Oaxaca

My bus trip to Oaxaca was relatively uneventful. I was a little concerned a first that they were going to stop every thirty minutes to let people on and off, each time turning on the lights and announcing, loudly, our destination. I began to grumble internally about the fact that I had paid, more than I thought I should have paid, for a first-class, “direct,” bus and this whole stopping every thirty minutes thing was not really working for my plan for a good night’s sleep, but eventually, they must have completed all of the stops because I was able to get to sleep.

When we arrived at 6:30 in the morning, I found that I was not the only other foreign traveller on the bus and introduced myself to Anna, on her last few days of a 10 month trip around the world from Germany. Interestingly enough, Anna did not have a guide book either and she too was headed to the same hostel that I was headed to. We decided to walk together after learning that there was a teachers´ strike and that taking a cab would be fruitless because the streets around the center of town were all filled with tents and tarps. After ducking and winding our way through the maze of tents, we found our hostel, where we settled in before heading out to explore the city.

Oaxaca, like many other Mexican cities, is one of many colors. On almost every street, each house and abutting business are painted in different, vibrant colors. While Oaxaca houses some beautiful old churches, much of the city seems to be of every day use and was not extraordinarily picturesque. The city center, or zolocalo, which I had heard was quite impressive, was impressive for the moment, filled as it was with hundreds of tents, tarps and signs praising socialism, communism and listing the teachers demands. Of the buildings and other ornaments, there was little to be seen.

The following day, Anna was feeling ill, so I left her to recuperate, while I visited what is said to be the biggest tree in the world, in El Tule, and the Aztec ruins of Mitla, before heading back to Oaxaca.

That night I finally realized the appeal of the backpackers’ hostel, complete with shared dormitory, shared kitchen and free movies watched from an array of well worn couches. Because I had already overspent my allocation of cash for the day, I bought a packet of spinach soup from the nearby grocery and had a simple dinner of spinach soup (made significantly tastier by the packet of oriental soup spices left by another traveller before) and joined my fellow travellers on the couch for a movie. Granted not a very “Mexican” experience, but enjoyable nonetheless.