Sure, there may be fancier temazcal (sweatlodge) experiences here in Oaxaca. But would you get to lie naked in a sheet under a moonlit sky next to a curled-up dog, with accordion music wafting down from a nearby fiesta? Bet not.
It’s a funny thing that Americans don’t invite people to their houses much any more. I’m not sure Martha Stewart did anyone any favors — she made us all feel inadequate to entertain if we didn’t grow the frigging corn before making the tortillas for a theme-based dinner party. (Of course, she’s done her time, but I hear she’s out entertaining again.)
The great thing about Mexico is that people DO invite people over, but the chickens might be tied up outside the kitchen, the floor is dirt so mopping won’t help, and guess what? The food is still usually great.