Tlacolula Market

On Sundays the valley converges on Tlacolula. The town's tianguis descends from pre-Hispanic trade fairs, and it remains the region's great weekly exchange: streets for blocks around the church submerged under tarps, where Zapotec vendors - many women in the braided hairstyles and aprons of their villages, striking deals in Zapotec before Spanish - sell turkeys and cacao, chiles by the basket, wedding bread crusted with sesame, hand-tooled leather, gourds, rebozos and the green-glazed pottery of Atzompa. The eating is the pilgrimage's second half: the smoke alley beside the market roasts barbecue-lamb barbacoa and grilled meats over coals, orders assembled with tortillas from the comal ladies and salsas from molcajetes; pan de yema comes warm with chocolate de agua, and mezcal from Santiago Matatlan - the "world capital" just up the road - pours in cautious samples. The chapel of the Señor de Tlacolula, a gilded folk-baroque marvel, waits behind the noise. It is the valley's living original of which city markets are the echo.

What you actually see

• The tianguis streets - blocks of Zapotec Sunday commerce.
• The smoke alley - barbacoa and grills at full roar.
• The chapel - gilded folk baroque behind the stalls.
• The valley produce - chiles, cacao, bread and mezcal at source.

When to go

Sunday, roughly 9 am to 3 pm - other days offer a fraction. Pair with Mitla or Teotitlan on the same eastern-valley road.

Honest expectations

It is dense, loud and unairconditioned reality - bags close, cash small, elbows patient. Photograph people only with permission; a purchase opens more doors than a lens. The barbacoa queue moves; join it.

Nearby

Mitla's mosaics, the Teotitlan weaving village and Matatlan's palenques line the same highway east.