While we were dilly-dallying about in Santa María del Tule we found plenty of opportunities to head into the ‘big smoke’, Oaxaca’s state capital—Oaxaca. Sometimes on our own for errands, sometimes with friends, but nearly always with a camera.
Oaxaca state is the home of many talented artisans. We were luckily enough to visit the weaving studio of two of these artisans. Rosario and Ernesto have mastered the art of weaving with wool. Since we were lucky enough to see all of this first hand. We thought we’d dedicate a blog post to sharing their process so that everyone back home can get a glimpse into the process of some talented Oaxacan artisans.
Calvin laughed. “Everyone says they are just stopping by for a day or two, but then they stay for several weeks.” “Well, we’d like to stay for three weeks, so does that mean you’ll never get rid of us?” No truer words have been spoken.
When your brakes fail, it might as well be on a winding mountain pass with sheer drop offs and hairpin bends. Even better if it is a pass that climbs from near to sea level up to almost 3000m, before dropping back down to below 1500m. (That’s pushing 10,000′ before returning to less than 5000′ for those of you who have not gleefully embraced the metric system.)
After a somewhat snap decision to leave Belize, we found ourselves back in Mexico sooner than we had planned.
Our holiday from our trip hadn’t gone exactly to plan. But here we were, back in Mexico and ready to give the Yucatan another go. It might just be a mosquito infested swamp, but we knew there were still some hidden gems out there for us to discover. Including a grand monument to one of the most dramatic events in the history of our planet.
Our time in Cuba might not have been the amazing, spectacular, wonderful journey we had imagined. It didn’t all go to plan—memorable for all the wrong reasons. However, we can’t leave our tale of Cuba on a negative note though. Glad as we were to return to Mexico, there is something intangible about that crazy, beguiling, frustrating, spellbinding, infuriating enigma of a country that calls us back. We’ve already said a lot about Cuba, so here’s a blog post dedicated to the photos.
“Things won’t get any worse than here, other parts of Cuba will be much more enjoyable.” “Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it”
Getting out of Havana isn’t as easy as just hopping straight on a bus. First you have to find a taxi to take you out to the bus station to book a bus ticket for the following day. Or the day after if things are a bit busy… Looks like we’re spending another day in Havana.
The sun was low in the sky as we roared away from the airport in a taxi. Soon we were darting through traffic in the streets of Havana. Decrepit vehicles from a bygone era belched toxic fumes through the open windows. The roar of ancient motorcycle engines filled our ears. Everywhere we looked, images of Che Guevara gazed contemplatively back—from buildings, billboards, posters and street art. We had arrived in Cuba.