Photo Essay: A Mexican Eve With Radish Sculptures And Familiar Faces

Forty-five minutes in.

I still couldn't see the end of the line and I was down to my last straw of patience. Why the hubby and I put up with such queue? Well, the whole of Oaxaca seemed to be there — as if that snaking line was the hottest see-and-be-seen spot in town — so we thought, this gotta be amazing. Besides we had no plans that late afternoon. More importantly, admission was free.

It was day 184 of our round-the-world trip and we were there to see radish sculptures. 

Noche De Rábanos.  

Depending on your love for root vegetables, your reaction will range from 1) dumbfoundedness to 2) sheer delight to 3) hilarity. But whatever you think of it, you'd be interested to learn that the Night Of The Radishes or Noche De Rábanos began many years ago. Like, about more than a hundred. That long. It's celebrated annually, every 23rd of December.

And it ain't just a simple exhibit, the entries are actually up for competition.

One hour in line. For radishes. Radishes!
Security was tight. Man, those are heavily guarded root vegetables!
Viewing platform. Told you they're pretty serious.
There's a flower sculpture competition too.   Aaand corn husks.   Día de Muertos or Day Of The Dead
Creative and somewhat creepy.

Because it's almost Christmas, there should be a nativity scene.

And then there were those we didn't understand just cause we're not fluent in Spanish.

But this we know. Mexican painter Frida Kahlo.  

Even with the sea of crowd inching from one display to another, it took us only less than ten minutes to see everything. One hour queue for a ten-minute affair with radishes. Sounds quite ridiculous, but I have to admit, we unexpectedly enjoyed it. I only wish the viewing platform's closer to the exhibit so people could see all the teeny-weeny details.

Before calling it an eve and heading back to our posada, we passed by a block that was sorta out of the way but had a night market so we could check merchandise on sale. Speaking of ridiculous queues, I saw a two-meter deep one for a hectic taco stand, and found a couple of familiar faces in it. I pointed them out to the hubby. Both of us couldn't remember their names, an American couple who once couchsurfed our place, but we approached them and greeted "Ola!".

Top: Hosting Patrick and Tony (I know their names now after rereading their Couschsurf request) in our Baguio home, December 2010. Bottom: Finding them at some taco stand in Oaxaca, December 2011. 

Their faces broke into smiles of surprise when they spotted us. "You guys are the Couchsurfers from Ba-gee-yoh (Baguio)!", one of them mentioned. And that was the start of a lengthy where-have-you-been-where-are-you-going chat that kinda annoyed the other people in line behind us for it took the couple forever to choose their grilled meats. They can't remember our names as well, but none of us reintroduced ourselves. Cause you know, there are times when you don't need to remember names. Just moments.
 

We bade farewell when they were about to gobble their dinner. Those freaky radish sculptures sucked all the appetite out of me that I didn't feel like eating much until noche buena (and that's because we found mole poblano)!

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