First Impressions
Getting from León to Oaxaca was straightforward and pleasantly uneventful, marking another chapter in my journey through Mexico. The hotel arranged for a taxi to pick me up, and while it wasn’t a yellow cab, it turned out to be an Uber. I was certain this wasn’t a coincidence. It was likely someone they knew personally, and that small gesture of looking out for one another left me feeling reassured. That sense of connection and community is something I’ve come to appreciate deeply during my time here.
The ride to the airport took about thirty minutes. By now, I was acclimated to the way people drive in Mexico—swift, confident, and sometimes surprising. I didn’t clutch the door handle this time or brace for sudden stops. Instead, I let my eyes wander, soaking in the surroundings I’d missed on my earlier drive to León. The streets, now familiar, revealed layers of life—vendors setting up morning stalls, children laughing as they walked to school, and the quiet hum of daily routines unfolding.
I had booked a direct flight to Oaxaca, which made the process even simpler. Del Bajío International Airport (BJX) is a small but efficient hub, and being an international airport, it connects to most states in Mexico that have airports. As I checked in and made my way through security, I noticed yet another difference between traveling here and in the U.S. They didn’t ask me to remove my electronics from my bag for scanning. It was a small thing, but it added a layer of ease to the experience. My Bluetooth smoothie mixer, however, drew some curiosity. I explained it quickly and was on my way.
Flying Aeroméxico again felt familiar, like stepping back into a rhythm I was starting to enjoy. The plane ride was less than two hours, a short hop compared to my previous travels. As we flew southeast toward Oaxaca, I was captivated by the view below. The mountains stretched endlessly, their rugged peaks cradling small towns nestled at their bases. From above, the land looked like a tapestry, each thread representing the lives and stories of the people who call this region home.
Landing in Oaxaca was like a breath of fresh air. Literally. The air felt different—lighter, calmer, and inviting. The airport itself was small and unassuming, a far cry from the bustling terminals of larger cities. We deplaned directly onto the tarmac, where the warmth of the sun and the open sky greeted us. From the air, I had noticed the absence of skyscrapers, and now on the ground, it was even more apparent. There was maybe one other plane on the tarmac, a reminder that this airport wasn’t a hub of constant activity. It felt personal, almost like arriving in a town rather than a city.
Inside the airport, I knew exactly what to do. The routine was becoming second nature: head to the kiosk, pay for the taxi fare, and collect the receipt. Outside, I found my assigned driver, handed him the ticket, and we were on our way. The drive from the airport to the hotel was serene. The roads wound through neighborhoods that hinted at Oaxaca’s rich cultural history. (Click the link to read more about this amazing place.) The architecture, vibrant yet earthy, reflected the spirit of the people—bold but grounded. As we drove, I found myself relaxing, the urgency of modern life slipping away with every turn of the wheel.
Oaxaca was already winning me over. The city had an energy that was understated but magnetic. It wasn’t trying to dazzle with skyscrapers or high-speed living. Instead, it whispered stories of resilience, artistry, and deep roots. I felt a sense of urgency to absorb it all, a sudden realization that this was precisely what I had been searching for, even though I didn’t know it before.
When I arrived at my hotel, another Hilton Garden Inn, I was ready for a seamless check-in. This time, I had booked the reservation myself, so I knew the process would include breakfast—something I looked forward to the next morning. The staff at the front desk didn’t speak English, but we managed just fine. There’s a certain satisfaction in bridging communication gaps with gestures, smiles, and a little patience.
The room was everything I needed and more. I dropped my bags on the bed and walked straight to the window. Drawing back the curtains revealed a breathtaking view of the mountains and local neighborhoods. The scene was alive with the simplicity of everyday life—houses dotting the landscape, children playing in the streets, and the mountains standing watch over it all. It was humbling and grounding, a reminder of the beauty in simplicity.
After settling in, I decided to explore the neighborhood. Oaxaca was everything I had imagined and more. The streets were lined with inviting restaurants, vibrant shops, and friendly faces. There was a hospital nearby, and the overall layout had a sense of purpose and community. People moved with intention but never seemed rushed. It was a rhythm I could see myself falling into.
I eventually found a small restaurant where I decided to have a salad. The simplicity of the dish—a mix of fresh greens, tomatoes, avocado, and a light citrus dressing—matched the atmosphere perfectly. Sitting there, I let myself relax, observing the flow of life around me. People came and went, greeting each other warmly. It wasn’t just a meal; it was an experience, a moment of connection with the culture and people of Oaxaca.
As the day began to fade into evening, I wandered the streets a bit longer, soaking in the sights and sounds. The sky began to deepen, the air cooling slightly, and the streetlights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths. I wanted to stay out longer, but the day had been full, and I knew I needed to rest. Tomorrow promised to be eventful, and I wanted to be ready.
Back at the hotel, I began planning for the next day. My first stop would be Centro, Oaxaca’s central square. I mapped out a walking route from the hotel, about thirty minutes on foot, which seemed perfect for a morning adventure. The anticipation of exploring the heart of Oaxaca filled me with excitement.
That evening, as I lay in bed, I left the curtains open. The view of the mountains, now silhouetted against the night sky, was calming. The faint sounds of the neighborhood below were a lullaby of sorts, and I let my thoughts drift. Being here felt right, like a missing piece of a puzzle I hadn’t known I was solving. I fell asleep with a sense of peace and gratitude, eager for what the next day would bring.
This journey, this experience, was becoming more than just a trip. It was a chance to rediscover myself in the quiet moments, in the unfamiliar streets, and in the kindness of strangers. Oaxaca, with its rich history and welcoming spirit, was shaping up to be a place that would leave a lasting mark on my heart.
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