From Tuxtepec and Bethania, we ventured deeper into Oaxaca until we reached San Mateo Yetla. We dragged our suitcases onto a wide deck that looked over the river just past a grove of fruit trees. Shortly after sitting to rest in the humid air, the woman who hosted us brought freshly made starfruit juice to our table and cut the pineapples we had carefully chosen. Her little boy was peeking at us from behind a group of chairs, ducking his head out just long enough to show off the smile that would take over his face when he saw us looking back his way.
Our time in Yetla was simple. We walked along the river, listened to the music of water slowly tumbling over rocks, and looked up towards the smokey mountaintops where somewhere, natural springs were pouring out of caves to feed the water that wound past us. We picked fruit so perfect that the juice ran all the way down to our elbows. We sat on swings and talked with our little friend, Lino. We drank chocolate. We ate.
It was mostly like that. Wonderful and peaceful and all too short.
No comments:
Post a Comment