Phillip Barron
The Herald Sun
August 11th, 2005
OAXACA, MEXICO — After asking at a taller de bicicletas (a bike shop) whether I could rent a bike, a mecanico leads me across the street to Pedro Martinez. Sr. Martinez is a former Olympic mountain biker who rents bikes and leads tours in Oaxaca, Mexico.
His office is small, just big enough for a counter, ten bikes to hang tightly against the wall, and shelves for helmets and cycling shoes. A collection of cycling jerseys hangs overhead, and inside the glass case that forms the counter are cassettes, pedals, hubs, and derailleurs. What available wall space is left is covered in poster-sized photographs of Martinez himself competing in races.
While Sr. Martinez is busy arranging a hiking tour with customers, his nephew Roberto invites me in. In the best Spanish I can muster, we joke about the pain of a long climb, about reaching down to click into the next easiest gear only to realize that you’re already in it, and about the white-knuckles and big eyes of a sketchy descent. He tells me there is a 50 mile endurance mountain bike race on Sunday and invites me to race on a rented bike. I’m tempted but decline in favor of a ride through the streets of Oaxaca.
Sunday morning, I arrange to take a bike for two hours and ask about the local mountain bike scene. Roberto charges me 50 pesos (about $5.00) for a nice bike (a Giant Rincon), a pump and spare tube, tire levers, a lock, and a helmet.
Leaving the shop, I ride down la calle Aldama and turn south on JP Garcia. Although the sidewalks are crowded, traffic flows swiftly in the streets. Oaxaca is, like most developed areas, an auto-centric place. But bicycles fit right in with traffic here, and I never feel threatened by the buses, trucks, and taxis swirling around me. In fact, as I get more comfortable with the new traffic patterns, I realize that drivers around me seem to be more aware and respectful of bicyclists than I am used to.
I decide to ride the road up Monte Alban, a tight, steep road that leads to Zapotec ruins dating back to 100 AD. It’s a grueling climb, but the views alone from the roadside make it worthwhile. Halfway up the road, I can see all of Oaxaca to the east. I snap a photograph in my mind and turn around.
Next I head north, riding the narrow one-way streets up to Chapultepec Highway. Although I see a few cyclists riding traditional road bikes, because of numerous speedbumps and the occasional cobblestone street, mountain bikes are the steeds of choice.
I reach the northern end of the city passing la Iglesia de Santo Domingo, a cathedral built between 1570 and 1608. Santo Domingo sits squarely inside the art district of Oaxaca, and I pass several cafés catering to gallery patrons.
My two hours are coming to an end, so I turn back and begin riding southwest. On a bike, it’s easy to navigate a city laid out in perfect square blocks, and I make my way to the Zócalo and the adjacent Alameda de León.
The Zócalo and Alameda de León are wide, auto-free pedestrian plazas where kids chase balloons, artists sell crafts, and musicians entertain day and night. I ride slowly through the crowds and notice several other cyclists also converging on the parks. These plazas are both the geographic and cultural focus of the city, drawing people to it. I feel as though I’m traveling against the natural flow of traffic as I leave the Zócalo and head south again for Aldama.
Roberto welcomes me back into the shade of the office and asks where I’ve ridden. I tell him that I now believe that a bicycle is the only way to see Oaxaca, and he agrees.
Out of curiosity, I ask whether he rents any single-speed mountain bikes. He laughs at the idea of riding a bike with only one gear in the mountains. I guess he needs to visit North Carolina.
