Oaxaca

I am writing from Mazunte, sitting under a broad leafed tree and drinking a $10 smoothie. Moments ago I was finishing my trip from Puerto Escondido riding in the back of a a pickup truck, weighed down by my heavy duffel bag on a bench under a makeshift metal tent. This is the end of my week in Oaxaca and I’ve summited some Zapotec ruins, stayed in a variety of hostels, and made some great friends.

Oaxacan Coast

The past few days have been spent on the Oaxacan coast, in towns firmly situated along the gringo trail. There’s a lot of Burning Man veterans. Thirtysomethings with an affinity for yoga and dreadlocks and fractal tattoos. Here in Mazunte there’s one main street with a handful of businesses and a calm beach tucked into a cove with tiny, lapping waves.

Puerto Escondido is the party place and a foil to Mazunte’s calm vibe. I bit off a bit more than I could chew there, booking a bed in an 8 person dorm at a party hostel. Upon arrival, I got the rundown of about four different ways you could conjure up a free shot at the bar. Then I spoke to a few people by the poolside, shouting over the loud trashy Youtube techno. Everyone was 22 and was situated somewhere in the middle of a multi-week bender. My Irish roommares told me I needed to make a choice between the reggaeton party or the techno event on until 6am. There was added urgency because the government would impose an alcohol ban beginning tomorrow, so this was the only night to partake. Thou shalt party whether you like it or not. After the previous day’s mezcal tour and a shared bus through a treacherous mountain pass, I tried to retreat into a book, but then I was jolted out of my trance by “Hips Don’t Lie” announcing the start of the 8pm karaoke session.

I ended up giving in to Puerto, ending the night with my newfound Belgian friends at a wild reggaeton party. We had a good time.

Oaxaca

Before Puerto, Oaxaca was a nice, slower pace pause after Mexico City. Oaxaca is small, tucked in a valley surrounded by mountains. It’s deeply colorful and rich and full of culture. I walked by the Zocalo (the central square) one day and witnessed a small festival, with locals wielding massive puppets sticks dancing to brass music.

I went to Monte Alban to see the ancient Zapotec ruins. I sat between a Brit and a Romanian on the shared bus to the site and we ended the night drinking grasshopper cocktails on a roof in Oaxaca.

The next day I joined a tour to hike Hierve del Agua, a petrified waterfall tucked away in the mountains. My fellow tour-goers were all northern Europeans and against all odds, they turned out to be fun and jovial, especially after we stopped by a mezcal factory and drank 15 “samples” of mezcal. We sang karaoke the whole ride back to Oaxaca and finished the evening with some tacos afterwards.

I met some great Belgians that day who have become my new road family. The following morning we shared a bus to from Oaxaca to Puerto Escondido and have spent the past few days together. It feels like we’ve known each other for weeks.

Microsoft Teams

On Friday, I had my offboarding work call from a café sat between my two new friends. I had received a text from a colleague informing me that I was 30m late for a call with HR, so I had to scramble, flip open my laptop and join a Microsoft Teams call in order to listen to some guy from HR explain how my health insurance benefits would end at midnight. Looking around at some bright blue Oaxacan art on the wall, I tuned him out. I thought about how we had no travel arranged and we would shortly have to roam the dirt roads behind the market to look for a bus that would take us to the coast.

The man from HR asked where I was.

“I’m about to get on a bus.”

“Oh, are you going on a little trip?”

“Yes.”

“When will be able to send the laptop back?”

“It may be a while.”