Lila Downs Visits Mérida

I was introduced to the music of Lila Downs, the Oaxaca-born Mexican-American singer and actress, in 2003 when she sang in the high school auditorium in Juneau, Alaska. That very month I closed on the purchase of my new home in Mérida, Yucatán. In my first blog post, I wrote about how my fascination with Lila and her powerful music intertwined with my transition from Alaska to a new culture and way of living in Mexico.

Ten years after singing in my Alaska hometown, as if to affirm my Mexican life this week Lila performed in my adopted home town of Mérida.

One difference when I see her these days is that due to circumstances, now I have a personal connection. Several years ago I met Lila's godmother Victoria at a concert in Lila's hometown of Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca. Since that time I have been privileged to make many visits to Oaxaca to attend concerts, the baptism of Lila and husband Paul Cohen's son Benito, and to hang out in the city of Oaxaca, explore pueblos, and to visit Lila's home in Oaxaca and Victoria's home in Juchitán. It has been a fascinating opportunity to make new friends, and to get an insider's view of the region's fascinating culture.

It was a wonderful concert. The energy and flexibility of the singer's performance and the virtuosity of the entire company is of international caliber. I tend to like the old Mexican standards, and there were plenty of those this time, songs like La Martiniana, Naila and La Cucaracha, but also rock-, jazz- and rap- inspired contemporary themes.

Lila talked during the performance and to the press about how this visit to Yucatán may inspire a new project. She wants to come back to Mérida to study Yucatecan traditional trova with the goal of interpreting it in future recordings. She indicated, to the roaring approval of the crowd, that she will be back, and she confirmed that to me as we chatted briefly after the concert. That's exciting news.

I love the music and it was wonderful to see Lila, Paul, Benito, Lila's wonderful assistant Eddaliz and the band in Mérida at long last, but for me there was more to this event.

As I sat with the audience along side of Mérida's Plaza Grande, as always I was mesmerized by the spectacle, passion and intensity of this music. The entire crowd, which numbered in the thousands, swayed and pulsed with the beat. The cheers, clapping and chorus of voices rose and fell with the music. There seemed to be nothing but the moment and we were one soul together in it.

The moment was yet another indication, accompanying the many quieter and less flamboyant ones that I experience daily, of why I love living here.

Read all posts on Lila here.

Hammockman wrote about the concert.

Joanna at Writing From Mérida wrote about the concert.

Living Here: Contrasts

Life in Mexico becomes more interesting as my social world expands. It is also a study in contrasts. One thing I have discovered is that my social life is spread over a much wider and more diverse spectrum here than it ever was in the states.

Here's what I did last weekend.

Very early on Christmas Eve, La Noche Buena, I flew from Oaxaca home to Mérida and from here drove out to be with friends in a small Yucatán pueblo. After receiving arrival handshakes from the men and kisses on the cheek from the women, I was served tacos of relleno negro and wonderful pibil-style turkey. The animal, which had been raised in the back yard, was killed earlier in the day and cooked in the traditional Mayan way, wrapped in banana leaves, placed on a bed of hot coals and rocks at the bottom of a hole, and covered with branches, leaves and earth.



At one point in the evening, a prodigal son, who in recent years rarely had visited home and was not expected, suddenly arrived, to the great joy of his parents and sisters. It was a beautiful and touching moment. The party shifted into high gear.

After eating many servings of food followed by dessert, then lingering late over a few caugamas (liter bottles) of beer, the family group, consisting of a pair of elder parents, their numerous children, and some grandchildren, nieces and nephews, slowly began to hang hammocks throughout the small house and drift off to sleep. I was given a place of honor -- a hammock hung in a corner, near one of the two fans in the house -- in a room with seven other hammocks. A few family members stayed up very late drinking and talking in the back, and only lay down to sleep when hammocks were left free by the early risers.

On Christmas morning we sat around the table and drank coffee, ate leftovers, which had been boiled -- no fridge here -- and took a walk in the monte to observe wildflowers and visit a cenote. Later I helped hang new window screens, which were my holiday gift to these friends. I received a pair of beautiful, handmade pillowcases from the "mom" of the house. After a bucket bath, more food and a lazy afternoon siesta rounded out my relaxing "pueblo Christmas."

The activities of the days preceeding this could not have been more different. I was in Oaxaca to attend the baptism of Benito Xilonen, son of the singer Lila Downs and Paul Cohen. I'd helped my friend Victoria Dehesa, godmother to Lila and Benito, obtain a few items for the ceremony and she'd invited me to visit Lila and family with her and to attend the baptism and fiesta.

It was an elegant event. After the ceremony in a small church, we walked through the pueblo, led by a brass band and announced with voladores, skyrockets, to an old renovated hacienda. As the hacienda gates opened onto a vast lawn, waiters lined both sides of the walkway, offering trays of drinks and ice cream to cool and revive the arriving throng. It was a very eclectic group: lots of local Oaxacan and Mexican folks mixed with an international crowd of family, friends, musicians and artists.

After resting in chairs placed in the shade of large umbrellas, listening to live music and being served appetizers and more refreshments, we were ushered inside the large casona to lunch. Seated at long tables we  dined on a delicious mole as a jazz ensemble played. This was the first of five different bands to entertain us this day, one set each. Jazz was followed by a Oaxacan brass band, then pop music, Oaxacan dancers, and more traditional music.

 At one point in the afternoon I was invited onto the dance floor by Lila. Later, I danced as she sang La Sandunga from the floor nearby. Lila Downs has been my favorite performer and recording artist of Mexican music for many years. For a long-time admirer and follower of her music, these unexpected experiences were right up there with the best of Christmas gifts.

After about ten hours of fiesta I had to call it a night in order to get ready for an early morning flight back to Mérida and my pueblo Christmas, but as I said my goodbyes at midnight it seemed that the party was just warming up. I've enjoyed few such events more and was sorry to leave.

I had two very different experiences in different parts of the country last weekend, but they had much in common: the abundant hospitality, warmth, sharing of important traditions, and genuineness of the people were all very much the same. They were both wonderful celebrations. I feel blessed to be able to walk with equal comfort here in many circles.

To all of my friends and readers, Happy New Year.

Wanderings: Recuerdos de Oaxaca

Oaxaca de Juárez, OAXACA -- Oaxaca is rich in enticements for the traveler. I could write about the streets full of colonial buildings constructed of pastel stone, set amidst the hills of El Valle de Oaxaca, and Monte Alban, the ancient Zapotec city whose hilltop pyramids are visible for miles around. Or the fantastic food, beautiful handicrafts and art, rich chocolate, numerous museums and galleries, parks, pedestrian streets, and full calendar of live cultural events. However for now I will leave those for the travel writers.

I avoid "how to" type narratives about travel within Mexico. There are others who like doing that and who do it very well. However annual visits to Oaxaca have become a necessity for me, and I feel the urge to write about it. All of the things mentioned above contribute immensely to my pleasure in being here, but what stick with me are other experiences. After a few years of visits I have friends and a history here. Oaxaca evokes memories of people.

The Lovers

About four years ago I was ordering an evening meal in a small vegetarian restaurant around the corner from my hotel when a young Canadian couple sat down at the next table. It was pretty obvious that they had just arrived in Mexico, were excited about their trip, and were in love. Within moments they had ordered wine and began asking my advice about items on the menu, beginning a conversation that would last into the wee hours of the next day.

When the first courses arrived we reached both with

forks and words across the gap between the tables as we shared food and talk. They were in Mexico for six months and had great plans to learn what the area had to offer, maybe teach English, and explore Oaxaca. They'd brought their dog.

The couple invited me to go along with them after the meal, and I accepted the invitation. They wanted to go to a mezcal bar, the kind that offers drinks samplers to tourists. I nursed a beer while they tried various brands of Oaxacan liquor. When they finished, I invited them to a small live music bar I knew nearby. The performer that night was a mesmerizing singer and guitarist. The house was packed and the crowd was having a great time. After a while, the couple began whispering and smiling and looking into each others' eyes. She asked me, "Do you think the singer would do a private show?" I told her I suspected he would, and she said, "I hope he can improvise. I want him to accompany us while we make love." During the next break she went up to the platform and began talking with the performer. I watched his face. The man did not blink an eye or crack a smile, but simply began nodding. They talked for a few more minutes, she wrote something down on a napkin and handed it to the man, then returned to the table. "Tomorrow night, he's coming to the hotel," she said.

I never saw them again after saying good night that evening. I still wonder what happened.

The Expat

The hotel where I habitually stay (always in the same room) in Oaxaca centro has a whiteboard in the reception area on which they post a welcome message and list the names of guests in residence. On one visit I noticed the name of a reporter I had worked with as a young photographer on an assignment for the Washington Post nearly twenty-five years before, memorable because the reporter fell asleep while we were driving and rolled the car. Curious, I left a note on his door.

Upon returning to the hotel that evening, I was greeted in the patio by a figure who was the spitting image of the Irish playwright Samuel Beckett. The man was darkly and conservatively dressed in a shirt buttoned up to the collar, with long shocks of silver hair brushed straight back over the top of his head, and wearing small, black glasses that would have looked right in place on the nose of a '30's Eurpoean intellectual. "J.M." was obviously not the old acquaintance whom I'd been expecting.

A Texan, J.M. had been coming to Oaxaca for decades, he said, and was staying for a few months this time to look into buying a house here. He held court in the same blue chair each evening in the central patio of the hotel, where we both had our rooms. J.M. drank vodka on the rocks while I drank a coke or beer. J.M. owned an apartment in Paris, he said, which he'd bought in the 80's for $10,000 and now was worth a million dollars. It turns out I'd been in Paris for a bit in 1985 at just about exactly the time he'd been apartment hunting. We knew many of the same hangouts, and had lots to talk about. Evenings with J.M. were interesting. When I started considering the Beckett connection I was intrigued, because Beckett had lived in Paris for many years and there did his most notable work. I wanted to ask J.M. which came first, the Paris apartment or his "look," but we didn't become well-enough acquainted in a few short evenings for me to delve into it.

Going for a ride

I like getting out of the city to visit nearby pueblos. The most efficient and economical way to do this is to go by "taxi colectivo," which around here is a small Nissan Tsuru sedan that picks up and drops off passengers along a particular route in the same way a bus does. One afternoon I was in San Antonio Arrazola, a pueblo about a twenty minute ride from the city that specializes in the manufacture of alebrijes, the fanciful carved and painted wooden figures Oaxaca is famous for. I had bought a few things in Arrazola and was ready for lunch, so I found shade along the main road and waited a few minutes for a Oaxaca-bound colectivo to pass by. When he stopped, the driver was alone in the car, and I jumped into the front passenger seat. The driver was large, and he looked as if he was barely old enough to have a driver's license.

Within minutes there were three additional passengers taking up the back seat and we headed out of the pueblo. Suddenly the driver braked at the side of the road. A woman with large bundles neared the car and pulled open the front passenger door next to me. The driver said something rapidly to me and I didn't quite understand, but I thought he wanted me to get out and let the woman in, so I stepped out. The driver said, "No, no, the front seat is for two persons and unless you want to pay two fares she is going to sit with you." I got back in, and in order to accommodate the new passenger, had to put my left leg into the driver's floor area, not an easy task considering his bulk. However he was soft and unoffensive, so it was not uncomfortable. That was, until I realized that the gear shift was now protruding about eight inches straight up between my thighs, with the large, polished shift handle at about mid-belly level. I decided not to think about what would happen if we had an accident (of course I had no seat belt) and relax.

When the new passenger and her packages were firmly wedged into all available crevices and the door closed, the driver said to me, "Don't worry, I'll be careful when I grab it," as he glanced down at the lever sticking up between my legs. He made eye contact with a sideways look, smiled, and then we both laughed. I don't know if he was flirting or just being considerate, but it was hard not to notice the possible double meaning. With that, we started down the road. First gear, no problem. In a few seconds as the engine revved, he said, "OK, second gear, take a deep breath," and gave me another sideways look. There are lots of stops on a colectivo trip. The gear-shifting jokes and laughs continued until the woman finally got out. The journey ended as it had started, with just myself and the driver in the car as we entered the city. He asked me where I wanted to get off, and I paid him. He dropped me at a corner and handed me my change. He smiled. "There you go, amigo," he said. "Thanks," I replied as the door slammed and the taxi nosed back into the traffic.

Change and the people

The last several years have not been easy in Oaxaca. Civil and political conflicts have shattered the calm here, hurt the economy and distinctly changed the atmosphere. The place looks a bit tarnished and now seems less innocent, but hopefully these conflicts have prompted the people and the decision-makers to take a pragmatic problem-solving view of the future.

I have met all kinds of interesting people during my sojourns in Oaxaca, but above all in my memories looms the heart, warmth and civility of the Oaxacan people. A great many have opened their homes, helped me and taken time out to explain and teach me about various aspects of life and culture here.

I wrote last year about my favorite recording artist, the Oaxacan singer and cultural figure Lila Downs, and a chance acquaintance with her godmother Victoria that enabled me to meet Lila and have a privileged inside look during her 2009 concert in Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca. The friendship with Victoria continues, and resulted in another backstage view during Lila's concert in Oaxaca this week, during which I sat with Victoria and Lila's mother, Anita. We clapped, laughed, sang along and thoroughly enjoyed a fabulous performance. During a posh, outdoor after-concert dinner at a private home I was feeling a little out of place, and Anita, sitting to my left, said, "Marc, a look in your eyes tells me you are uncomfortable. Let me tell you something. We Oaxacan people are very down to earth, and our hearts are big. There is no reason for you to feel uncomfortable. You are at home. I want you to enjoy yourself." Afterward, Victoria and I accompanied the family to their home to see Lila and her husband Paul's recently-adopted six-month-old son, Benito. I've been charged with the pleasant task of finding him a suitably-sized guayabera when I get back to Mérida. Anita told me again as she walked us to the door, "Well now you know us and the house, and you should feel at home here, so I hope you'll come back soon."

Oaxaca's strengths lie is its culture and the hearts of its people. If you get to know them, the place gets inside you. Its beauty seems fragile and because of this more precious due to the turmoil of the past few years, but these inner strengths will pull Oaxaca through. I am already thinking about that next visit.

Tying things together

Since two of my recent topics concerned Lila Downs and Dia de los Muertos, I thought that this video might be of interest.

Lila Downs performed a Dia de los Muertos concert at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, in California, on Oct. 24, the week after her concert in Oaxaca. The download link is available through Lila's Twitter page.

In Twitter, click on the link where it says: Smithsonian LVM - Concierto Dia de Los Muertos (Firefox or Safari)

The photo was taken in Oaxaca Oct. 16, 2009.

Beginnings: Alaska, Mexico, Lila...

When I moved south I considered starting a blog as a way to keep friends and family up to date on what I was doing. Now, more than four years later, I finally got around to it. A lot has happened in that time that probably will never make it into the blog: restoring my old house; travels around the country; exploring pueblos and stumbling upon ruins that seem to be completely lost in time; new experiences in teaching; tasty culinary adventures; learning about new plants, animals and environments; making many new friends and losing some; adjusting to a new culture; several dozen north-south round trips; just to mention a few.

The great thing about living where I do is that each day really is a new adventure. One of the reasons it took me this long to get started on a blog is that there is so much going on around me I don't spend much time at home on the computer. As long as I have the energy I will choose being "out among 'em," as Mom always says," over the alternative of hanging around the house.

OK, about Lila Downs. There are several reasons I have included pictures of her in this post. First and simplest, I just got back from Lila's latest concert in Oaxaca, downloaded my pictures from the trip, and it is on my mind. Second, she has been my favorite artist in current music for quite some time, and is someone from modest beginnings who has been internationally recognized but remains admirably close to her people and roots. And, for several reasons, in my mind she is permanently linked to my two "homes," Alaska and Mexico.

The same month in 2003 that I closed on the purchase of my house, in Merida, Yucatan, a dear friend invited me to a concert that Lila Downs was giving where I lived in Juneau, Alaska. Before that experience I had never heard of her. After it, I was hooked, bought all of her CD's, and began listening to Lila Downs and paying attention to what she was doing. During the next couple of years, my interest in getting out of the states grew in direct proportion to my utter disgust with the Bush administration and my keen interest in being in my new Yucatecan home as much as possible. The music became more inspirational and personal as I made decisions and began working toward making the idea of moving a reality. Within two years, my slightly-decrepit, entirely pink, old Yucatecan house in the historic barrio of Santiago, which I had planned to use for vacations and in some distant future as a retirement residence became, falling plaster, bats, leaking ceilings, dust, and all, my full-time home. Lila Downs' music accompanied me, with its beautiful spirit and as bridge between two cultures, as I initiated and then followed through on one of the biggest transitions in my life.

Lila's performance earlier this month in Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca, where she grew up, was the third of her Oaxaca concerts I have attended. The fact that the concert was presented to a hometown crowd made it especially meaningful. There were several welcoming events and ceremonies in the pueblo, including the unveiling of a plaque at her childhood home and a parade through the center of the pueblo, attended by a large number of press, fans, family and friends.

A very pleasant experience I had was being introduced to Lila's godmother Victoria at my hotel, and being invited by her to go down to the concert together. We had a long and interesting conversation, and through Victoria I met a lot of people. I was introduced as the person who had come all the way from Merida for the concert, and who first saw Lila perform in Alaska; as a result I answered a lot of questions. I was admitted backstage, and due to the identity of the person I was walking around arm-in-arm with, was announced by the security personnel as I entered as "Lila's Godfather." I didn't laugh until later that evening. Lila was gracious and although apparently suffering from a sore throat and tired, spent some time chatting with me. She and her husband, Paul Cohen, remember fondly their visit to Juneau, the warmth of the people, and especially a trip to the glacier.

The evening of the concert was by far the highlight, but the entire visit was fascinating. In Oaxaca it is easy to enjoy great food, beautiful scenery, the fresh, pine-scented air, and glimpse the unique cultures and adaptations they have made to this environment. In Tlaxiaco it is normal to hear the sounds of various dialects indigenous to the area as you walk around the pueblo or explore the market. And, as an

Alaskan transplanted to Mexico, I experienced pleasant moments of homesickness as I hiked neighborhoods and along a road out of town and passed many older structures, which look remarkably like their northern counterparts. The only real clue to the different environment in this photo is the red-tile roof. I have noted similar log construction in Queretaro and in Michoacan. Undoubtedly it also exists in other forested parts of the country.

Another reason I feel "a gusto" in Mexico is that it reminds me in some ways of the pre-pipeline and rural Alaska of my childhood (and of the older generations in the villages, still), when people really did know and look out for each other, spent time together doing things instead of talking on the cellphone, hovering around the cable-TV box or computer, appreciated how they were connected to their environment, and did a lot for themselves. Both Alaska and Yucatan also have a history of being culturally different, isolated penninsulas, far from the mainstream and centers of governemnt of their respective countries.

From what I have seen, there are challenges faced in both places that are very similar. As a teacher who has worked for many years in villages and with indigenous populations in both north and south of the border, I see the same issues, among which are: how to preserve culture and at the same time fit into a modern, rapidly changing world; how language- and cultural- minority children adapt to a school system that is based upon another language and a westernized urban culture that does not understand them; the terrible cycles of poverty and social disintegration that often accompany loss and cultural dislocation.

On the positive side, Mexico as well as Alaska retains a rich variety of traditional cultural knowledge, expressed in its enduring ways of life and survival. Here in Yucatan, folks still put out chairs and sit in front of their houses at night, rocking, talking and greeting neighbors in a way that seems hardly to exist anymore in the U.S. The last I recall of anything similar in the states was sitting on my grandmother's front porch on South Main St. in Wichita, Kansas during visits on hot summer evenings. When was that? Hint: while the grownups talked, I identified makes of cars by the style of their outrageous tailfins, and from that porch, amazed, we watched the Soviet satellite Sputnik track across the sky.

Here, people still say "good morning" to strangers, and manners are important. Here, adolescents are not embarrassed to be seen and to be affectionate with their parents in public. In Merida, it is still possible to live in an urban neighborhood where you can go to the market, cafes and restaurants, parks, the movies, galleries, theater and concerts, buy hardware or a mattress, get the car, shoes, a chair or a bike repaired, have your teeth cleaned, buy new glasses or visit a medical specialist, do all manner of errands or shopping, within a one-to-fifteen minutes' walk from the front door. Here, doctors still make house calls and a visit doesn't break the bank. In Yucatan, the abundant fresh fruits and vegetables are reasonably priced. In Mexico, safe, comfortable and economical long-distance bus transportation and safe, clean, and affordable hotels and restaurants still exist. In my neighborhood, a french-style baguette from the bakery down the street with wood-fired ovens costs about a quarter, and a beer in a local family-style cantina (no drunks or crude language allowed) served with abundant appetizers, maybe a dollar. Here, craftsmanship and individualized customer service and attention is still available, and home-delivery of products and services at no extra charge is common. Where I live, despite what the sensationalist, histrionic, news-tainment media would have you think, life is safe, secure, friendly and tranquil.

I am initiating this blog with the principal idea of keeping far-away family and friends more up to date. However, to old friends and new: if these topics interest you, welcome. The blog is still under construction. I'll add a few features as things get rolling.

Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca, October 2009