La Vida Veeta

You know what a uvula is, right? The little dangly thing that sits at the back of your throat? Doesn’t that sound like a socialite’s first name from the 1920’s? Like there was Zelda, Beulah, Geraldine- Uvula would fit right in, right? Like I wouldn’t think twice hearing the name Uvula Fitzgerald. Or imagine a drag queen named Uvula? Like picture this- “Welcome to the stage our next entertainer who always has you gagging- UVULA”. Well, just like Uvula is really fun to say, so is Oaxaca! (Did you like that intro??? I’m pretty proud of it).

Oaxaca is a city of about 200,000 within a larger built up area of about 700,000 through the Oaxaca Valley. It has a loooong and important history across multiple Mesoamerican cultures, in particular the Zapotec. Throughout the area are the archaeological sites of several pre-Columbian civilizations including Monte Albán, Mitla and Yagul. Throughout Oaxaca’s layered history several iconic individuals, events, socio-political and cultural movements materialized which shaped Mexico’s history. Arguably two of the most important are Benito Juárez (the first indigenous president of Mexico and an incredibly influential figure in 19th century Mexican politics) and especially vibrant and large scale Día de (los) Muertos celebrations which have become a huge tourist draw and have greatly impacted the world’s understanding of Mexican culture. Oaxaca is also the origin of several gastronomical marvels including queso oaxaca (FIRE) and tlayuda (i.e. my wet dream bc it’s basically a giant tostada used in a similar way as a pizza loaded up with ALL. OF. THE. GOODIES.)

So- personal story time- when planning our Oaxaca trip, my friends and I were silly billies and had no concept of just how quickly Oaxaca the city turns into the country. And by country I mean COUNTRY. Like, COUNTRY country. We booked our lodging a demure 45 minutes from the city center, thinking it wouldn’t be thaaaat far out of the way. Sure, we could’ve used Google maps, and suuuuuure we could’ve used streetview, but who wants to be prepared?? We’re all gonna die anyways in a giant ball of nuclear flame/climate induced disaster/rabid wildebeest so let’s RAGE. Was she (the lodging) beautiful? Absolutely. Did she have a pool? Yup. Was she located off of 45 minutes of winding, unnamed dirt roads in the foothills in an area that Google Maps/any maps could not correctly guide us (or any drivers) to? Check. Was she filled with a gaggle of angry wasps which wasn’t immediately evident upon arrival? CHECK CHECK CHECK. And to clarify I mean wasp as in the insect, not that bitch named Carol who is the HOA president at your master planned community outside of Scottsdale, Arizona. More on the wasps later 😉

So! After finally somehow finding this place whilst navigating aforementioned network of unnamed, unmapped dirt roads we changed and immediately turned around to go back into the city. And thus began perhaps the peak 2 hours of my life. It’s sunset as we enter the main core of the city, which is a wonderland of architecture, markets, music, color, and activity (especially since she was all done up for Día de Muertos). Highlights included a temporary covered market along C. Macedonio Alcalá which had so many wonderful vendors, the incredible Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán which had these ginorme skeletal dancer statues erected around it (reference pic 18 in the gallery below) and eating a bombass dinner on a rooftop terrace while fireworks went off all around us. It felt truly surreal. It was one of those moments where I found myself thinking “I’m so happy I never went forward with committing suicide when I was younger”. That statement is really intense, and when it hit me it FELT really intense. I honestly will hold onto this night as something so special for the rest of my life.

Following dinner began perhaps 2 of the most absurd hours of my life. After coming to terms with the fact that I would have to try and explain to our cab driver how to get to our house in the dark (off of the aforementioned network of unnamed dirt roads high in the hills) we headed out. Making it home generally unscathed (but RIP the bottom of our cab driver’s car) was a miracle in of itself. By this point we were all pretty tired- I know for sure I fucking was. So, I take my happy ass into the bedroom to start getting ready for sleep, and I see WASPS. EVERYWHERE. Dead wasps (or maybe sleeping?) Alive wasps. Alive, ANGRY wasps. Wasps on the bed. Wasps IN the bed. Wasps on the floor. Wasps on the walls. Wasps in the air. Wasps in my hair. Wasps like you just don’t care. So after giggling nervously and closing the door, I informed my friends about the situation. It was around this time that my stomach decided that it didn’t like that dinner I was fawning about in the previous paragraph, and baby had his first case of food poisoning in Mexico. I feel like that should be on any traveler’s bingo card (mark this space off if you’ve ever shit and vomited at the same time while in Mexico). So- picture this. I’m vomiting in the bathroom, and my friends tell me that our AirBNB host is coming over to FUMIGATE THE HOUSE. AT 11:30 AT NIGHT. WHILE I’M VOMITING/SHITTING. Keep in mind, we have also all been drinking copious amounts of mezcal and (at this point) anything we can get our hands on. We desperately try and tell the host that no, we would NOT like to have pesticides pumped through the air vents while we sleep and (thankfully) we avoided becoming the next casualties of DDT. The culmination of this night was one vivid moment, permanently cemented in my brain, which I’ve decided to recount in poetic prose. Enjoy:

As I left the bathroom carrying my bag of vomit,
And a VHS of Batman Returns plays on the TV,
Accompanied by the distant, hypnotic buzzing of wasps,
Comes the disembodied voice of our host’s husband,
From the darkness outside,
Asking us if we want him to fumigate the house.
My friends huddle together for warmth on a single pullout couch,
Passing a bottle of alcohol to calm the nerves and soothe the soul,
As we wonder just how we arrived at such a place.
And we tell him ‘No’.

Come the welcome rays of morning light- we are outta there. One very confusing and car-bottom-demolishing cab ride later, we find ourselves at this gorgiiiiiineta hotel in the very middle of town, and the second chapter of our Oaxaca story begins.

I really only wanted to outline the silliness of our first night in this incredible place because it makes me chuckle like a madman looking back at it, however I have to say that it really does not do this place justice. Oaxaca is incredible, and I cannot stress how incredibly kind and helpful everyone was. Special shoutout to:

• Every cab driver who took us on 45 minute journeys through the unnamed, unmarked, rough, rocky, dirt roads. Those poor souls probably thought we were taking them to the house from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. One in particular (shout out Alberto, our king) gave me his number to help pinpoint our location, and he checked in on us twice during our trip to make sure we were doing well and having a good time. He was the driver during the aforementioned bottom demolishing cab ride (giggle).
• Javi- one of our tour guides- who was an absolute ray of sunshine and whose family has an incredibly deep connection to Oaxaca. He also introduced us to the Oaxaca drag and gay bar scene. We stan Javi!
• Fernando, our mezcal guide, who let us into his home, introduced us to his family and took us on a journey of the making of mezcal (which was paralleled by a journey of us getting blasted)
• Marlene, our AirBNB host, who really tried to do her best to murder an entire civilization of wasps (and maybe us too) to salvage our trip and who was genuinely such a kind, thoughtful woman (she gifted us a bottle of mezcal.) Giving you a hug, Marlene.

Well, this post is already pretty long so Imma try and wrap it up (I promise you I will fail and go on a completely unnecessary tangent). Oh!! Before we leave I have to tell you about why I said fuck Disney in the title of this post. Did you know that Disney’s greedy grubby ass tried to trademark the phrase ‘Día de los Muertos’ after the huge success of the movie Coco? It’s a shame because I really loved that movie, but that is so rancid that it makes me side-eye the fuck out of it now. Fuck you Disney. And fuck Donald Duck too. That guy’s an asshole.

Oaxaca, México- 2024