oaxaca doesn’t care about your itinerary
here’s the thing about traveling alone at 3am. you’re either lost or bored or both. i just checked and it’s like a grumpy aunt’s hormones today, 19.3 but with a side of existential dread. the app said it feels like 18.43 which sounds like someone microwaving a half-eaten burrito on a Monday. if you’re visiting, og if you hate surprises but also like surprises.
the locals here are a weird mix. neighbors are either starting secret podcasts or fixing their own existential crises. one guy i saw was gluing a sock to his shoe while yelling about ‘capitalist exploitation’ to a parrot. if you get bored, oaxaca’s neighbors are just a short drive away, and they’re all weirdly passionate about 16th-century pottery. i heard that from a drunk University of the Americas student who swore the zapotec ruins are actually a government cover-up for a giant alien spaceship. who knows.
someone told me the local salsa club closed last month because the owner thought it was cursed. i heard others swear he just wanted to open a juice bar. i checked Yelp for the juice bar and it’s rated 2 stars because the owner added glitter to the mango smoothies. another review said the tap water tastes like regret. tripadvisor has this place with a sign that says ‘we regret nothing’ and 5 stars. don’t trust it.
i brought a film camera for this trip. the humidity’s supposed to be 44% but it feels like 60% because of the way this city pretends it’s not sweating. one morning, i swear a street artist was painting a mural of a salsa dancer made entirely of coins. the locals were like ‘nah, that’s just david with his collection again.’ what’s david? i asked. turns out he’s the guy who sells lucky tamales in a backpack. those tamales are $1.50 and taste like hope.
the weather’s all over the place. min 18.7, max 21.06. i almost got hypothermia waiting for a bus because the shade was so intense. the ground level pressure’s 970 which i think means it’s holding its breath. the sea level is 1021 which sounds like a dare. i asked a vendor if it’s safe to drink the coffee and he just said ‘absolutely not, unless you want to see a ghost.’ which i didn’t.
someone told me the nearby town is 30 minutes away but it’s actually 2 hours if the road’s closed because a goat rode into the median. the buskers here are DIY legends. one was using a spool of thread to spin a giant yarn ball that kept getting stolen by pigeons. another sold mirrors shaped like tacos. i bought one. it’s $8 but in my head it’s worth infinite.
i found this place called Bancos and they claim to have the best tacos in the country. yelp says otherwise. it’s rated 3.1 because people say the corn tortillas are ‘technically expired.’ i tried it anyway. the salsa was different. like aggression. i also saw a mural of a giant elephant made of recycled phone books. the painter said it was a metaphor for something between a civil war and a family dinner. i didn’t ask for clarification.
if you’re into coffee, avoid the local cafes. they all serve coffee that’s basically tea with a side of regrets. but i did find this hidden gem where a woman sells single-origin beans in a tiny shop. she called it ‘the elixir of discipline.’ i didn’t know what that meant but drank it anyway. now i’m paid my life in existential fear.
i’ll leave you with this: oaxaca’s ghost hunter roams the ruins at night. he charges $50 for a photo and a promise that he’ll tell you if the place is haunted. i haven’t gone but the reviews say he’s either a genius or delusional. who knows.
check out tripadvisor for the cursed juice bar.
yelp has the glue shoes guy.
localboards for joining a random pottery cult.
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