I am in Tlaxiaco, a smallish town north of Oaxaca. I came here specifically for the Saturday market, which is supposed to be the second largest in the state. Well, I’m not sure about that, but I’m glad I came. It is a relaxed market, with almost a festive mood, which does not necessarily mean to say all the vendors are happy and doing well. Overall though, it has a good vibe. What I found particularly fun was that I was actually able to interact with people! That says a lot about how much Spanish I have learned. It’s not like I had any real conversations, but I have come close. In any case, often the interaction is more important than the conversation, and maybe having diminished language skills is a bit of an advantage, since it is not always easy to find much of interest to say to strangers. But when you struggle with a foreign language, everyone has fun (with the exception of a few impatient people who can’t be bothered with you mangling their language - but I’ve not come across much of that here). In a number of markets, I have seen women selling what looks like white rocks, or congealed chalk. Upon passing one such lady today, I asked her what this stuff was. She told me, and I looked up the word in my dictionary (based on the sound of what she said) and discovered it is lime. She then proceeded to tell me all about it, at which point my comprehension dropped to a percentage in the single digits, but I got the idea it was used for wool (I don’t know if they process wool around here, probably they do as I’ve seen sheep) and for tortillas (some or all, not sure), and (I think) to cure certain illnesses. Anyhow, I asked if I could take her photo, which she agreed to - not a sure thing in Mexico (more often than not people do not want their picture taken, even if they know you a little bit). I told her that if she gave me her address, I would send her a copy. She didn’t understand, and in any case, is probably illiterate, because another woman who was near by wrote down something for her in my book. It did not look like an address. So as I was trying to sort all this out, yet another woman showed up, asking me what I wanted, since she speaks a bit of English. It turns out that she lives in the US (legally or illegally, I didn’t ask), and was happy to lend her language skills. She knows what its like to have a language barrier. In the end, it seemed that the vendor does not have a real postal address, so this woman with a little English gave me her address, so that I can send a copy of the photo via her. Mean while, I figured that if I could print the photo now and give it to the market lady, so much the better! So I went off in search of a photo shop that could do the job. As I approached a likely looking shop, it occurred to me that I should look up a word in my dictionary before entering the shop. A woman passed me on the sidewalk, then doubled back to see if I needed help. She to normally lives in the US, where she is married to an American. We chatted for a while in a mixture of English and Spanish, then she went on her way. I was able to get the print made, and deliver it to the market lady. Made her day, and really, made mine too. It’s a simple thing, but when you can have that sort of interaction with people, its fun for everyone, and I don’t feel like some rich tourist (to the average Mexican I am impossibly rich) just taking taking, and giving nothing back (other than cold hard money when I favor a shop or food stall with my custom). By now it was time for lunch. I had a good look around the market. I don’t trust every market stall to be sanitary enough to keep my stomach healthy, although I generally take risks with food and mostly get away with it (but there are limits). Anyhow, I found a stall I liked the look of, and asked what she had. I ordered and sat down. Various people asked me things, like if I wanted a drink, except rather than just ask me if I want a drink, they fired off a rapid torrent of Spanish which I couldn’t possibly understand at that velocity, so I just shook my head and smiled weakly (that much Spanish coming in tends to totally block and Spanish Language generator, and I can’t get out so much as a word). Anyhow, a man at the stall started talking to me in limited English and a bit of Spanish. So I ended up ordering a drink that looked interesting, and talking to this guy in a mixture of English and Spanish. Like just about everyone else I talk to, he spent time in the US working. Turns out it is his wife who runs the stall, so in the end, I asked if I could take a photo and got a great photo of the whole family (at least the part of it that was at the stall). And when I asked where I might find a laundry service (something I am in great need of, possibly everyone around me would agree), the woman said she would do it (for 15ps, about what I would expect to pay for enough soap to do my own laundry). Their stall moves to another corner of the plaza tomorrow, so either I will have clean laundry or have to go out and buy all new cloths if I can’t find them! I did give them my hotel room number just in case. Something I find ironic is that I am now in a relatively poor part of Mexico. Maybe outright poor, never mind the “relatively”. In other countries, it is the rich and educated that can speak English, but here it is the poorer people who can speak some English. They are forced by circumstance to make a dangerous boarder crossing into the US to find work that pays relatively good money, so they can save up and bring some cash home. Everyone I have spoken too with any amount of English learned it in the US when they were working there (mostly illegally). In the rather rich city of Oaxaca, few people can speak any English at all. They are well off and don’t need to cross into the US to work.