Teotitlán del Valle

I took a colectivo from Oaxaca’s second-class terminal on a Tuesday, which turned out to be the right day: market day in Teotitlán. The van dropped me on the highway and I walked the kilometer into the village along a road flanked by agave and dry hills. Before I reached the market I had already stopped twice — once to watch a woman beating wool against a stone, and once because a doorway was open and I could hear the rhythmic clack of a loom inside. Nobody invited me in. I went in anyway. Nobody seemed surprised.

The Dyes Are the Point

I had read that cochineal was a big deal here, but reading about it and watching doña Rosa scrape dried insects off a nopal pad with a knife are different experiences. She set a small cluster of them on her palm, crushed them between her fingers, and the smear was immediately, almost aggressively red — a red that looked slightly unreal, like someone had turned up the saturation on a photograph. Mixed with lime juice it shifts toward orange; with baking soda it goes purple. The indigo comes from a fermented paste, and the yellow from dried marigold flowers boiled down in clay pots. None of this is demonstration-for-tourists. This is Thursday. This is how it works. Her grandson Santiago, maybe twelve, was at the backstrap loom in the same room, pulling the weft through with a confidence that made clear he had been doing it since he was eight. I stayed longer than I planned. I always say that and I always mean it.

The Market and the Tlayudas

The Tuesday market near the church sells mostly produce and household goods — not a craft fair. A few weavers set up rugs on plastic tarps, but the real commercial life happens from the workshops themselves, many of which have a front room that doubles as a showroom. I ate lunch at one of the fondas near the Mercado de Artesanías: a tlayuda with tasajo and a soup of black beans and hierba santa that I did not want to finish because finishing meant it was over. The village also makes its own mezcal, sold unmarked from refilled bottles at some of the market stalls. I had a small glass with lunch. I did not need another, but I thought about it.

Buying a Rug

I spent more time in workshops than I had planned, which is easy to do here. The prices are not low if the piece is good, and the good pieces are immediately distinguishable from the ones made with synthetic dyes: the colors have a depth that is harder to describe than to see in person. I bought a medium-format rug, about sixty by ninety centimeters, in natural undyed wool with a cochineal border. It cost nine hundred pesos and I would pay three times that now without hesitation. The weaver rolled it tight and tied it with twine. It has been on the floor of my apartment in Puerto Escondido ever since.

Getting There

Colectivos to Teotitlán del Valle leave from Oaxaca City’s second-class bus terminal on Prolongación de Díaz Ordaz, near the Mercado de Abastos. They fill quickly and cost around fifteen pesos. The ride takes about forty-five minutes. A taxi runs roughly two hundred fifty pesos each way. Come on a Tuesday if you want the market, but the workshops are open every day.