What Do You Mean, You Oversold?
So, after a relatively uneventful 8 hours from Seattle to Mexico City, i’m faced with an airport of unnatural proportions. Wandering aimlessly trying to figure out where to check in, I end up checking in, not once, but three times at three different counters. I spot my bag sitting all by itself next to, what I can only believe, is a baggage belt left over from the 60’s. Once I get that straightened out, I trek across two buildings to find out that the flight could be in one of two buildings, but it won’t be announced until 60 minutes before the flight. Of course, it was in the building where I wasn’t!
Like an extra in the Walking Dead, I stumble over to the gate which, of course, was the last gate on a long, very long, pathway only to find out that even though I have a boarding pass in my hand, I don’t have a seat. They oversold the flight. What? I, along with several others including a Brit who had flown around the world to get there from London, waited and wondered if, and when, we’d get to Oaxaca. Finally, they called my name. I got one of the last coveted seats on what turned out to be a cigar case with wings. Luckily, my new friends in travel also got the call. An hour later, I was in Oaxaca, crammed into a micro-bus with 6 other travelers listening to what was apparently a mixture of 70’s disco from both the U.S. and some Latin country of undisclosed origin. Oaxaca, we discovered, is where bad music goes to rest.
Finally here, I threw caution to the wind and skipped my much needed siesta to wander the streets. I can already tell that this city is rich with photographic opportunity. After wearily clicking off some very bad photos, I came to the realization that perhaps some food and a nap would go a long way in boosting my creativity, not to mention a much needed shower.
My first stop was at the La Olla Cafe where I was treated to a delicious organic salad with strawberries, goat cheese and reduced balsamic along with 77 Cerveza, a gorgeously golden beer with agave and honey. I then moved on to a wonderful small plate of banana leaf wrapped tamales with chicken and mole. As the airport stress quickly slipped away, I began to unwind a bit and, already, realized that Seattle Mexican food will never be the same. Now for a siesta and some rest before I take to the evening streets to see what I can see.