Godmother of the Hummingbirds

(written: Sunday, location: Oaxaca city)


Today is my last day with my bicycle not in a box. A last day to be relished, oh how I will miss the climbing and the flying and the dust and the churning and the sweating. I made almost 1,000 kilometers here. Zero flat tires and zero accidents. Oh how fortunate am I. 


(I am back in Oaxaca city, via a night bus; I came here to collect my box stores by Avid Alex and then to travel on to Mexico city before my last flight home) 


I saw the mountains behind Oaxaca city and I wanted to bicycle up there for my Final Ride. What is this call to climb things? To be above, to see, to view the sights of this city I have come to love so much, all laid out before me? 


I could barely leave for the ride, however, for talking with people and consuming delicious things. At the coffee shop it was two gentlemen from Minnesota, a Lance and a Larry; we raved about Oaxaca, the music life, the arts, the food. Lance bid me good journeys, said he was happy to see a young person traveling in this way, and that he liked my [overgrown helmety vertical] hair style. 


Finally on the road. Oopa! Look: a market. Must get more snacks. I was locking my bike on the rack, and a young man with a bicycle swooped his hand to offer me a space. "Hola!" he looked into my face, "warmshowers?" And, somehow, he had remembered me. He was one of the Oaxacans I had messaged to ask about storing my bicycle box here. Avid Alex answered first, but this Juan Pablo was super enthusiastic to meet me in this moment, even though I never connected with him besides that first message. What an awesome connection he made; I was totally impressed. We realized we were wearing the same style of earrings and had to take a celebratory selfie. He spoke English well, and we communicated together like we'd known each other for weeks. 


I am constantly touched by the interactions I am having, in Oaxaca especially. Even if it's just passing someone on the street from my bike, catching their eye, and sharing a smile. I have felt in other touristy towns I've visited in Mexico (like a community that exists pretty much around the sole purpose of tourists visiting a beach) a certain resentment, boredness, curtness towards tourists. And I can understand that, to a certain degree. In contrast, in rural areas, people are unaccustomed to tourists and I feel I am quite a novelty. I like how I am dealt with best in Oaxaca, because it is neither of these extremes.  


I finally got out of the city and began the climb into the mountains. My goal was to get high enough to see the change from small scrubby trees to the pines and oaks ecosystem. I also had the whimsical task of choosing from the thousands of options, a pine cone for a tree-lover friend. 


As I slowly pedaled my way up, I heard the Doppler shift of a speedy cyclist zooming past me, in a bright jersey, cycle shoes, and a shiny bike. Hey! I'm not the only one with this idea of climbing the mountains. Then two more cyclists. "Adios!" we said as they zipped by. Then I realized I was in a flock of these hummingbird cyclists, all of them with numbers on their jerseys. 


Unbeknownst to me, I was part of a bicycle race.


Except, if these guys were hummingbirds, I was Big Bird. Huge and floppy and not zooming. Totally illegitimate because I had a kickstand and my bike itself probably weighed as much as anyone one of those men. 


They cheered me on, tho, and I them. It was a beautiful day to be riding. 


At the top of one of the curves, I came across all of them at a tent, drinking water and sitting in the shade and looking generally pleased with themselves. Their race was done, and I continued on towards those pines as they thumbs-upped me. 


And that could have been that.  


But I still wondered what it was that was going on. I decided to brave my insufferable Spanish and turned around to go talk to them. "Que pasa, hoy?" I asked. 


Through various combinations of forgiving Spanish and English they communicated that it was indeed a race, and there were various heats. They'd been riding for about two hours already, and the finish line was here, part way into the mountains. 


They were impossibly excited to find this oddball cotton-wearing heavy-bike-pushing gringa amongst them. There was so much activity, everyone talking at once, all us among bikes, cheering on the final finishers. 


"Sondra! Cervesa!" announced a particularly wiry one with the most English. "Come celebrate!" and I was ushered, with all these dudes, into a rural dusty tienda where a round of Coronas was jubilantly opened for all. "Salud!" Everyone wanted to know where I was from, what was I doing, how did I like Mexico? One of the guys had lived in NY for a spot, and Senior Wiry called out in glee, "You roommates! In the same state!" They lifted my bicycle and we all laughed at how heavy it was and I lifted one of their's and exclaimed how light it was. Beers were clinked, "to Sondra! Our madrina!" 


They had decided I was the godmother of their race, their madrina.  ! 


The beers done, it was time for the awards. "Madrina! Special guest! You must present the first prize to the champion!" 


Gah! What an absolutely hilarious and fabulous turn of events. I gave up all preconceived notions and decided to be buoyed along with their playful inclusion. 


Cameras snapped as I shook the hand of the champion. "Felicitaciones!" I said. "Un beso! Un beso!" they called. Thus, somewhere on social media, I exist hamming it up with a bunch of top Mexican cyclists, kissing cheeks and all of us grinning. 


Mr Wiry gave me a hat that said "Turbo" on it, something about premier Mexican bicycling. What a souvenir! 


Now it was time to continue my ride towards the pines. They would have none of that, however, this gringa riding off alone?! (they had no idea what I'd been doing the past 30 days!) A companion was chosen for me, and I had to bring forth my most persistent Spanish: "You are very tired! I am like a tortuga! Please no! I like being solo." And finally my persistence won and I climbed off alone, a huge grin on my face. I kept grinning for a long way up, what an experience of serendipitous, beautiful, and amazing connections! 


I'm so glad I turned around to say hi.  

The bicycle race poster

Up successfully past the line of pines. After bicycling 1000 meters up, i turned around and flew back.

The view down into Oaxaca City. I love looking down and marveling, "that's where I came from!"