Mazunte is a tiny beach town off the coast of Oaxaca where you can let your freak flag wave high, knowing it will be highly surpassed by the many other gypsies passing through. Face tattoos and female armpit hair are in full rotation. Hoola hoops and hacky sacks are popular accessories. I watched a backpacker with blond dreadlocks bite his tonails in front of the town bakery and no one batted an eye.

Things got weird.


Spend a week in Mazunte and you’ll have trouble acclimating back into a society where bras are enforced, shoes are necessary, and mezcal isn’t the spirit of choice. Back home, your ears will ache for the sound of waves crashing, the djembe heartbeat of a nearby drum circle, and the voice of peddlers on the beach offering pescadillas and tamales. To ease the auditory withdrawals, I recommend taking a deep dive into the Bob Marley archives to quell the yearning for that reggae beat.


You’ll wake up to the most stunning sunsets and go to sleep under a blanket of stars. The water is warm and you’ll never want to leave the beach – even if you’re forced to share it with digereedoos and drum circles. The fish is the freshest, and the beer is flowing. Life ain’t bad here.


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