Celebrating Dia de los Muertos in Oaxaca City, Mexico, is an experience like no other, and at Sovereign-Soul, we invite you to immerse yourself in the rich cultural tapestry of this vibrant festival. Every year, from October 31st to November 2nd, Oaxaca comes alive with colors, sounds, and flavors as families remember and honor their departed loved ones. During this magical time, the streets are adorned with intricate altars, known as ofrendas, filled with marigold flowers, candles, and favorite foods of the deceased, creating a beautiful and heartfelt tribute. The air resonates with the sounds of traditional music, while vibrant parades showcase the artistic spirit of the community, with locals donning exquisite calavera makeup and costumes. At Sovereign Soul Home, we celebrate this cherished tradition through curated events, workshops, and local crafts that reflect the art and lifestyle of Oaxaca. Experience hands-on activities such as sugar skull decorating or the making of papel picado—a traditional decorative paper that adds color and life to the celebrations. Our local artisans share their skills and stories, connecting you to the heart of this ancient practice. Join us in honoring the cycle of life and death as we gather to share stories, laughter, and moments of reflection. Whether you're partaking in family-friendly events or seeking a deeper understanding of this cultural phenomenon, Sovereign Soul Home is your gateway to experiencing the soul of Oaxaca during Dia de los Muertos. Dive into this unforgettable journey and celebrate life, death, and everything in between with us!
Finding Refuge in the Kindness of Strangers
At Sovereign Soul Home, we celebrate this spirit of generosity and community. Our goal is to empower women to travel confidently, knowing that there are friendly souls everywhere, ready to lend a hand. We invite you to embark on a journey to Guadalajara with us, where amidst the beauty of the city, you will discover that the world is filled with possibilities and support from those we meet along the way.
This first chapter begins in the air—leaving the weight of my past behind on a dusty Arizona tarmac and landing in a place I’d never seen, but somehow knew I needed to be.
When I stepped onto that tiny 12-seater plane in Show Low, Arizona, I didn’t feel brave. I felt broken. I had just packed up the remnants of the home I’d built in my van—after it was struck by lightning—and left behind a place I thought would be a refuge, but had become anything but.
The plane felt fragile. So did I.
As the ground dropped away beneath me, I watched the desert disappear. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in Mexico.
I only knew I couldn’t stay where I was.
The moment I stepped outside the airport in Guadalajara, everything changed. It was a brand-new country with brand-new challenges. I wasn’t afraid, but I was alert. There were things I would need to figure out.
First, I had to find a taxi to my hostel in the city, about 30 minutes away. When you arrive somewhere new, it always takes a minute to gain your bearings. I found a desk where I could buy a ticket and pay with my credit card—then navigated my way toward the people who could help get me where I needed to go.
I was booked for a week. I told myself I’d figure out the rest after I arrived.
But I was still carrying trauma. My guard was up. Was this taxi safe? Could I trust the situation? I had just left a place where I constantly felt unsafe—where I had to think two steps ahead to protect myself.
It had been an off-grid property on five acres, about 15 minutes north of Show Low. A man I met briefly in Quartzsite had offered me a place to stay. I asked questions. I thought I had clarity. I packed a U-Haul with everything from my van—the 2019 Ford Transit I had spent 2.5 years converting into a home.
But on June 6th, 2023, in Santa Fe, everything changed. My van and I were struck by lightning while parked behind the Chavez Community Rec Center. I had been inside for a yoga class, a swim, and a shower. The staff told me I could park for the night. I drove around back, opened my windows, and turned on my Maxxair fan.
The storm was just starting.
As I reached up to check for rain, lightning struck. The fan exploded. I was thrown into the front of the van. When I came to, my ceiling was on fire. I grabbed the fire extinguisher and put it out. That van had been my safe space, my project, my future—and in one flash, it was totaled.
I’ll share the full story of my van—and the so-called refuge I fled to afterward—in future posts. For now, I’ll just say: I arrived in Mexico shaken, raw, and determined to reclaim my peace.
And Guadalajara gave me that chance.
The heat was full—not dry like Arizona. The air smelled like life: ripe fruit, exhaust, sweat, and spice. I didn’t speak the language, but something in me exhaled.
I was here. I had made it.
The taxi wound through narrow streets toward the hostel I had found only days before. The sidewalks were cracked and full of stories. Fruit trees and flowers lined each street. Markets, promenades and new friends who would always smile and say, " Buenas Dias". Avocados would drop onto the pavement like quiet offerings from the sky.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel lost.
I just felt… here.
I arrived at the hostel carrying more than my backpack. I carried exhaustion, grief, and the invisible heaviness of survival. But the moment I stepped through the door, something shifted. There was no judgment in their eyes—just warmth. A circle of strangers, mostly young travelers with tangled hair and bright laughs, made room for me like I belonged. No explanations required.
Each morning, the scent of fresh bread and coffee greeted me, and there was always someone smiling in the kitchen, ready to share plans for the day. I didn’t have to join, but I could. And somehow, just having the option felt like a gift.
In this little courtyard hostel in the heart of Guadalajara, I found something I hadn’t known I needed: gentleness. The kind of quiet, unspoken kindness that doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t keep score. Just a place to land. For a while, that was enough.
Just two short blocks from the hostel, I stumbled upon a warm and inviting restaurant tucked along a quiet street. Drawn in by its open-air charm and the gentle hum of conversation, I decided to treat myself. It had been months since I’d enjoyed a truly comforting meal—months of stress, uncertainty, and sacrifice. And somehow, sitting alone at that table, I didn’t feel alone. The food was exquisite: tender salmon over grilled vegetables, homemade bread and a glass of deep red wine, and the kind of chocolate cake that reminds you joy still exists.
It wasn’t just about eating. It was about pausing. A moment to breathe. A moment to honor everything I had survived. And when I walked out with a full belly and a smile on my face, it felt like a quiet promise to myself: you deserve this.
Traveling alone can be both exhilarating and daunting, especially for solo female travelers. At Sovereign Soul, we understand the need for a safe haven when you’re exploring new territories. Guadalajara, Mexico, is not just a destination; it is a tapestry of experiences waiting for you to unravel. In this vibrant city, friendly faces and open hearts await to offer assistance and companionship. Hospedarte Hostal is the perfect base for your adventures, providing a welcoming atmosphere that makes you feel at home, no matter how far you roam.
As you navigate the charming streets of Guadalajara, you will find that kindness is woven into the fabric of this city. Locals are often eager to share their stories, recommend hidden gems, and help you discover the true essence of Mexican culture. Whether you’re seeking directions or simply a friendly chat, you’ll be surprised at how easily connections can be made. The kindness of strangers here is not just an encounter; it’s a reminder that no one is truly alone in their journeys.
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