Oaxaca in its loneliness
This text is an adaptation from spanish, words and what they represent are best enjoyed in the original language.
I have said this before, and I repeat it. The absence of the final period in the beginning of all of my texts it is a voluntary omission that is there to express, that I write for you and never leave, I stay with all of you who read me.
Oaxaca in its loneliness
Oaxaca has no rushing rivers. It can also be blamed for the harshness with which it shows its thirst the months previous to the summer. This is true, plus the absence that stays immerse in the voices that sing their praises to its sky, traditions, legends, colors and flavors.
How many visitors come once and again to the Guelaguetza celebrations on July, where the beauty of their women and the gold work in their suits that make the Fortin hill to glow.
In November, they visit the lavish temples and the lightened graveyards. There, they pay homage to the candor and wisdom of the indigenous tradition, that honors there ancestors in the party of The Saints and the Faithfull deceased.
What can I add that hasn’t been said, from the December twelve and the magic night of the radish.
How to forget the experience lived in March or April, when our mourning Patron is accompanied with passionate faith, our beloved Virgin of the Solitude during Holy Week, to burst afterwards in the Easter jubilee, over the sumptuous cloak of its virgin beaches.
In this dates you meet it joly, but Oaxaca also has moments of retreat.
It needs to feed itself, to recreate everything that is offered during the year. It is then, when it is saved for its children and for those few selected ones that know to search for it in its solitude months.
In May and June, Oaxaca dresses up its streets. The warm orange from the Flamboyant trees floods the city, and invites the walker to stop and admire.
If the wanderer pays attention, it enjoys even before reaching it, the glory of its foliage. Even automobiles cruise slowly to taste in all of its splendor the beauty.
Only if you walk at the right pace the sight gets sharpen, and you can discover the native Xacaloxúchitl and the Jacarand trees that model a flower bouquet on cream, white, intense yellow or light pink. Some trees even undress from their leaves to show off their flowers in their majestic splendor, defying its painter brothers to embody.
There is no rush, there are no crowds, everything is peaceful in this flow of province life. Oaxaca covers up in a shawl, made of flowers, sun, and light, to contain without distinction the dreams of their children and householders.
In May and June, visitors are an intimate part of the city.
When they walk through halls and corridors of the hotels, restaurants, guest houses, temples, museums, they receive and give friend treatment.
The spirit of Oaxaca overflows in its streets, its fountains, and its beings. The city, inside shows itself not only beautiful, but allows to watch itself priestess transmuting thirst for delivery.
The one who has ears, listen. The one who has eyes, see.