Next is an opinion from Ceci Connolly form San Francisco Chronicle. Although it is a fair summary of the situation, it is a bit biased towards tourists from USA views. I would only point out that if you are planning to visit Oaxaca, do it. You would probably put yourself in higher risk by visiting New York, Atlanta, or in fact any medium or major city in the States.Conflict does not involve tourists, it is between state government and the people. No tourist have been attacked during the 'riots'. Instead, one newyorker (ournalist Brad Will) has been killed by government paramilitary. (comment by wet_ahuizote)
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(01-27) 04:00 PST Oaxaca, Mexico -- The last time I was in Oaxaca, I was frantically trying to improvise a gas mask. The city was a war zone: anti-government protesters packing spray paint, rocks and Molotov cocktails; police in riot gear tossing canisters of black tear gas into the crowd.
My eyes stinging, I raced past the burned-out shell of a bus. Thick smoke filled the air, but there was just enough of a clearing to allow me a glimpse of El Catedral restaurant. It looked so enticing: a serene courtyard, white tablecloths and glass wine goblets with the distinctive Mexican blue rim. But the door was locked.
I kept running.
Fast-forward one year and I'm finally inside El Catedral, and in a city that feels much different.
Seated under the stars on an ancient stone patio, a fountain burbling beside me, I savor sauteed mushrooms in garlic wine sauce. The setting is almost exactly as I envisioned it would be: a place of architectural jewels, one-of-a-kind textiles and culinary surprises.
Except I am alone.
The two-story bar, all polished wood and chrome, is dark. The dining room to the right of the courtyard is as empty as the one to the left.
I have returned to Oaxaca on assignment: To find out if, one year after deadly riots crippled the city, it is again an attractive destination for visitors seeking language schools, colonial history, craft markets and art galleries.
I'm eager - and a bit apprehensive - to check in on friends I'd made here and find out whether Oaxaca still belongs on Mexico's A-list. It didn't take long to realize that the answer is more complicated than I'd thought.
Oaxaca is no longer the filthy, smoldering wreck of 2006. Nor, however, is it the bustling cultural center of years past. It appears safe and clean. But unresolved political tensions have prompted the U.S. State Department to keep it on a watch list. "We're not discouraging tourism," says U.S. Embassy spokeswoman Judith Bryan. "But we want informed and appropriately cautious tourism."
My friend Harry Smith, a Bostonian living in Oaxaca with his wife and three daughters, is keenly aware of the economic and political injustices in the city. But he also wants Americans to appreciate its warmth and beauty.
"I would advise people to come, as long as they come with their eyes open," he says. "But this is not Disneyland."
As in most of Oaxaca, things at El Catedral, where I've come for dinner, are mas o menos, explains my waiter, Alberto. Translated literally, the phrase means "more or less." But Alberto's diplomatic shorthand, which I will hear often during a three-day visit, hints at the conflicted, contradictory state of an emotionally scarred city.
For adventurous travelers, mas o menos can also translate to opportunity. The decline in foreign visitors - from 264,000 in 2005 to 190,000 this past year through October - means there are bargains to be had, and no hordes to fight. Smith, for instance, negotiated half-price rates at the nearby beaches of Puerto Escondido.
As I finish an affordable glass of Spanish Tempranillo, two groups arrive at El Catedral, adding a bit of life to the courtyard.
"It's certainly not like it was three years ago," declares Virginia O'Brien, a San Diegan who has returned to the city every year since her first Spanish-language class in 1984. "This place would be packed; we'd be lucky to get a table."
Now in her 70s, with cropped red hair and kitschy-cool Mexican-silver skeletons dangling from her ears, O'Brien loves Oaxaca so much she even came during the riots. She and a travel agent friend "were going to bring a tour last year, but we canceled it, thank God," she says. This year's group backed out.
"People are taking their kids back to school; they're walking in the Zócalo (town square) again," says her dining companion, Javier Garcia Vigil, who is the director of the Symphony of Oaxaca.
O'Brien, who loves to scout for bargain-price hand-woven rugs, remains bullish on Oaxaca. But she is sad: "It hasn't staged a real comeback yet."
The new normal
Oaxaca - it's the name of both the capital city and the state - is an hour's flight south of Mexico City. The city (population before the riots: 258,000) was laid out by Spaniards in the mid-1500s, and its streets are lined with mossy relics of that era. The surrounding region boasts phenomenal ruins, such as the sprawling hilltop Zapotec village of Monte Alban, and what is believed to be one of the largest and best-preserved indigenous cultures in the Mesoamerican world.
Protest is as much a part of Oaxaca's tradition as its black-clay pottery and hand-woven tapestries. So when the city's teachers announced their perennial strike in May 2006, it barely caused a stir. But unlike in previous years, the dispute escalated into a broader conflict over social justice.
Anti-government demonstrators stormed local radio stations and occupied Oaxaca's famed Zócalo. The city once known for picturesque cathedrals, graceful laurel trees and colorful marketplaces was coated in graffiti and strewn with the charred remains of vehicles.
Some 4,000 federal police descended, erecting barricades and military-style encampments. Masked protesters countered with guerrilla tactics, hurling burning tires and rocks collected from the cobblestone streets. Before order was restored in December 2006, the riots claimed the lives of at least nine and as many as 20 people, including American activist/journalist Brad Will.
Today, mariachi music fills the Zócalo and fresh whitewash covers the walls. But marches in opposition to state Gov. Ulises Ruiz - who sent riot police to battle demonstrators - occur often, and residents say the underlying economic and political tensions remain.
Officially, Oaxaca is back to normal. And as if to prove it, the government has taken a more active role in some of the city's most beloved festivals, which once had been ad-hoc community affairs.
But a more nuanced truth comes out when you share a coffee or a shot of mezcal with Oaxacans or with those, like my friend John Rexer, who have adopted the city.
"It feels antiseptic," he remarks as we walk through the Zócalo and the adjacent square known as the Alameda. Rexer, an expat American, runs the Cafe No Se bar in Antigua, Guatemala. But he spends much of his time in Oaxaca overseeing his latest business venture, a new brand of mezcal named Ilegal. "It feels as though it's been prettied up and staged for the tourists."
Yes, it's nice not to be dodging flying rocks, he acknowledges. But in its effort to remove the ugly barricades and trash, the government also swept away a bit of Oaxaca's soul.
Problems and opportunities
We walk the few blocks to El Naranjo restaurant, where a decade ago, Oaxaca native Iliana de la Vega won international acclaim - and sneers from local culinary purists - with her lard-free mole and organic ingredients. An English-speaking man in chef's whites directs us to a table next to an ancient orange tree. He is friendly, helpful and definitely not de la Vega.
She fled Oaxaca last year, and after drifting from New Mexico to Austin, Texas, hopes to soon join the staff of the Culinary Institute of America in San Antonio.
"We just couldn't make it," she tells me later in a telephone interview. "We had trouble getting downtown; we couldn't get deliveries; we couldn't pay the rent. We'd cook all that food and then no customers would come."
Andrew Peterson, the new owner, proudly announces that he has changed every recipe on the menu save one: de la Vega's gazpacho. In the interest of science, I order that and the mole, which had been El Naranjo's specialty. Neither dish stands out, and Rexer grumbles that he has trouble detecting any chiles in his allegedly spicy shrimp.
Though pleasant, El Naranjo falls short: sadly gringoized, when what we crave is authenticity.
We amble out for a late-night stroll, pleasantly surprised to find others on the streets, a far cry from the days of curfews. As we turn the corner onto Macedonio Alcalá, we can't resist the lure of Caribbean music pulling us into Cafe del Borgo.
Behind the bar, owner Eduardo Evans looks relieved at the sight of a relatively packed house.
"The last four months were the worst," says Evans, better known by his nickname, Lalo. With occupancy at many hotels below 10 percent, he considered leaving but couldn't: "All my money is invested here."
There is one difference nowadays that is both attractive to those who complained Oaxaca had been inundated with gringos and unfortunate for the business owners who survived on U.S. dollars: The majority of visitors - including the two men seated beside me - are Mexicans.
Artists in crisis
Before the riots, Oaxaca had a thriving art scene, from museums with artifacts of pre-Hispanic cultures to galleries with the colorful paintings of 20th-century native Rufino Tamayo. As its reputation grew, the area attracted not only painters but also sculptors, writers, musicians and filmmakers, says local artist Rowena Galavitz.
But last year, several galleries folded, and art students stopped coming to the city for lectures, which meant the artists, too, began abandoning Oaxaca.
"Anybody who was able to get out, did," Galavitz says. Others, including Galavitz, began exhibiting in other cities. Now, "I don't really have a market here in Oaxaca anymore."
Though she is aware that the political disputes could flare up again, Galavitz says the recent calm is helping to slowly revive the art world. As we talk, a team of artists is hanging photos and paintings for an exhibit of pieces about the protests opening that night.
It will be called "Fallen Angels."
If you go
All addresses are in Oaxaca, Mexico; prices are in U.S. dollars.
GETTING THERE
There are no nonstop flights from San Francisco to Oaxaca. Several airlines make one-stop flights, connecting through Dallas, Houston or Mexico City. The bus ride from Mexico City is about six hours and averages $40 round trip.
GETTING AROUND
A rental car is not necessary in the walkable city of Oaxaca. A taxi from the airport to the center of town costs about $14 (buy a voucher at the booth in the airport); a shuttle bus into town averages $3.
WHERE TO STAY
Note: With Oaxaca still in recovery mode, be sure to negotiate for unpublished discounts.
Casa Crespo, 415 Calle Crespo. (011) 52 951 514 1102, www.casacrespo.com. If you can snag one of the two rooms at the bed-and-breakfast, you're in luck. Between $90 and $110 per night.
Hotel Casantica, 601 Avenida Morelos. (011) 52-951-516-2673, www.hotelcasantica.com. I stayed here, where the $110-a-night price is a bit high for what you get: clean rooms with modern amenities such as air conditioning, phone and television; a small pool; and a pleasant courtyard with tables.
Casa de Sierra Azul, 1002 Hidalgo. (888) 624-3341, www.mexonline.com/sierrazul.htm. Charming 14-room hotel a few blocks from the Zócalo. Rates start at $119 double.
WHERE TO EAT
La Olla, 402-1 Reforma. (011) 52-951-516-6668, www.laolla.com.mx. One of the best deals for a full Oaxacan meal is at this two-story spot where the menu of the day is generally under $9.
El Catedral, 105 Calle García Vigil. (011) 52-951-516-3285, www.restaurantecatedral.com.mx. A grand building just blocks from the Zócalo. Traditional Oaxacan cuisine (think suckling pig, pumpkin-blossom soup and mole) and some international dishes are served by knowledgeable waiters. An appetizer, entree and glass of wine goes for under $20, but you can spend more.
El Naranjo, 203 Calle Valerio Trujano. (011) 52 951 514 1878, www.elnaranjo.com.mx. Don't be deceived by the Web site featuring former owner/chef Iliana de la Vega at the internationally acclaimed: The restaurant has been sold and recipes changed. But new owner Andrew Peterson is a friendly host who aims to please, and he's bringing in consultants from neighboring villages to refine his traditional Mexican menu. Dinner for two with drinks is about $56.
La Biznaga, 512 Calle García Vigil. (011) 52 951 516 1800. When you tire of mole and enchiladas, try the fish and salads here, where fresh, innovative dishes are posted on seven-foot-tall chalkboards in a funky setting. Depending on how many drinks you quaff, a meal runs about $16 a person.
Temple, 409-A Calle García Vigil. (011) 52 951 516 8676, www.restaurantetemple.com. A hip spot with a long bar that's great for hanging out, especially if there's jazz. Food here hits some high notes, but there are also some disappointments.
FOR MORE INFORMATION
Go-Oaxaca, www.go-oaxaca.com. A relatively new tourism site edited by Casa Crespo owner Carrizosa.
Mexican Tourism Office, www.visitmexico.com.
