the emperor’s love of all things Mexican and a rather liberal stance on social issues (much to the dismay of the conservatives), the people eventually turned on Maximilian and Juarez’s liberal troops, aided by the U.S., retook Mexico City in 1867.  The emperor, who dismissed calls to evacuate because his love of Mexico, was executed by firing squad.   Five years of bizarre politics were over.

So there’s the real story behind Cinco de Mayo.  Why it is so popular in the U.S. and elsewhere is a mystery; in fact, outside of Puebla it is not really a big holiday in Mexico.

It’s a bit strange that a country, after experiencing years of economic growth, would democratically decide to shift political directions.  However, this is exactly what has happened recently in Panama.  In the most lopsided victory in the country’s short democratic history, Democratic Change Party (DCP) candidate and businessman Ricardo Martinelli defeated opponent Balbina Herrera, ushering in a new political force at a time in which Panamà stands on the brink of becoming a economic force.  But it remains to be seen if this gamble will pay off for the economy and foreign investors.

Martinelli does not take office until July 1, 2009, but already Panamanians are ecstatic about the country’s future under the supermarket chain owner’s leadership.  Possessing great business acumen as well as an astute political mind, Martinelli appears to be the perfect remedy for these uncertain economic times.  While the incredible boom Panama experienced in the last 6 or 7 years has largely deflected a severe economic downturn similar to the ones in other Central American countries, growth has significantly slowed this year, something which has definitely not gone unnoticed.  While still healthy, economic growth has shrunk from 9.2 percent in 2008 to 3 percent in 2009.

The real estate sector is feeling the economic pinch most severly.  Whereas only a year ago it was quite easy for domestic and foreign investors to get large construction and investment loans, such ease is no longer possible.  Many of the towering condo and apartment buildings in Panama City lie dormant, half finished steel cable skeletons.

Martinelli plans to tackle the financial crisis by improving Panama’s infrastructure, in hope that a less chaotic environment will be more inviting for foreign investors.  The president-elect has laid plans for a subway in the capital to alleviate the ever growing traffic problem, as well as a host of tax breaks and incentives aimed at luring foreign dollars.  A major proponent of a flat tax for businesses, Martinelli also opposes the request of the U.S. Senate for Panamà to turn over tax documents.  While Panamà has recently come under international scrutiny for being a so-called “tax haven”, Martinelli’s stubborn approach has been welcomed by Panamanians.

No one really expects Martinelli to bring the Panamanian economy back to the golden days of  ’06,’07, an d’08.  At least not in the immediate future.  In fact, many projections have the economy slowing even further in 2010.  But, as said before, Martinelli has proved through his success in the private sector to understand the business world and has made a modest goal of stabilizing the country.  If Panamà can come out of the current crisis relatively unscathed, the president-elect believes that the country will be poised for incredible economic prosperity as struggling countries will look to Panamà for stability and dependability in the investing and banking sectors.

photo provided by rupertomiller at http://www.flickr.com/photos/rupertomiller/3408143003/

I miss my pup.  He’s up in the states chasing squirrels like an idiot, a relentless pursuit that will probably never bear fruit.  Pets – be it dogs, cats, hamsters, ferrets, and the like – are practically members of the family in the U.S. and Canada.  Leaving one behind is a very tough thing to do; thus, when considering moving to Latin America, a major question is “Can my dog/cat/etc come too?”  The answer is yes.  And depending on the country, the process is quite easy.

Mexico: With hundreds of thousands of visitors from the U.S. and around a million expats and retirees living in the country, Mexico is pretty straightforward in allowing pets across the border.

For dogs the main concern, of course, is rabies.  PROOF OF A RECENT RABIES VACCINATION IS THE MOST IMPORTANT DOCUMENT YOU CAN BRING!  Do not even attempt to bring Sparky into Mexico without one.  Fortunately, they are easy to obtain anywhere in the U.S.  This vaccination must be done at least 30 days before entry into Mexico but cannot be older than 1 year.  For dogs under 4 months, the animal must be kept at the owner’s residence in Mexico until it is old enough to get a rabies vaccination.  Cats and other animals do not need proof of rabies vaccinations.

Also, for all dogs its necessary to get a Certificate of Good Health from your vet.  This just says that, well, your pet is healthy, free of any contagious diseases.

With cats the process is a bit easier.  All that is needed is a Certificate of Good Health, obtained at any vet’s office in the U.S.  At the border your cat will be inspected, and if it is deemed that the animal is unhealthy, you will have to pay for kitty to be treated by a vet in Mexico.  But if the cat is healthy, then there are no problems.

Birds are a bit more of a hassle.  Some species are restricted by either the Mexican government for importing or the U.S. government for exporting.  You may even have to quarantine your bird at one of the U.S. Animal and Health Inspection Service’s center before going to Mexico.  It’s best to get in touch with them before planning to take your bird southward.  http://www.aphis.usda.gov/

Other animals, such as hamsters, rabbits, ferrets, and other furry critters are allowed into Mexico without much fuss as long as they are in good health.  Reptiles and amphibians, however, have restrictions depending on the species; check with http://www.aphis.usda.gov/ for specific information.

Costa Rica: The regulations for bringing pets in is similar to Mexico’s, with a few differences.

Both dogs and cats need proof of a rabies vaccination performed at least 30 days prior to entering Costa Rica, but no more than 1 year old.  Failure to have this document will result in a lengthy quarantine and many headaches.  They will also need the Certificate of Good Health form saying they are carrying no communicable diseases.

Birds are now allowed into Costa Rica; however, you are not allowed to take them out if you decide to leave.  So make sure the move is what you want if you plan on bringing a bird along.

Other pets such as small mammals and reptiles also require the Certificate of Good Health.  Some species may be restricted, so it is good to check with http://www.aphis.usda.gov/ first.

Panamà: Compared to Panamà, getting an animal into Mexico or Costa Rica is a breeze.  Panamà has more paperwork, more procedures, more headache – but don’t panic, LW is here to help.

For dogs and cats the usual forms – Certificate of Good Health and rabies vaccination – are the first thing you should get done in the U.S.  They are the same as the ones in Mex and Costa Rica and have the same time restrictions.  Additionally, you need to mail a $30 money order to the Consulate General of Panamà.  And, most annoyingly, you need to send a Quarentine For Domestic Animals form to the Minister of Health in Panama.  This must be done at least 3 days before the animal’s arrival.

Now here’s the tricky part.  Your cat or dog MUST be checked by a Panamanian vet at the Tocumen airport in Panama City, and the vet must be government-authorized.  Easy, right?  Well yes, except the vets only work from 9am to 3pm and from 7pm to 10pm Monday through Friday.  If your plane lands after hours or on the weekend, you either have to keep your pet at the airport until the vets go back to work or arrange for a government vet to meet your plane.  You can arrange this with the Ministry of Health, but will have to pay extra.

Birds and reptiles are a real pain to get into Panamà, but not impossible.  The first document you need is an import permit, which you get from the National Environmental Authority (ANAM).  Next, your bird needs to be vaccinated before arriving in Panamà for the following diseases: New Castle, Tuberculosis, Avian Influenza,  Chlamydia, and Salmonella.  Proof of these vaccinations must be included in the Certificate of Good Health.  Also, the Certificate of Good Health and the import permit must be certified by the Consulate in Panama before your bird arrives.

With such strict deadlines and procedures, it may not be a bad idea getting the help of an attorney in Panamà to assist you in bringing an animal in, especially if its a bird, reptile, or other kind of exotic pet.

Brazil: The land of samba welcomes pets; just make sure the paperwork is in order.

For dogs and cats the first thing you need is the rabies vaccination, which follows the same guidelines as the other countries: no less than 30 days and no more than 1 year since the vaccination.  Second is the ubiquitous Certificate of Good Health, obtained in the U.S.   However, with Brazil, this certificate needs to be authorized in the U.S. by an APHIS office.  Check their website http://www.aphis.usda.gov/ for an office near you and make an appointment (walk-ins aren’t allowed).  The APHIS signature costs $24.  After this step, take the certificate to a Brazilian Consulate in the U.S: for further authorization, which will require a money order of $20.

After all of the authorizations are complete, your pet is ready to go.  You only need two documents: the original rabies vaccination and the double-authorized Certificate of Good Health.

For all other animals an import permit is required, which must be obtained before the animal arrives in Brazil.  This form is obtained from the Ministry of Agriculture (Ministério da Agricultura, Pecuária e Abastecimento).

No quarantine facilities exist for pets at Brazilian airports.  If there are problems with the paperwork, the pet, be it a dog, cat, or iguana, will be sent back to the U.S. at the owner’s expense or destroyed!!

Do you have additional info on pet travel?  Hints or tips?  Success or horror stories?  We want to hear from you!

If you are looking to move down south, you can find Latin America real estate by clicking on the link.

photo provided by jorgenjuul at http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorgenjuul/309794248/