oaxaca día uno

It was just after sunset when I met up with my other three friends to carpool to CBX — the Cross Border Xpress that connects San Diego to the Tijuana International Airport. That feeling of anticipation was already building, I was so ready to leave go on this trip. The four of us spoke Spanish but we’ve never been to Oaxaca before. I knew it was an indigenous region full of amazing food, rich culture, and friendly people, at least that’s what my Oaxacan patients have told me.

Our red-eye flight was at 1:21 a.m., bound for Oaxaca to celebrate Teresa’s birthday. The airport was quiet, dimly lit, and half-asleep — just like us. Once we boarded, I popped that Dramamine, closed my eyes, and drifted into a deep sleep.

Hours later, I woke up to soft sunlight streaming through the airplane window as we touched down in Oaxaca. Still groggy but excited, we piled into the Airbnb host’s car to go drop off our bags — a charming flat nestled above Pastelería La Vasconia, a local bakery that smelled like heaven. Since check-in wasn’t until 1500, we set our bags in storage and set out for the day.

Our host, sweet and full of local knowledge, offered to drive us about 30 minutes out to Mercado Tlacolula, one of the oldest markets in Oaxaca. It was a vibrant, pulsing maze of colors, smells, and sounds — stalls overflowing with ripe fruits, fresh tortillas, embroidered goods, and cuts of meat sizzling on open flames. Everything felt alive.

There, I had my first café de olla — strong, spiced coffee brewed in a clay pot with cinnamon and piloncillo. It was exactly what my body needed after a sleepless flight. Sweet, warm, and grounding.

Of course, we quickly learned the bathroom situation — you had to pay for toilet paper, and not much of it at that. Just a few squares, like we were being rationed. I decided to hold out until we were back at the Airbnb. I wasn’t about to navigate that delicate operation with strangers knocking on the stall.

We wandered the market for a couple of miles, taking photos, soaking in the atmosphere, and yapping along the way. We took a moment to appreciate the different artwork on the buildings and paved roads.  A mile later, we caught a colectivo — a shared mini-bus — and made our way to Teotitlán del Valle, known for its stunning textiles.

We were treated to a beautiful presentation on how their wool rugs are made, from spinning the fibers to using natural dyes like cochineal, indigo, and marigold. I couldn’t resist — I bought two rugs, soft and warm, dyed in rich earthy tones. My friends? They went wild and bought a whole box, which the kind shopkeepers offered to ship back to the states for us. Thank God — no way were we hauling that around the rest of the trip.

After spending about two hours there, we headed back the same route we took earlier. Naturally, I fell asleep on the the ride back, thanks to the Dramamine in my system.

Back at the Airbnb, we finally checked in and freshened up. I shared a cozy room with Jessica, and we got ready for dinner — hunger creeping in after a long, stimulating day.

We walked about a mile to Las Quince Letras, a local gem with a Bib Gourmand nod from the Michelin Guide — and oh, it lived up to the hype. This was a great start to appease our bellies.

I ordered the garnachas istmeñas — thin, crispy masa cakes topped with savory ground beef and tangy pickled cabbage. They were packed with flavor, full of texture, and deeply comforting. To drink, I went with the Rosita Oaxaqueña — a floral, citrusy cocktail made with hibiscus, Quararibea funebris, lemon, and orange juice. It was refreshingly different, like sipping a garden.

Then came the star of the show: Dúo de moles — black mole and coloradito, served with fluffy rice. Mole negro has my heart — the way the chocolate hits right at the end, smoky and smooth, is absolute magic. Every bite reminded me why I’d wanted to come here in the first place. I love mole and since Oaxaca is known for theirs (along with their mezcal) we knew that it was going to be epic. We had such a great time eating, laughing, while listening to the guitarist playing across the room.

After dinner, we casually walked back to the Airbnb, washed up, and passed the fuck out because tomorrow was going to be another full day of adventures.