On the eight-hour bus ride from Veracruz to Oaxaca I met a retired fellow from Arkansas who wore his long white hair in a ponytail and used the e-mail moniker El Viejo Gringo. He was in a mood to chat; I was not. But as we glided up steep mountain ridges covered with giant cactus, I found his colorful stories far more entertaining than the Spanish-dubbed reruns of ''Hawaii Five-O'' on the bus's TV screen.
El Viejo had just spent two months in a Veracruz hotel so cheap that I had thought it was a house of ill repute when I passed it during my stay. He was planning to change buses in Oaxaca, and not linger there an instant longer than necessary. ''Too many gringos,'' he said, waving his hand dismissively. ''Too expensive.''
Oaxaca was, indeed, full of Americans. At times during my six-day stay there in February, I felt as if I'd wandered into an adult version of college spring break or semester abroad. From groups on an Elderhostel learning tour, to retired couples pausing to visit museums, ancient Zapotecan and Mixtec ruins and take a cooking class, to baby boomers immersed in intensive Spanish courses, I ran into folks from home at the turn of every colonial cobblestone street. (Oaxaca, founded in the 1500's, has some of the richest Spanish colonial architecture in the Americas.)
At first this didn't make me happy at all. One travels to a foreign country, in part, to have a vacation from one's own. On my first morning I ambled out of my room at the guest house Las Golondrinas, through a Mexican patio garden dripping with potted geraniums and fragrant citrus trees. The air was crisp, the sky azure; Oaxaca, tucked into a mile-high valley surrounded by dry, rugged mountains, has a year-round springlike high desert climate. But then, slipping into a seat at a small table in the garden breakfast area, I nearly got up and fled back into my room when a boisterous chorus of ''Well, hi there! Where are you from?!'' rose from the American guests nearby.
When I got over being a grouch -- and moved my breakfast from the guest house to Del Jardin, a very Mexican outdoor cafe facing the busy central public square, or zócalo, I soon discovered the bright side of Oaxaca's popularity. Because it receives so many visitors, Oaxaca is well organized for them, and almost embarrassingly easy (and inexpensive) to explore. On my first morning, it took me only about five minutes to find the office of the Cooperative Society of Community Museums, two blocks from Las Golondrinas. Besides helping more than two dozen indigenous villages build and maintain town museums, the society takes small groups of travelers out to the Zapotecan and Mixtec communities for day trips. The travelers, with a local guide, visit weavers, potters and other artisans, take hikes into nearby mountains and fields, visit the museums, and eat lunch at a village house.
While I could have hopped on one of those noisy Oaxaca buses and gone to an outlying village myself, visiting a community with an invitation and a local guide seemed like a far better way to learn about Oaxacan Indian culture -- and, at a cost of about $20, including lunch (all tour profits go directly back to the villages), a great deal, too. At the office I signed up for a visit to Santa Ana del Valle, about nine miles east of Oaxaca city, for later in the week.
Even easier was finding my way into Oaxaca's legendary cuisine. That evening, as I finished the last bites of a scrumptious plate of chilies delicately stuffed with squash blossoms at El Naranjo restaurant, a woman I took to be the chef (she was) came to my table and asked me how I liked my meal.
''Fantastic,'' I gushed. ''I would love to learn how to cook like this.''
Without further ado, I suddenly found myself enrolled in Iliana de la Vega's Oaxacan cooking class for that coming Saturday morning ($44).
Figuring I'd arranged enough organized activity, I set about the serious work of aimlessly strolling around town. Away from the main tourist area -- which includes the Cathedral of Santo Domingo, the expensive Camino Real hotel (housed in a converted 16th-century convent), and a narrow pedestrian street called Alcalá lined with pricey shops -- Oaxaca is a more down to earth, typical Mexican city. On side streets, schoolchildren in uniform romp, market vendors struggle with huge baskets of vegetables or heaps of the woven wool rugs -- tapetes -- that Oaxacan artisans are famous for. Again and again, I returned to the zócalo, always abuzz with activity, from children tossing enormous balloons in the air to the local orchestra playing Verdi.
Even more of a treat was Oaxaca's public food market, just off the main square. It held treasure troves of goodies, some I recognized (like shiny black candied figs), and some I did not (heaps of pungent dried chilies of every size and color, and mounds of dark paste, the bases of Oaxaca's famous moles, or sauces). Smells I understood mingled with unfathomable ones, and I couldn't wait for my cooking class, which I hoped would unravel some of the market's mysteries.
Which it did, and in a way I hadn't expected. For, among my 10 fellow American and Canadian students at the Naranjo cooking class was Phil, who introduced himself to us as ''a chef from a Berkeley restaurant.'' Figuring that ''Berkeley restaurant'' was modest code for Chez Panisse (it was), I struck up a conversation with him as we all chopped tomatoes and tomatillos in Ms. de la Vega's restaurant kitchen, and discovered that he had prepped extensively for his exploration of Oaxacan cuisine, and was carrying a thick file of tips and info from other chefs he knew who'd already made the pilgrimage.
Meanwhile, Ms. de la Vega led us through the many stages of preparation of a Oaxacan chile relleno, from preparing the shredded pork stuffing to the right way to blister and peel the skin of a dark green chile poblano. It may be a while before I attempt such a heavy and intricate dish in my home kitchen, but I will certainly whip up a batch of salsa made from slightly toasted chiles de aguas that Ms. de la Vega demonstrated that morning. And, with the cooking finished came the highlight of the class -- for me, not lunch (although it was delicious) but a guided trip into that formidable market, where Ms. de la Vega explained the fine points of distinguishing a chile ancho from a chile pasilla (the pasilla is smoked, smaller and darker), and guided us to some of the friendlier vendors.
LATER, over tequilas at La Purísima, a pleasant new rooftop restaurant with a view of the Cathedral, Phil shared some of his kitchen files with me. On his recommendation, I visited El Topil, a little restaurant, for lunch, where I had a quesadilla that knocked me out with its classic, simple flavors: a handmade corn tortilla and local string cheese topped with an epazote leaf (which tastes like a cross between mint and coriander). Poking my nose into the open kitchen to compliment the cook, I found that Doña Carmelita Hernández Pacheco had been preparing these quesadillas at El Topil for 16 years.
After only a few days in Oaxaca, I was beginning to feel like a seminar participant, too. It was a feeling that intensified as I met my Museo Comunitario guide, Rosa Sosa Ignacio, early one morning in front of her office. Along with a couple from New Zealand, we boarded a crowded public bus, then transferred to another for the hourlong ride out to Santa Ana del Valle, a Zapotecan village that had once been a suburb of the ancient Zapotecan capital, Monte Albán, whose ruins I had visited the previous afternoon.
Upon entering Santa Ana, with its tidy houses, neat flower-filled square, and simple white church, its altar awash in vases of gladioli, I felt as if I had walked into one of the fantasy villages in a Gabriel García Márquez novel. In the square, Rosa passed us on to José Rodríguez, our village guide, who took us up a dirt road leading from the village. Soon we were in a vast, dry high plain filled with agave plants and scrubby trees and shrubs. The air grew cooler and thinner, as José explained how each of the shrubs and plants figured into the local economy -- some were medicinal, others used to make the vegetable dyes for the weavers' wool (Santa Ana is renowned for the artistry of its tapetes) -- and described the way the village of 2,000 people is run, as a cooperative of volunteer leaders and committees.
Returning to the village, we visited the home of a master weaver named Primo, who demonstrated making a wide wool blanket on a loom that reminded me of a pipe organ -- and that required a similar intricate coordination of hands and feet.
Finally it was time for lunch: homemade sausages, rice, plate-size handmade tortillas, and a sweet, thick soup made from squash, served in the home of the village school principal and his wife. José mentioned that visitors can stay in peaceful Santa Ana, either in the simple guest house or with a family. I asked what it might cost, and our host, the school principal, piped up, ''I charge about 25 pesos a day.'' That's $2.70.
I would have jumped at the chance to enjoy an idyll in this friendly village, if only time allowed. Instead I made a note to send an e-mail message to the one person who I knew would most appreciate a pointer to an inexpensive Mexican place with few, if any, fellow Americans: ''Dear Viejo Gringo . . .''
Bottom line: kitchen to zócalo
I spent $79 a day on food,lodging, and activities during six days and nights in Oaxaca.
Transportation
There are no direct flights from the New York City area to either Veracruz, the first stop on my Mexican trip, or Oaxaca. I bought an open-jaw ticket through www.onetravel.com that routed me from J.F.K. to Veracruz, with a change of plane in Cancún, then returned from Oaxaca, with a change in Mexico City. The round-trip fare was $749.
I traveled the eight hours from Veracruz to Oaxaca in a first class bus for about $23 one way. The bus, a reasonably comfortable air-conditioned model with a Mercedes engine, is operated by a regional company called ADO (pronounced ah-day-oh, for Autobuses de Oriente), whose number in Oaxaca is (52-951) 515-1703; it's probably easiest and best to check the latest schedules and fares in person at the station.
Hotels
I inspected about six Oaxaca guest houses in the $35 price range, and Las Golondrinas, Tinoco y Palacios 411, (52-951) 514-3298, impressed me as the best value. Its 27 rooms are all different, arranged around several small garden courtyards. Mine had a main room with a double bed and wardrobe, an alcove with a desk, and a private bath with shower, sink, toilet but no tub. The room was dark, however, and I was disturbed by noise both from the street and from chatty fellow guests in the courtyard.
On my last night I treated myself to a stay in the somewhat faded but still grand Marqués del Valle hotel, Portal de Clavería, Centro Oaxaca, (52-951) 514-0688, fax (523-951) 516-9961, a period 1940's gem with Deco and Art Nouveau details that boasts a ringside view of the zócalo. My spacious room overlooking the square, with two double beds and private bath, cost $68.55 (reflecting a 15 percent discount for paying cash).
The Posada Catarina, Aldama 325, telephone and fax (52-951) 516-4270, newer and not as beautifully landscaped as Las Golondrinas, has similarly tidy rooms, a friendly management -- and a location somewhat protected from street noise. I was quoted $38 for a single room with bath.
Moving somewhat more upscale, I also like the newish Hotel Calesa Real, García Vigil 306, (52-951) 516-5544 fax: (52-951) 526-7232, which has standard, spacious hotel-style rooms arranged around a pretty courtyard with a little swimming pool. I was quoted a rate of almost $100, but that instantly dropped to $57 as soon as I mentioned the word ''descuento.''
Restaurants
At El Naranjo, Valerio Trujano 203, (52-951) 514-1878, www.elnaranjo.com.mx, whose chef and owner puts a modern spin on traditional cuisine, my chilies stuffed with squash blossoms were elegant and flavorful; with a glass of tequila and an appetizer, dinner was about $17.
El Topil, Plazuela Labastida 104, no telephone, is an informal place with classic, flavorful food. My lunch of garbanzo soup and quesadillas filled with string cheese cost $8.45.
The cool, flower-laden terrace of La Purísima, Allende 208, (52-951) 501-0927, with its stunning view of the cathedral and mountains, is a good place to be at sunset. I had a big appetizer platter that included sausages, pressed beef, cheeses and chilies and two expensive tequilas for $22.
Breakfast of coffee, fruit, and toast at del Jardín, one of several cafes facing the zócalo, cost around $5.
Activities
The cooking class taught by Iliana de la Vega at her restaurant, El Na ranjo, cost $44, including materials, a huge lunch, and a tour of the food market. Reservations are suggested.
Tours of local villages are arranged through the Sociedad Cooperativo de Museos Comunitarios del Estado de Oaxaca, Tinoco y Palacios 311-312; telephone and fax (52-951) 516-5786, www.umco.org. My day in Santa Ana del Valle, with lunch, cost $20. Village stays can be arranged.
Monte Albán is about two miles from downtown Oaxaca. A round-trip taxi cost about $13 (including waiting time); the entry fee is $3.90. DAISANN McLANE
Photos: ABOVE, LEFT AND RIGHT: A street scene in Oaxaca and view of the cathedral and mountains from La Purísima restaurant.; LEFT: Ruins of Monte Albán, an ancient capital. A weaver in Santa Ana del Valle, known for its rugs. (pg. 6); Carmelita Hernández Pacheco, cook at El Topil. (Daisann McLane)(pg. 16)