You all think I am spending my time and money writing this latest blog entry because I want to keep you informed and entertained. Adorable that you should be thusly fooled, but allow me to disabuse you of such notions with the incontrovertible fact that I am in this internet joint, at the expense of 15 pesos an hour, simply because the sign out front boasted air conditioning. And sweet, sweet artificial temperature control it is!
No really, I do have some things to write about and as anyone who has been to my apartment in August knows, I don't generally go for AC, but heat and sun and exhaustion conspire against me here of the pacific coast, and I am grateful for the relief. Truth is, though, that I am having a fine time on the beach these past few days. At present I am in Puerto Escondido, but let me begin back on Sunday evening, on a street corner in Pochutla...
I had a spectacular grueling 9-hour bus ride through the mountains which presented me with some amazing views, five bad movies, and one vomiting episode (courtesy the combination of carsickness and curvy roads). At the end of this voyage, I tumbled out on to sidewalk in front of the Pochutla bus station, dizzy and without a clue about what I was going to do just then, at 7:30 in the evening. I had thought about spending the night in non-beach Pochutla before striking out to the small, coastal towns. As I contemplated about actually getting a taxi, two Italian women--survivors of the same bus ride--asked me if I was going to Puerto Ángel, a nearish coastal town. When I told them I had no plan, I found myself sharing a taxi with them and eventually a room in a small, hippie B&B with an open-air, thatched-roof, hammock-swinging, chill-music common area (a palapa). On side was adorned with a statue of Shiva and the yoga hut was just up the road, overlooking the ocean. The owner of Casa Penélope, swami-looking Marcos, took good care of us and the other guests (two other Italians and two Canadians) with the able assitance of his daughter, Lluvia, and her husband, Osiel. We dined on simple but delicious homemade quesadillas and a stunning, slightly picante, freshly prepared guacamole.
Unfortunately, we brought rains with our arrival and it poured that night as well as the following morning. As such, I spent the next morning lounging over fresh fruit and homemade yogurt, swinging in a hammock. Márica (one of the Italians) and I eventually braved the clouds to check out the local beach, Playa Panteón, while Sara (the other Italian) and the other more intrepid guests had a two-hour yoga session with Marcos. It was a pleasant place, though the rains had dirtied the water a bit. I contented myself with reading until more drops from the sky forced us to scurry back up the hill to Casa Penélope, but a downpour had us make friends with a local fisherman and seek refuge on his patio until the worst of the washing passed.
That afternoon was spent contentedly sitting around the common area, chatting with all and browsing books. My dream house in taking new forms in my head. One word: cob. After a lounging spell, we all (about eight) climbed into the back of Marco's old Dodge Ram to head to neighboring San Augustinillo to enjoy a now-sunny afternoon on a really nice beach. Reading, swimming, boogie-boarding... Amazing. We ate a fresh meal right on the beach at returned to the hotel around sunset. Showers and some more relaxing preceeded our next trip in the truck to Zipolite, another seaside town known for its hippie chillness. There, we enjoyed snacks and drinks and conversation and stargazing on the torch-lit beach, listening to the waves crashing ashore in the nearby darkness.
The following day (which I think was yesterday), I relaxed in Puerto Ángel (the palapa and the beach) while the others went for a boat tour of beaches and turtles and snorkeling. I must remember to bring my contacts on future trips that involve the ocean! At night I headed with the Italians back to the fateful curb outside the Pochutla bus station as they headed to San Cristóbal en Chiapas while I came west to Puerto Escondido.
Last night here I had dinner with yet another Italian, a sort of strange fellow who wore a fannypack that said WANTED and claimed to be an architect. He was one of the guys in my hostel room, and thankfully he left early this morning. Speaking of which, I should say that all of the guys in my 5-bed hostel room are--well--guys. I don't know if it is supposed to be a mixed dorm or if I was put there by mistake, but I don't really mind. The only thing is that the end of a long hot day on the beach, the room smells like boy.
Today I have lazed on the beach, watched some surfing (something Puerto is known for), and relaxed under thatched-roof eatery while watching the waves, reading my book, and marveling at the size of my veggie club sandwich (literally, a quintuple-decker doosie!). I am trying to avoid heat stroke and dehydration. One big bummer about travelling sola is that it is trickier to go swimming at the beach... no one to watch your stuff. Tomorrow I'll lock stuff up at the hostel and be sure to take a swim. I already have my bus ticket for tomorrow night for the 13-hours overnight trip to Mexico City. I am looking forward to meeting up with some friends there, and I will be back in the US in under a week. By the way, I should say that if you want anything special or particular from Mexico, let me know soon. SJS--I'm on the lookout for your items. Dschwa--I've had your treat for 7 weeks! It is on its way.
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