I Didn’t Go to the Guelaguetza — But I Felt Every Bit of It

The Joy Is in the Air

I didn’t go to the Guelaguetza this year — not to the big Monday shows up on the hill, anyway. And yet, I still lived it. You can’t not. When you live in Oaxaca the Guelaguetza comes to you. It hums through the cobblestones. It explodes in color on every corner. It walks past you in traditional dress carrying pineapples and bursts of music. You just have to sit down, take a sip of something cold, and watch it all unfold.

I’m American by birth, but I’ve called Oaxaca home for 26 years. And this time of year — late July — never fails to move me. Not because of the stadium dances (which, truth be told, I’ve only attended twice), but because of the energy, the joy, the sense that the city itself is smiling.

Color, Calendas, and a City That Shines

It’s hard to describe the beauty of just walking through the city during Guelaguetza. Artisan markets pop up in plazas like mushrooms after rain. Bands wander by with trumpets and drums while dancers in full regalia spin and laugh and hand out mezcal like confetti. It’s pure life.

I never miss the *desfile de delegaciones* — the parade before the Monday shows. That’s my favorite part. You don’t need a ticket, you don’t need a seat. You just need a spot on the curb and an open heart. The music, the movement, the pride pouring out of each group — that’s Guelaguetza to me.

This Year Felt Bigger

This year, I noticed something different. More people. More movement. More joy. It wasn’t just my imagination — the stats prove it. Over 138,000 visitors came to Oaxaca this Guelaguetza. Hotels were at 90% capacity. Restaurants were full. Mezcal flowed. And everyone — from guides to vendors to traditional cooks — seemed over the moon.

I spoke to a few tour guides I know. Normally, they’re cautiously optimistic during busy season. But this time? Their eyes lit up. One told me, “This is the best Guelaguetza we’ve seen in years. People aren’t just coming — they’re staying. They’re spending. They’re enjoying.” You could feel it.

Oaxaca Deserves This

Oaxaca has been through a lot. I’ve lived through the protests, the blockades, the empty streets during difficult years. I’ve seen hardworking people suffer because of unrest. That’s why seeing the city come alive like this makes my heart explode with joy. This is what Oaxaca deserves — recognition, respect, and a chance to thrive through what it does best: culture, community, and unmatched hospitality.

The numbers back it up: this year’s Guelaguetza brought in over $614 million pesos in economic activity — the highest on record. That money didn’t just go to hotels. It went to street vendors, to mezcal producers, to abuelas selling tamales and artisans weaving their magic. That kind of prosperity, rooted in tradition, is powerful.

Not All Joy Comes from a Ticket

A lot of people think Guelaguetza is just the two Mondays on the hill. But the real fiesta is all month long. It’s in the calendas, the convites, the pop-up fairs, the unexpected street dances. I didn’t buy a ticket this year — I don’t love crowds, and honestly, the dances themselves don’t change much. But the expression behind them? That never gets old.

What I love is what the dances *transmit* — joy, pride, beauty. You feel it even if you’re not inside the amphitheater. You feel it when a little girl spins in a borrowed skirt outside Santo Domingo. When a band blasts *La Sandunga* from a street corner. When a visiting couple from Japan stops to take a selfie with a local dancer, both of them laughing like old friends.

This Year Gave Back

One thing I admired this year was that the Guelaguetza wasn’t just about celebration — it gave back. All the revenue from official ticket sales (about $40 million) is going to coastal communities affected by Hurricane Erick. Even the Feria del Mezcal donated its proceeds. That’s the kind of leadership we need more of — fiestas with a purpose.

A Final Word

So no, I didn’t go up the hill this year. But I didn’t miss the Guelaguetza. It was everywhere. It was in every smile, every step, every note of the marimba echoing through the city.

Oaxaca opened its arms to the world — and the world responded. I’m just grateful I got to be here, sitting quietly in the shade with a cold drink in hand, watching it all unfold.

Viva Oaxaca. And thank you, Guelaguetza 2025, for reminding us of the joy that lives here — whether you’re dancing on stage or just soaking it all in from the sidelines.