Los Pueblos Mancomunados by Mittie Roger

oaxaca-2009-114I arrived in Benito Juarez by foot. The second class bus dropped me at a fork in a curvy road with nothing in sight. Yet I was not only relieved, I was overjoyed. Nausea from the tightly-enclosed space, sharp turns, and lack of moving oxygen had nauseated me. When the bus driver yelled “Benito Juarez,” I squirmed out of a sea of stagnant, sweaty bodies.

The tonic of fresh mountain air rushed over me. I strolled up the winding road with leaves the size of my open hand and a cacophony of colored flowers. Pine trees mixed with enormous agave cactus.

When I started to unpack, it hit me. I forgot the tent on the bus. I ran frantically to the ecotourism office where the attendant, Aleno, called the bus station and the nearest town: Cuajimoloyas. He said we would meet at the office at 5:30 a.m. the next morning to sort everything out.

As I set up the rented tent, I layered up because it was already getting cold. I ate at the comedor, one of only three buildings that made up the town center. I then made a fire, which smoldered all night. Deep in the lush woods, I heard only the sounds of giant flying beetles. Even in July, I could see my breath.

At 5:15, I wore two sweaters, two pairs of socks, and a big coat. I waited until 7, teeth chattering and legs shaking, I chatted with passing locals bound for work. The ground was thick with frozen beetles. I watched them come back to life in slow-motion with tai-chi movements. Finally Aleno arrived; he’d gotten thru to the station the night before.

oaxaca-2009-102When the tap of precipitation on the rain fly stopped, I set off to find waterfalls, but got lost. In such beautiful scenery, I didn’t mind traversing the unknown. After ten km of aimless wandering, I heard the water, felt the humid air, and a plethora of insects had gathered around me, but couldn’t locate the cascades.

After a day like that, you eat everything in sight: Chichilo (a brown sauce with chicken, peas and mushrooms) and zucchini flowers stuffed in cheese lined tortillas. In the morning I packed up, saying goodbye to the woods, the tai-chi beetles and the comedor. I walked back to the main highway and hitched a ride from a truck that flashed its lights in the cold, cloudy morning, the blue-grey sky melding with the mountaintops. I rode in the back, looking out, watching the forest disappear behind me.

 

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