Coming in for a landing, the first view I had of what was to come, the very first thing to catch my eye after the incredible beauty of the mountains, was an old man. An old man walking behind a huge work beast; plowing his field behind an ox.
It had rained recently; you could still see rain falling in a few spots in the distance across the valley. To protect him from the rain the old man was wearing a sort of rain cape. The cape had been constructed of intricately woven pieces of palm. Like the thatched roofs of tropical houses, it fell from his shoulders in layers of dried palm leaves keeping him from the rain that ran down the length of the long dried fronds.
The ground he worked didn’t look particularly fertile. Even after the rain it had a dry rocky look about it. You could tell as he reached down to pick up a stone and toss it aside that the low wall running along side of his field had been built by his hands of those rocks he picked out of the ground of his field. He knew every rock in that field; every rock in the wall.
Forming the perfect backdrop were the magnificent thick cluster of blue green and gray mountains. The sky matched the mountains although here and there bits of blue were starting to poke through and some of the clouds were already white and dry.
The voice of the pilot came over the intercom: “Damas y Caballeros, Bienvenidos a la Valle de Oaxaca. Por favor de enderecir las espaldas de sus asientos y abroche sus cinterones. En breve aterresamos.” And in English: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the Valley of Oaxaca. Please straighten your seat backs and fasten your seat belts. We will be landing shortly.”
Bienvenido a Oaxaca! Oh, life had never held such promise . . .
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