Base Station?

Sitting in the airport, waiting to leave for Newark... Im going to do a mass edit of images/audio when I get home, but after going through hundreds of photos, I found some funny visual similarities-- namely, every night we huddled, cold, around plastic/formica tables drinking Coronas and Mezcal....

Oaxaca

Although the daily blog plan obviously failed, the reason is valid.

Ive been consumed by too many sangrita and tequila shots, mercados with an extreme amount of onions, salted grasshoppers, and bags made by prisoners, quesadilla lunches hiding behind marigolds, drunken lucha libre brawls, animal markets with howling hogs and little Guadalupe inviting us to her ranch, small pueblitas selling wooden animals influenced by magic mushrooms, and of course fantastic photographic critiques, some incredible work, and a dysfunctional family.

And Dia de Los Muertos hasn't even kicked off yet.

Oaxaca is a reinforcement of how life should ideally progress. The public displays of affection and young families wondering the markets at night have reminded me that love doesn't have to be the confusing mechanical process that it is in New York. In NYC, we have a tendency to obfuscate what should ideally be simple-- familial connections, the sensation of falling in love, watching your child play-- but here, in the poorest state in Mexico, I have encountered individuals speaking about the great love for life, their blessed children, their wonderful wife. As superficial as it may seem, people are consistently smiling. David and I were shooting images of children in the main plaza, having pleasant conversations with the mothers and fathers, instead of facing the paranoia and legal concerns of New York...every single cab driver has opened himself up, telling stories of magic mushrooms, coyote crossings to America, or where the best Dia de los Muertos cemeteries are, instead of ranting angrily about the credit card machine.

As Americans, we have been fed a supersized meal about Mexico and its population... but the reality is overtly apparent. Mexican culture is deeply rooted in compassion, disregarding extreme individualism for the betterment of the community and family. And after a long dose of New York, this is beyond refreshing.


A few more images to get a feel for the past few days...

Day one. Benito and I.

For the next 9 days, I will be in Oaxaca with an osteoporosis backpack, photographing, recording audio, and video taping David Alan Harvey's Dia De Los Muertos photographic workshop. I will also be dropping more content-based blogs (as opposed to THIS blog about my unavoidable recreation of that Tom Hanks movie where he lives in the airport terminal...this time in Spanish) on pixcetera.com, but Im hoping for a daily post here.

The day started at 4:30 am. After arriving in Mexico City in preparation to transfer flights to Oaxaca, a few unfortunates struck me: the immigration line was as long as the line to ride Space Mountain, and I had a not-so solid 30 minutes to be in a completely different location at Benito Juarez International. After a hearty effort involving talking to every single immigration officer possible and losing my leftover brioche sandwich to customs (the x-ray response was-- bocadillo? porque un bocadillo?) I didnt make my flight.

And the airline had no more flights leaving to Oaxaca that night. So, thinking I would end up watching telenovelas in the lounge till 2 pm the next day, a dual miracle occurred-- the very last airline in the terminal, sweet, blessed Aviasca, had a 9pm departure. For $60. Will someone explain WHY the dollar is so strong?

So, 6 hour exploratory period, Benito and me. I made friends with a grandpa who was also desperate to get to Oaxaca... similiarly touting a backpack the size of his body, translated "Anti-Cellulite Juice Beverage" to a pair of American Bikram yoga teachers, and had a semi-breakdown with the tienda de dulces man while trying to figure out calling cards.

David said it would be an adventure, and thus far he's been quite right. People have been wonderful. If Benito represents Mexico, it should be a great week...Now, let's hope I can find David and my luggage when I get to Oaxaca...