Oaxaca City Street
Gina DiLello
“I think go left here,” Churpa said, so I quickly pulled Miss Louisiane into the left lane in front of a little blue Vocho that honked as it then changed lanes and zipped past us on the right. In Mexico, you have to make your moves without hesitation or you’ll never make them at all.
“I can’t go left. It’s one way.” I said as we approached the intersection.
“Then go right,” she replied, as the right lane filled with taxis trying to get around Miss Louisiane.
“There’s no way I’m getting into the right lane before the turn,” I grumbled as one of the taxis zipped into the lane in front of us with a honk.
“Then go straight,” Churpa growled back as we rolled through the intersection and onto the salida to Highway 175 and back out of Oaxaca City. The sun had already sunk below the horizon. The highway climbed a ridge on the way out of town, and Oaxaca City glittered in the valley below us.
“It’s a lot bigger now,” Churpa said as she gazed out the window. We drove past the planetarium, rounded a curve and continued to climb. After another kilometer or two, we came across a retorno, turned around and headed back into the city.
“We want to find Avenida Niños Héroes or Avenida Manuel Ruiz. Manuel Ruiz will turn into Violeta, and the trailer park is at 900 Violeta,” Churpa said as we returned to the city.
“Watch for signs,” I said, dodging a taxi. If there are signs at all in Mexico, they tend to be small, vague, and blocked by a giant bougainvillea. It’s best to have your shotgun keeping an eye out, as the driver needs both eyes on the road.
As we rolled down another road we couldn’t identify in a direction we couldn’t reckon, Churpa gestured toward a large bluff looming above the neighborhood.
“I think the trailer park is that way. Maybe turn left up here.” This time I mad the turn, and Miss Louisiane pulled onto a divided road.
“This is Violeta!” Gina exclaimed from the back seat. “I see number 600!”
“Awesome!” Churpa jumped in her seat. “The park has to be nearby.”
“Look at that thing,” I mused as we rolled past a big modern looking building lit up electric blue like a night club. It loomed like a beacon in a neighborhood of otherwise typically low lying casas. A moto darted in front of Miss Louisiane, snapping my attention back to the road where it belonged. After five or six intersections, Violeta came to a tee and we had to come to a decision. We were in the right lane, so I took a right.
“What the hell?” Churpa groaned.
“I never saw 900,” Gina complained.
“Let’s just follow the signs to el centro and get a hotel. We can try to find the trailer park in the daytime,” I grumbled. “We don’t want to set up camp in the dark, anyway.”
We made our way back to el centro and checked into a little hotel. We found a place to get tortas and beer, and wandered around the city for awhile. The next afternoon, we set out to find the trailer park. After driving by the same Soriana grocery store twice, we asked for directions. The park was right around the corner form the Soriana. We found the entrance, paid for a site and began to make camp.
As I unpacked Miss Lousianne’s roof rack, I noticed a large, modern looking office building across the street from the park entrance . Lit up electric blue, it loomed over the low lying casas in the neighborhood.
“Hey guys,” I said, “Look at that thing over there.”
