I saw the melody of Oaxacan Spanish in the open fires that are nurtured in outside kitchens in order to make meals for everyone. With the crack of a flame, new wood is constantly added. This reminded me of the barbecues I am accustomed to seeing in the States. The only difference is that I view barbecues as a tool of celebration, so for me, it felt as if Oaxacans, who constantly feed their fire and cook over an open flame, viewed life as something in need of celebration. Given the number of parties and festivals each day, I believe they see life as worthy of celebration. I loved walking down the street to see a wedding party dancing with giant balloons and statues as tall as the buildings. I constantly heard the explosion of cannons to celebrate this saint or that accomplishment. It was an honor to witness this culture with its perspective of self-praise and glory. I felt the melody in soul-tapping Mexican music full of guitar-led mariachis and vibrant singers. As the melody of their culture made me tap my feet and clap, the cultural dancers, adorned with two braids and ribbons tied in their hair, used their colorful ruffled dresses to swing back and forth to the beat.
Perhaps at the dinner table with my host family, I heard this melody through chisme y risas (gossip and laughter). In these conversations filled with words like calenda to describe a parade, I learned there is no place like Oaxaca, and no people like Oaxacans. While I searched for a melody in their accent, I found a culture so strong and beautiful that language was not even needed to discover and enjoy it.
