Graycliff: Frank Lloyd Wright’s Ode to Lake Erie

This impressive estate perched above the water was built for Isabelle Martin and shows the birth of Wright’s organic architecture.

Frank Lloyd Wright built Graycliff, a summer residence for the Martins, from 1926 to 1929 — just in time for the family to lose their great wealth.

Frank Lloyd Wright had to grow on me. Actually, more accurately, I had to experience his work firsthand to develop an appreciation for it. Because, to me at least, his exteriors can seem monolithic, the windows small, the horizontal planes somewhat uninteresting. 

But when you enter one of his homes, it’s like you’ve entered a magical realm — the unassuming wardrobe that opens into the fantastical realm of Narnia, if you will. Wright transports you to another world, a cozy space where nature is invited in, often in surprising ways. You develop a great respect for the thought and vision that went into each of his homes. The environment connects to the site with a palette inspired by, and often using, materials sourced from the immediate area. 

“When the Martins complained about the additions, Wright replied, “You don’t need them — but the house does.””

Our docent, Gail, was extremely knowledgeable about Graycliff and its colorful history.

The Martin Family and the History of Graycliff

Graycliff was the lakeside haven and summer home of Isabelle and Darwin Martin. Darwin was a wealthy executive at the Larkin Soap Company and first met Wright at his Oak Park studio in 1902 to discuss the commission of a Larkin Administration Building. He later commissioned Wright to design and build the home that would become Graycliff. The estate is perched atop a 50-foot bluff overlooking Lake Erie in the town of Derby, New York, about 20 miles south of Buffalo. In the distance, you can see the Point Abino Lighthouse and the Welland Canal in Canada. 

The Larkin Soap Company was a massive mail-order business, and Darwin one of the highest paid executives at the time (worth the equivalent of $40 million nowadays). This accounts for his ability to build not only Graycliff but the family home in Buffalo (known as the Martin House) with Wright — an architect notorious for not letting a budget get in the way of his vision. 

But all of that changed when the stock market crashed in 1929, ushering in the Great Depression. Darwin had heavily invested in a number of his son’s business ventures, including 800 West Ferry, a luxury apartment high-rise in Buffalo. Due to these underperforming investments, the Martins’ fortunes eroded. 

Darwin sustained a series of mild strokes and a more serious episode on December 17, 1935, resulting in his death. 

It was reported that upon hearing of Darwin’s death, Wright stated that he had lost his best friend and most influential patron. Over the years, Darwin loaned Wright approximately $70,000. None of it was ever repaid. 

Isabelle continued to spend summers at Graycliff until about 1941. When she could no longer afford to keep the main house open, she moved into the apartment above the garage in the Foster House, before passing away on February 22, 1945 at the age of 75. 

Wright probably never imagined a modern sculpture sitting on the lawn at Graycliff — but we like to think he’d approve.

Wright’s Vision for Graycliff

Construction of the estate began in 1926 and was a gift from Darwin to Isabelle, upon his retirement from the Larkin Soap Company. The Martins were able to spend their first summer there in 1929, though the grounds weren’t completed until 1931. 

The complex comprises the main house, a sunken boiler house (called the Heat Hut) and the Foster House, originally conceived as the chauffeur’s quarters, so named because it was used as the summer residence of Isabelle’s daughter, Dorothy Martin Foster, her son-in-law, James, and their two children. 

Graycliff is named for the natural feature that forms the overlook it’s perched upon, and despite sounding a bit dour, the house is actually bright and airy. Not only did Wright want to provide views of Lake Erie, he had another reason to fill the house with natural light: Isabelle suffered from scleritis, a condition that causes chronic eye pain and light sensitivity. According to correspondence sent from the Martins to Wright, Isabelle needed a place that was flooded with “light and sunshine” — the opposite of their city home, which was dark and difficult for her to navigate. 

The view of the lake through the home was destroyed for a while when the Piarist priests put their chapel here.

The Piarist Priests: The Other Owners of Graycliff

In the 1950s, the Martin descendants sold the property to the Piarist Fathers, a Roman Catholic teaching order from Hungary. The Piarist edict being education for every child, they formed Calasanctius High School in Buffalo and needed residences for 24 priests and a boarding home for 48 underprivileged students.

When the priests purchased the property, they also needed a chapel to accommodate the large Hungarian community in the area. So they tore out a wall to create a new entrance and replaced the windows of the cantilevered porch with colored glass — thereby cutting off the view of the lake through the house and destroying Wright’s main vision for Graycliff. 

The story goes that when Wright was 91, he visited Graycliff, unannounced, with some protégés. 

The architect pulled up, and the head priest, recognizing the fancy car, ran out to greet him. Taking one look at the alterations, the first thing Wright says is, “Who did this? This is not my work.”

“We needed a chapel,” the priest stammered.

“Well, I can design you one,” Wright said. 

Ignoring the priest, he turned to his colleagues and said, “Come on. I’ll show you the house.” And in they walked, uninvited. 

Wright never got to design that chapel, as he died a few months later. But he’d be happy to learn the property has been restored. 

Isabelle liked to create flower arrangements, so Wright planted a cutting garden for her in front of the home.

The Cutting Garden

Our tour began with a walk through Isabelle’s garden. She was noted for her flower arrangements, so Wright designed gardens to accommodate her hobby. 

Eventually, the Martins hired landscape architect Ellen Biddle Shipman, renowned for her naturalistic style, to revise Wright’s landscaping scheme. Shipman enhanced the garden for Isabelle, giving her flowers that would bloom in rotation from spring through fall. 

The site also includes pine trees, which reminded Isabelle of summers at the Lake Placid Club in the Adirondack Mountains. 

Beyond the cutting garden were the vegetable gardens, orchards for apple and pear trees and grapevines. 

The house was approached from a diagonal driveway, which faced the sunset and helped make the narrow home appear larger.

The First Glimpse of Graycliff

Our initial view of the house took place between two stone markers, the original location of the driveway that led to the house. 

The family owned eight and a half acres, but the plot where they wanted their summer home was two and a half acres. Further complicating matters, the spot atop the limestone bluff was just 250 feet wide. That’s very narrow for a 6,500-square-foot house. 

But there was nothing Wright liked so much as a challenge. And one of the cool, oh-so-Wright elements is that you approach Graycliff at an angle. The Martins bought the adjoining property from their next-door neighbors, the well-to-do Rumseys. The driveway branches off of the Rumseys’ and perfectly faces the setting sun, which would be a vision for visitors arriving for a summer soirée. 

The turnabout was made of yellow gravel — to complement the gold of the setting sun, of course. 

Approaching from an angle had an added bonus: It made the narrow façade seem more stately and grand. 

But the house itself wasn’t the main focus: Wright wanted the first glimpse to be of the lake; that was the true star of the show.

Horizontal lines almost always play a prominent role in Wright’s designs. For him, they draw a parallel to the ground, and in particular at Graycliff, the horizon and the surface of Lake Erie. The house becomes one with nature. 

The roof is made with cedar shake shingles, each hand-painted. Wright didn’t like gutters, so the house doesn’t have any. He never was one to let practicality get in the way of aesthetics. 

By creating a glass box of sorts, visitors could see through the home’s rectilinear form right out to the lake. At the time Graycliff was built, the area was undeveloped farmland, with nothing obstructing the view of the water. 

The driveway curves around an artificial pond, but that wasn’t part of Isabelle’s plan. Once again, she wanted something that would evoke her beloved Adirondacks, and she requested a small hill covered with bushes and low trees. But Wright cleverly played the money card, and insisted that the pond would be less expensive. The idea is that this water feature would be an extension of the lake. Wright almost always got his way.

A large part of Wright’s design aesthetic involves incorporating colors and materials from the surrounding area. At Graycliff, sand from the shores of Lake Erie was mixed into the stucco to add another layer of texture, and the home’s red roof is meant to evoke the ferrous oxide in the Tichenor limestone on the cliff behind the house that bleeds a rust color. 

Sand from the beach was added to the stucco façade and inspired its yellow hue. The cliff’s limestone, bleeding a rusty red that carries into the color of the roof, was also used to build the home.

Another design motif favored by Wright was cantilevers — and at Graycliff, he wanted to evoke the layers of limestone on the bluff. 

His plans called for various additions, but his clients weren’t sold. 

“The Martins were concerned about money, and they said to him, ‘We really don’t need this balcony; we don’t need the stone porch; we don’t need the porte cochère. Just a little awning would be great,’” our guide Gail tells us. “And then they go away on a trip — and when they come back, all that’s in process.”

When the Martins complained about these additions, Wright replied, “You don’t need them — but the house does.” Ever the egotist, Wright was always right, and he bristled whenever someone questioned his vision. 

Stay by Sarah Braman, 2022, on the grounds of Graycliff

Sarah Braman: Finding Room

When we visited Graycliff, monumental modern sculptures by Sarah Braman were scattered about the grounds. These large geometric shapes made of concrete and brightly colored glass added a vibrant element of visual interest to the landscape. We enjoyed them, and hope that Wright would have appreciated them as well.

Duke peeks out of Sit, a 2022 sculpture by Braman — the first of her works we saw during our visit to Graycliff

Wally takes the name of the sculpture, Sit, literally.

That being said, we could have done without a couple of the ones inside the house. We’d have preferred to see the living room set up as it would have been when the Martins lived here — not emptied of some pieces of furniture to make way for Braman’s smaller-scale sculptures of domestic items and found objects, which struck us as disjointed. 

The client actually wanted a hill here with trees — but Wright insisted on a small pond that would connect to the lake out back.

Entering Graycliff

Upon arrival, we passed through the porte cochère and entered the foyer. Immediately, you’ll notice one of Wright’s signature architectural techniques, known as compression and release. In the entry, the ceiling is low, and the smaller scale of the room creates a tension that propels you to move beyond it, into the larger living room, an open space with higher ceilings. To create the expansive double-height space, Wright used beams from nearby Bethlehem Steel. 

Unlike Wright’s Prairie-style homes, which were concentric, with one large room off of which the others flowed, Graycliff is rectilinear. One room follows another, and Wright used compression to define transitions between these spaces without walls. By this time, he was moving into a style he referred to as organic architecture.

The stucco-covered walls used on Graycliff’s exterior continue into the interior, and provide a visual connection between the outdoors and indoors. 

When the Graycliff Conservancy purchased the property in 1999, very few of the original furnishings remained. Many are reproductions, including the willow and reed pieces throughout the home. This type of furniture was very popular during the late ’20s and is thought to be similar to what Darwin and Isabelle saw when they vacationed in the Adirondacks. –Wally 

Wright felt fireplaces were the heart of a home, and this one was built in the Adirondack style.

A Room-by-Room Tour of Graycliff

The Living Room

The living room is center stage. Floor-to-ceiling windows and doors open onto the front terrace and the backyard and span the length of the house. These walls of glass provide gorgeous views of Lake Erie and fill the interior with plenty of natural light. The focal point of the room is the monumental Adirondack-style stone fireplace with a mantle that nearly covers the north wall. Wright believed that the fireplace was the heart of the home. An unusual feature to this type of hearth is that logs were stacked on end, vertically. As a fire burned, it created a dramatic plume of flames. 

One of the few materials used in the home that was not sourced locally was the cypress heartwood flooring from Florida — most likely chosen for its durability and beauty.

Curl up with a good book in the Fern Room, a cozy nook off of the living room.

The Fern Room

Adjacent to the living room is a cozy nook that served as a library and is known as the Fern Room — a great spot to curl up with a good book and admire the incredible views of the lake. The ceiling is lower here to establish a more intimate space. The floor is covered in flagstone that came from the city of Buffalo, which was, at the time, replacing its stone walkways with concrete. 

Wright proposed that the window glass meet at the corners so as not to obstruct the view, but the Martins didn’t see the need for that additional expense. (He would later get his way at Fallingwater, a home built for Edgar and Liliane Kaufmann between 1936-1937 in Mill Run, Pennsylvania.)

The Sunporch

Beyond this, the floorplan flows into the sunroom, with rubber floor tiles. Originally a screened-in porch, cypress-framed windows were added to shield occupants from the intense winds coming off the lake. 

The room functioned primarily as a music room. Isabelle had a paid companion who lived at Graycliff by the name of Cora Herrick, though the children called her Aunt Polly. She played the piano — one of the few original pieces of furniture remaining in the home. According to Gail, Darwin wrote in his diary how much he loved hearing music being played while he was working at his desk above. 

Diners had great views at Graycliff — and got to avoid errant sparks flying out of the fireplace.

The dining room at Graycliff is around the corner from the living room.

The Dining Room

On the other side of the living room is an area that served as the dining room. 

The table is positioned parallel to the wall so that guests could easily turn to enjoy the view of the lake — and also to avoid the errant sparks and embers that occasionally popped out of the fireplace. 

All six bedrooms are found upstairs.

The Staircase

A cascading waterfall staircase made of maple leads to the home’s bedrooms on the second floor. This type of passage consists of two parallel flights of stairs joined by a landing that creates a 90-degree turn. 

A dramatic window with a diamond shape at the top of the stairs

The architect’s signature use of rhythmic repetition can be seen in the home’s details. Wright noticed that the local limestone breaks off in geometric forms, so he gave a nod to these in subtle ways: octagonal door knobs and a diamond-shaped window at the apex of the staircase as well as light fixtures. This brings order and visual harmony to Graycliff. 

Poor Darwin got stuck with the worst bedroom of the bunch.

Darwin, a workaholic, converted his porch into an office.

Darwin Martin’s Bedroom

Upon climbing the stairs, Darwin’s bedroom can be found to the right. Not only did Darwin not share a room with his wife, he was also assigned the worst of the bunch, to our minds. It’s smaller than most of the other bedrooms, though it does contain a small bathroom and sleeping porch.

Darwin converted the porch into an office, as he was a notorious workaholic.

The bedrooms feature one of the innovations at the time: olive knuckle hinges patented by Stanley Company that allow a recessed door to open all the way flat to the wall. 

This sparse hallway led to the bedrooms and the back staircase.

We really liked Braman’s Her House (2019), which sat in Isabelle’s room, as it evoked the larger pieces on the lawn.

A guest room next to Isabelle’s room offered twin beds — and gorgeous views of Lake Erie.

Isabelle’s room had its own bathroom, a door out to a balcony and a walk-in closet — unheard-of in a Wright home!

Isabelle Martin’s Bedroom 

At the top of the stairs and looking to the left is a monastic gallery, which has a similar set of windows as the living room below, and leads to a private wing with bedrooms. The first is a nice guest room, with Isabelle’s bedroom next door.

Wright despised closets. However, Isabelle was the client of record for the house and insisted he provide her with one. Her bedroom includes a walk-in closet where the bathroom was originally planned. But Isabelle wanted her bathroom to have a window, so it had to go on the lake side and required Wright to cut a hole into the chimney to accommodate her request. 

A private terrace is accessible from Isabelle’s room, and she probably spent evenings there as direct sunlight would have been too much for her eyes to bear. 

She might have been the hired help, but Aunt Polly sure had nice digs at Graycliff.

Aunt Polly’s Room 

While she did get a nice bedroom, Aunt Polly was technically the help. Her room is a transitional space from that of the immediate family to the staff. 

Cora remained in service from 1911 until Isabelle’s death in 1945. In 1929, when the Martins could no longer afford to pay her, Cora stayed on for room and board. After their mother’s death, the children took care of their dear Aunt Polly. 

Even the servants had cute rooms at Graycliff.

The servants had their meals in a sunroom at the back of the house.

This cool sink came from Europe and was used exclusively by Isabelle for her flower arrangements.

The Pantry and Kitchen 

Farther down the corridor are two bedrooms for the staff, as well as the back staircase that leads down to the staff sunporch and kitchen area.

The hammered metal sink in the pantry was imported from Europe and was used solely by Isabelle to arrange flowers from her cutting garden. The cook had to use the one in the adjacent kitchen, which faced the front yard instead of the lake. 

On display within the built-in cabinets, another Wright trademark, behind Isabelle’s sink, are Larkin Soap products, including Buffalo china. Elbert Hubbard was Darwin’s brother-in-law and started the Arts and Crafts Roycroft movement in East Aurora, New York. He suggested to Larkin that consumers would be incentivized to purchase their product if they received a piece of china along with it. He was right, and the pottery ended up being quite successful. 

In the cabinets, there’s also the Martins’ red and white wedding china and Indian Tree pattern china, which were gifted to the conservancy by the couple’s grandchildren. 

Here’s the sink the cook used in the kitchen off of the pantry.

The stovetop and oven were all part of one piece of furniture.

The small yet functional kitchen contains another original piece, a hulking fridge from the Jewett Refrigeration Company, along with a freestanding prep station, sink and porcelain-glazed stove. 

The Heat Hut held a boiler to heat both Graycliff and the Foster House. Then the priests used it to store wine and honey.

The Heat Hut

Sitting between the main home and the Foster House is the sunken red-roofed Heat Hut. The structure once held an oil boiler that provided steam heat to both houses. According to Gail, the Piarist priests used it to store wine and honey from the bees they kept on the property. 

The Foster House, part of the garage at the Graycliff estate, was originally used by the chauffeur and his family.

The Foster House

The apartment above the garage was built for the chauffeur and his family. The original design was flipped so that the cantilever balcony would afford its inhabitants unobstructed views of the lake. 

Shortly after the stock market crashed, the Martins couldn’t afford to keep the chauffeur out at Graycliff, so they sent him back to Buffalo, and their daughter Dorothy, and her husband, James Foster, moved in, spending summers there with their two children until 1941. 

Wally and Duke on a balcony of the Foster House

There are quite a few bedrooms in the Foster House — but not much else, aside from a small sitting room and kitchen.

After Darwin’s death and the family’s financial troubles, Isabelle moved into the Foster House, staying in what was the gardener’s room, which had its own bathroom. The ever-particular woman liked to sit on the balcony — but she didn’t appreciate seeing the cars pull into and out of the garage. She contacted Wright, who acquiesced and moved the garage doors to the side and extended the wall.

Wright extended a wall to block out the view of cars coming and going from the garage for Isabelle.

“And she says, ‘While you’re at it, can you make me another bedroom up there?’” Gail tells us. So the apartment now has four bedrooms and a couple more balconies. Isabelle seems to have been the one person who could charm Wright into altering his original plans.

The seating out back helped hide the servants carrying picnic items down to the beach and back.

The Esplanade 

Wright’s idea for the esplanade was to build a reflecting pool, cascading terraces and steps that led all the way down to the beach. But when the architect left the premises, Darwin contacted his friends at Bethlehem Steel to request a metal tower with steps like those his neighbors had. Not as pretty as Wright’s vision but certainly practical. It deteriorated, so there’s no longer any way down the beach.

Duke, Poppa and Wally enjoy the gorgeous day at Graycliff.

The access to the stair tower was visible, though, and again Isabelle complained about the view. When she was out on her terrace, she could see the servants coming and going. She felt this was unseemingly — that’s why they had a rear staircase, after all — so Wright constructed the overlook seating in such a way that the help could go about their business while remaining out of sight. 

Saving Graycliff 

When the Martin family decided to sell the property, the person who wanted to buy it was a developer who built the condominiums that are now next door. He planned to demolish Graycliff — who needs a historic home when you can get top dollar for lakefront condos? 

Thankfully, a group in Buffalo came to the rescue, forming the Graycliff Conservancy. In 1999 they received a grant, and the conservancy was able to purchase the property. 

The renovations began, wrapping up in 2019 and costing about $10 million. 

There are plans to build a new eco-friendly visitors center to replace the current one, which was built by the priests as a gymnasium for the children.

Restored back to its 1926 splendor, Graycliff exemplifies Wright’s philosophy of living in harmony with nature. If you’re in the Buffalo area, stop by for a visit. As with all of Wright’s homes, they have to be seen to be fully appreciated. –Duke

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Graycliff

Graycliff

6472 Old Lake Shore Road
Derby, New York 14047
USA

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Read more: 

The Fayban Villa and Its Connection to Frank Lloyd Wright

Day of the Dead Ofrendas 2022

The Día de los Muertos ofrendas at the National Museum of Mexican Art focused on victims of COVID as well as gun violence, including the students and teachers killed in Uvalde.

Día de los Inocentes (Holy Innocents Day) by Claudia Álvarez, 2010. The sculpture represents the story in the New Testament where King Herod orders the massacre of all children under the age of 2 in an attempt to kill the baby Jesus.

The Mexican tradition of honoring loved ones with an ofrenda is something every family should adopt. These homemade altars are typically adorned with marigolds, photos, and items the deceased person would appreciate, including their favorite foods and beverages (empanadas and a margarita on mine, por favor). But even if you don’t create one at home, you can see artistic interpretations if you’re in Chicago.

Sometime around mid-October, Duke and I head to the Pilsen neighborhood to see the Day of the Dead ofrendas at the National Museum of Mexican Art. 

The original concept of the exhibit was to honor people in the USA who had been murdered. 

“In the last decade, we have been overwhelmed with the amount of mass shootings on an annual basis that there have been far too many for this exhibition,” reads the sign at the start of the exhibit, proclaiming, “Enough is enough!”

This year, the 36th Day of the Dead installation, covers not only senseless gun violence — including a moving memorial to the victims of the Uvalde school massacre — but Mexican actors who passed away and those lost to COVID and suicide.

Ofrenda to artisans who died of COVID

A photo of one of the artists memorialized in the ofrenda, Tiburcio Soteno Fernandez, with the tools of his trade and his iconic mermaid alebrije.

An ofrenda to Mexican cinema by the Puerto Rican Antonio Martorell

La muerte allá donde la vida no vale nada (Death, Where Life Has No Worth) by Alejandro Cortés, Dolores Gómez Navarro and Jorje Negrete. Note the upside-down ofrenda, pointing to Mictlan, the underworld of the ancient Mesoamerican peoples.

An ofrenda to the Latinx victims of the Uvalde, Texas shooting at Robb Elementary School. It was created by students at Bernard Moos Elementary School in Chicago.

Ofrenda a los Arrancados (Ofrenda to the Uprooted) by Carlos Flores. He used “bandit signs” to pay tribute to the working-class people of color who disproportionally lost their lives to COVID.

This ofrenda, created by the Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art, pays homage to weavers of the war-torn country.

Ofrenda to Nieves Orozco Field, an indigenous dancer who modeled for Diego Rivera

Molds used to make sugar skulls for Day of the Dead

Skeletons go hand in hand with Day of the Dead, as do sugar skulls.

Año de los Muertos (Year of the Dead) by Eric Romero, 2020

A Tree of Life with Mexican rites and rituals by Israel Soteno, 2007

If you’re in Chicago in the fall, you should definitely stop into the National Museum of Mexican Art (it’s free!) to see their ofrendas. ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos! –Wally

Who Really Wrote the New Testament?

Many, if not most, of the Scriptures were written by people falsely claiming to be the apostles or other leaders of the early Christian church, says biblical scholar Bart D. Ehrman. That means a lot of books of the Bible are actually forgeries.

The book of Mark, like the rest of the Gospels, was written anonymously. Why, then, do we believe they were products of the men that bear their names?

If your answer to any conundrum is, “It’s one of God’s miracles,” then this article is not for you. I seek the truth in facts — fully admitting that as we gain more and more knowledge, our previous beliefs can shift. 

I don’t subscribe to the school of thought that blind faith can solve any mystery. I think about what is scientifically feasible, what archaeology and history research reveals, and base my judgments from there. Virgins do not give birth; men are not raised from the dead; and illiterate peasants do not write well-argued religious tracts.

“Most of the apostles were illiterate and could not in fact write.

They could not have left an authoritative writing if their souls depended on it.”

— Bart D. Ehrman, “Forged”

All that being said, this post is not about my beliefs. These are the findings of Bart D. Ehrman in his 2011 work, Forged: Writing in the Name of God — Why the Bible’s Authors Are Not Who We Think They Are. 

“Most of the apostles were illiterate and could not in fact write,” Ehrman declares. “They could not have left an authoritative writing if their souls depended on it.” 

Bart D. Ehrman was once an evangelical Christian who took everything in the Bible literally. Now he’s a biblical scholar whose works, like Forged, offer shocking truths about the supposed word of God.

So who wrote the New Testament, then? Most of the texts were composed by people with extensive schooling — that is, undoubtedly, members of the upper class elite.

Why would someone lie about writing these works? “Quite simply, it was to get a hearing for their views,” Ehrman explains. “If you were an unknown person, but had something really important to say and wanted people to hear you — not so they could praise you, but so they could learn the truth — one way to make that happen was to pretend you were someone else, a well-known author, a famous figure, an authority.”

Here are four shocking revelations about who actually wrote the New Testament (or, perhaps I should say who didn’t write it):

Peter and Paul had differing views of Christianity, but both were chosen as the “authors” of forged books in the Bible to lend authority to the writings.

1. Ancient writers forged writings to address infighting among early Christian groups.

Many people think of Christianity as always having been a well-defined, cohesive religion — as if the books of the New Testament were handed down from on high like the tablets of the 10 Commandments Moses received. But the truth is, the fledgling religion was a big old mess for hundreds of years.

“Christians in the early centuries of the church were in constant conflict and felt under attack from all sides,” Ehrman writes. “They were at odds with Jews, who considered their views to be an aberrant and upstart perversion of the ancestral traditions of Israel. They were at odds with pagan peoples and governments, who considered them a secretive and unauthorized religion that posed a danger to the state. And they were virulently at odds with each other, as different Christian teachers and groups argued that they and they alone had a corner on the truth and other Christian teachers and groups flat-out misunderstood the truths that Christ had proclaimed during his time on earth.” 

So, numerous writers turned to forgery to give more weight to their arguments — and nowhere was that more prevalent than among varying factions of early Christians. Those works favored by church leaders centuries after Jesus were chosen to become the New Testament. Those that were deemed heretical (such as, say, the Gnostic Gospel of Judas), were not only left out but hunted down and destroyed in an effort to totally obliterate their teachings.

The book of Jude was written too late to have been authored by Jesus’ brother.

The New Testament book of Jude, for example, claims to be written by Jesus’ brother. But the author is talking about false teachers (which he strangely calls “waterless souls” and “fruitless trees, twice dead, uprooted”) who have infiltrated the religion and need to be rooted out — something that didn't happen until much later than Jude’s lifetime.

James was the head of the first Christian church, but couldn’t have written the book of the New Testament that bears his name.

And the book of James was supposedly penned by another of Jesus’ brothers, this one the head of the first Christian church, in Jerusalem. But not only was this book written after James’ death, the author is fluent in Greek and its rhetoric. Even if the timing worked out, the historical James, Ehrman says, was an Aramaic-speaking peasant who almost certainly never learned to read.

The New Testament itself declares that Peter was illiterate — so how the heck could he have written all those Bible books?

2. Peter was an illiterate fisherman who died years before 1 and 2 Peter were written.

Like the book of James, the book of 1 Peter was written by someone who was very well educated, spoke Greek and practiced rhetoric. 

What do we know of Peter from the Bible? He was a fisherman from the town of Capernaum in Galilee. Archeological and historical records reveal that “Peter’s town was a backwoods Jewish village made up of hand-to-mouth laborers who did not have an education,” Ehrman writes. “Everyone spoke Aramic. Nothing suggests that anyone could speak Greek. Nothing suggests that anyone in town could write. As a lower-class fisherman, Peter would have started work as a young boy and never attended school.”

In fact, in Acts 4:13, Peter and his companion John are described as agrammatoi, a Greek word meaning “unlettered” — that is, illiterate.

There’s also the issue of timing. Tradition holds that Peter was martyred in Rome under Nero in 64 CE. But the author of 1 Peter alludes to Rome as “Babylon” — that is, the destroyer of Jerusalem and the Temple. The Romans didn’t destroy Jerusalem until 70 CE, six years after Peter died. 

Peter, like all of the apostles, believed that Jesus’ Second Coming would take place during his lifetime.

In addition, the author of 2 Peter comes up with a defense as to why Jesus hasn’t returned as the Messiah. To God, “one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years are as one day.” So time is relative and just be patient.

But such an argument wouldn’t have been necessary for a disciple writing so soon after Jesus’ crucifixion. The Second Coming was predicted “within this generation” (Mark 13:30) and before the disciples “tasted death” (Mark 9:1). At the time Peter lived, Jesus could have still been right on schedule.

Paul actually did write some of the books of the New Testament — well, seven of the 13 attributed to him.

3. Good news! More than half of the letters attributed to Paul in the New Testament are authentic.

That means, of course, that six of the 13 are forgeries, though. Almost all biblical scholars agree that these seven letters were indeed written by the apostle Paul: Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians and Philemon. 

In the other books of the Bible attributed to Paul, there are words and phrases and writing styles not found in those that have been verified. And there are points made about Paul’s religious philosophy that just don’t jibe with what we know about his beliefs. For instance, the man was anti-marriage (even though he himself got hitched). In 1 Corinthians 7, Paul preaches that people should remain single. Why worry about procreation when the Rapture is going to happen any day?

But in the Pastorals (as 1 and 2 Timothy and Titus are referred to), “Paul” is insisting that church leaders be married. Side note: Why has this not become an argument to end the tradition of priests being celibate?

Scholars agree that at least a couple of the letters Paul wrote while under house arrest in Rome were actually penned by him.

Which brings us to another problem of timing: When Paul was alive, there weren’t any church leaders. His view was that every Christian was endowed with a supernatural gift (healing, say, or speaking in tongues) and all were equal: “In Christ there is neither slave nor free, neither male nor female,” he declares in Galatians 3:28.

Paul believed Jesus’ Second Coming would happen unexpectedly, “like a thief in the night” (1 Thessalonians 5:2), and he would be around to experience it. It wasn’t until a generation or more later, when people were still waiting, that some found it necessary to think more long term and offer up excuses. 

“The author of 2 Thessalonians, claiming to be Paul, argues that the end is not, in fact, coming right away,” Ehrman explains. “There will be some kind of political or religious uprising and rebellion, and an Antichrist-like figure will appear who will take his seat in the Temple of Jerusalem and declare himself to be God.” 

How could the same Paul declare in 1 Thessalonians that Jesus’ return would happen soon and suddenly, and then in 2 Thessalonians renege on that and state that a whole series of events had to take place first? 

And in Ephesians, there’s also an issue with Paul’s biography. The writer includes himself as someone who, before meeting Jesus, was guilty of “doing the will of the flesh and senses.” But that doesn’t fit with the man who says, in undisputed letters, he had been “blameless” when it came to the “righteousness of the law” (Philippians 3:4-5).

An angel is said to have whispered the words of the Gospel to St. Matthew. But it turns out there’s evidence Matthew didn’t actually write the book of the Bible named for him.

4. One-third of the authors of the books of the New Testament — including the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John — were actually anonymous. 

In fact, those texts remained anonymous for about a century. It wasn’t until around 180-185 CE that the Gospels were definitely named for the first time, by a church father and heresy hunter named Irenaeus. 

And how did those authors get chosen? To lend the Gospels authority (and help assure they made the cut when choosing what would go into the New Testament), the writers were declared to be two disciples and two close associates of disciples. 

Matthew, for instance, was a Jew, and tradition held that he had written a Gospel. So the first was assigned to him since it was deemed the most “Jewish.” 

Church leaders ascribed authors of the Gospels about 100 years after they were written — anonymously, no less. There’s no evidence Mark actually wrote the book that bears his name, for example.

The second Gospel was determined to be by Mark on the scantest of evidence; he seems to have been chosen because of his connection to Peter. 

When you hear the reasons the Gospels were assigned authors, like the book of Luke, you’ll realize how flimsy the evidence really is.

The author of Luke also wrote the book of Acts, where he proclaims to be a companion of Paul’s. “Because Acts stresses that Christianity succeeded principally among Gentiles, the author himself may have been a Gentile,” Ehrman writes. “Since there was thought to be a Gentile named Luke among Paul’s companions, he was assigned the Third Gospel.” So it goes.

John, the son of Zebedee, was assigned the Gospel with his name by process of elimination.

John, meanwhile, was supposed to be written by “the Beloved Disciple” it mentions (John 20: 20-24). In early tradition, the closest apostles to Jesus were Peter, James and John. Peter was named elsewhere in the book, and James had already been martyred. So that left John, the son Zebedee, as the author of the fourth Gospel.

Not the most convincing of evidence — but the Gospels couldn’t remain anonymous if they were going to become part of the Bible.

But wait — there’s more. In addition, Ehrman writes, “The anonymous book of Hebrews was assigned to Paul, even though numbers of early Christian scholars realized that Paul did not write it, as scholars today agree. And three short anonymous writings with some similarities to the Fourth Gospel were assigned to the same author, and so were called 1, 2 and 3 John. None of these books claims to be written by the authors to whom they were ultimately assigned.”

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For biblical literalists, this evidence must be disturbing. Not only does it show that the New Testament contains lies, it makes us question the very beliefs at the core of what we know as Christianity. 

That’s something to take up with God — or, perhaps, Ehrman. As he writes, “The use of deception to promote the truth may well be considered one of the most unsettling ironies of the early Christian traditions.” –Wally

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A Tour of the Quinta Real Oaxaca Hotel and Its Gorgeous Gardens

Learn this UNESCO site’s colorful past, from convent to cinema, from prison to palace — and even a Masonic lodge still in use — and explore its beautiful grounds. 

A tour of the grounds of the Quinta Real Oaxaca hotel yields unexpected delights, like this glimpse of a lush interior courtyard.

It’s undeniably one of the most popular hotels in Oaxaca, and even though we weren’t staying there, we read that we simply had to have a drink there and admire the gardens, which rivaled those at the Alhambra in Spain. (They’re perfectly delightful, but that’s a bit of a stretch.)

Duke and I popped into the Quinta Real on our last day in Oaxaca. We wanted to get a drink and enjoy it in one of their courtyards — but we couldn’t find an actual bar at the hotel; you have to sit at a table to get served. Not sure if we’d be able to get a drink and wander around, we opted to forgo the booze and just wander the grounds on our own. 

“In the late 1800s, a buyer purchased the northeast section of the property to use as a Masonic lodge — which still operates to this day!”

One of the highlights of an exploration of the grounds is the stone gazebo and fountain in the Los Lavaderos Courtyard, so named because it was once used for laundry by the nuns.

Repurposed a Seemingly Endless Number of Times

The hotel began as property of the Roman Catholic Church, much like the Ex Convento de San Pablo, about another historic building in town, now home to the Casa Antonieta boutique hotel, the Textile Museum of Oaxaca and the Centro Cultural de San Pablo. 

The Quinta Real is housed in the former Convent of Santa Catalina de Siena, which was built in 1577. The nuns lived a life of seclusion and quiet meditation there for centuries — until 1859, when they were booted out by Benito Juárez’s Reform laws, which nationalized the church and seized its property. 

“The monument would then begin a long history of deterioration, monstrous construction work and atrocious transformations,” reads a sign out front. 

You can see part of the original convent exterior in the gorgeous pool area.

Not a bad spot to catch some rays

The ex-convent was put to a crazy amount of uses by the state government. In addition to a stint as a prison from 1862 to 1958, the structure also housed, at varying times, the civil registry office, the weights and measures office, the state printing press, a police precinct, the craftsman’s society, criminal courts, a night school and the Abraham Castellano Primary School from 1956 to 1962. 

What was the convent’s atrium even became the municipal palace for almost a century, from 1873 to 1970. 

Cantera stone, used in the façade of the convent, which is now a hotel, has a distinctive greenish color.

The Quinta Real is succulent — in more ways than one.

The sprawling grounds have undergone numerous and varied uses over the years, including a police precinct, printing press, school — even a municipal palace!

The Quinta Real is housed in the former Convent of Santa Catalina de Siena, which was built in 1577.

The Quinta Real property takes up an entire city block and has lots of nooks to discover. It’s now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

In the late 1800s, a private buyer purchased the northeast section of the property to use it as a Masonic lodge — which still operates there to this day!

The onsite chapel has its own storied past: It was first converted to a municipal warehouse, but in the 1930s it became an art school, and then a movie theater from 1950 to 1960. Then, in 1972 the chapel was finally restored, along with the rest of the estate, when it was reconceptualized as a hotel. 

Paintings and statues can be found throughout the hotel.

Be sure to check out the faded fresco on the wall of the gift shop.

The old chapel was empty when we explored the hotel but would make a good event space. It was once used as a cinema.

The Quinta Real has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s worth a visit, even if you’re not staying there, to wander and admire the grounds. Try to figure out a way to have a drink in the gardens — and don’t set your bag down (thankfully empty of everything but the chocolate bars we bought at Mamá Pacha) to take pictures and leave it like I did. –Wally

Orange trees give the restaurant, Los Naranjos, its name.

This dining area, Los Cántaros, has an interesting art installation. Those ceramic containers, cántaros, were unearthed during the renovation and were once used to as pitchers or to hold oil.

Quinta Real Oaxaca

5 de Mayo 300
Ruta Independencia
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico

Fascinating Food Plants of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden

Maize, squash, chili peppers, amaranth: Many food plants were domesticated in Mexico. Learn more on a tour at the Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca.

The first part of our tour of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden covered the many food plants grown there.

“I will show you plants that are edible,” said Carol, our guide extraordinaire at the Oaxaca Botanical Garden. “I hope you try them someplace. But not here.” 

“Corn was very likely domesticated here in Oaxaca. It’s the most widely planted cereal grain today in the world — more than wheat or rice.”

The first part of our tour of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden covered food plants. Here Carol, immensely knowledgeable and quite funny, explains them in her own words:

What was the first domesticated food plant in the Americas? All signs point to squash.

The Beginning of Food Domestication: Squash

Corn, beans and squash — that famous trio that everybody knows, those plants domesticated here in the Americas that have been so important for so many thousands of years.

The earliest evidence that so far has been discovered for a domesticated food plant in the Americas is squash. The evidence comes from right here, from an archaeological site located here in the valleys of Oaxaca. It’s a site called Guilá Naquitz. Archaeologists found clear evidence of domestication of food squash dated about 8000 BC. 

When we think of squash as a food, we usually think of the fruit — but it seems likely that the initial interest in squash as a food plant was for its runners and for its flowers. And, subsequently, as the plants got bigger, the seeds were important and toasted — and then the fruits themselves. 

Yup, that bowl of mush is actually a popular drink in Mexico called tejate.

Cocoa Flower Tree, Mamey and That Strange Beverage, Tejate

While it doesn’t look like a food plant, one tree makes a small white flower that’s edible. 

The tree is called, popularly, flor de cacao, or cocoa flower tree. It is not a cacao tree. The flower, however, is an important ingredient in a traditional Oaxacan beverage called tejate. And if you have been walking along the street in Oaxaca or or been to our markets, you have seen tejate — it’s so common here. 

It’s a beverage the color of café au lait, and it’s usually kept in a big shallow pottery bowl and it’s got foam or froth on the top — it’s really hard to miss. It’s rather unique looking. 

Tejate is a drink made on a maize base. Corn-based beverages are typically pre-Hispanic. So to make the tejate, women prepare the corn in a particular way first. They add real cacao to that — but not a heavy chocolate.

It does have cacao, but it also has the seed of an American tropical fruit that many people don’t know: the mamey. They’re about the size of a large avocado. They’re dark brown on the outside and slightly fibrous. But when you cut them open, they’re gorgeous. They have a soft flesh the color of salmon or peach; they’re lovely looking and delicious. Makes great desserts — look for tarte de mamey or mousse, and they often make it into sorbet, nieve.

Wally and Duke have yet to try a mamey, which they learned about from Linda — but they’re on the hunt for one.

But for the drink, they toast the seed, plus the dried flowers. Grind all that together into a doughy or pasty mixture. If you want, you can add water right away and make the drink, but usually they just let that mixture dry and it crumbles into powder form, dehydrated. In powder form, for hundreds of hundreds of years here, people have had an instant beverage that’s storable, it’s portable. You just add water to drink.

So many peppers, so little time. There are 60 types grown in Mexico alone!

Chili Peppers and Their Healing Properties

Peppers are an American domesticated food plant. All the peppers, and I repeat, all the peppers, were originally domesticated here in the Americas. If you can imagine so many cuisines of Africa and Asia and Europe without peppers. But historically speaking, peppers are relatively recent introductions to those regions. 

Peppers botanically are classified in a genus called capsicum. There were five species of capsicum domesticated. Three species were domesticated in South America, one species indeterminate still, and one species definitely here in Mesoamerica. Of those five, it’s the Mesoamerican species that dominates the world. This is called capsicum annuum. It has hundreds of varieties and just about every pepper you know anywhere in the world, regardless of the size and shape, how picante or not — they are all capsicum peppers. 

Not surprisingly, Mexico cultivates a greater diversity of peppers than anyplace else. There are 60 named varieties of peppers that are grown here in Mexico. The state of Oaxaca grows more varieties of peppers than in any other part of Mexico. It is no doubt this diversity of peppers used here in Oaxaca that accounts in large part for the richness of Oaxacan cuisine.

Loaded with vitamin C and capsaicin, peppers should be a part of everyone’s diet. Wally and Duke add them to most meals they prepare — and double the amount suggested.

Peppers are very nutritious. I hope everybody’s eating lots of them — they are really good for you. They’re very rich in vitamin C. Going back to pre-Hispanic times, peppers have had medicinal use, and that continues today into the pharmaceutical industry. Modern pharmaceutical companies are using the substance of the pepper that makes it hot. It’s an alkaloid called capsaicin. Everybody knows capsaicin burns your lips and your eyes. I’m sure you’ve all had unfortunate meetings with peppers. But capsaicin also blocks pain signals to the brain. It has analgesic qualities, and it permits greater blood flow to the skin surface. So there’s lots of new products: patches to treat your back and you can get all kinds of new products to treat muscle injuries, muscle aches, to treat arthritis made from capsaicin. Many of those products are over the counter, so do look for them.

Amaranth are super nutritious and are becoming all the rage — though it’s been popular in Mexico since Aztec times.

Amaranth and Alegrías, or “Happiness Bars”

Turning to another food plant, with greenish leaves and red stalks. That is a food plant that I’m sure many of you have heard of but may not recognize: That’s amaranth. It’s becoming very popular again. Amaranth was actually domesticated independently in Asia and here in the Americas. The Asian amaranths are known as leaf amaranths, because the part of the plant that people eat are the leaves. So think spinach — whatever you can do with spinach, you can do with leaf amaranth. And in fact, amaranth and spinach are botanically related. 

The species that were domesticated here in the Americas are called seed amaranths. You can certainly eat the leaves when they’re young and tender, but those feathery flower stalks make thousands — who knows? I’ve never counted them — of tiny little black seeds that are edible. 

You can eat the seeds as you harvest them. Or you can toast amaranth seeds. And when you toast it, it turns into what looks like tiny little popcorns. This is what we call pop amaranth. You can eat it in this form. You can sprinkle it on top of your cereal, your salad, whatever. Or you can grind it into flour.

The seed amaranths of the Americas are one of those incredibly nutritious food plants — among the most nutritious in the world. There is absolutely nothing bad about amaranth and every good quality to a food you imagine. It was probably the single most nutritious food plant in the diet. Pre-Hispanically, huge quantities were consumed. Huge quantities we know flowed into the Aztec capital Tenochtitlan as tax or tribute paid by conquered areas.

Shortly after conquest, it disappeared as a major food plant. It survived here as a candy. And you can still buy the candy here. Lots of people think they’re sesame bars, but they’re not. They’re toasted amaranth bars. Some are squares, some are round, some are long and rectangular, whatever, but it is amaranth. They have the happy name of happiness bars. They’re called alegrías, and alegría means happiness. My personal opinion is that amaranth’s major flaw is it doesn’t have a lot of flavor. But that’s good because you can add it to so many dishes. But that means that alegrías don’t have a lot of flavor other than the sweetness of the honey that holds them together. So look for the alegrías with chocolate added to them. Those are happier.

Alegrías look much too healthy to be named “happiness” bars.

Twenty years ago, maybe 25 now, NGOs came into Oaxaca to reintroduce amaranth as a cash crop, but also to reintroduce it into the diet, where it could certainly make a significant difference, especially for children — it’s very high in protein.

Restaurants are going back to traditional foods, so look at menus, they sometimes feature dishes with amaranth. And it’s been used in commercial food production — a lot of new products being made with amaranth to increase the nutritional quality.

There are over 60 types of corn grown in Mexico, and the crop is more widespread than wheat and rice.

The Evolution of Corn and the Amazing Spread of Maíz Criollo

We have a young crop there and a more mature crop of corn or maize. That kind of corn is called Creole corn, or maíz criollo, and that refers to the kinds of corn that farmers throughout Mexico and here in the state of Oaxaca grow principally for home use.

To plant a new field of my maíz criollo, households just save some seeds from a previous harvest and replant them.

I grew up in Canada, where corn was yellow. That was it. So all I knew was yellow corn. I sort of had a vague notion there were other colors because at Halloween or Thanksgiving, we bought those bunches of what we call Indian corn, multicolored dried corn. You didn’t eat it; you just hung it on your doors as an ornament. Then as an adult, I learned there was white corn, as well. Ooh! A big addition to my knowledge!

And then I came to Mexico and discovered an absolutely incredible richness that I certainly was not aware of: well over 60 varieties of maíz criollo grown traditionally here in Mexico — different colors, shapes, sizes, growing conditions, flavors, you name it. It’s just an incredible richness.

The state of Oaxaca grows more varieties of maíz criollo than any other part of Mexico. Thirty-seven varieties of maíz criollo are grown here in the state of Oaxaca.

How did we get corn? Where did it all start? Everyone now seems to agree the ancestor is the wild grass called teosinte. It is genetically very closely related to domesticated corn but morphologically very different. 

I think everybody knows how to plant corn. You stick a seed in the ground and up comes one stalk. And then you get an ear of corn per stalk, and if you’re really lucky, maybe you’ll get two ears of corn per stalk.

Teosinte is completely different. It’s a multi-stalk plant and it doesn’t grow ears of corn at all — it makes tiny little seed pods. At every node along the stalk, you get seed pods. There’s just a single row of very small little seeds inside, the size of baby teeth. 

There is an edible kernel buried at the center of the seed. But to get at the editable kernel, you have to remove the outer seed first. You have to expend a lot of time, a lot of labor, to get very little to eat in return. Why bother? 

Moreover, teosinte is a wild grass. When the pod is mature, it just breaks open. There’s no structure in there to hold the seeds. So they just separate and fall out on the ground. And the big question is, why the early peoples began to pay attention to teosinte as a potential food plant? And there’s no good answer to that.

Geneticists suggest that the beginning of domestication, if you will, goes back at least to 7000 BC, or 9,000 years ago. One hypothesis is that early people were not actually interested in the seeds at first, but rather than fermentable sugars in the green stalks. There were other sources here of fermentable sugars that are easier to attain, so who knows?

But the earliest clear physical evidence that we have found for domesticated corn dates to about 4000 BC, and that evidence comes from Guilá Naquitz again, where they found the early fruit squash. Archaeologists found clear evidence that corn has been domesticated by that date. What they found at Guilá Naquitz are little structures, little proto-cobs. So instead of this single row of seeds, there is a structure with several rows of kernels around it. And by this date, the terminals have lost the hard outer seed coating and become fully edible. 

Domesticated corn cannot reseed itself. In order for you to reseed it, you have to pick the ears of corn off the stalks, pull down the corn husk, pull the kernels off and replant it. Corn is the only nature of domesticated plants that is incapable of self-reproduction. And by 4000 BC, it had shifted from this self-seeding wild grass to a fruit plant totally dependent on human intervention for reproduction.

Teosinte doesn’t grow wild here in the valleys, but it grows up in the sierra, up in the mountains around the valleys, which is where corn was probably domesticated — a domestication that has been spread rapidly and extensively through the Americas. And because corn is such a malleable plant, it took on the many forms of corn that were found growing here when Europeans arrived, and then quickly introduced to the rest of the world after contact, and again adapted to wherever it was introduced. Corn, for sure domesticated here in Mexico, and very likely here in Oaxaca, is the most widely planted cereal grain today in the world. There’s more corn planted than wheat, than rice.

While the pre-Hispanic peoples of Mexico knew how delicious tomatoes were, the silly Europeans thought they were poisonous!

Tomatoes and Other Plants Domesticated in Mexico

Let me remind you of some other food plants that have changed diets worldwide. And the first that comes to mind are tomatoes. Domesticated here in Mesoamerica. Very important in the pre-Hispanic diet, and quickly introduced to Europe. And for a long time, Europeans refused to eat tomatoes. They considered them poisonous. They bred them as ornamentals; they used them as fodder for animals — but wouldn’t eat them. Imagine! 

Avocados — domesticated here. No guacamole without avocados from here. Vanilla and cacao were also domesticated here. By the end of the 1500s, just about every major food plant had gone east and west. They were very quickly introduced and adopted. 

Avocados, not surprisingly, were also domesticated in Mexico. Wally shudders to think of a life without guacamole.

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Now, that’s a lot to digest about food plants. But it’s astounding how many different domesticated food plants come from the Oaxaca region, with its great biodiversity. ¡Buen provecho!

If you’re staying in Oaxaca, be sure to add the botanical garden to your itinerary. Tours in English are Monday through Saturday at 11 a.m. They’re a steal at 100 pesos (about $5) and last about two hours. The garden entrance is at the corner of Reforma and Constitución. Get there about half an hour early to play it safe; groups are limited to 25 people and fill up quickly. –Wally

Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca

Reforma Sur
Ruta Independencia
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
México

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5 Tips for Visiting Oaxaca From an Expat

What you need to know about public bathrooms, safety — and how to avoid getting thrown into a Mexican prison — before a trip to Oaxaca, Mexico. 

If you’re out among other people, Oaxaca is a safe town. The later it gets, and the drunker people get, the higher chance someone might take advantage of them.

We can understand why our friend Kevin moved to Oaxaca and doesn’t have any plans on ever living anywhere else. Everyone, it seems, is an artisan here, creating colorful alebrijes, textiles or pottery. It’s a culinary hotspot, serving up everything from mole to mezcal. And there’s a laidback charm to this city of just over 250,000 — and yet there always seems to be something going on. As Kevin says, every day is a parade in Oaxaca. 

In fact, Travel + Leisure magazine readers named Oaxaca as the best city in the world. That’s quite a distinction! (As Duke and I have discovered, Mexico is where it’s at: San Miguel de Allende scored the 2nd spot, while Mexico City came in at number 6.)

“ It is just a good idea to not be so USA about your phone while walking down the street, making love to Google Maps, staring at Facebook, etc. ”

That being said, like any city, Oaxaca dances to its own rhythm, and can be  dangerous at times. Before our trip to Oaxcaa, Kevin offered these tips: 

Given his smile, you wouldn’t know that Wally had a close call earlier in the day, when he was getting in desperate need of a bathroom. Thank God he had 5 pesos with him!

1. Carry several 5-peso coins with you at all times.

They will be your ticket to enter a public restroom. I have yet to see one that is free unless you are in a restaurant. This goes for pueblos (villages) as well.

Wally’s take: The 5-peso tip is always a good one to follow anywhere in Mexico. You don’t want to need an emergency stop, only to find they won’t let you into a restroom without forking over a lousy 5 pesos (the equivalent of a quarter). 

2. Be very careful of the intersections.

Most intersections are what is called “uno a uno” — one by one. That means there is no stoplight, and whoever gets there first goes through. If there is a line of cars entering, it is one by one.

Sure, you won’t be driving, but you will need to cross intersections on foot. Here, pedestrians don’t have the right of way. Stay out of the car’s way. 

Most streets are one way, so it is a little easier.  But realize that it is legal to park in the opposite direction of traffic. So be very mindful when you look to the right and see a car’s hood pointed toward you that that might not be the real direction of traffic. Look left and right every time.

Wally’s take: We had some difficulty navigating Oaxaca, even though it’s not that big of a city. Read our post about getting around Oaxaca for more tips. 

3. Keep your passport on you when traveling outside the city.

In Centro, it is not so necessary. But all it takes is for a cop to pull over a car, do an immigration check, and if someone doesn’t have their passport on them, they can and have detained people until they can prove their tourist status. With the pandemic, the wait time can be weeks or months — and you do not want to go to one of their prisons.

You could keep your driver’s license in your room. You do not need it. A passport is best to carry. 

Wally’s take: When we traveled outside the city, we didn’t bother bringing along our passports. But we were either with Kevin or on a guided tour, and felt like they could help deal with any issues if the police became involved for whatever reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t take a selfie like this in Oaxaca. But Duke and Wally can’t help but stop to take a picture of street art like this.

4. Be mindful of your phone and do not wear expensive jewelry. 

Tourists have been mugged for their phones in broad daylight in Centro. It is just a good idea to not be so USA about your phone while walking down the street, making love to Google Maps, staring at Facebook, etc.  Pretend you are in France or Spain, where pickpocketing is normal. 

Just like this street art says: No More Violence!

Here they will hold you up at gunpoint or with a knife and rob you. Is it common? No. Does it happen? Yes. Some people bring a second phone from home and pop in a SIM card here for very cheap.  That way if it gets stolen, you have your master phone in your room.

Wally’s take: As for having our phones out in Centro, just try to stop me and Duke from taking photos every block or two. 

If you’re out late at night, play it safe and call a cab.

5. Take a taxi at night.

Yes, it’s usually safe. But again: Be very aware of your surroundings. If you’re walking through Centro at 1 a.m. after drinking, it’s best to take a cab.

Wally’s take: We weren’t out late at night (we’re getting too old for that nonsense), but we did hear about people getting mugged coming from the bars late at night. 

That being said, you’ll most likely find Oaxaca to be a safe and friendly city. But it never hurts to play it safe. Discover why it was voted best city in the world. ¡Disfruten! Enjoy yourselves! –Wally

Follow these tips and you’ll have as great a time in Oaxaca as Duke did.

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The Textile Museum of Oaxaca Weaves Its Magic

El Museo Textil de Oaxaca is a free attraction — and well worth a quick visit. 

The Textile Museum of Oaxaca showcases contemporary art exhibits, such as Ephemerus by Cecilia Salcedo, which was in the upstairs gallery when we visited.

I know plenty of people go gaga for textiles. And while I can certainly admire the craftsmanship of a woven cloth (and have a great fondness for quilts), textile-centric excursions wouldn’t be on our short list. 

If the Museo Textil de Oaxaca wasn’t literally in the same building as our hotel (the delightful Casa Antonieta), I don’t know that Duke and I would have popped in. 

 And that would have been a mistake. 

“The museum is housed in a mansion with a green stone façade build by a Spanish merchant.

How did he earn his fortune? He exported cochineal, the red dye made from bugs that was more precious than gold — which provides a nice connection to the Museo Textil. ”

Even if textiles aren’t your bag, baby, you should stop by for a brief visit — even just to admire the design of the interior courtyard. A philanthropic venture of the Fundación Alfredo Harp Helú, a private foundation, the museum is open to the public and free to enter. So you really have no excuse not to devote time here. 

The museum is small, with a few galleries on the first floor and one upstairs.

A Material World

When we visited, we began on the ground floor, which is set up very much like an art museum — the textiles on the wall could very well be paintings. There are only a few small rooms, and a somewhat haunting nature soundtrack played as we wandered the galleries. 

One of the ground-floor galleries

The striking courtyard of the Museo Textil de Oaxaca

Upstairs, there was only one large room open to the public, and the exhibit when we were there felt a bit interactive. 

Ephemerus by Cecilia Salcedo was born of craving nature during pandemic lockdowns. I can remember Duke and I taking walks along Inner Lake Shore Drive in Chicago just to get out of the house when COVID-19 silenced Chicago. The lack of cars and other ambient noise meant we could hear birdsong like never before, and we noticed the buds appearing on the trees we passed every day. In a strange way, it was beautiful, as if the world had forced us to literally pause, listen and observe.

Salcedo used branches to hang her cloth prints of leaves — a project born of craving nature during the pandemic lockdown.

The trees seen through the balcony doors pair nicely with the nature re-creations in the exhibit.

The artist used a technique called ecoprinting, making stamps of leaves on bolts of fabric that are draped from the ceiling like banners. They pair nicely with the actual branches hung above and below, strewn about in piles of dirt and leaves — as well as the leaves in the trees that can be seen through the open balcony doors. I found the space to be very evocative, like entering a magical forest (if you have a good imagination, as I do). 

“All fleeting stages, even this pandemic, afford us the opportunity to renew our perspective of the world that surrounds us and, above all else, the role that we play in it,” writes Hector M. Meneses Lozano, the museum director, about the exhibit.

Salcedo used a technique called ecoprinting to leave the impressions of leaves on cloth.

The museum views itself, in part, as a place to showcase contemporary art, and that mission was obvious in this second-floor gallery. 

The textile museum is part of a massive building known as the Ex Convento de San Pablo, sharing the space with a boutique hotel and a cultural center.

History of the Ex Convento de San Pablo 

The Oaxaca Textile Museum is housed in the same massive edifice as not only Casa Antonieta but the striking Centro Cultural de San Pablo as well. 

The site originally housed the Convento de Santo Domingo Soriano. Established in the year 1529, it was the second Dominican foundation in the Americas. Later, the monastery was dedicated to Saint Paul, which explains why it’s now referred to as the Ex Convento de San Pablo. 

It seems little if any of the original structure still exists, though. At the beginning of the 17th century, a series of earthquakes caused massive damage, forcing the church to rent and sell off parts of the monastery. 

The first structure built on the site of the monastery was a small one-story adobe home — though it was torn down by Spanish merchant Ángel de Antelo y Bermúdez. Don Ángel built a two-story Oaxacan Baroque mansion, with a green stone façade, and the property became known as Casa Antelo. 

How did Don Ángel earn his fortune? He exported cochineal, the red dye made from bugs that was more precious than gold — which provides a nice connection to the textile museum. 

Wally and Duke were obsessed with the pattern of the courtyard wall — a sort of stone textile itself.

The structure was enlarged, and eventually gut-rehabbed to house the cultural center, hotel and textile museum, which opened in 2008. 

There’s a small shop on the first floor, which has some nice items but smelled a bit mildewy when we visited. –Wally

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The deets 

Admission: Free

Hours: Open every day from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. 

Tours: Free one-hour tours are offered at 5 p.m. (though these were discontinued during COVID)

Museo Textil de Oaxaca

Miguel Hidalgo 917
Centro Histórico
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
México

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A Tour of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden

El Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca began as a monastery, then was taken over by the military. Now it’s a fascinating and gorgeous reflection of the diversity of plant life found in Oaxaca.

The Oaxaca Botanical Garden offers one tour in English a day — so be sure to get there early to make sure you get a spot!

I’m obsessed with Carol. She was our guide at the Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca. She makes even the most mundane things seem fascinating. Mind you, she’s strict — you’ve gotta follow the rules or risk a scolding — but she also has a great sense of humor.

Our tour guide, Carol, was a wealth of knowledge — and humor.

I’ve transcribed Carol’s tour. Reading her words should give you a good feel for her extensive knowledge (and sense of humor). Hopefully it’ll transport you to the garden — the next best thing to taking an actual tour:

Looking around, I’m guessing most or all of you are visitors. I certainly know that the country’s cultural richness is usually a major reason for people to visit. But you may be less aware of Mexico’s botanical richness. Mexico, in fact, has some of the richest flora in the whole world. 

Mexico is also renowned for the great number of plant types to grow uniquely here. Botanists call these endemic — plants that grow only in a limited area. And Oaxaca state has more species of plants, and more endemic species of plants, than in any other part of the country. In fact, all the different kinds of vegetation that grow throughout Mexico can be found right here.

The Oaxaca Botanical Garden has only been open since 1994 and covers an area of about six acres.

But very clearly interconnected with this rich flora, Oaxaca state is also known for ethnic diversity. The state has more indigenous groups than any other part of Mexico. Given the size, the state of Oaxaca is more linguistically diverse than any other part of the Americas, and one of the most linguistically diverse in the world. 

Each of the peoples here had their own names, uses, beliefs and traditions about the plants. 

The back of Santo Domingo de Guzmán church, which once owned the land upon which the botanical garden now sits.

Dominican Monastery to Military Grounds: the Complicated History of the Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca

The garden was founded in 1994. Because of the dual emphasis on the relationship of the people and plants, the formal name is the Ethnibotanical Garden. 

The garden covers an area of  just over two hectares, or approximately six acres. 

This was originally part of the Dominican monastery, and the Dominican friars began building Santo Domingo in the 1570s. They moved into the monastery in 1608 and remained there till the 1860s. 

The Dominicans used the space firstly as a construction zone, which is where they prepared all the materials to build and later maintain Santo Domingo. We know they used it subsequently for washing and bathing. There’s evidence they pastured some animals out here. We know they did pottery and metalwork in this space. We have no evidence of any food crops in the space which today serves as the garden. 

The botanical garden was once where monks bathed, and later, where cavalry soldiers performed drills.

The Dominicans were expelled in the early 1860s — at a time when, nationwide, all church properties were expropriated and nationalized. The federal government took over the whole complex and handed the entire thing to the military, and Santo Domingo served as a cavalry base until 1993.

The military used this space to exercise forces, to hold military practices, to park military vehicles. They had sports fields out here and so on. They destroyed the Dominicans structures out in the field area that were tall — anything that stuck up got lopped off.

But a number of low structures built by the Dominicans, covered over and buried during that military period, have survived till today.

The military use, however, destroyed all the vegetation from the Dominican period. We don’t have one single plant here that has survived from then.

No longer a part of Santo Domingo church, the botanical garden showcases plants from the state of Oaxaca.

The Opening of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden

The military left, as I said in 1993, and the garden was formally organized in 1994. They started to reconstruct the buildings, so from ’94 to ’98, nothing much happened vis-à-vis the garden. 

It was finally in 1998 that they began to prepare the soil, to plan out the garden and to begin planting, and the garden opened to the public in late 1999.

So it’s a very young garden, with lots of plants here that couldn’t possibly have grown here in this time period. Anything very tall, big, old has been transplanted.

A cistern under the wedding venue holds over 1 million liters of rainwater, which is used to irrigate the massive garden.

When the garden was founded, the goal was not just to make an attractive botanical garden — though they certainly wanted to do that — but to make it a Oaxacan garden.

And they have done that in several ways. One, of course, is with the collection of plants. All the plants come only from Oaxaca state. So many of these plants may grow elsewhere as well, but they are collected only from the Oaxacan community. 

Another way was in the design of the garden. The garden was designed not by landscape architects but local artists, who took as their theme a pre-Hispanic design element that’s very typical of Oaxaca. And you’ll see it most clearly at the archeological site of Mitla. Those zigzags — some are mosaic, some are actually carved in stone, but they’re zigzag designs that are referred to as grecas.

Note the zigzagging pathway — it’s a recurring motif at the botanical garden.

And that’s the thing that you see throughout the garden. Notice the beds aren’t square or rectangle. Nothing is curved. As you go through the garden, with the water channels and pathways, everything zigzags.

All of the money raised from the lavish weddings at the Oaxaca Botanical Garden go to the state.

The Question of Funding

When the garden was founded, it was a public-private partnership, two public, two private partners. It was wonderful. It lasted until the end of 2005. And at the beginning of 2006, that public-private partnership — called a fideicomiso here — dissolved. And we were, for five seconds, hopeful that we would become entirely an NGO [non-governmental organization].

But, in fact, the state took it over. So since 2006, we have been a state agency. We have no juridical independence; we don’t exist as a legal entity apart from the state. So, unfortunately, folks, you can’t donate money to us. Because everything goes through the state.

So that’s where we are. It’s totally top-down, and all the money from those weddings here goes to the state. The donations? That now goes to the state as well.

Solar power and geothermal cooling make this greenhouse an actual green building.

A Truly Green Greenhouse

As we start up into the garden, we will be passing a number of those Dominicans structures that I mentioned. Those relate us to our past. Down in the corner is the future. We always wanted a real greenhouse and we finally got one in 2007. 

It consists of two rooms: a colder room and a warmer, more humid room to show plants that will not grow well in this climate. 

Greenhouses, by their very name, should be green. But most of them are not — only the plants are green. But this one is truly green. It is totally self-sustaining. All the power to run it comes from solar panels on the roof of the buildings where you enter the garden.

 All the electrical lighting is solar-powered. The heating and the cooling? Also solar power. The cooling is geothermal cooling. And the water is all rainwater to irrigate. In fact, the entire garden is irrigated with rainwater. Santo Domingo has several acres of rooftop. And the rainwater is fed from the rooftops by waterspouts onto the terraces and runs into this giant underground cistern, where they’re putting up that structure for another fancy wedding this weekend. 

Under the floor is the cistern. It was built in 1998 to store over 1 million liters of rainwater. It is the largest rainwater cistern in the entire state of Oaxaca. And then that water can be pumped to wherever it’s needed. There are outlets periodically where you attach a hose. All the irrigation is manual, but it’s all rainwater-fed. 

You can’t go in the greenhouse, alas, but you can admire its design.

The greenhouse was designed by a Mexican architect [Francisco Gonzalez-Pulido] who received an architectural award in 2018 for best sustainable building. The greenhouse is not open to the public — you’ll have to stand outside and look. But it really represents our future, and I hope everyone’s. 

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End your tour with the money shot, as Duke and Wally did. (And consider accepting one of the hats they offer to protect you from the sun.)

Before You Go

Even if you don’t consider yourself overly interested in plants, we recommend touring the Oaxaca Botanical Garden. You can’t wander through on your own, but they give tours in English once a day, at 11 a.m. Monday through Saturday. They only let 25 people join each tour, so play it safe and get there at least 45 minutes beforehand to get on the list. The entrance is at the corner of Reforma and Constitución. Tours cost 100 pesos (a bargain at about $5), and kids 12 and under get in free. Wear sunscreen — some of the time will be spent in the sun. The walk lasts about two hours — but, if you’re lucky enough to get a fantastic guide like Carol, the time will fly by. –Wally

The Oaxaca Botanical Garden should be towards the top of your to-do list when visiting this area.

Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca

Reforma Sur Norte
Ruta Independencia
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico

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What the Heck Is Pulque?

Pulque de maguey is harvested from agave and was the drink of the Aztec gods. Just be sure to go to the source — the phlegmy beverage you get in city pulquerías can be downright foul. 

Pulque is a popular drink in Mexico made from naturally fermented agave sap.

Duke and I had heard of pulque charmingly described by our friends Juls and Hugo as a beverage having the consistency of something in-between saliva and jizz. And, sadly, that was not an exaggeration.

Despite this less-than-glowing recommendation, I still felt like I had to try this mysterious concoction on our first visit to Mexico City. 

“Pulque is charmingly described as having the consistency of something in-between saliva and jizz.

Sadly, that’s not an exaggeration.”

What we didn’t understand at the time is that pulque is so highly fermented that it doesn’t travel well — unless other elements are added to it. So the pulque you get outside of the villages where maguey agave is harvested are what’s called curado, or cured.

“If you tried pulque in Mexico City, it was probably thick, kind of gooey stuff,” said Alvin Starkman, our mezcal tour guide. “If so, it was adulterated — but not necessarily bad.” (We beg to differ.)

Cheers! When you’re in Mexico (like these fellows back in 1910), give pulque a try — especially if you’re in an area where agave grows.

Various items are added — milk, cream, sugar, cornstarch, fruit, even oatmeal — to slow fermentation. Because if you take a container of pulque without releasing air constantly, it’ll literally explode. Alvin bought some pulque to take home, and he had to keep unscrewing the lid of the gallon container, which would overflow from the pressure.

A shop selling pulque curado — which has fruit juice and other ingredients added to it so it doesn’t literally explode.

But curado isn’t genuine pulque. We were lucky enough to try some on our tour of palenques (mezcal distilleries) with Alvin.

Turns out true pulque isn’t phlegmy like its CDMX counterpart. The closest drink I can think of that it resembles is kombucha — slightly sweet, acidic and fizzy. In fact, like kombucha, it’s loaded with probiotics and is a teensy bit alcoholic, able to give you about the same buzz as a light beer.

The sap of the agave is called aguamiel (literally “honey water”), and that really only lasts one day. We were able to try some that had been gathered that very morning.

If you can try some aguamiel, do so! You have to drink it the same day it’s harvested since the drink ferments so fast.

Pulque’s consumption dates to pre-Hispanic times, when it was considered a sacred drink reserved for the gods, priests and emperors. During the colonial era, the Spanish tried to ban the beverage, considering it immoral. In fact, it’s said that it was so popular, on any given day 13% of the population of Mexico would be drunk on pulque. Unable to prohibit its consumption, the Spanish did the next best thing: They taxed the hell out of it.

Pre-Hispanic figurine of a pulque maker, dating from 100 BCE to 300 CE

A tlachiquero using an old-fashioned method for gathering aguamiel.

How Is Pulque Made? 

There are five or so species of agave in Mexico, Alvin says, that mature after roughly 15 to 20 years of growth. Just before the stalk shoots up from the center of the massive plant, someone called a tlachiquero goes into the field and carves a hole in the middle, right where the stalk would sprout. The liquid called aguamiel starts to seep into the hole. 

“The nutrients go from the leaves into that hole in the middle of the plant in the form of a sweet liquid,” Alvin explains. 

The minute aguamiel is taken from the “well,” it interacts with the bacteria in the environment and starts to ferment. Fermented aguamiel is called pulque.

“It’s that simple,” Alvin says. Unlike the complex process to make mezcal, “there’s no baking, there’s no crushing, there’s no distilling. It’s a natural process.”

Maguey plants, the type of agave used to harvest aguamiel, which ferments into pulque

Aguamiel is usually harvested twice a day. Before dawn, the tlachiquero will collect the liquid from each plant and then use a tool called a respador to scrape off a layer in the well. “That will open up the pores and help to induce more seepage,” Alvin tells us. “Because they’re going to come back in 10 or 12 hours and do the same thing,” just before dusk.

Then the tlachiquero will put an agave leaf, piece of wood or stone on top of the hole to prevent insects (or larger critters, like possums) from getting at this sweet nectar of the gods.

The process continues for two to five months. “At qpeak production, after approximately a month,” you’re able to get 3 or 4 liters of honey water twice a day from a plant,” Alvin says.

How much aguamiel does one plant yield? 

“It’s sort of like a bell curve,” Alvin explains. “At the very beginning, you’ll get a couple of ounces, and then the production increases for about a month or month and a half. At peak production, you’re getting 3 or 4 liters, and then it slowly goes down. And after a few months, there’s virtually no honey water coming into the hole and you stop.”

Mayahuel, the Aztec goddess of alcohol and fertility, was said to actually have 400 breasts — each oozing aguamiel.

Tasting the Drink of the Gods

We visited a family who sells pulque for a living. The shop, in the pueblo of Santiago Matatlán, is now run by Reina Cortés Cortés.

When her grandfather was alive, Alvin would go out into the field with him to harvest the aguamiel, and that’s how he learned about pulque production.

Stop by this small shop in Santiago Matatlán if you’re in the Oaxaca area to sample some pulque — and aguamiel, if you’re lucky!

Reina Cortés Cortés at her family’s casa de pulque, standing by a barrel where the beverage is aged.

As pulque ferments, it gets more vinegary, so Cortés adds fruit juice to it.

We tried aguamiel harvested that very morning, and it was bright, light and delicious. Then we tried pulque that had fermented very recently, and again, it was tasty, if a bit more tart and fizzy. 

The longer you let pulque ferment, the more it adopts a vinegary taste. To counteract this, Reina had added some strawberry juice, giving it a pastel pink coloring. And while I have to say my favorite was the fresh aguamiel, the pulque we had danced along our taste buds most delightfully. No wonder it was once the favored tipple of the Aztec gods and emperors.

And I hardly need to mention how it blows away the hawked-loogie variety of pulque you get served outside of the pueblos. –Wally

How to Get Around Oaxaca

Navigating colectivos, taxis, buses and mototaxis — and why you can’t get an Uber in Oaxaca, Mexico.

You’ll have plenty of options to get around Oaxaca — many of which are ridiculously affordable.

If you’re staying in Centro in Oaxaca (and you most likely are), most sites you want to see will be a five-to-15-minute walk away — aside from the day trips to artisan villages, mezcalerías, the archeological sites of Monte Albán and Mitla, and the natural splendor of Hierve el Agua. 

Be warned, though. We relied too heavily on Google Maps as we set out to a destination, and after 10 minutes realized we were literally walking in circles. There’s definitely something funky with GPS in Oaxaca — it doesn’t update or pinpoint locations well enough to rely upon it. 

“There’s definitely something funky with GPS in Oaxaca — it doesn’t update or pinpoint locations well enough to rely upon it. ”

Bring comfortable shoes — you might be walking in circles in Oaxaca’s Centro.

I found the best thing to do is plot out your path before heading out. You can usually get from one spot to another in Centro by traveling down a maximum of three or four streets. 

Even then, smooth navigation is by no means guaranteed. A large part of why it’s so hard to get your bearings in Oaxaca is because the buildings are all built right up to the sidewalk and form a veritable corridor. Walking along them gives you no line of sight to landmarks to orient yourself. I’m sure this was done to keep the streets as cool as possible during the blazing heat — but it does make visitors feel a bit like they’re in a maze. 

The other confusing aspect is that streets will change names after a few blocks. We were looking for Porfirio Díaz, but went well beyond it because we didn’t know that 20 de Noviembre became Porfirio Díaz just one block up. Similarly, 5 de Mayo suddenly turns into Armenta y López. This will happen all the time, so make sure you have the right name for the area you want to go to.

Arriving in Oaxaca

Duke typically likes to arrange transport from the airport through our hotel. You’ll pay more, but it’s reassuring knowing that you have someone waiting there when you arrive, ready to ensure you make it safely to your lodgings. 

In Oaxaca, though, this isn’t necessary. Once you collect your baggage, head into the next room and find the transport kiosk. There’s a set fee for the trip into Centro, and it’s very affordable — ours came to about $10. Try to get to the kiosk as soon as possible, as you’ll be sharing the ride in a colectivo van, and this way you can score the best seats.

Cabs are plentiful and cheap in Oaxaca. Especially if you’re out late, play it safe and hop in a taxi to get home.

Driving Around Oaxaca 

When it came to vehicular transport for day trips and around town, I asked our friend, Kevin, who lives in Oaxaca, how we should get around. The following sections are his response:

The old-fashioned way. A cab! That is correct. Uber was not allowed here, thanks to the powerful local unions. (Though we do have food delivery from Rappi.)

Many tourists will hire a cab for the entire day since getting cabs out of artisan villages and sites like Monte Albán can be rough. 

TIP: When the time comes, you will want to join the Expats Oaxaca Facebook group and you can ask for recommendations to hire a driver for the day.  It’s very inexpensive compared to the U.S. You’ll be flooded with responses.  

A colectivo pulls up in front of our Airbnb.

What’s a Colectivo?

Another way that’s very cheap, and the method I use, are called colectivos. You’re sharing a janky-ass cab with as many people that can fit in it. Two people in the one front seat is common. Three in the back. I’ve had four in the back before, but that’s not common.  

I take them to far-off pueblos (villages) and it costs 20 pesos on average — basically $1 U.S.  

You can’t pick up a colectivo at your hotel or in Centro. You need to walk to el Mercado de Abastos (the Food Market), where they congregate. There are sections to grab these for each pueblo.

The market to get it is a 15-minute walk from Centro. But being White and walking through the market and navigating that will be tricky, as you will not want your phone out and in your hand while Google helps you navigate it. Otherwise it’s very safe. I love that market — best in Oaxaca and less touristy because they want upscale experiences in Mexico and not local slices of real life here.

Getting colectivos was definitely easier for me because I had my boyfriend navigate that shit so many times I can now do it myself. If you speak Spanish, you’ll be fine.

Returning is very simple, as they are constantly running all day to and from Oaxaca. 

We didn’t take any, but buses are an option for getting around.

Buses?

Another option are the buses. But again, don’t expect a bus like it is in the U.S. It’s really janky, loud and quite an Old World experience. I have used them often to travel to pueblos as well.

And Renting a Car?

With insurance, expect to pay about $65-$90 U.S. for a day.

Cute little mototaxis are popular ways to get around the villages outside of the city of Oaxaca.

What About in the Villages?

You will take a tuk-tuk (called mototaxis here). It’s a fantastic way to maneuver through pueblos, reach another pueblo nearby or get a ride out of a pueblo to the main road where you can grab your colectivo, etc. Super cheap.

Usually a colectivo will take you to one spot within the pueblo, and then you walk or take a tuk-tuk if you want. Normally, locals take tuk-tuks because they want to get out of the center of the pueblo to their homes. So where a colectivo drops you is typically the area you want to be in anyway. 

The mototaxis in this part of Mexico reminded us of the tuk-tuks we rode in Southeast Asia.

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When Duke and I cabbed around town, we tended to pay about 50-80 pesos. 

Don’t be surprised if the taxi doesn’t have seatbelts — we found that to be the norm. (In fact, the drivers have them but they dangle there, unused for some reason.)

You’ll find Oaxaca to be a very walkable city. And when you take those days trips — and you really must, as the artisan villages are what make this area so appealing — you have a variety of options. –Wally