So, I just got back from Oaxaca, and wow, let me tell you—I'm still buzzing from the experience. It's hard to even start figuring out how to share everything. You know, the best things to do in Oaxaca might seem pretty straightforward on the surface, but once you're in it, the little surprises just keep popping up like confetti at a birthday party.
This spot? Total surprise.
On my first day, I wandered into this little mezcal bar tucked away in one of those narrow alleyways—like a hidden gem that felt like it was just asking to be discovered. Honestly, I wasn't expecting much. I thought, eh, it's just a drink. I'd had mezcal before, but here? It's a different universe.
The bartender was the kind of character you'd want to pull a chair up for—he had this energy that made the whole place come alive. He started sharing stories of the different types of mezcal, and suddenly I felt like I was in a whole documentary about this smoky spirit. “For every type, there's a flavor story,” he said, holding up a bottle with the enthusiasm of a maestro presenting a priceless painting.
Then he poured me a tasting flight—three little glasses of liquid joy. As I sipped, one tasted like the forest floor after rain, another like the sweetest honey I'd ever had. The third? Pure fire, in a good way. I remember thinking how I didn't know mezcal could tell stories. I was hooked, and before I left, I had more mezcal than I intended to buy, but it felt right—like a souvenir you can actually drink.
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
You know how sometimes you just need to break away from the planned itinerary? That's how I ended up at the Mercado de Abastos, the local market where tourists don't often venture. I had set out for a popular taco spot, but somehow my feet took me down this winding path filled with colors and smells that, honestly, felt magical.
The hustle and bustle of the market hit me—the stalls, the shouting vendors, laughter mingling with the sound of live music spilling from somewhere. I came across this lady selling these vibrant little fruits I'd never seen before. I asked her what they were, and she smiled, revealing a surprising level of warmth. “Tuna,” she said, pointing to these prickly pear slices.
I bought some, and her smile was contagious, so I couldn't help but chat a bit more, my Spanish stumbling all over the place. She handed me a sample that tasted like a sweet adventure—as if summer had just gifted me a kiss. It was a simple moment, but it turned my whole mood around. I realized I could just let go of agendas and let the city pull me into its rhythm. Who needs tacos when the universe offers you prickly pears?
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction
Let's talk about my epic failure with navigation that led to an unexpected treasure. I can't even count how many times I got lost in Oaxaca. Honestly, I feel like I have the worst sense of direction of anyone I know. I was looking for this renowned restaurant, according to my pre-trip research, but instead, I found myself wandering toward the Zócalo.
As I turned one too many corners, I stumbled upon this street artist painting murals that felt like they were alive. I stopped and just took everything in; the vibrancy of the colors, the way she moved, the crowds gathering around her. For a moment, I forgot where I was supposed to be. I plopped down on a bench and got lost in this mural—something about it felt so familiar yet foreign, like the way life feels sometimes.
I ended up talking to a group of locals who were watching with the same reverence as me. They told me it was a collective effort to celebrate the culture of Oaxaca, and suddenly I was in the middle of a conversation about art and history I never even signed up for. I think this was one of those moments where I felt deeply connected to the place—not as a tourist, but as part of a living experience.
We laughed, shared insights, and before I knew it, an hour slipped away, or maybe two—it didn't matter. I realized that I'd missed the restaurant, but hey, it turned into one of my favorite moments—who knew my bad sense of direction could lead me to the heart of local culture?
Something that will always stick with me
Then there was the food. Oh, sweet Maria, the food! I can't get over it. I ended up at a little place called Casa Oaxaca, not on purpose, but because I followed my nose, and you know what they say—your nose rarely leads you astray when it comes to finding incredible eats.
I ordered mole, and I honestly thought I knew what I was getting into, but what arrived felt like pure bliss. In this thick, dark sauce was a world of flavor I couldn't decode. It was nutty, spicy, and somehow sweet all at once. I almost felt bad for it because I wanted to dive in without even asking what was in it. At one point, I even asked the waiter, who looked just as astonished that I'd never had mole like this before.
There was something about the communal vibe in that restaurant, the way people around me were enjoying their meals as if they were celebrating life itself. I also made friends from a couple of tables over who were more than happy to share travel stories and tips—all while we devoured our food like it was the last supper. You know how food has a way of tying everyone together? It was, in its own way, a family reunion of sorts.
So, the best things to do in Oaxaca? They're not just limited to what's on some list you find online. It's about the moments you can't quite sketch out or craft into bullet points—the surprise stops, the lost afternoons, the unplanned conversations over a plate of food that flavors your heart as much as your palate.
As I sit here sipping my coffee, still swirling in memories, I realize I've unfolded a piece of Oaxaca that just feels like home now. It's messy and beautiful, just like life, and I can't wait to dive back in someday.
