I stepped off the tiny plane clutching my duffel bag and passport. Uncertain what to expect, I was thoroughly prepared to encounter dismal third world conditions of relatives I'd never met. But when I saw their strikingly familiar figures clothed in Ferragamo and Chanel waving and smiling excitedly back at me, all my fears were negated.
My Oaxacan family is made of doctors, bankers, designers, professors, and one Olympic champion. Their post-doctorates are from European universities. They have posh houses, cars, motorcycles, and a chef. This was hardly the Mexico I�d heard about! 'Don�t go there,' I was warned by white relatives. 'It�s dirty. You�ll be kidnapped. You�ll get sick...'
After being greeted with cheek kisses, we settled under pillared arches of their sunny courtyard hunched over old photographs and letters, later migrating to the roof terrace overlooking the dramatic Oaxacan mountains. After a tour of my cousin's turtle pond, we had lunch in his contemporary Japanese-inspired home. The stories and laughter went on until sunset when we made traditional banana-leaf tamales in preparation for Dia De Los Muertos, when the deceased are said to return to earth to reunite with loved ones.
�If great grandmother is buried in the U.S. will she be able to find us?� I asked.
�Si,� my cousin's grandma answered. �The dead know where to go. She will be here.�
By nightfall we found ourselves at Xoxocotlan Cemetery surrounded by music, millions of flowers, and thousands upon thousands of flickering candles literally everywere. A live band played traditional music at warp speed. A smiling reveler quickly grabbed my hand pulling me toward the hall of tombs to dance with him. A girl grabbed my dad too, and within seconds everyone was dancing in giddy circles and laughing like children. As the festive song concluded, my dance partner gave me a twirl, and away I skipped into the tombstones to meet my ancestors.
In the days that followed we hiked archaeological sites and dined with new friends in indigenous villages who fed us grasshoppers (!!!), home-grown coffee, homemade mescal in bamboo stalks, and sugar skulls.
My cousin�s Lebanese girlfriend Lili announced that our visit was a special occasion and performed a bellydance for everyone. My eldest cousin sang a Zapotec ballad on the guitar, then the rest of the cousins took turns breakdancing on the living room floor. My youngest cousin showed us his pet bunny. He speaks very little English, but can you guess what he decided to name his new pet?
"Rabbeet."
I almost cried!
Around midnight we heard noise outside. Luz opened the garage to find a marching band and a MOB of people cheering at people throwing handfuls of candy from the rooftops.
I LOVE THIS HOLIDAY.
We had a lot of laughs in Oaxaca, such as when one cousin asked if the verb �to fart� was a regular or irregular verb. Classy. My more fashionable cousin bonded with me over our matching ray bans, though he claims to prefer Dolce & Gabbana. And Carlos and I share a love of bicycles, Caetano Veloso, and klezmer. I love that they�re as quirky as I am.
We discussed politics too, as the Mexican vice president died and Obama won all in the same week. (Yay Obama!)
Even cooler, I now know the name of my great great great nana:
"Nazaria."
Now I know what to name my future hypothetical child Italian Greyhound. For dog purposes I could change it to "Shnoz-aria." It even sounds Jewish!
I can�t wait to see my family again. In one week they changed my outlook, showed me my roots, inspired me, and made me so proud.
I've never seen so much love in one place.
Oaxaca changed my life.
9:00 p.m. - 2008-11-08