At least a couple of times over the last few years, someone has commented on the leather wallet that I carry.

“Thanks,” I typically say. “I bought it in Mexico.”

In Oaxaca, Mexico, to be exact. I purchased it and two others in the Mercado Benito Juarez, which is set a block south of the city’s Zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución). And while the quality of each is fine (my first two have lasted several years of continual use), the prices were more than reasonable – certainly by U.S. standards.

Mexico has always intrigued me. My earliest memories involve living in San Ysidrio, Calif., little more than a couple of taco stands from the Mexican border. Due to a childhood incident, my mother had a disability, so she hired a succession of Mexican women to help her with household chores. (These were the days when such chores were particularly arduous. We had, for example, an old-fashioned washing machine, no clothes dryer and – believe it or not – an actual ice box instead of a refrigerator.)

My mother used to say that because Spanish was spoken in our house, I learned to count to 10 in that language before I was able to recite the figures in English. I don’t remember that, but I do recall the taste of the freshly made flour tortillas these women would make for our dinners.

I can’t say that I’ve traveled extensively in Mexico. But while attending college, I did spend a summer in Guadalajara enrolled in an intensive Spanish course. I wasn’t the most diligent language student, as instead of studying verb conjugations I spent most of my free time visiting an English-language bookstore where I discovered the Travis McGee novels of the mystery writer John D. MacDonald.

I also recall learning the one phrase that kept getting thrown at me whenever I shopped at that city’s gigantic public market. “Que vas a ver?” the sales people would ask, which I translated as something like “What’re you looking for?”

And during the years that I lived in San Diego during the early 1970s, I would make the occasional trip to Tijuana (a place called the Long Bar was one of our favorite drinking spots). Later on, during my first marriage, my wife Freddie and I would drive farther south along the coast to Rosarito Beach. This was, of course long before that part of the Mexican coast became the tourist destination that it is now.

Far more recently, in 2017, I traveled to Mexico City. The opportunity arose when my wife Mary Pat Treuthart was invited to present at a conference for law professors. Free to roam on my own, I strolled through Chapultepec Park. And it was there that I learned the story of the Mexican-American War from Mexico’s point of view. (It should come as no surprise that Mexicans think of that war as less of a war that an unlawful invasion of their territory.)

But instead of debating history, I’d rather talk about the city that I referred to above, Oaxaca, which we made when Mary Pat’s conference ended. Since the city sits some 287 miles southeast of Mexico City, we opted to fly.

Why Oaxaca? More to the point, why no? Here’s how Lonely Planet describes the place: “A cultural colossus fit to rival anywhere in Latin America for history, gastronomy and colorful manifestations of indigenous culture, Oaxaca is a complex but intensely attractive city whose majestic churches and refined plazas have deservedly earned it a Unesco World Heritage badge.”

How can you resist that depiction?

We booked rooms in a hotel just off the city’s Zócalo, which gave us the opportunity to walk not just to the local panadería (where the sweet rolls were addictive) but also to a number of the city’s more notable sites.

Among them: Templo de Santo Domingo: Designed as a convent and church, but for a time used as a military barracks, this massive stone edifice dates back as early as 1570. Those stone walls have no doubt have protected it, and its gilt-decorated interior, from the earthquakes that often plague the surrounding region.

Museum of Oaxacan Cultures: Adjoining the Templo de Santo Domingo, this is one of those museums that attempts to capture the whole history of an area, from the earliest events of human existence to the present day. My limited Spanish abilities helped because the exhibits were casi totalmente en español.

We wanted to see some of the surrounding area, too, so along with another Spokane couple we hired a driver to take us on a tour to Monte Albán, an ancient Zapotec capital that sits barely six miles from Oaxaca’s center. According to UNESCO, which has deemed Monte Albán a World Heritage site, the archaeological spot was inhabited throughout some 1,500 years by a succession of native peoples: Olmecs, Zapotecs and Mixtecs.

The site, UNESCO’s website says, “is known for its unique dimensions which exhibit the basic chronology and artistic style of the region and for the remains of magnificent temples, ball court, tombs and bas-reliefs with hieroglyphic inscriptions.”

Just walking around the place, which we spent the morning doing, filled all four of us with a feeling of awe that, even a millennia and a half ago, people were developed enough to plan and then construct something so impressive – and that would last so long.

That afternoon, during the tour of a mescal plant that our driver took us on, we made a toast to Monte Albán, to Oaxaca and to all things Mexican. It gave me the perfect answer to the query “que vas a ver?” as it applies to the country itself.

Easy answer there: Todo lo que tiene para ofrecer.