Morelia, Michoacàn

Having spent a fair amount of time in Mexico City in one of the most popular hostels, I saw my fair share of backpackers come and go. As a seasoned backpacker well-versed in southern Mexico, I found myself giving a lot of advice, a lot of the same advice. It seemed that 95% of the backpackers I talked to were following the same route. They all wanted to know how to get from Mexico City to Oaxaca, then from Oaxaca to San Cristobal in Chiapas, on to Palenque and from there either to the Yucatàn or to Guatemala. Some of those headed south had come to D.F. from the north and had visited Guadalajara, Guanajuato, Zacatecas, etc., but most arrived in Mexico City and were immediately headed south.

It's not that I can blame them. Southern Mexico is spectacular. Oaxaca and San Cristobal de las Casas are two of my favorite places, but northern Mexico also has a lot to offer. Guanajuato, is one of the most breath-taking cities I have seen. It is also a young city, much like Oaxaca, and emits a certain electricity. Guadalajara is another northern city, as well as, Zacatecas that I have not visited myself, but have legendary reputations. Both those cities are high on my list of places to visit, however there was one city and state that I had been hearing so many good things about, they took priority. The state is said to be home of the most varied natural beauty in the whole country; untouched coast, mountains, lakes, forests, the migrating Monarch butterfly, and a charming capital that has been known to captivate.

Morelia is the capital of the infamous state of Michoacàn and it is where I have been exploring for the last week. This undiscovered gem of a city is definitely worth the visit, especially for those travelers who are seeking "real" Mexico, meaning some place off the tourist route. Morelia is definitely a middle class city, but the kind that will continue to be middle class whether or not you choose to visit it. Whereas it is evident in a city like Oaxaca how much its livelihood is dependent on tourism, Morelia goes on about its business. Walking down the streets here, no one cat-calls me, there are hardly any wandering vendors and only a few tourist-centered businesses. If you are seeking a truly Mexican urban experience that has not been diluted by tourism, Morelia is the place for you.

The city is centered, like most Mexican cities, around the Cathedral. The Morelian Cathedral, however, is a sight unto itself. The obsession the Spaniards had with building churches is unreal. Every Mexican city, town and village has at least one massive religious structure. The bigger the city is, the more churches it contains. The Cathedral in Morelia, for example, took over 150 years to build. It seems, though, that for fear of not having any place to worship during that century and a half, the Spaniards took it upon themselves to build a church on every block. This fascination with creating an endless array of sacred edifices is almost pagan in its zeal and is not unique to Morelia. It is no wonder that Mexican Catholicism and faith has a life and character all its own.

This particular Cathedral, however, is made of pink sandstone, sports 2 bell towers, a dome and an intricately decorated exterior that will keep you staring for hours on end. Every night at about 8:30pm, the building is illuminated and every Saturday the illumination is accompanied by fireworks. The Cathedral is not the only impressive architectural piece. Around every corner there is another relic, another artistic reminder of colonialism. It is absolutely amazing what the Spanish accomplished and built (on the backs of slaves) without steel, glass and technology.

I digress and apologize. It's just that Morelia has charmed me visually and has made me think about the history in this place. This walkable city is its own history lesson. There are also guided walking tours and trolley tours available at the Zocalo. A must do is a walk down to the Aquaducto at the end of Av. Madero. This is abeautiful part of the city with fountains, trees and a pedestrian walkway. Apart from the historical center, this would be another place to look for real estate.

Besides architecture, Morelia has a lot to offer. Centrally located, Morelia is 4 hours from the beach resort towns of Ixtapa/Zihuatenejo and the undiscovered Michoacano coast. It is also only 4 hours from Mexico City, 3 hours from Guadalajara and an hour or two from quaint little towns. Morelia also boasts an airport that receives direct flights from Houston, TX, via Continental Airlines.

I am actually surprised that Morelia has NOT been discovered in the same way that San Miguel de Allende or Lake Chapala has been discovered by retiring Gringos. Honestly, Morelia would be the absolute perfect place to retire. The weather is warm, but not too hot, and dry, but not a desert. The city accounts with all of the services a Gringo would want: good restaurants, Wal-Mart, affordable real-estate, movie theaters, coffee shops, and shopping.

There is no lack of things to do. Besides week-ends at the coast or in Guadalajara, from November to March, the Monarch butterfly reserve is open and hosts millions of butterflies. The cute, quiet lake town of Patzcuaro is always inviting and the lake itself is home to communities that are the true cradle of Day of the Dead celebrations. People actually come from far and wide on November 2nd just to see the cemeteries around the lake in all their splendor. Uruapan is another town that is less than 2 hours away that has a gorgeous national park and ancient ruins. Morelia is also hosting an LPGA championship this weekend, so there must be a golf course nearby. They have a professional soccer team as well.

I actually do not understand why anyone would retire to a place like San Miguel de Allende and not here. I met a Gringo and his son who recently bought a house here in the city. It is a 4 bedroom house located 5 blocks from the Cathedral with a front office space that is already being rented for $250 usd/month. We are talking prime, down-town real estate that needs a little work with a price tag of only $120,000 usd. It is truly a steal.

All that being said, I must say I am a little bored. Morelia's energy is a little more low-key than I would like. Places like Oaxaca, Guanajuato, Xalapa and San Cristobal attract a younger, hipper, more electric crowd. It's hard to explain, but the over-all ambiance of Morelia seems perfect for people of a certain age who want to be entertained, but in a relaxing way. There are definitely places to go out in Morelia and its peaceful vibe might have more to do with the lack of tourism than anything else, but it just does not have that "happening" feel. I do like Morelia though and feel it is only a matter of time before the snowbirds start taking notice.

All in all, if you are planning to explore northern Mexico, Morelia, Michoacàn, should definitely be on the itinerary no matter your age. This is the place for you if you are looking for something off the tourist path and if you want to experience that elusive "real" Mexico.

For the backpackers: I stayed at the lovely Hostel Morelia (Mariano Elizaga #57, www.hostelmorelia.com) It is only 8 months old and has not made its appearance in the Lonely Planet. It is part of Hostelling International and is very nice. The couple who runs the hostel is young, from Morelia and happy to give out any needed information.

Amistad

Everything in life can turn into an addiction. There are things that are addictive by nature, like alcohol, drugs, sex and smoking. There are also very ordinary, everyday things that become addictions, like shopping, eating, watching TV, video games, love. As a Pisces, a dreamer and hopeless romantic, I am no stranger to addiction. Right now, my weakness, my quiet obsession is travel. I have been pretty much working and living to travel for the past three and a half years and I cannot imagine my life without it.

Lately, I have been questioned by friends of mine who don't travel, trying to understand this incessant need. Why? Why do I feel the need to be abroad, to move, to explore? Seriously, you can really only see so many ruins, museums and colonial churches before they lose their over all flair.

These past 2 weeks in Mexico City, I think I may have found part of the answer. Traveling for me is all about maintaining a social high. I love connecting with people from all over the world. I love living and loving fluently in another language. I thrive off cultural intimacy.
These past 2 weeks in Mexico City, I met a great little group of really exceptional people. I am not even sure if we are all that exceptional in our own right, but together we sure make one hell of a crew.
It's moments, however long or short, like these past 2 weeks in Mexico City, where the energy between people mingles in perfect harmony. It's those unrepeatable moments that just get me off.

I first arrived at Hostel Amigo at 7am on a cold dark Mexico City morning fresh from a 6 hour overnight bus from Oaxaca. I had boarded my D.F. bound bus at 12:30am the night before, the Wednesday before official Mexican spring break began. The bus station in Oaxaca had been packed to the point where one could hardly get to the buses. I felt sorry for everyone there. I could only imagine them on their crowded buses headed for Puebla, San Cristobal or the beach. I wasn't worried though. Just as I had suspected, there were only about 8 of us on our way to the big city, so we had the bus to ourselves. That's the trick of Semana Santa in Mexico. Don't go to the beach or any other tourist destination. Go to the big cities like Guadalajara or Mexico City. It's vacation time. Everyone leaves the cities.

Regardless of how much space you have on the bus though. Overnight buses are never refreshing. I arrived at the hostel groggy and went straight to my bed and slept. It wasn't until the next day, Good Friday, that I went to the bar, chatted it up with the hostel staff and noticed that the place had been overtaken by a group of Aussies. Now, don't get me wrong. Aussies do travel quite a bit, Asia, Europe, the States, but to have 20 or so random Aussies staying at the same hostel in Mexico City at the same time is quite the anomaly. Some would go and more would arrive so that for 2 weeks there was nice steady flow of Australians.

Everybody has their distinct travel style. I am more of a homebody traveler. For me, it's not about seeing as many sights as I can and then moving onto the next destination. I like to take my time in one place, get to know its idiosyncrasies and its idiots, for that matter. At Hostel Amigo, I met 2 Australians who shared my style.

Damien was ending his 3 month stint in Mexico, Belize and Guatemala by enjoying D.F. for a couple weeks. This was Damien's first trip away from Australia and he chose to come all the way to Mexico. His friends thought he was crazy to come so far and not speak Spanish. He said he couldn't have enjoyed himself more.

Nicole's trip to Mexico was a little more complex. She arrived Friday morning and was staying in my dorm room. Nicole went to Cuba 2 years ago and fell in love. She ended up marrying a Cuban and is in the process of trying to get her Cuban to Australia. The process is lengthy, bureaucratic and costly. Because getting residency in Cuba would hurt her husband's chances of escape, Nicole has to leave Cuba every 2 months. She comes to Mexico. Not only does she renew her her Cuban visa, but she shops. She buys razors, perfume, belts and license plate holders, smuggles them in to Cuba and sells them on the black market. I learned a lot about Cuba by hanging out with her.

Attracted first by our need for strong coffee, we would meet in the mornings at Starbucks. Nicole and I would go together and be joined by a sleepy-eyed Damien about a half-an-hour later. Other random travelers would come and chat, but the three of us became thick as thieves over hangover-curing lattes and hostel gossip.

One of the things that makes Hostel Amigo a great place to stay is their downstairs bar. Serving only beer and tequila to the guests, this is where even more friendships are made. The people who work at the hostel are also great people. Damien found his Mexican kindred spirit in one of the bartenders. Carlos is one of the lucky Mexicans who found his way to the US legally and even found himself a US passport. His impeccable English and his taste in rock music turned Damien into a fast friend. Carlos, Nicole and I became fast friends just because we were all cool in the same way. This is the beauty of traveling friendships. There are no pretenses and not a lot of time. Travelers are not weighted down by daily mundane tasks. People are more open to give and receive. Deep bonds are made as fast and lasting as unforgettable memories.

My original plan was to stay in Mexico City only for a couple of days, but the days and nights filled themselves with favors, drinking and conversation until weeks passed. I went shopping with Nicole to buy things for Cuba. I met other people with whom I went about exploring the city. Damien was enlisted to help Nicole with her largest purchase of perfume. He had the task of hauling the 50 kilos, literally 100 lbs, of perfume from the store to the hostel. Carlos had to help carry the suitcase up the stairs to our room.

Our nights were spent at the bar. On quiet nights, our crew would play cards or Nicole and I would dance salsa with Luis, Ariel, Javier, and Adrian, other hostel employees. We would talk about everything. Carlos even celebrated a birthday during this time. He unfortunately had to work the bar at Hostel Amigo's sister hostel, La Moneda. Hostel Moneda is not set up as well as Hostel Amigo and the bar is very boring. Damien and I brought him a cake and sat with him as he served the 4 customers of the night.

Not all nights were quiet, however. Like I said, the hostel was filled with Australians and Aussies certainly know how to party. For a couple of days, a group of 4 young Aussie boys were at the hostel. Two of them turned 21 a day apart. Those were two particularly wild nights at the bar. A lot of tequila was poured and beer bottles emptied. The bar was packed. As tight little cliques can be sometimes, the 4 of us wanted to experience the night together, so Carlos told us to come over to his side of the bar. Before we knew it, Damien and I were busy serving beers and taking cash.

Maybe it sounds silly, all of this love for fleeting moments of intimacy, but it really is a special feeling. I loved being behind the bar and working in unison with those 2 guys. I loved it that people actually thought I worked at the hostel and asked me how I got the job there. I served beers, gave travel advice and met a lot of people. Nothing becomes more clear when traveling than the fact that there are no coincidences. The simple fact that a certain group of individuals from distinct parts of the world end up in the same place at the same time is cosmic. Traveling also brings a certain sad truth to clarity as well unfortunately. The sad truth that all great things come to an end.

That is the constant of addiction, the constant high and low. The highest point of this binge came with Nicole's good-bye party. It was one of those nights where everything felt right and the love was flowing. Damien, Carlos and I were behind the bar. Nicole was on the other side of the bar doing what she loves, dancing salsa. There was a lot of hugging, kissing and giving thanks for having met people as cool as us. I don't want to get all New Age or anything, but it was one of those nights where the energy was pure, high and wholly positive. Everyone in the bar was present and exchanging ides and vibes. It was a great night that ended with Carlos telling Damien and I that the 3 of us had sold $4000 pesos worth of drinks, almost the highest amount of sales in the history of the bar.

Life is all about change though and nothing lasts forever. Nicole's good-bye party started the chain of good-byes. Even Carlos was planning his own good-bye party as he moves to the States to go to school. There always promises made when you give your farewells. There are promises to write, to visit, to never change. Sometimes these promises are kept. Sometimes they aren't and with these people, I can't tell you if I will ever see them again. This is when the high ends, the crash comes and traveling turns into an addiction. These moments of adios is when loneliness hits and the reality of travel appears. It makes me wonder. What is the definition of a "close friend"? What does it mean to be a "friend"? What does it mean to be "close"?

Chilangolandia y yo

Ode to Mexico City, D.F. (day-efay)

I am no longer afraid.
This urban beast, the capital of my beloved Mexico, the virtually unavoidable axis used to intimidate me. It is enormous, dirty and dangerous.
But now, it is mine.

Mexico City is a cacophony of contradictions.
It is the capital of corruption and culture.
A city where education and ingenuity mirror a poverty of wealth, where Mexican affection rubs a rough urban edge.
D.F., the mega-complex, where EVERYTHING, ANYTHING and NOTHING happen all in the same momento, en una vez.

It has been called a parasite; sucking water, resources, clean air and people from far and wide.
It is the haven, they say, of crime, kidnapping and piracy. It is dirty, smelly and raw.

At the same time, it is a relic, a living museum, a defining piece of world history over 700 years old.
Mexico City, the center of two once great, prospering empires built one atop of another.
The Spanish smothering the Aztec.
Zocálo atop Plaza Mayor.
Cathedral atop temple.
Palacio atop palace.
Beautiful buildings built from bloodshed now sit sinking on their uneven foundations as the new Mexican market, the new Mexican empire struggles as it flourishes.

D.F. is a literal, metaphorical and physical feast for the senses and it is all about la venta, the sale.
The grey, smog-stained structures erupt with color at street-level: red, blue, yellow, green, a rainbow of tarps, umbrellas and make-shift markets.
You can buy anything in this city in a store or on the street, en la calle.
The street is usually quicker, cheaper and more crowded than the stores, anything you can think of and a couple of things you never imagined are pesos away and around every corner.

Silence is the only elusive commodity. Between car horns, whistles, cat-calls, sirens and sing-songy street vendors, "¡Apesoapesoapeso! ¡Barabarabara! ¡Paselepaselepasele!" hawking their wares.
One may think to escape to a church or cathedral to find a reverent noiselessness, but here in Mexico, faith and prayer have a permeating whisper all their own.

D.F. is fumes, food and sewer.
It is a place for the tolerant and the forgiving.
Mexico City must be forgiven for its filth and feo-ness, so it may be awed and admired for its pride and grace.

I have come to love this megalopolis. It is not as dangerous as everyone says.

Mexico City is fun, welcoming and easy. The list of things-to-do can go on forever.

The Metro is well-organized and extremely easy to use. Be smart, skeptical, yet trusting of taxis.

Remember a lot of life is about luck and horror stories are usually just that...stories.

STAY at Hostel Amigo (www.hostelamigo.com) it is a wonderful hostel with lovely common areas, TV, bar and pool table. There is also a nice hotel next door to Hostel Amigo called Hotel Isabel. They have private rooms with TV and a shared bathroom for $140 pesos a night. If you can stay there you can still hang out in the bar at Hostel Amigo. It is very fun.

Also, at the Zocálo, next to the cathedral is a Tourist Information booth. They speak English and have all kinds of free maps, including a color Metro map.

There is so much to do in Mexico City you may actually want to come back for more in spite of itself...pinche ciudad desmadrosa y hermosa.

I HEART D.F.

Tepito, el Dulce Gigante

In a city as big as Mexico, D.F., there is certainly not a lack of things to do. The city is full of Museums, colonial buildings, ruins, parks, delegations, and of course, markets. Every street corner, in fact, can become a market at any moment. These "markets" are usually inhabited by vendedores ambulantes who are sellers with no license to sell and are usually selling pirated goods or knock-offs. Just walk down the street Moneda next to the Palacio or down the street Donceles and turn left on Rep. de Argentina to see two of the most persistent and easily accessible "black markets".

I am actually not sure if these two spots are official market sites. In both cases, you will find actual stalls, structures, but you will also find people just setting up tables on the sidewalks. It may be that the stalls have permits to vend, but the ambulantes are the sidewalk dwellers. The other day, I was looking at CD's on the sidewalk when suddenly a cascade of whistles could be heard moving down the street. Looking in that direction, I saw a wave of vendors hurriedly packing up their goods and a policeman in the distance. The guy with the CD's looked at me and told me to wait a minute while he too began packing up. I told him I would come back, which I did, 15 minutes later and I bought 2 cumbia CD's.

Mexico City also has official markets happening all over the city. Many of the markets have designated days. For example, the delegation of Coyoacan has a Saturday market. My favorite market is on Sundays and it is walking distance from the Centro Historico. It is called Lagunilla.

Lagunilla is the bohemian market. It has a little bit of everything, but is more eccentric. There are antiques, jewelry, funky T-shirts, Indian wares (from India), tarot card readers, and clothes. It is quite a large market that is fun to look around even if you don't need to buy anything.
To get there from the Zocalo: go up 5 de Mayo, turn right on Rep. de Chile and keep walking, you will run right into it.

As I have said before, Mexico City has everything, including contradiction and synthesis.
No market anywhere captures the spirit of the vendedor ambulante and a corrupted officiality like the infamous Mercado de Tepito.

I DO NOT, I repeat, I DO NOT recommend that just any ol' backpacker or tourist goes to Tepito. I went to Tepito knowing full-well what I was getting myself into and I went with the utmost respect for its reputation and the reputation of the people who live there.

Tepito is a living legend. It is the toughest, most feared delegation in all of Mexico City and mainly because of the market that operates there 6 days a week.

Tepito is THE black market of Mexico. They say if you lose your passport, or it gets stolen, it ends up in Tepito with a price tag of $5000 USD. If you want a gun, go to Tepito. If you want a diploma saying you're a doctor, drugs, exotic animals...go to Tepito.

Now, Kike used to take me to Tepito and I have never seen any of the above contraband. I don't even know where it would be. I mean, I am sure it is there and the market itself is a GIGANTICALLY HUGE labyrinth of stall after stall after stall. Most people go to Tepito to get more basic things, like movies, CD's, clothes, electronics, cook-ware, make-up, shoes, etc, all of which have "fallen off the truck" so to speak. The police are constantly doing early-morning raids on Tepito to try to put an end to piracy, but they are never successful. A day later, the market is up and running again and just as packed as the day before.

Obviously, due to the nature of merchandise and the kind of business conducted in Tepito, it has a dangerous reputation. Kike always made sure I was respectful and aware of the risks of going to the market. I never thought of ever braving Tepito by myself until I met Nicole.

Nicole is a nice Australian girl living in Cuba who is staying at my hostel. Since Cuba is communist and what-not, Nicole comes to Mexico to do her shopping. We have talked quite a bit about our fondness for travel, Latin men and Mexico, so it was more of an honor than a surprise when she asked me if I was up for an adventure.
She asked, "On Monday, would you like to go to Tepito with me? I have never been, but I would like to go."

We both giggled excitedly at the idea of it. Big, bad Tepito, the barrio of myth and legend, were we brave enough to do it?

I wouldn't have ever braved it alone and I would not have gone with Nicole if she weren't as street smart as she is nor if she didn't speak Spanish. So, I decided, what the hell?

Monday morning, we woke up and headed to Starbucks. Yes, that's right Starbucks. Hey, I like good, strong coffee and it is hard to find in Mexico. Also, I would like to add in my and Starbucks defense, they only serve shade grown organic coffee from Mexico. Regardless, I bring it up more because I think it is funny. We may be the only two people to ever go from Starbucks to Tepito in one day.

Well, we went, nervous and giddy the whole way. The whole experience was actually very nice. Not many people were there because it was the Monday after vacations and we took all the precautions. Our money was stashed all over our bodies, we put on our hardest faces and always watched each other's backs. All in all though, the experience was as anti-climactic as this e-mail will be.

People were actually nice to us. One lady selling movies was fascinated that we even knew about Tepito and told us we would always have a friend to visit when we came. I mean, imagine you were in South Central, L.A., or Compton, and people actually invited you back.

The moral of the story is, I guess, not to go to Tepito because it is wonderful. The moral of the story is more that there are a lot of horrific stories that circulate about people, places, and things. I hear them all the time from travelers and non-travelers alike. The fact of the matter is that people generally are good people. Everyone is similar in that most people just want to love and be loved. While bad people do exist, they are not the majority.

We, as Americans, have been taught to fear the unknown. Horror stories circulate about everything. This place is dangerous, that place is dangerous, people do this, people do that. In the end, the majority of stories are just stories. People have so many bad things to say about Mexico City as well. Don't take taxis, don't walk around at night, don't take the Metro. The fact of the matter is that bad things happen everywhere and there is no one place where bad things happen every moment of every day. Life should be about adventure and fear only keeps us from living a full life. So, while respect should always be paid to the reputation of a place, NEVER, judge a place on reputation alone.

Go. Explore for yourself. Just remember to be smart, aware and informed.

VISIT OAXACA

Today is a beautiful day. Every afternoon or early evening it has been raining, so while it is hot, there is a nice cool breeze.

I think this is my fifth or sixth morning following the same routine. I get up and head for the coffee shop in the Zocalo. For about an hour, I drink coffee, read or write and then head next door for breakfast. I know the breakfasts are more expensive around the Zocalo, but I love watching the action; the shoe-shiners setting up their posts for the day, old men reading newspapers, the sound of the marimba, the balloon vendors. Mornings in the Zocalo aren't exactly exciting, but there is an intangible charm, a charisma that brings a smile to my face.

Oaxaca is alive again.

So, you can imagine the urgency I felt to write this entry when I read the local newspaper. There was an article about how the head of Oaxacan State Tourism is begging the US ambassador to Mexico to lift the travel warnings against Oaxaca. I actually just looked at the current travel warnings and I did not see a warning for Oaxaca, however, if any one reading this blog has any doubt about the state of affairs in this wonderful vibrant city, I am here to set you straight.

Oaxaca is back to a point where I don't feel like I ever left. Every Sunday, the Zocalo erupts with live music, kissing couples and families. All the stores are open as are the restaurants and museums. Even the European tour groups can be seen following their tour guides little red flag like confused children. In fact, since El Conflicto, there are more new hotels, bars and restaurants replacing the ones who could not stay in business before. The bar scene is also up and running again with more bars to circulate through.

I think I had forgotten during my time in San Cristobal how deep my connection with Oaxaca is. There are quite a few foreigners of all ages who choose to call this city home. With that said, the Oaxacans themselves are so accepting (and tolerant) that most personal interactions are a pleasant experience. Really, I cannot describe how happy it makes me to see the city free of graffiti and full of laughter.

I will end this entry with a few suggestions of things to see and do in Oaxaca for the next time you visit.

Sights within Oaxaca city-limits:

• The ice cream market in front of the church called La Soledad on Av. Independencia. Here you can try sorbets in variety of flavors, both standard and exotic, in a nice shady plaza.


• The carne asada market located in the building behind the Mercado 20 de Noviembre. The smell of barbecue smoke may be a little over-whelming, but it is worth it. Here, in a long and skinny hallway you can eat the most authentic carne asada in possibly the entire country. Don't miss the roasted onions and fresh tortillas.


• The Friday Tianguis one block from El Llano. A tianguis is a sort of flea-market where anything and everything can be sold. The one on Fridays in Oaxaca is very eclectic.


• San Felipe del Agua. This is a nice park/nature reserve with waterfalls. During the driest season (March-May) the falls might only be a trickle, but the park is still a nice natural get-away in the middle of town.

Lastly, if there is one day-trip that I can recommend doing during a visit to Oaxaca, it would have to be visiting Hierve El Agua. All the tour companies in the city offer tours to this amazing natural phenomenon. Although the name translated in to English is "Boil the Water," Hierve el Agua is not a hot spring. Set high in the mountains, it is a cold spring that at one time produced large waterfalls that have since petrified down the cliff-side. What is left is a series of natural pools that culminate in one big pool that is literally a natural infinity pool. Once again, I recommend NOT going during the driest season (March to May).

There are a plethora of places to stay in Oaxaca and the city can accommodate everyone from a backpacker on a budget to the 5-star socialite. If you have any question about where exactly to stay, just leave me a comment and I'll try to give you a recommendation.