Oaxaca: Last Chapter
The last week has been filled with wonder and magic—something I’ve come to expect from all my visits to Oaxaca. This region’s beauty isn’t just in its lush landscapes or soulful cuisine but in its vibrant mosaic of cultures. The state of Oaxaca is home to over 530 recognized Indigenous communities, each with its own language, customs, and worldview. During this chapter of my journey, I spent the most time with the Mixtecos, Mazatecos, and Zapotecos—each one opening a new doorway of understanding.
My time in Huautla de Jiménez was anchored by a beautiful connection with my hosts, who were originally from a small, sunny town called Mazatlán (not to be confused with the city in Sinaloa). This Mazatlán is a land of abundance—mangoes, passion fruit, papaya, oranges, and an incredible variety of herbs and native plants grow there effortlessly.
Every morning, the curandera—my gentle host—would prepare traditional meals using ingredients from her own garden. She has lovingly cultivated trees, medicinal herbs, and vegetables with the care of someone in deep relationship with the land. Her hens, who cluck freely around her kitchen garden, gift her with large, golden-yolked eggs. We spent hours talking about plants, medicine, and nourishment—she showed me her patch of bitter greens for menstrual pain and roots that help heal the kidneys. She introduced me to three types of lime, including one whose flesh is the color of a mandarin but even more bitter than any lime I’ve tasted. Her generosity extended to sharing seeds, including the rare chile canario and chiltepin. I promised her I’d send some of my own: the fiery “Dragon’s Breath” peppers gifted to me by my friend Gabriel, which are just now fruiting in my garden back home.
The shaman’s presence reminded me of the ancient truth: that the Earth gives us all we need to heal—if we learn to listen.
In the afternoons, my travel companion and I spent time with The shaman’s daughter, The shaman’s daughter. At 34, The shaman’s daughter is a dazzling mix of intelligence, humor, and ambition. She holds a law degree, but her mind is also full of color and possibility—she’s creative, entrepreneurial, and one of the best storytellers I’ve ever met. The kind who makes you laugh until your belly aches, then pulls you into deeper reflection. She shared true stories from her years in Mexico City, each one more unbelievable than the last, yet all delivered with the honesty and timing of someone who’s lived through them and emerged sharper, funnier, and kinder.
These women—The shaman and the shaman’s daughter—gave Huautla a completely different texture than I expected. I arrived thinking I would only find mysticism and silence, but I found warmth, humor, wisdom, and connection. And once again, I was reminded: the medicine doesn’t always come in ceremony. Sometimes, it’s served with eggs and chiles in a garden under the rain beating the tin roof, shared between women who understand the land and laugh with their whole soul.
