Una mas, una mas

My third night in Oaxaca I woke, thrashing, run run run to the bathroom to throw away the curtain door. sickness. "the disease period, getting to know the bed". It lasted the entire evening and aches in my body the entire next day I slept with the 10/10 day outside my reach. I bounced back. and then Bryce fell victim. nausea and bathroom living. Chucho and I broke out to Cafe Central, I tried mexcal. not to my liking. and danced our faces and smiles. We found our place on the stage where we dramatically twisted and contorted our matching bodies. No one here will ever see me again. I will dance my most heart. Revealing of the push inside that we ignore. one free dance. and Chucho replayed he and Bryce's meeting in the open courtyard.
He speaks in English and I speak in Spanish and we teach one another. I write my new words in a tiny book Jean made me and I read over every day.
In the morning we had great stories for Bryce and we packed our bodies with mindful of health for the trip to Monte Alban. Zapotec ruins outside the city, sandy brown and bright green grass. we hiked up the ceremonial centers, the view above to praise the gods that gave them the nourishment and beauty of the land surrounding. to eat homemade delicious cooking from Chucho's mother, Anita that evening and every evening after. I am still in awe of what is common here, the colors, the barred windows, enormous doors. soccer/futbol in the streets, children selling candies, the shining sun on the sandy earth floors, the edges and balconies and curiously cut walls, flirtatious smiles, and small closet doorways of stores to buy. and Bryce and I have our share of sleepovers that our parents denied us as children, I sing early in the morning and we talk of dreams the night before and mexico treats me well.

Oaxaca, Mexico, Dia dos

After a long long journey of confusion and sleepiness and carrying and walking and sitting for hours upon hours. I arrived. with sun shining. and clean green grass. and Chucho drove up in his tiny automobile. waving loudly out the window. I had grand smiles. We breezed through arms and legs and fingers and heads and I brushed up on my Spanish and we laughed at his Missouri accent speaking Spanish through a long ago acquaintance.
Two hotcakes made with love from his mother and a tour of his art collection which is beyond words, brilliant, we drove to find Bryce, one of my oldest friends, as he concluded his teaching lesson. bright pallets of golds and reds buildings holding one another, embracing, row by row, bumping tires, we pound the claw knob and the large door swings!
A hat falls down, jumping and jumping we are dreaming. in Oaxaca, the gringos tell me this is the most beautiful city in the world, the Mexicans live the beautiful world. We eat tasty treats nearby Santa Domingo and the central square of the city.. why didn't I study BEFORE my departure? I lean on Bryce, US American face, Mexican boca. he is my translator. I will catch on. I will catch on.
I rest for hours and we meet Chucho for dinner in an open space, ceilings close atop when rain showers. Immaculate plates of plantains and mole sauce and sweet sounds and pretty faces. The election has stirred strikes for teachers and the city has tarps as sky, human spiderwebs of strings, and bryce says they breathe with the winds and passing time. people line the streets with their sleepings, blankets, pillows, friends in parking like cars.
Today we will visit museums and markets and dance with Bryce and write down my new Spanish words. A dream I am in. I won't wake for 9 more days!