Oaxaca City is REALLY Noisy

It’s also one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been.

You get it just minutes after leaving the airport: the noise.

First, it’s the traffic. Traffic between the international Xoxocotlán Airport and Ciudad de Oaxaca is intense, even at 10 p.m. after coming in on the last flight. If you like to jump right into a place and, as I do, roll down the windows of your taxi, you’ll get it full in the face: mountain air tinged with exhaust, blasts of horns and brakes, motors revving and motorcycles buzzing past.

But that trip is short, and as you turn into the narrow streets of Oaxaca proper, the cacophony changes. Traffic slows and growling engines now echo off a mix of colored stone and adobe, reverberating past lines of people patiently waiting their turns at street vendors doling out tostiesquites and pork crackling tacos. Music weaves out from corner bars and late-night parties, some thumping with electronic bass, some soaring with voices, horns and guitars. Oaxaca is still very much alive in the dark.

Once you enter your lodging, sounds dim. Feet shuffle on wood and concrete floors, luggage wheels click softly against edges of hand-painted tile. You bump up stairs and catch the occasional staccato of barking dogs through open windows; this will become the music of your nights.

Newcomers will startle when, around midnight, loud explosions echo through the streets. Our American instincts scream, but no one around so much as flinches, not this time nor the next 20 times you hear explosions this week. “We are both catholic and indigenous,” our new Mexican friends tell us. “We blend religions, and celebrate all the holy dates and people. And we have A LOT.” In Oaxaca, celebrations mean fireworks, any time of day or night. They also mean infectious joy, colorful costumes and dancing in the streets. Who can complain about that?

Morning arrives with a rooster crow and the calls of street sellers hawking fresh fruit, steaming tamales or just-squeezed juices. The squawk of a door signals the bakery below opening to a growing line of hungry, and church bells sound over rooftop patios filled with chirping sparrows. Students chatter on their way to school; the Gas de Oaxaca truck blares it’s funny, ice-cream-truck-like ditty. The day blooms, and its soundtrack with it.

Before you know it, the “noise” of an unfamiliar city eases into what you’re here for: the richness of a culture different than your own, the vibrancy of being alive, the promise of beauty and flavor and magic yet to be discovered.

This is the sound of Oaxaca, and it is music to my ears.

Hear for yourself. Join one of our upcoming trips to Oaxaca.