Recuerdos de Oaxaca

Oaxaca Travel Blog

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In Oaxaca now, since midday Monday, and living is grand. Oaxaco is another brown smurf colony, we're still giants, but we're getting used to it now. Unfortunately, the only cute girls who are willing to make eye-contact with us are the ones stationed outside mezcal shops, and probably only then because they expect us to be drunk tourists lured by flirty smiles and eyelashes aflutter. The pleasant surprise, despite the fact that 90% of the girls in town are only waist- to chest-tall (another factor inhibiting eye-contact), is that the women in Oaxaca are absolutely gorgeous -- yes, the town is teeming with duplexes (our invented code for dime pieces). In our first hour in Oaxaca I witnessed more, in my judgement, beautiful women than I had in all our days prior in la ciudad. The difference between the DF and Oaxaca, besides vast variances in population, is that the cute girls in Oaxaca grow up to be beautiful women.

We were misinformed by one traveler at our DF hostel that the women in Oaxaca were bland at best, but his appreciation for beauty is now 100% discredited. That he also boasted la ciudad offered the most beautiful tourists should've been signal enough that his ambitions are entirely different than ours. I certainly did not come to Mexico to admire pigment-challenged Europeans.

Arriving in Oaxaca via first-class bus, Jackson had scoped out a number of possible hostels through our Mexico Rough Guide, but upon inspection, they proved either too expensive or no longer in existence. We ended up stumbling across one called San Fidel Hostel, a quaint establishment with unadorned double rooms for two-hundred twenty pesos per nights. It's a family-run establishment, and the family is absolutely accomodating. Our room has a fan (occupying the only electrical outlet), two beds, a small plastic table with two chairs, and a mirror, nothing more. There are two bathrooms in the building for travelers to share, but it's a small place, so competition isn't rabid. We're actually leaving via bus at 9pm tonight, heading toward San Cristóbal de las Casas, in Chiapas, MX, but the family has allowed us to lock our bags in their hostel7house until the evening, so we can explore the town today without having to torture our lower backs lugging around bulging, thirty plus pound backpacks.

The town (and hostel) is much quiter than the DF, but the Monday night Independence celebration and parade were anything but. It was raucous, with its own small army of port-o-jons and machine-gun brandishing police and military. A quick but fierce dousing of rain did little to stem the party. Jackson and I, standing approximately one-foot taller than anyone else, had a great view of the processions as they marched from the surrounding streets into the zocalo, and we amused two beauty queens drawn on a float behind an ATV by waving and smiling, then walking forward a few hundred yards to catch them again as they passed, this time blowing kisses, which were returned.

Oaxaca is generally more monied than Mexico City, and things a bit more expensive. Still, there are plenty of affordable options if you look. Panaderías are a daily habit, and vendors and market-stands are supporting our diets. Street food has yet to give us "runny tummy," though it is inevitable. Tlayudas are a great discovery in Oaxaca (actually recommended by another traveler in the DF), a Oaxacaquenan specialty that consists of a huge, crunchy tortilla layered with a bean spread, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, radishes, avacado, Oaxaca cheese, and sometimes meat and salsa. They are always larger than your plate, and I've bought them for as little as 18 pesos (without meat), and 40 with. Absolutely delicious. Tortas are cheap and tasty as always, and a street-side purchase of succulent mango provided much needed vitamins. The closed-air markets, of which there are several in town, are massive and crowded, with tiny alleys linking collections of vendors selling everything from shoes and watches to tortas and pastries, just yards away from hundred-foot lines of butchers all competing for the same business, with links and slabs of many colored and shaped meats hanging and laying about, permeating the air with the stifling stench of raw meat and rot, some stands ornamented by a hanging pig's head, or, in one case, half a head.

To save a little cash this week we've also treated ourself to a bottle of mezcal, in particular a cheaper priced, hand painted bottle with no indication of either proof or volume, and with some plant inside the bottle, swimming in the mezcal. Mezcal, for the uninformed, is, from what I gather, is something along the lines of unrefined tequila. It's harsh and, our bottle at least, proving incredibly potent, but mixed with Fresca Jackson and I have gotten plenty tipsy for two consecutive nights, and together we've still not finished the bottle, which is sized somewhere between one-fifth and one liter.

Yesterday we visited the nearby Monte Alban ruins, which are a collection of pyramidal stone establishments. Being there was more interesting than anything I can say to describe the experience, and maybe someday I'll actually post some pictures. I should note, though, that the ancient peoples had built a bunch of squat columns that we decided were antediluvian homage to Barry's penis. (Even thousands of miles away, making jokes at Barry's expense is a daily routine. Bart, I love you, dude. Also, ladies, Barry is, in fact, generously endowed. We don't call him Thunderballs for nothing...though this actually isn't the reason, either.)

There's little we miss about Mexico City, though gazing out at the hazy expanse from the hostel terrace was awe-inspiring. Also, I have to say we miss the LA raised Mexican we met, who knew about one hundred words in English if fifty of them were "motherfucker," and who maintained an all-night conversation that was essentially, "What's wrong with America? Why do we have borders?" Though we agreed that brotherhood is a great ideal to strive toward, it eventually became tiresome agreeing with the repetitive sentiment framed by and littered with unusual uses of motherfucker. However, he did give us a new exclamation, whether it actually exists or not: as he spelled it, "Dwebo!" which translates to "Hells yeah," and which was especially enjoyable in his stereotypical Mexican-American accent. That reminds me, Mexicans speaking english stuggle to pronounce the "th" sound, transforming the word third into turd, a source of frequent amusement. Wait, again, what grade are you in? Also, Mexicans love metal, including Pantera and BTBAM, though they don't know Columns...yet. Lastly, Jackson and I have been engaging in a wonderful duet, well harmonized, which can spring into song at any given moment. The entire duet consists of us singing and repeating the phrase, "I've got the voice of an angel!" oftentimes at incredibly high and sexy pitches. Lastly, we are trying to introduce the expression "Word!" to the world, sharing the word and concept with Mexicans and foreign travelers alike. Currently, "Palabra" is spreading through Mexico with remarkable ease.
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In Oaxaca now, since midday Monday, and living is grand. Oaxaco is another brown smurf colony, we're still giants, but we're getting used to it now. Unfortunately, the only cute girls who are willing to make eye-contact with us are the ones stationed outside mezcal shops, and probably only then because they expect us to be drunk tourists lured by flirty smiles and eyelashes aflutter. The pleasant surprise, despite the fact that 90% of the girls in town are only waist- to chest-tall (another factor inhibiting eye-contact), is that the women in Oaxaca are absolutely gorgeous -- yes, the town is teeming with duplexes (our invented code for dime pieces). In our first hour in Oaxaca I witnessed more, in my judgement, beautiful women than I had in all our days prior in la ciudad. The difference between the DF and Oaxaca, besides vast variances in population, is that the cute girls in Oaxaca grow up to be beautiful women.

We were misinformed by one traveler at our DF hostel that the women in Oaxaca were bland at best, but his appreciation for beauty is now 100% discredited. That he also boasted la ciudad offered the most beautiful tourists should've been signal enough that his ambitions are entirely different than ours. I certainly did not come to Mexico to admire pigment-challenged Europeans.

Arriving in Oaxaca via first-class bus, Jackson had scoped out a number of possible hostels through our Mexico Rough Guide, but upon inspection, they proved either too expensive or no longer in existence. We ended up stumbling across one called San Fidel Hostel, a quaint establishment with unadorned double rooms for two-hundred twenty pesos per nights. It's a family-run establishment, and the family is absolutely accomodating. Our room has a fan (occupying the only electrical outlet), two beds, a small plastic table with two chairs, and a mirror, nothing more. There are two bathrooms in the building for travelers to share, but it's a small place, so competition isn't rabid. We're actually leaving via bus at 9pm tonight, heading toward San Cristóbal de las Casas, in Chiapas, MX, but the family has allowed us to lock our bags in their hostel7house until the evening, so we can explore the town today without having to torture our lower backs lugging around bulging, thirty plus pound backpacks.

The town (and hostel) is much quiter than the DF, but the Monday night Independence celebration and parade were anything but. It was raucous, with its own small army of port-o-jons and machine-gun brandishing police and military. A quick but fierce dousing of rain did little to stem the party. Jackson and I, standing approximately one-foot taller than anyone else, had a great view of the processions as they marched from the surrounding streets into the zocalo, and we amused two beauty queens drawn on a float behind an ATV by waving and smiling, then walking forward a few hundred yards to catch them again as they passed, this time blowing kisses, which were returned.

Oaxaca is generally more monied than Mexico City, and things a bit more expensive. Still, there are plenty of affordable options if you look. Panaderías are a daily habit, and vendors and market-stands are supporting our diets. Street food has yet to give us "runny tummy," though it is inevitable. Tlayudas are a great discovery in Oaxaca (actually recommended by another traveler in the DF), a Oaxacaquenan specialty that consists of a huge, crunchy tortilla layered with a bean spread, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, radishes, avacado, Oaxaca cheese, and sometimes meat and salsa. They are always larger than your plate, and I've bought them for as little as 18 pesos (without meat), and 40 with. Absolutely delicious. Tortas are cheap and tasty as always, and a street-side purchase of succulent mango provided much needed vitamins. The closed-air markets, of which there are several in town, are massive and crowded, with tiny alleys linking collections of vendors selling everything from shoes and watches to tortas and pastries, just yards away from hundred-foot lines of butchers all competing for the same business, with links and slabs of many colored and shaped meats hanging and laying about, permeating the air with the stifling stench of raw meat and rot, some stands ornamented by a hanging pig's head, or, in one case, half a head.

To save a little cash this week we've also treated ourself to a bottle of mezcal, in particular a cheaper priced, hand painted bottle with no indication of either proof or volume, and with some plant inside the bottle, swimming in the mezcal. Mezcal, for the uninformed, is, from what I gather, is something along the lines of unrefined tequila. It's harsh and, our bottle at least, proving incredibly potent, but mixed with Fresca Jackson and I have gotten plenty tipsy for two consecutive nights, and together we've still not finished the bottle, which is sized somewhere between one-fifth and one liter.

Yesterday we visited the nearby Monte Alban ruins, which are a collection of pyramidal stone establishments. Being there was more interesting than anything I can say to describe the experience, and maybe someday I'll actually post some pictures. I should note, though, that the ancient peoples had built a bunch of squat columns that we decided were antediluvian homage to Barry's penis. (Even thousands of miles away, making jokes at Barry's expense is a daily routine. Bart, I love you, dude. Also, ladies, Barry is, in fact, generously endowed. We don't call him Thunderballs for nothing...though this actually isn't the reason, either.)

There's little we miss about Mexico City, though gazing out at the hazy expanse from the hostel terrace was awe-inspiring. Also, I have to say we miss the LA raised Mexican we met, who knew about one hundred words in English if fifty of them were "motherfucker," and who maintained an all-night conversation that was essentially, "What's wrong with America? Why do we have borders?" Though we agreed that brotherhood is a great ideal to strive toward, it eventually became tiresome agreeing with the repetitive sentiment framed by and littered with unusual uses of motherfucker. However, he did give us a new exclamation, whether it actually exists or not: as he spelled it, "Dwebo!" which translates to "Hells yeah," and which was especially enjoyable in his stereotypical Mexican-American accent. That reminds me, Mexicans speaking english stuggle to pronounce the "th" sound, transforming the word third into turd, a source of frequent amusement. Wait, again, what grade are you in? Also, Mexicans love metal, including Pantera and BTBAM, though they don't know Columns...yet. Lastly, Jackson and I have been engaging in a wonderful duet, well harmonized, which can spring into song at any given moment. The entire duet consists of us singing and repeating the phrase, "I've got the voice of an angel!" oftentimes at incredibly high and sexy pitches. Lastly, we are trying to introduce the expression "Word!" to the world, sharing the word and concept with Mexicans and foreign travelers alike. Currently, "Palabra" is spreading through Mexico with remarkable ease.
patirkc_AAA says:
Cool post on Oaxaca. You should include some photos from your adventures!
Posted on: Nov 26, 2015
Oaxaca
photo by: tonygiglio