Sunday, November 13, 2005

It turned out that we had actually stumbled into a good deal on our little cell. This morning we did a circuit of the area and found out that Oaxaca is pricey compared to other parts of Mexico. Not to mention full to the brim with gringos, from your stringy white-dread backpacker types to your photo-vest wearing tour groups to your older folks in dresses and comfortable sandals. We decided to stay put.

There is a reason for Oaxaca's popularity. It's very charming. And I don't use that particular travelwriting cliche lightly. Green hills rise from the edges of the city and the narrow streets are paved with stones. The zocalo is being renovated, but there are still plenty of benches to sit on and fountains to look at. It's also apparently being readied for Christmas with borders of bright red pointsettas. The area is full of art galleries and the souvenir shops are classier than most.

And mole! Yum, mole. Not the moles that Michael refuses to get checked, but the wonderful sauce. I owe mole an apology, actually. When I first heard of it I thought, "A sauce for chicken that's made of chocolate? Gross!" I pictured some Hershey's syrup poured over some unsuspecting chicken breast and, well, I still think that idea is gross. But that's nothing like what mole is like. I've had it since then and liked it, but I was looking forward to trying it in its home town, Oaxaca. And it's good, good, good.

There are seven kinds of mole in red, green, yellow, brown, and black. The classic Oaxacan black mole does indeed have chocolate in it, but also lots of other stuff, and the resulting taste is rich and smoky and complex and amazing. Mole, I'm sorry I ever doubted you.

One perk to our hotel, which makes up for the fact that we can hear our neighbors urinating in the night, is that there is an awesome little cafe (Cafe Los Cuiles) attached to it which has wi-fi free, and use of their Mac laptops for $4 pesos per half hour. They serve, among other things, Oaxacan hot chocolate, which is also wonderful. Depending on the type you get, there might be cinnamon or almond in it. This cafe's chocolate is high in cinnamon. I can't get enough.

Tonight we had barely gotten settled when two little kids came in, selling scarves. The girl was older, and she was in charge of most of the merchandise. Her tiny brother had just one scarf, a white one that he had let get pretty dirty. They went to the customers one by one, holding up the scarves winningly. Everyone said no.

They came to Michael and me. We said no as well, as nicely we could. But they didn't really notice, because they were mesmerised by my screen. The little girl trailed her fingers over the touchpad. At first I thought, no, no, no, don't touch. But then I kind of mentally shrugged. Their hands were so little, they couldn't possibly hurt anything. I just wished I could think of a fun website to take them to, something with lots of colors and movement.

Michael thought of Sesame Street, so I did a quick Google search. I had to move their little hands away while I did so, because they just wanted to click and press things. But then the site came up and we found some simple games. They leaned all over me, finding Snuffy's animals with some binoculars, or whatever the premise was. The little boy had his hoodie on backwards, with the hood hanging down over his chest. It was pilly and as rough as cardboard. His hands were filthy. But he really brightened up over the computer. It was surprisingly easy to talk to the kids about the games in Spanish. "Que is esto?" "Donde esta el oso?" "Ah, una mariposa! Te gusta mariposas?" (What is this? Where is the bear? Ah, a butterfly! Do you like butterflies?") So that was fun for all of us.

After a while, the little boy lost interest and started playing with a salt shaker on another table. I felt like it had become my responsiblity to stop him from doing that, since they would have taken their scarves and moved on if not for me and my mac. So I went and got him and brought him back to the computer. But he wasn't interested in the games anymore, and eventually wandered out of the cafe entirely. This caused me to panic momentarily. But he had wandered around alone long before I set foot in Mexico, and will continue to do so after I go home. So I let him go, but I did not feel good about that at all.

The little girl's name was Esperanza (Hope). I asked her how old she was, but she wouldn't say. My guess is between seven and nine. She was a quick study. I mean, she really picked up the games fast. Sure, they were simple, but still, they were in English. The games started to bore me after a while (I guess I'm well out of Sesame Street's target age range) but it was fascinating to watch Esperanza play. She loved Michael, by the way. She waved him over a couple of times to show him how she could make Elmo do things. But I didn't know what would happen. How would it end? I didn't want to have to take away the computer, but it didn't look like she would ever lose interest.

After about an hour I figured I should put an end to the playing. So I waited until she had put all the available eyes and mouths onto a Halloween pumpkin and then told her I needed to work with the computer. She whined, and tried to push my hands away. I insisted, nicely. She said no. I started to close the laptop and then she gave up. Her face shut down and she picked up her scarves again. She took the white one that her brother had abandoned on the floor and folded it neatly. She hung everything in its place over her arm. Then she went around to everyone in the cafe, holding up her sample scarf, as though nothing had happened. Right back to business.

She came back later, with her brother in tow, and brought another miniature vendor with her. After she left the first time, I had ordered a chef's salad, the remains of which were sitting on our table. Well, when a tiny, grimy little boy points tremulously at a carrot slice on my plate, I am not ever going to do anything but give it to him. Which I did. And then Esperanza wanted something. After much thought, she selected a piece of queso. Then how could I not let her friend have something?

So in the end, they descended on my plate like... hungry little kids. The ham and cheese were the first to go, followed by the cucumbers, then the carrots and tomatoes, and then they ate every last bite of lettuce. It was painful to watch. Fleetingly I wondered what the other patrons thought of me, and them, and the feast. I have had a lot of hostel conversations about The Correct Way To Deal With Begging Children and a lot of people are against giving them anything.

But I wasn't out anything. I didn't give them anything. An hour of (free) computer time. Leftovers that would have had to be tossed since I don't have access to a refrigerator. But, academically there is still the question of whether the kids took advantage of me. I think that answer is going to be different for everybody. For me, it's this: I don't care. I'll take the chance that maybe they weren't the poor unfortunates that they appeared to be. I would rather be a softhearted pushover than a coldhearted bitch. They were nice kids either way. Maybe I should have bought a scarf.

 

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Oaxaca's zocalo.

Pointsettias.

Bandstand in the zocalo.

Shoeshine in the zocalo.

Vender of bobble-head birds.

At the 20th of November market, Oaxaca.