I clicked pictures of everything and was gape-jawed the whole time. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more tourist than that. But then, at it’s best, being a tourist is about having your mind expanded, or better still, blown, by things you had no idea existed on earth. For the distinct kind of human being that I was, this was a pinnacle experience. I didn’t need anymore, my life was an immensely better thing because I knew Atzompa existed.
And yet, there was more.
On the other side of Oaxaca city, heading south past the airport where alfalfa fields grew, there was yet another pottery village called San Bartolo Coyotepec. Coyotepec was perhaps the best known pottery village in all of Mexico, famed for its glossy black pottery. Like Atzompa, this was a pottery center with an ancient heritage in clay. They fired their pottery in subterranean kilns and in the process smoked them to achieve their inky black color. Mythologically, this was the pottery of the underworld, the pottery of the night. They used to make well jugs, colander pots, mixing bowls, irrigation pots, mezcal jars and canteens. With the change of times (the arrival of factory-made everything) and the fact that a major road passed through the very middle of town drawing in tourists since the 1940’s, they’d adapted their work to the changing tastes of the outside world. The old utilitarian pieces had largely been replaced by decorative pieces that ranged from elegantly ornate to extremely kitsch.