“Let’s go check out the party,” Magellan said to Karol, Gail and me on a Saturday afternoon in Oaxaca, a brass band, firecrackers and happy
Stretching for blocks closed to traffic in the centre of town, the end nowhere in sight. A swath of colour, brightly dressed Zapotec and mestiza
A veil of smoke drifted up from the hand-made comal, curling its way from the hot fire to the chimney hole in the ceiling, warming
‘Tis the season for celebrating with a fireside tipple. Wine? Not exactly festive, is it? Rum and eggnog? Even with a good grind of nutmeg,
Looking at art in the street or on gallery walls in Mexico City and Oaxaca, we couldn’t help but notice the predominance of playful images
“Oaxaca, the belly of Mexico.” “The country’s culinary capital.” “To chefs what Paris was to painters.” One of the reasons I wanted to go to
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