We take a slight detour from the grinding surf that has dominated our collective psyche for the last several days by heading due east on Highway 131 over the Sierra Madre Del Sur mountain range. What an amazing temperate forest region! Technically a tropical and sub-tropical mixed biome, there is amazing diversity and wildlife still present today. The steep and overgrown jungle cliffs that mark this area remain unpassable like sections of the Sespe Wilderness back home in California - no roads could survive the power of nature in places like these. There are over 350 species of orchids alone! 160 species of butterfly float above the madness! Within the shrubs and confierous trees there are a plethora of herbaceous plants with flying squirrels doing their thing over the top of the high jungle canopy. Up and Up we seem to spiral, the highway is headed straight for the clouds! Ah yes, the cloud people! That was part of our mission: to visit the ruins of Monte Alban on the outskirts of Oaxaca city. Directly translated from the Zapotec word: Danibaan, or sacred mountain, it was an amazing place to meditate on the aspects of life that are mysterious and unanswerable. The Zapotec people along with the Mixtecs and several other native groups formed a culture that was immersed in magic, art and sport. They worshipped many gods including Cocijo the god of lightning and rain, and boy to did we feel his wrath. As evidenced by the pictures, Cocijo was letting off some steam and we were directly underneath him.



The special people who settled these Oaxacan valleys as early as 500 BC were extremely passionate about divine worship. They also had advanced trading and commerce methodology, including a 365-day calender and commonly used calibration systems for weighing and measuring goods. They were artists! With a complete acceptance into the circles of the natural world, the Cloud People were privy to methods like painstakingly removing and replacing slugs that excreted a red dye that they could use in fabrics. They buried their hierarchy with great riches similar to the Egyptians, and this has resulted in some archeologists scoring some major bling-bling, as the largest treasure discovery in the southern portion of Mexico was exhumed there in the late 1800's.

But for me . . . it is a special feeling of peering upon the pelota or ball fields. Something stirs inside my soul as I scramble down on to the grass fields to mimic movements of the game. What game? Some say a hybrid of the modern day lacrosse with a much larger ball. Others joke that it was a head from the sacrificed that is used as a ball in the game. And of course, there is the confirmation in history text books that the winners, not the losers, would be sacrificed at the end of the match. Why? It was the highest honor. Kind of like going to Iraq and taking a pot shot to the head. Die a pelota winner, die a marine, and you are a holy man or woman! No, for me I think of the pelota field as a representation of competitive team sports. The genesis to the NBA Finals or the World Series. I'm glad no one's head gets chopped off for losing games today

ER Harris