ink stains and frightful altitudes: oaxaca sketches
honestly forgot altitude sickness was a thing until the wheels hit tarmac and my skull decided to audition as a maraca. *oaxaca city does that to you - hits like a truckload of hand-woven dreams and dust. i just peeked at my weather app: 14 degrees but the wind's got teeth that bite right through linen shirts. feels like that sketchbook you left Biotechnoliquid-opposite-fumes lecture hall sophomore year - vaguely familiar but unsettling. packed entirely wrong, obviously.
spent three hours hunting ghosts in mercado veinte de noviembre. overheard two abuelos arguing by the tasajo stalls: "that mezcalería on garcía vigíl? los danzantes pours blessing water in their espadín!" bunk. went anyway. smoky glory burned my throat clean while a dude with silver rings sketched my bewildered face on a napkin. pro-tip-scratch-that-survival-tip: chase it with chapulines unless you hate tasting grasshoppers for breakfast tomorrow. funky little protein bastards.
itineraries rot. wander. found a doorway bleeding yellow paint onto calle alcalá that felt like falling into ernesto's tequila sunrise. sketchpad absorbed cathedral bells echoing wrong-time-zone dreams. breathe? impossible. mitla's zigzag ruins play tripwire-on-mind twenty minutes east if ancient geometry untangles your sanity. heard whispers at café brujula though: apparently monte albán after sundown makes tourette-era ghosts throw grey-stone tantrums. didn't test it...much.
pocket-digs paid off: uncovered biblioteca infantíl a block from zócalo. mural swallows ceiling tiles whole - lizards dancing on philosophers' fingertips. stayed till librarian kicked rubble-artist-me out. minds itch differently here. faulty memory insists nearby villages tempt quick drives: head south toward huatulco's sleepy bays, or if narcocorridos rolled cinematic, northeast blink-and-you-miss-it san pablo villa de mitla*. doubted rumors till truck-stop tamale vendor growled defensive: "they weave curses into alebrijes there!". bought one owl. slept fine.
restless? dive down rabbit holes: chévere mezcal spots beyond tourist gulch or check yarn-bombed tree conspiracy boards at santa maría del tule.
departure? ha. airport scanner confiscated suspiciously colorful pencil nubs. oaxaca blankets your bones. chaotic tonal bliss.
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