oaxaca to puerto escondido
On the road!!!!
www.gurneysjourneys.com
Tuesday 19th July
DF to magic hostel in Oaxaca city today. Driving on my own was easy. I’ve decided I’m on a mission to teach Mexicans to drive by setting an excellent example: I use my indicator, and then I move in that direction. I’m hoping it will catch on.
On the way out of the city my favourite volcanoes were looking fantastic, Popcatapetl was throwing up plumes of smoke. (Little did I know it was about to erupt…just a little bit, on Friday)
Wednesday 20th July
Mitlaaaaaa, we visited the archeological site; good size (small) and my favourite thing to look at was the original painting left near the church. Obviously the original paintings at teenager height had been scratched over with graffiti, but the ones up high were still intact.
Teotitlán was jaw-dropingly expensive, it’s famous for rugs, but I don’t know how they sell any if they really think we are going to pay $6000 (300 of your English pounds) for a bed sized rug.
To top of our tour we went to see El Tule. It’s a very big tree, but Dave wasn’t impressed and thought it didn’t warrant the town being built around it.
Thursday 21st July
Drove to Escondido via highway 131 with some random French girls I met. That is a very bad road with potholes and rain and fog. 7 hours after we set off we arrive in Puerto Escondido, and, surprisingly, Zicatela beach is full. We end up in a half built hotel.. well it’s cheap anyway.
Friday 22ndJuly
It’s always nice to have breakfast overlooking the pacific and watching the surfers. The French had left when I got back to the hotel, and my shower was ruined when I pulled the shower head off. I really hope he wasn’t serious when he said “we will follow up any payment due for damages” on the form we signed. Spent the afternoon with an American called Frank, he showed me some ultimate frisbee tricks. Then drinks with some of the old sea dogs, I think they were bit wrecked. Actually I think they are pretty much wrecked all the time. Turns out most of the people with business’ and money round here are foreign. Dan also warned me how much stick you can get for stealing someone’s wave. He reckons someone got their house burned down. But by the time they were arguing about whether Tim the Californian or Greg the Canadian had more money I was getting pretty bored. Although I was surprised to hear Tim’s claim that his personal water supply is equal to the rest of the town’s supply put together.
So, I can’t find Frank and finally get round to calling Tanya…. Guess what? The Mexican has let me down and she’s not coming after all. It really does seem that Mexicans are unreliable.. however much I want to be wrong about it. The half built swimming pool at the cheap hotel is a good example.. the owner had to sack the guys who were doing it and when he asked all the other hotel owners who had pools, every single one said, “oooh no, don’t get the man who did ours he was awful it took us forever”.
Anyway I shed a tear about my destroyed plans and hopes of driving to Guatemala when Cecil started talking to me. I did really well meeting him; he has met Sub commander Marcos…wow! And he’s a film maker who lives in New York. And he’s Mexican and he knows more about the Zapatistas and Mexican politics than I do. (I doubt any of the sea dogs I met yesterday could claim that). So I chat with Cecil whilst watching fire dancers on the beach and getting very very annoyed with the troop of public school English sitting too close by. I’m not sure the Mexican believes me when I tell him I already know their life stories just from their accents, but when I here the conversation about which a-levels they took I know I do. And that’s pretty much what sends me to bed.
Saturday 23rd July
I seem to have brought my posh Mexican lifestyle with me on holiday. So much for mixing with the locals on my travels! I finally plucked up the courage to go round to Cecil’s house at about 6pm. I rang the bell and was shown through to the lounge by the “help”. She was wearing a uniform; a Oaxacan white embroidered dress, and when I walked in, as well as a nice white wine in a basket, there was a little bell on the table. Once again I am out of my league. Once again it doesn’t bother me and I just go with it. Diego, the father, is an architect, and a bloody good one if this place is anything to go by, and Patricia is the younger girlfriend. They are friendly and invite me to the pool. wow. We’re in dream home territory here, and this is the holiday home. Well after the swim I have to sit down to dinner with no pants on (I was wearing my bikini when I arrived and that is wet now, obviously). I find this slightly uncomfortable, eat a little then get away when I can, promising to meet them in a bar later.
I never make it to the bar because I am too busy having the worst diarrhea of my life. I don’t sleep at all and nearly land myself in hospital on Sunday by getting really dehydrated (even though I was drinking loads of water). But I dragged myself to the chemist just in time and the doctor came and looked after me.
Sunday 24th July
Sick. But Cecil finds me and brings me fruit! Hooray. Being ill with no one to look after you is horrible. He invites me to the palace to stay in the guest room and I have to say no as I’m scared I’ll shit myself on their floor. And the idea of anyone other than me (i.e. the “help”), clearing up my shit is very wrong.
Monday 25th July
Still quite sick. I eat some crackers and bananas
Tuesday 26th July
Better!!! I will not be eating off the street again in a hurry. I make it into town and decide to stay in my nice (although slightly pricey) hotel until the surfing competition on Sunday. But then I tell them and they are kind enough to point out the competition is Monday and Tuesday. I let a Mexican masseuse have a go at sorting my chakras out. He rubbed a lot of sand into me (by mistake), and beat me with mint leaves (on purpose). Apparently I’m even better now. Ah, and I discovered the magic of my new small, but great for getting my bum brown, bikini. Some random boys, young enough to be my students came over and asked me what I was doing later! I couldn’t stop laughing.
Am I really going to stay here another week?
Wednesday 27th July
Yes. I clearly am going to stay another week in Puerto Escondido. But I’m going to work hard on the writing, see some world class surfing, and ask for a discount at the hotel. I don’t think I’ll get the discount though. I’m sure they can see right through me and know I’ll pay.
Saturday 30th July go back
Well I’ve done four solid poos since the last entry; you can’t imagine how happy I am about that. My bum is getting browner.. in the sexy bikini.
I met a range of awful people last night: I ate with a guy who asked “are you a happy person?” half way through dinner. No wonder he never gets past first dates. I mean what are you supposed to say? “No. Actually I’m a miserable bitch..” I ditched him and hung with the aussies at my hotel where I was subjected to monologues by a girl who says each sentence of her story twice. I HEARD THE FIRST TIME! Then I went to a beach party where I got to practice my Spanish. But after I’d been talking to the guy for a while I realized he must be on cocaine or something as he was just gabbling without any concern whether I was understanding, listening or yawning (which I was, regularly). So tonight I’m going to stay in with my new best friend Barbara (Babs) – that’s my computer.
Sunday 31st July
A whole lot better than last Sunday!
Last night was my first proper experience of “Iguana”. It doesn’t start until 3am so I was pleased with myself for staying out late. I was so busy trying to avoid talking to idiots that I didn’t talk to anyone at all until about 1am, when I met some 20 year olds shouting rude words in French. They are easily the beat people around because they are actually having fun rather than pretending to be cool.
And today, apart from sleeping, eating and watching the surf at sunset, I didn’t do a whole lot.
Monday 1st August
The tiburones versus the malaguas in the Mexicans only leg of the X-games. The commentator insists on saying “I see some bumps out the back” several times even though everyone can see clearly that this is tiny surf for the “Mexican Pipeline”. Then at 10am when it’s all over I swim, rest and eat. The woman at the taco shop is my new friend, even though she is the millionth person to look at me like I’m crazy when I tell her I’m alone. And so far 100 % of the people I’ve met responded “teaching english?” when I told them I was a teacher here. I prefer the response Dave got in Oaxaca, “You’re not one of those joker TEFL teachers are you?” to which he lied and said no!
Tuesday 2nd August
The big day…X-games eleven. No Kelly Slater though, but the waves seemed quite good. (To be honest it’s hard for me to tell. The commentators seemed to be getting very excited, but that’s there job innit).
C.J. Hobbit got spat out of a tube after everyone thought he had been knocked over (that got a big cheer) and the East team won overall (no one seemed particularly bothered by that).
I spent the rest of the day looking for pro surfers, (My favourite is Corey Lopez). Then went out for a few drinks in the evening where I completely embarrassed myslf and acted like a 15 year old. I met some good German guys who were quick to pick up on my sense of humour and realize that I was taking the piss out of myself. Unfortunately the pro groupies didn’t find me amusing and thought I was being serious when I referred to myself as a “pro ‘ho”.
The upshot of the evening was that I had brief drunken conversations with Chris Ward, someone else, and Brad ……….., founder of x-games, then fended off the advances of a German and staggered home to bed.
Wednesday 3rd August
I left Escondido!!! And I managed it with a hangover.
After perusing the beached of the Oaxaca coast (because I have a car, and I can!), I end up in Zipolite in a cabin with holes in the roof. So when a storm comes in during dinner I’m not best pleased. Luckily only one of the two beds is wet, and none of my stuff.
Because everyone told me not to go alone I am now under pressure to meet people, which means being polite. Then hopefully I can put up with them long enough to get to San Cristobal, my next port of call. Actually maybe I should just be nice and stop being rude about everyone.
Thursday 4th August
1. Move out.
2. Meet “suntekkers” for breakfast… the 100 % “teaching English is it?” record still stands, and I have now stopped being rude about everyone so I will say nothing.
3. Go for a snorkel trip- what better way to make friends? Except it turns out I am the only person. So after stopping at several hotels on the way to Puerto Angel (the next beach), they cancel the trip. Puerto Angel is great for swimming and I have a bit, just a bit, of a snorkel and see an eel and an unpuffed puffa fish.
4. Meet yet another Mexican (I’m in a bit of a quandary-when I want to meet Mexicans I only meet foreigners, but when I want to meet foreigners.. guess what?). But he monologues me, and he mumbles, all the way home. He told me it was a 3km walk back, I was imagining the cliff path around Cornwall, but actually it was along a track and then the main road, and the whole way I was trying to concentrate on what he was saying.He definitely said that a bird once landed on his head, and this was a sign from God. And that had something to do with the fact that he wants to be a sculptor, but is actually a fisherman.
5. Move to a hotel where there are loads of potential friends. But as soon as I put my hammock up they all leave to get overnight buses back to Oaxaca. Great. Now I’m stuck talking to the American manager. I don’t know what to make of him yet, (see I’m still not being rude).
Friday 5th August
Today I mostly snorkeled and sat on a boat. The kid from the boat jumped on the back of a turtle and held it still while hoards of Mexicans and Italians in bright orange life jackets swarmed around posing for photos. Hmmm. Poor turtle. They do these trips every day, I wonder how often they get the same turtle. “Oh bugger, not this again” he’s thinking.
My best company yet for dinner. We spent an interesting five minutes discussing with the neuroscience student how to perform brain surgery on rats, whilst sitting among candles on the beach, eating great Italian food and being able to see the milky way. (traveling’s great). Unfortunately none of these guys are going my way. On the way back along the beach we watch storms off towards the horizon, enormous streaks of lightning illuminating in bright orange the clouds around. Beautiful. I love nature when it’s looking so good.
Saturday 6th August
Without an activity Zipolite is pretty boring. Actually it’s the heat that gets me. I’m just too uncomfortable to be able to read my book. I’m definitely leaving tomorrow.
Tonight the dinner conversation is not as stimulating. Luckily the stars are all still there and in the sea the luminous algae is just about visible. The three girls, Charlie, Rosie, and Katie actually asked me “What part of London are you from?” Obviously in their social bubble the rest of the country doesn’t exist.
Sunday 7th August
I’m still here. I did wake up at 7am, but after being kept awake at 2ish by the English lads shouting, and having had a couple last night, I’m not really up for the drive today.
This is lucky in a way because I saw something bizarre and interesting on the beach. A couple of nights ago my new sexy bikini (which was actually a bit small for me) was stolen from the chair outside my room (thieving Zipolite hippies). Then walking along the beach today I spotted a big hairy man wearing a t-shirt and MY BIKINI BOTTOMS! How does this man possibly fit in my pants? And why the hell would he want to wear girls’ pants anyway? The people here are very strange. I’m getting my camera in case he comes back past.
mypantssmall.JPG
Monday 8th August
I finally left Zipolite. After hanging out with aussie Linda for 2 days she decided to come with me to Tehauntepec tonight and then to San Cristobal tomorrow. It is true that there are no tourists here, but you can see why; it is hot, the hotels are shabby and there’s not a whole lot to do. We look for some frescos the “bible” had told us about, but some man stops us from walking down the street because of the bandinos (?). Hmmm, then dinner in an almost empty restaurant. Pretty standard for traveling in Mexico.
Tags: beaches, comedy, mexico, puerto escondido, Travel
