Oaxaca is a small city. You can walk from one end to the other in less than an hour.
Friday
He stood erect, almost rigid, amid the colorful stalls of Pochote Organic Market, and played the violin. His technique was good, and his interpretation of familiar tunes was modern enough to be interesting, but not so atonal as to be distracting. We often come to this tree-lined garden in front of the neighborhood church, and we found his music a welcome addition to the pleasant atmosphere. Gya, Adi's Korean friend, who sells here baked goods and Korean delicacies, told us that she found him playing in the noisy downtown market and invited him to Pochote. Young, tall, and slender, he had his eyebrows trimmed and put on makeup. The dark suit he wore was tailored a bit too tight around his legs and butt. He did not make eye contact with the happy crowd milling around the market, almost belying the donation box in front of his feet.
'Do the other shoppers notice his melancholy expression?'
Saturday
It's a big night in Teatro Alcala. This majestic, multilevel concert hall was built during the prosperous days of the Porfirio Diaz dictatorship, and recently, has been beautifully restored. Well-dressed Oaxacans came to attend a performance of the State Philharmonic Orchestra. When we entered, the musicians were already seated tuning their instruments. Immediately, Adi noticed him sitting in the violin section, right next to the stage. He wore the same dark suit, though tonight, his hair was held down by copious amounts of gel. He fiddled with his violin, wiping perspiration off his delicate face, and continuously scanned the auditorium.
'Who is he searching for?'
He did not stop his search until the invited German conductor came on stage. The orchestra presented a well played program of Mozart, and a world premier of an Oaxacan composition, inspired by a stone statute.
Sunday
Every Sunday noon at the Zocalo, the State Band presents a free popular music concert. We like to sit in the shade of the large laurel tree, sipping cold cappuccino, and listen to the wind-instrument adaptation of classical works. The enjoyable music may be attributed to the fact (which Adi noticed) that the conductor, is one and the same as the permanent conductor of the Philharmonic Orchestra.
Thursday
Tonight, Teatro Alcala is the venue for the Oaxaca Jazz Band. The large band is getting ready to jam.
Adi nudges me: "Look, look at the trumpet player."
Sure enough, the trumpet player also played during Sunday's band concert. Another familiar face in the band is Stan. Stan is a hippie refugee, grey pony tail and beard. He is a Sax player in a Jazz quartet. In contrast to the other musicians in the band, he is wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt. He plays till the intermission, than he is gone.
"It's Thursday. He has a gig at Nueva Babel, remember?"
Later that night
Nueva Babel is a cozy bar with live music almost every night. On Thursday it's Miguel's quartet. The quartet's mellow sound blends well with the aged Mezcal we usually order.
Stan joins his quartet, and they start playing. In a corner table, two men are engaged in a hushed conversation. An almost untouched wine bottle sits on the table. The older man takes his partner's hand and holds it gently. The violinist smiles. Now he can enjoy the music.
