Oaxaca, February 2026

Eleven days of single-origin coffee, mole, and the kind of late-morning sun that argues with you. The roasters in Oaxaca treat coffee like a quiet, technical art and the tortillas like a religion, and both attitudes are correct. Wrote less than I’d planned, walked more than I’d planned, ate everything. Plan to go back during Día de los Muertos when the light will be different again.