Oaxaca: Grasshoppers, Mariachis, and Moles!

One of the reasons why I stayed in Oaxaca for a couple of weeks was because the city was unlike any that I'd seen before. Having spent too much time in the manic capital it was a refreshing change to be living in such a chilled out place. Here's a short story of the first time I really explored Oaxaca.

Anyone for some fried grasshoppers?
Markets in Oaxaca. Photo by wneuheisel

Oaxaca was full of surprises. The first time I really explored the Mexican city was with Uvlad. We started at the bustling Benito Juarez market, just behind the Zocalo. Female stall keepers dressed in long, colourfully embroidered dresses smiled as we passed into the stuffy covered market.

The stalls had handicrafts, hand woven rugs, traditional Mexican clothes, fruits, flowers, and weird leather objects which looked like they belonged on some strange S&M room. One man had an impressive collection of knives.

“They look like Samurai swords,” Uvlad said as the seller sprawled his arm towards the glistening weapons.

“Check those out,” I said, pointing to an elderly woman sat on a ledge with a giant bag between her legs.

“Ah man, that’s sick,” said Uvlad, scrunching up his face. “Why would you eat grasshoppers?” he added as the woman offered us a crunchy sample. We declined. Neither of us bought anything that day; we had plenty of time to go back.

Oaxaca: The Joys of Job Searching!

After failing to find a job teaching English in the capital, I set my sights on getting work in Oaxaca. The town seemed lively and had a buzz that suggested English could be in demand. Here's another short story about the delights of living and travelling in Mexico.

Oaxaca's Valley
Photo by phylevn

No wonder Uvlad had fussed about the hostel. The toilets stank of sewage, the walls were covered in mould, and the roof leaked. When I woke my sleeping bag was drenched from the overnight downpour. I left Uvlad to pack up his things and nipped out to find somewhere more liveable.

"I’ve found a better hostel round the corner, same price and there’s a funny Argentinean geezer on reception," I said to Uvlad.

"Do they offer a free shower with every bed too?"  

"Yeah, very funny wise guy, come on let’s go before someone else nicks the beds."

The hostel on Av Independencia was much cleaner, had a pool table, two hammocks, there were less beds per square metre, and no dripping roof.

Victor, from Buenos Aires, was running the place during the day. He was just under 6ft tall, with jet-black hair and eager wide eyes. He’d been travelling round Mexico for a couple of years and was hoping to save up some money to go to England. Being an Argentinean in Mexico was more difficult than he’d imagined.

DELTA Diary: LSA 4 - Am I glad that’s over!

For the first time in about four months I woke up last Saturday morning without having an LSA hanging over my shoulders. I feel at peace. That anxious pang of the final LSA lurking round the corner has disappeared. It’s time to start living again. I don’t want to put you off from doing a DELTA, far from it, it’s been an amazing experience, but be warned; it will take over your life!

Peace at last!
Photo by bitzi

Thinking back…

I started reading for this DELTA about a year ago. I remember having a chat with one of the trainers and being unsure whether I wanted to make the sacrifice. Having almost finished my book, I didn’t want to give up writing, I was enjoying blogging and not having any real stress in my life, but something inside told me to give it a go.

The TEFL industry in Spain is booming at the moment, but with the rest of the country suffering (20% unemployment) I wanted to make sure my job, and career, was protected. An email from my DOS in England helped with the final decision “If the shit hits the fan in Spain, then the DELTA will give you more security, you can get a job anywhere in the world after that.”

So the decision was made. I begrudgingly gave up writing, got stuck into the reading, and prepared myself for one of the hardest years of my life.

Excerpt 7: Penniless in Copacabana

After getting struck with altitude sickness while trekking to Machu Picchu, spending a day by the world's highest lake, Titicaca, in Bolivia was a godsend, even if there was a powercut and I had no money. Here's the seventh excerpt from my book.

Absolutely Marvellous: Lake Titicaca-Bolivia
Photo by Ivan Mlinaric

I’d heard good things about Bolivia: hospitable locals, cheaper accommodation and food, a bustling historical capital, and an excellent place to visit the Amazon. I was excited about seeing a new country and wanted to relax and fully recover from the altitude sickness. However, just as in Ecuador and Peru, my first day in Bolivia had complications.

 “Donde esta un banco - Where’s a bank?” I said to the hostel owner in Copacabana, Titicaca’s lakeside town. I felt drowsy after another sleepless overnight journey, this time because the bus driver’s loud trashy pop music had kept me awake. The white haired hostel owner stared and frowned. “Un banco por favor?”

“No banco, no, no,” he said, wagging his finger. Was he saying there wasn’t a bank in Copacabana? I hoped not. After leaving Cusco in a rush I had no money.

“Banco, no tengo dinero,” I said, showing him my bank card.

“Ah, okay,” he said. I sighed and waited for him to signal where to go. “No, no banco; problema. No hay luz.” I thought luz meant lights, not electricity. A power cut had struck Copacabana, which meant even the cash points were out of order. What was I going to do?

Oaxaca: An energizing start!

If you ever travel to Mexico, then you have to stop by in the enchanting town of Oaxaca. I stayed there for a couple of weeks trying to find work teaching English, but I ended up working at the bus station as one of those annoying people who try to get you to stay at a hostel. Not the most glamorous of jobs, but I just wanted to live in a place for a while. Here's the first short story of my time in Oaxaca.

Not a bad place to chill for two weeks!
Photo of the Zocalo in Oaxaca by Big Dubya

I’d become stale in the hectic capital and the six-hour bus journey to Oaxaca gave me fresh hope. The trip began on a long straight motorway through dry landscape until we ascended the mountains on a thin curved road. Overgrown trees blocked the views, but occasionally mountains flashed by. I’d never been as high up before, nor as close to the mountain edge, and I felt giddy looking down. The roller coaster ride ended when we reached a peak and descended into the delightful valley of Oaxaca. I felt energized and hoped I could find work teaching English.

I was expecting Oaxaca to be more laid back than the capital, but the sleepy city was the ‘Joey’ of Friends. A welcome sign saying ‘How you doing?’ would have been appropriate.

The Oaxacans must have been taking a siesta to escape the heat because the streets were deserted on the stroll down from the bus station. The red and yellow houses and joyful kids playing and laughing, reminded me of Coyoacan. Some shouted ‘hello’ and waved as I trundled past. Kids never greeted me in the capital.