The thing I like best about Oaxaca is the zocalo, the central plaza. It's a perfect place to sit, drink a cerveza and watch the people. It's always busy, full of locals and tourist, going about their business or having a meal. And the large trees and absence of motor vehicles means it's peaceful. It's a perfect place to rest your feet after a day of walking.
I went to Oaxaca for five days in September, 1995 - a day or two more would have been nice but you can easily see everything in that amount of time. September is in the rainy season but I was in luck - it was sunny almost every day I was there. The days were warm (high 70's) but it can get real cool at night as Oaxaca is almost a mile high, so take a jacket. I had always heard how nice Oaxaca was and I wasn't disappointed.
The first problem, after I decided to go, was where to stay. After checking the guide books, I picked the Fortin Plaza about a mile (a N$10 taxi ride or a 20 minute walk) from the center. I figured it would be quiet out there and it was. It was off season and for much of my stay I was the only one in the hotel. (By the way, don't let them give you a room in the front of the hotel which faces a fairly busy - and noisy - road.) I made my reservation through a local travel agent for three nights at $70 per. I had tried calling the Fortin directly but couldn't get anybody who spoke English - and that turned out to be the case while I was there too. When I decided to add two more nights I was charged $35 per night - need I say more?
I flew down from Michigan on Northwest to Mexico City and then Aeromexico to Oaxaca on Thursday, September 7. A van from the airport to my hotel was N$23. After I checked in - at about 6:00 in the evening - I walked down to the zocalo for dinner and a quick look around before dark.
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In the morning (Friday) I headed down to the bus station. But be careful, there are two of them. The first class (for long distance routes) is on the north side, while the second class (for nearby villages and the one I wanted) is to the south. There are a couple of markets along the way so I stopped for a look as I walked. The first market south of the zocalo sells mostly food and is quite active and interesting. Farther along there is a craft market that simply isn't worth a stop. I found crafts for sale everywhere and the selection here is quite sad. The last market is the big Oaxaca market, across the railroad track, south of town. It's full of local produce and some crafts. It's always active but Saturday, when vendors come in from the surrounding villages, is the day to see it.
The second class bus station is just beyond the Oaxaca market. It's a ramshacked semi-circle affair. Buses are on the inside of the circle while the ticket offices - one for each bus company - are on the other. Finding the correct bus turned out to be more of a task than I expected. My Spanish is only useful for ordering food - "Un cerveza, por favor" - and signs were almost non-existent. The best approach is to forget the ticket offices entirely and head directly to the buses. There I found the destinations were written on the front of each coach. Safely seated I asked the only other gringos on board if this bus did, in fact, go to Ocotlan. They confirmed it did and we fell into conversation. They were from Australia and taking six weeks to see
Mexico and Central America.
We were all heading to Ocotlan, a nearby village, to visit the market that is held there on Fridays. It's less than an hour away by bus (N$4) and well worth the visit for the sights, sounds and smells it offers. In this, and the other markets I visited (Oaxaca and Tlacolula), I saw very little that was put on sale just for the tourists. There were various Mexican fruits and vegetables, bags of some white mineral used to make tortillas, great carved wooden yokes for oxen and piles of brand new sombreros. Then there is the ever-present Mexican audio tape vendor playing his loud, distorted music. And everywhere the smell of food cooking. (39k picture)
The temporary stalls are put up on the main streets and covered with plastic awnings. The ropes that support the plastic are high enough for the rather short Mexicans to easily get under, but were a perfect height to repeatedly knock off my baseball hat. I noticed this amusing sight was not lost on the Mexicans - who were politely laughing behind there hands.
That evening I headed back to the zocalo. As I was having a beer, I heard music being played from the gazebo that dominates the center of the plaza. So I drank up and headed over. There was a marimba band playing there. Many Mexican families were quietly watching and listening and I joined their ranks. The music that was played covered the whole range from traditional Mexican to Broadway show tunes. This was the first, of what turned out to be nightly entertainment - something that the Oaxaca is famous for. (In all I saw two marimba groups, a couple of mariachi bands, a military brass band, a symphonic orchestra and a Mexican folk group in the five nights I was there.)
Later I ran into Bob and Claire (the Australians from the bus). As we were having a beer and talking about where to eat dinner, the leader of a mariachi band approached us. He wanted to know if we wanted them to serenade us. He was speaking to Bob in Spanish. When I found out they only wanted N$20, I asked them to play a traditional song for us. There were six members in all; a violin, two guitars, one of those big bass guitars and two trumpets. What a treat to sit in the zocalo in the cool of the evening and be serenaded.
Finally we got hungry and went over to Mario's Terranova (which turned out to be my favorite place to eat). I decided to try Tamales Mole (say: mo-lay). Mole is a chocolate-based sauce, not at all sweet but mildly spicy, that the tamales are cooked in. They come wrapped in banana leaves and are quite tasty. Sitting after dinner with yet another cerveza we could smell something sweet in the air. When we turned around there was a lady selling Gardenia - a sight I was to see and smell every night.
Then next day (Saturday) I walked down to the Oaxaca market for a look around. You see the vendors long before you get to the market buildings - the place is packed on Saturdays. Every bit of space is taken up with someone selling something. Piles of fruits and vegetables are everywhere, as are clothing and car parts. The isles are packed with women carrying bundles on their heads, men pushing hand carts and customers carrying their recent purchases. Piles of fried grasshoppers are to be seen (a local delicacy I never had the courage to try). And the smell of frying food and the loud distorted sound of the tape vendors again. This is a sight not to be missed. And unlike the souks, bazaars and markets of the Mediterranean, there were no touts trying to sell me things. This is a market by and for the local population. What a joy to visit.
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After a couple of hours of walking around I left and got a bus to Monte Alban - an archeological site about 20 minutes away. Monte Alban is a series of pyramid-shaped structures sitting on a flattened hilltop over looking Oaxaca. The site is spectacular - surrounded by mountains and lush with vegetation. The structures are in good repair and each one offers a great view from the top. This is another must see - take some food and drink, as I did, and have a picnic. That evening, back at the zocalo, I ran into Bob. Claire, he said, was resting up at the hotel. After dinner and a few beers, we decided to go to Mitla the next day.
Sunday morning we met and hopped an early bus (N$6). Mitla is about an hour and a half south of Oaxaca but the actual site is about a 20 minute walk from the bus stops. (Don't let the taxi drivers convince you that it's too far to walk - it's an interesting walk.) The site has a church built right on top of it and is mostly low walls famous for the pattern set in the bricks. To my mind the town of Mitla - where the stuccoed walls are covered with paintings advertising the businesses within - was more interesting than the site itself, but it's still worth the trip. (21k picture)
On the way back we split up. Bob and Claire headed back to Oaxaca to catch another bus to some tombs they wanted to see. We also said our good-byes, as later they were heading south to Guatemala and Belize. As a solo traveler it is always a joy to meet other travelers with similar sensibility and travel style. Bob and Claire were a delight to spend time with.
I got off the bus at Tlacolula where there was another weekly market I wanted to visit. My advice: even if you don't like to shop, catch a few of these local markets. You will see the town - and the residents - at their liveliest.
On Monday, my last day in Oaxaca, I took a bus to a remote site called Yagul. I took the same bus I did the day before (to Mitla) but got off early. I had to remind the driver twice to let me out, he was so busy talking to the other passengers. Yagul is about a mile off, and up, the road from where the bus stops. It is a quiet walk along a straight road surrounded by corn fields. The site is on a high spear of land that sticks out from the mountains and it offers a marvelous view of the valley.
The guard wanted to practice is English so he showed me around for awhile and then headed back to his ticket booth. Yagul is mostly low walls, a small ball court and a few tombs. The main attraction is the location - and the view. After a brief walk around I decided to leave but on the way out it started to rain - this was the only time during my trip. The guard invited me to sit in the shelter of the ticket booth. We passed the half hour of rain talking about how hard it is to make a living in Mexico since the devaluation of the peso. He also said that the week before it had rained a lot and described bus loads of wet tourist to me. When it stopped raining I walked back to the road and hailed the next bus heading toward Oaxaca.
I asked the driver to stop at Teotitlan, a village noted for it weavers. The town is about four miles back from the road and luckily there was a taxi (N$1) heading that way. The town is mostly a long dusty road with houses/weaving shops on both sides. You just wander in, watch them weaving and take a look at their stock. It's all very low key - not at all like rug shopping in Turkey or Morocco where the owner fawns over you while plying you with endless cups of tea. All and all I was not impressed by what I saw. The quality of the weaving was good but the designs all seemed to be poor copies. I had seen some magnificent Oaxacan rugs in the US but you really have to search to find them here. I was later told that the better quality stuff is sent abroad - maybe so. I did find one 2.5 X 5 foot wool Navajo-design rug that I liked a lot. I got it for $50 after only a few minutes of bargaining. I only had to walk out of the shop once.
With my new rug tucked under my arm I walked to the edge of town hoping to catch a taxi back to the main road. It was now the middle of the day and there wasn't much traffic so I waited and waited. When a car did finally come by - not a taxi - I stuck out my thumb any way. The driver pulled over and invited me in. He was an American from Arizona with some kind of connection to the weaving industry. We had a pleasant conversation as he drove me back to Oaxaca and dropped me off very near my hotel.
Tuesday morning I took a taxi to the airport (N$20) and then flew back to Mexico City. From the airport I elected to take a taxi to my hotel (N$40). While the price is a bit high, I had heard there could be problems taking baggage on the subway. I stayed at the Hotel Metropol for N$460 per night. (I had made my reservation from home by fax.) It's a large modern place located close to the Zocalo and Alameda park. The breakfast's were great.
I had had mixed feelings about visiting Mexico City - the biggest (and smoggiest) city in the world. As it turned out, I really enjoyed my short stay there - but you must make allowances, it is big and smoggy. I had also read about problems with pick-pockets in the subway. Bob, the Australian I met in Oaxaca, said he had lost his wallet. His hands were full of baggage as he got on and suddenly he was surrounded by people. The next thing he knew the crowd - and his wallet - were gone. So I approached metro travel with caution and, probably because of that, didn't have a single bad experience. It's fast and cheap and goes everywhere - but I deliberately planned my day to avoid the busy, crowded times.
After I checked into the Metropol I walked over to the Zocalo. Although you find a zocalo in almost every Mexican town, properly speaking there is only one - this one. It's the main square in central Mexico City and it's big and it's ugly. I had come here to check out the Diego Rivera murals at the National Palace and to visit the Templo Mayor - a ruined temple in the center of the city. When I was done, I jumped on the metro (N$0.4) and went out to the Anthropology Museum. I have heard visitors say that this is the place to start your trip because it gives such a good overview of Mexico's archeological sites. That's true. If you don't go at the start, make sure you see it before you leave. And be prepared to do a lot of walking - it's huge. One last note; there is an excellent restaurant there - have the Enchilada de Mole.
Wednesday morning I took the metro to the north bus station and got a coach (N$17) to Teotihuacan, about an hour away. The bus dropped me right at the front gate and after I paid my admission (N$16) and I was ready to walk. There are three (huge) main structures that are a little better than a mile apart. Climbing the pyramids, if taken slowly, shouldn't be a problem for anyone of even moderate health. The view from the top is spectacular. The weather was sunny and warm - with giant fluffy clouds. And everything was green. I sat on the top of the Pyramid of the Moon for a long time admiring the view. This is another of those must see places. (24k picture)
After a couple of hours of walking around, I hiked back to the entrance gate. I figured the bus would leave from there. While I was waiting a taxi driver approached me. He said that the bus for Mexico City would leave from the north gate - way up where I had just come from. Further he said that it was leaving in about five minutes. I asked if it would also stop here. "No," he said. My first thought was that he was trying to do a number on me. But I asked how much to go to the north gate. He said N$10. Let's see, I thought, that's less than two bucks - so I decided to take a chance. I hopped in and he drove me up. I stood waiting only a couple of minutes and the bus arrived. When we were underway the true test came - no, this bus did not go by the gate where I had just been waiting.
This was my experience in Mexico in general. I often gave people a chance to take advantage of me through my ignorance (like the first day when I gave a shop keeper N$200 instead of N$20 - he just looked at me, smiled and handed back the extra money) and in all cases they didn't cheat me. Most of my experience with Mexicans was from the five years I lived in California, where they are often recent immigrants and usually the underclass. In Mexico I found them to be proud and gracious host who were sincerely interested in what I thought of their country. And I told them honestly how much I liked it.
Back at the north bus station I jumped on the metro again. I wanted to see the murals on a library located at the university campus south of the city. The problem was I didn't know where the library was located - only that it was near the last metro stop. As I have already said, my Spanish is almost nonexistent but I did know the word for library. So when I arrived I started asking, "Biblioteca?" Everyone just pointed - and all in the same direction. "Well," I thought, "that was sure easy." But wait. When I got there, it was a library sure enough, but not the one I wanted. It's a big campus. And how big, I was about to find out - as I walked and asked, and walked and asked. Finally I found someone who spoke a little English, enough to tell me I was on the wrong side of the campus. So I did what any smart traveler does - I flagged down a taxi. I got in, said the magic word, "Biblioteca", and was there within five minutes - for only N$10.
The library itself was a little worn but the campus was interesting to see. The center is a huge open area with men playing soccer and groups of students chatting. And to my surprise there were a number of other muraled buildings to see. Getting back to the metro was a snap because there are only two stops in the area. "Metro?" I asked, and then just walked in the direction they pointed. By the way, if you are heading to the library get off at the next to last stop. It's closer.
Thursday morning, the day of my return to Detroit, I went for one last look around. As I was walking I noticed people running out of the office buildings and pointing back at them. I stopped to watch and noticed that the window curtains were swaying wildly. I also noticed that my legs were shaking - kind of like when you exercise too much. But it wasn't my legs, it was the ground that was shaking. We were having an earthquake! All the traffic stopped and everything was quiet until the shaking stopped. It turned out to be a five something quake centered in the area I had just left. Not much damage was done - just enough movement to remind me how temporary are the things we build. Later I got a taxi from my hotel back to the airport (N$30). The flight back home was uneventful although it was delayed because of downed phone line - earthquake damage.
A final note: I was surprised how few Mexicans speak English. It's a good idea to take a dictionary along.
Ann Arbor, MI
January 1996
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