Tag: Oaxaca

  • Las Manos, Playa Zicatela, México

    Las Manos, Playa Zicatela, Oaxaca, México

    One wretched afternoon, many moons ago, two Italian tourists were swept away by the broiling seas off Puerto Escondido, México. The locals fought valiantly to save them, but the pair were lost to the pitiless waves. Their memories shall live on, however, through this immense pair of hands.

    Las Manos was created by the pair’s loved ones, to represent the helping hands that tried to pluck them from the ocean blue. Located at the northern end of Playa Zicatela, where the boys disappeared, the statue serves as a grim reminder of how dangerous this beach is.

    So, as a rule of thumb, you should always swim between the flags.

    With their offbeat, gnarled charm, Las Manos demand a moment of quiet reflection from anyone who visits this beautiful, yet deadly, beach. A more haunting Big you’re unlikely to find.

    When I paid my respects to Las Manos in 2022 it was, lamentably, looking a little the worse for wear. The base was cracked, the hands were covered in some really quite repulsive graffiti, and it appeared someone had wiped the remains of their taco dinner all over the sculpture.

    Forget drugs and corruption, the real problem facing Méxicans is their lack of respect towards oversized novelty structures.

    And then, one day, the unthinkable happened…

    All Hands on Deck

    On July 6, 2023, the Hands of Zicatela finally succumbed to a lack of maintenance and the relentless wash of the salty brine. Las Manos crumbled away and was washed into the ocean, another part of México’s history lost forever.

    Even worse, it seemed like those who were commemorated by the piece would be forgotten.

    But our story doesn’t end there. Members of the local community banded together to create a new set of hands, unveiled in November of that year. Hard work, no doubt, but I’m sure they celebrated with an icy-cold can of Tecate at the nearby Dorada Bar ‘n’ Gill.

    The new set’s larger, more ornate and – dare I say it – provides a better photo opportunity for the tourist hordes. They even have an outrageously-proportion octopus wrapped around their wrists. I have to give the good people of Zicatela a round of applause for their attention to detail!

    The new Las Manos certainly holds up to other huge hands around the world, such as La Mano Verde in Guatemala, La Mano in Uruguay, The Wishing Hand in Ireland and Bird in Hand in Australia.

    Sadly, I think the new version of Las Manos lacks the visceral energy of the original one – although I can’t quite put my finger on why!

  • El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, Oaxaca

    El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, Oaxaca de Juárex, México

    Sizzling, popping, beckoning. Cecina grilling over hot coals awakens something primitive and passionate within even the hardest heart. The smoky aroma, simultaneously sweet and sultry, fills the manic market and tantalises with promises of clandestine desires realised.

    A swarthy man, his moustache dripping with perspiration, roughly tosses the fragrant meat upon a plastic plate and then delicately drowns it in mole, the legendary, intoxicating local sauce. Head spinning, one finds a seat between a pair of satin-wrapped abuelas, takes a first uncertain bite of the cuisine, and allows the complex flavours to become all-encompassing.

    Laughing, shouting, singing, slurping. The cacophony of sounds sprinkles like spice across the dusty floor. Mescal is suppered. Friendships are forged. Mole is allowed to cascade down chin. One rises, reborn by the gastronomical and sonic feast, before plunging headlong into the street to gape in wonder at the rich tapestry of Méxican life.

    This is Oaxaca de Juárez, the land of Seven Moles, and a melting pot of creativity and passion.

    Boasting ocre-hued artworks, this whimsical township is the broiling crucible of Latin culture. History rests upon on every cobblestone corner. Street performers dance amongst the traffic. Mask-clad luchadors fly through the night sky. A seemingly-endless procession of weddings – complete with garishly-painted mojiganga puppets – march down the city’s twisting alleyways.

    Resting at the foothills of the Sierra Madre mountain range and embellished with a heady mixture of ancient Zapotecan ruins and sublime colonial architecture, Oaxaca has long been the ultimate destination for dreamers, drinkers, and digital nomads alike.

    And now you can add Biggies to that list! For Oaxaca is home to a trio of intricately-carved animal heads, El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, more alluring than the rest of the sights and sounds combined.

    And they can all be found atop the legendary – nay, mythical – gift shop known simply as Huizache.

    Alebrijie, alakazam!

    Turning a corner in Oaxaca’s raucous downtown precinct, one is overcome as El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije burst into view in all their festively-decorated glory. Astonishing. Altruistic. Mesmerising. They are, of course, oversized representations of alebrijies, México’s beloved multi-coloured statues of mythical beasts, examples of which are found in abundance within Huizache’s confines.

    The three heads, fastidiously carved over a period of many months, symbolise the natural wonders of Oaxaca. The first Jaguare has been painted a blazing gold like the fiery sun. The second, the shimmering emerald of the cascading rainforests. The third, a deep azure like the cloudless skies.

    The bosom of the store proves to be no less enchanting. In a world of disposable nik-naks, Huizache offers something to cherish. The selection is overwhelming, the quality sublime. As the warm desert breeze marinates the store in the melancholy aroma of acacias, one struggles to reach a decision on which statue to take home. A crab, perhaps? Or maybe a shark?

    Whatever you choose, the store with the big cat heads out the front is the perfect place to jag a bargain – teehee!

    A stranger, satin of hair and porcelain of skin, brushes skin lithely against skin whilst reaching for the same painted iguana, and one briefly contemplates entering terrain hitherto unexplored. One turns, palms clammy, to be met by the beguiling smirk of knockabout Aussie larrikin – and longtime Land of the Bigs devotee – Vince Sorrenti.

    Dapper as ever in his tailored suit, Vince insists on posing for a photo with El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, before launching into a soliloquy of outrageous puns.

    “I just bought some food from a Méxican restaurant, but didn’t have time to eat it there,” Vince enthuses, his impeccable timing drawing in a handful of curious locals. “So I ordered it taco!”

    One gazes from Vince, to el Jaguares, back to Vince, and the world seems just a little brighter.