Take Me to Oaxaca
The streets, the ruins, the food, the rituals.
Mexico is nothing short of magical — 761,600 square miles of mountains, coasts and valleys, rich traditions shifting with every horizon. Along its southern edge lies Oaxaca, one of the world’s great gastronomic capitals.
Oaxaca doesn’t unfold all at once. It lingers in the smoky air of its mercados, in the sounds of a band leading a surprise street parade, in the way a handful of simple ingredients simmer into something extraordinary. Called “the land of seven moles,” each of its regions shapes the sauce in its own way — a legacy that first called me there.
I set out to experience Oaxaca City (or Oaxaca de Juárez) through food, but also to connect with a Mexican culture different from my own and to explore the city as opportunities presented themselves. What I found was that culture isn’t something Oaxaca shows you; it’s something you step into — alive in the streets, the ruins, the food, the rituals.
A Taste of Culture
Walking into the covered market of Mercado Benito Juárez, I was met with an explosion of sound, scent and color. Baskets overflowed with chiles, cacao and chapulines (grasshoppers), while bright textiles hung above the narrow aisles. Smoke from grilling meats filled the air, which pulsed with voices and bursts of laughter.
I wound my way through the stalls and followed my stomach to a booth with chairs at the counter. There, I ordered a tlayuda mixta. A traditional Oaxacan dish and celebrated emblem of street food that I had the pleasure of trying for the first time. It was life-changing.
A tlayuda is a large crispy corn tortilla, about 12 inches in diameter, smothered in asiento (the region’s unrefined pork lard) and refried black beans. The version I ordered came with cabbage, sliced avocado, tomatoes and quesillo, a famous stretchy Oaxacan cheese. Finally, the tlayuda is topped with a mix of meats, including tasajo (thin-sliced grilled beef), cecina (thin-sliced salty pork) and chorizo (Mexican sausage).
I grew up eating queso oaxaqueño, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the sensational depth of quesillo. A mix of ingredients unlike anything I’d ever tasted. Each component held its own, yet together they created a perfect harmony of flavor. It was a reminder of how simple ingredients can feel profound.
As I continued through the market’s hustle and bustle, I stopped at several vendors to sample quesillo, different varieties of mole and even try some mezcal.
A couple of days later, I joined an organized food tour at Mercado 20 de Noviembre. There, I tried tamales de calabaza, made in corn husks with masa de maíz (corn dough) and a pureed squash or pumpkin filling. Earthy and slightly sweet, they carried a comfort I hadn’t expected. I also tasted more mole, quesillo and mezcal. The complexity of each mole blend shifted with every sample, offering profiles that ranged from sweet to rich, bitter, smoky and even sour. Each reflected the regional differences within the state and felt like a metaphor for Mexican culture itself: layered, evolving and unique.
All of these moments of connection — sharing stories, tasting side by side, talking with cooks, learning the practices behind each ingredient and the ritual of creating each dish — taught me that food isn’t just nourishment; it’s the language Oaxaca speaks to welcome you.
My tour group ventured through the carnicería, or meat market, where rows of meat cuts stretched endlessly before us. We ordered a plate of everything that had been on the first tlayuda: tasajo, cecina and chorizo, and watched as it sizzled on the open grill. At long wooden tables, we sat beside an Oaxacan family who struck up a conversation and even tried engaging with our non-Spanish-speaking group member. As we shared stories and laughs, the father curiously asked why I chose to visit Oaxaca. I answered, “La comida, por supuesto!” The food, of course.
Ancient Roots, Living Symbols
Beyond the markets, my journey stretched deeper into the state. Just a few miles from Oaxaca City rise the ancient ruins of Zona Arqueológica de Monte Albán, once the center of Zapotec and later Mixtec civilization. About 30 miles to the southeast lies Mitla, an archaeological site revered as a sacred burial ground. I also visited El Árbol del Tule, a massive 2,000-year-old Montezuma cypress famed for having the widest tree trunk in the world — a holy, living symbol for the Indigenous peoples of Oaxaca.
Farther into the mountains waits Hierve el Agua, where mineral springs spill over cliffs to form petrified waterfalls and shimmering natural infinity pools. The name translates to “the water boils,” though the springs flow at a mild 72 degrees Fahrenheit. The bubbling effect comes not from heat but from dissolved calcium carbonate, which over thousands of years has created the spectacular stone cascades the site is known for.
This part of the tour included a visit to a small traditional candle-making shop and a weaving and dyeing workshop, where we observed the creation of natural dyes and large looms at work, producing intricate designs. Candles hold a deep significance in Oaxacan culture and are still crafted from pure beeswax for special occasions. Ornate and detailed, they can range in size but sometimes stand as tall as six feet. In Zapotec weddings, the candles are traditionally presented by the groom’s family to the bride’s, who then lights them, symbolizing unity and blessings for the couple. In some cases, the wedding ceremony cannot begin until the candle has burned completely.
These places are more than businesses; they are guardians of tradition, fiercely preserving and passing Oaxacan Indigenous practices through generations.
And it was here, outside the markets and monuments, that I began to understand something essential: traveling in Oaxaca isn’t about checking sights off a list, but about letting its rhythm carry you.
Swept Into Celebration
My best memory of this trip was sitting on a rooftop restaurant with a breathtaking view of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán, drinking Bohemia with a group of travelers I’d met at my hostel. We watched as crowds of well-dressed people made their way to the Templo, taking turns guessing what the occasion might be.
As time passed, a roar of instruments broke through the evening air and a procession filled the street. At the front were gigantic papier-mache puppets with swinging arms, known as monos de calenda, followed by twirling paper globes, celestial figures and a line of dancers in vibrant flowing skirts, white woven tops, colorful scarves and traditional Oaxacan ribbon-woven braids. The folkloric dance troupe balanced huge baskets atop their heads, decorated with foliage and religious symbols.
The crowd swelled as we watched this beautiful display of culture and heard the band’s music grow increasingly distant. We decided to walk back to our hostel and ended up unknowingly joining the parade — dancing and celebrating with strangers in a jam-packed street where mezcal was offered all around. I was no longer an observer; I was swept into joy that wasn’t staged for tourists, but real life itself unfolding.
I later learned that we had stumbled upon a traditional Oaxacan wedding procession. The parade that followed is known as a calenda, where guests and locals join in the celebration as the wedding party makes its way from the church to the reception.
On a normal day, the streets of Oaxaca breathe with rhythm — papel picado, the colorful paper-cut banners that flutter above each alleyway and street, a rainbow of buildings painted in bright hues, murals and artisan shops amid the sea of people moving through their daily lives. But in this moment — connected and celebrating strangers beneath twinkling evening lights and music — the streets seemed even more alive, as if the spirit of the city itself was blessing the newlyweds.
These are the kinds of once-in-a-lifetime experiences you can’t plan for, and I’m grateful to have witnessed such a meaningful and transcendent tradition. Mexico rewards respectful curiosity — when you come with openness, you’re invited deeper.
Belonging Beyond Heritage
Still, travel always brings a certain anxiety. I often wonder how my presence will be perceived, and the last thing I want is to disrespect the people or places I’m visiting. Over time, I’ve learned that humility and genuine connection open the door to authenticity. Ethical tourism is a broad conversation, but my personal takeaway is simple: experiencing culture is about being invited in and participating with discernment. In Mexico — and Oaxaca in particular — that invitation is given freely when curiosity is paired with humility and respect.
Oaxaca de Juárez left me awe-struck and proud of my Mexican heritage. Although my family descends from another region, Oaxaca showed me that heritage isn’t just where you come from. It’s also the way you honor and celebrate cultures beyond your own. What I carried home wasn’t ownership of Oaxacan culture, but appreciation, respect and a reminder of belonging to something larger.
