Oaxaca

“Be a fool. For love. For yourself. What you think MIGHT possibly make you happy—even for a little while—whatever the cost or good sense might dictate.”
― Anthony Bourdain

After three long years of hardships, work, and ordeals, I have at last made it to Oaxaca. These last few weeks have left me completely exhausted, so much so that I couldn’t truly enjoy the adventures I had hoped for. Activities like bird-watching or volunteering at the turtle nursery failed to bring joy because I was simply too tired. I thought I could stretch out my summer with many new experiences, but instead, I wore myself out by trying to do too much.

Southern Mexico is one of the most promising places I’ve visited in years. Oaxaca, renowned for its rich culture and exceptional cuisine, has truly captivated and inspired me. Often called Mexico’s cultural capital by tourists, I now understand why—it’s exceeded all my expectations. During this trip, I’ve immersed myself in gastronomy, history, art, textiles, and fashion, all within a single destination. It genuinely feels like I’m discovering an entirely new country.

Staying at a hotel just behind the main square in town centre, I’m enjoying the cool, mild autumn weather—perfect for a cosy cardigan or linen jacket. I’ve started to relax, perhaps because airports bring back fond travel memories, or maybe just because being away from home is what I needed. As I walked through the spacious atrium of Santo Domingo, I felt a sense of lightness. Breathing fresh air and blending in with strangers reminded me how much I’ve missed the feeling of being a traveler. For years, my only concern was choosing my next destination. Even when I was unsure if I could afford the trip, the decision had already been made. Everything else fell into place—I just needed to arrange a dog sitter and to pack a few clothes.

This time was no different—I imagined myself wandering the beautiful streets, embracing my flâneuse spirit, drifting without a destination and chatting with anyone I met along the way. That’s simply who I am. Even as a child, my mum would say I talked to strangers—especially those who spoke English. I was eager to practise the few phrases I’d learnt at school. I was so young and curious, determined to let these foreign tourists know I understood them. At that tender age, I felt so progressive.

My first stop in Oaxaca was an “Atolería”—a café of sorts. Instead of coffee, we drank atole, a traditional Mexican beverage made from corn blended with fruits, seeds, and various flavours. It’s mainly prepared by grandmothers for breakfast or dinner. I hadn’t tasted it in years, and it brought a rush of childhood memories. The people here are warm and kind, meeting your gaze instantly and wasting no time in striking up a conversation. I absolutely love that. Having been in survival mode for so long, I realise I sometimes struggle to recognise genuine acts of appreciation.

I feel liberated. I don’t know how long this will last, nor do I want to cling to it. It’s all about the present moment—embracing the lightness and the person I am becoming. I am less judgmental, less angry, and less sad, while a more creative version of myself emerges. As the days passed, I noticed subtle changes. That’s one of the main reasons some of us travel. It is not about posting pictures and mapping the countries you have visited. It is about who you become when you travel.

An important aspect of my job is to discover new clothing designers, enabling me to choose the best options for the upcoming season. During my time in Oaxaca, I’ve explored small galleries featuring sophisticated designs that blend traditional textiles with Mexican iconography. Roaming the streets in search of fresh talent is fascinating—sometimes, you unexpectedly find a small workshop showcasing incredible clothing. This trip has brought me in contact with young, boundary-pushing designers whose collections are both comfortable and modern.

Food has truly been the highlight of this trip. From grasshoppers to black mole, every meal offers a feast for the senses, rich with distinctive aromas and bold flavours. Mezcal appears in countless forms, and ancestral recipes with a hint of spice both quicken my pulse and stir up old memories. Yet, what would become of us without these recollections? A line from the film ‘The Baby of Macon’ from Peter Greenaway comes to mind: “Imagine a time when walking on earth was a pleasure—remind yourselves of the ecstasy of living.” Strangely, that phrase has echoed in my mind since my student years and came up now. Either I keep a dark sense of humor or a staged sense of reality.