Hello from Zipolite, Oaxaca's legendary hippie/backpacker/nudist hangout. As expected, there's not much to tell, since all I'm currently doing is trying to burn to an even cisp and socializing with other backpackers. Just like last year, my experience of being here is shaped by the people I meet. I seem to have fallen in with a bit of a party crowd and haven´t been in bed before 2am once since my arrival. We manage to heave ourselves out of our hammocks for happy hour, then buy various assortments of further alcohol and sit in the sand singing and comparing lives. I am having a good time, but the crowd and the long hours are wearing on me, and I bought my ticket to San Cristobal to leave tonight. The beach is starting to swell with Semana Santa revellers allready, so it will be a relief to arrive in San Cristobal on Tuesday morning to cooler weather and a larger space to explore.
One of the things I truly enjoy about the backpacker scene is the absolute language salad that ensues when you´re trying to keep up a conversation with a Finn, an Israeli, an Argentinian, an Italian and a Brit all at the same time. Often English turns out to be the common denominator, but Spanish comes in a close second followed by French, and in the current scenario we are speaking a chaotic mix of all of the above. I am learning pieces of Hebrew and Finnish to round out my repertoire and am speaking German with an Austrian girl, who's dialect I'm having more trouble understanding than the drunk Italian guy's Spanish.
Navigating through the backpacker social scene on the beach is a bit of a challenge for me. I can´t be bothered with the straight dating drama, the odd crazies and the strange clique mentality of these temporary communities. One of my beach buddies refers to these travelling connections as "stranger on the train" phenomenon. You know you´ll probably never see these people again, and subsequently you volunteer information about yourself you would never share if you thought you´d be dealing with them on a regular basis. This phenomenon came up in our little group in the form of nightly games of "secret or action" (truth or dare as translated by a Belgian) and "I never". I´m fascinated by how high school band camp it all seems.
Speaking of band camp, I had one of my first opportunities to give a little impromptu concert for the party a few nights ago, and it was a great time to play for a large group of people. I was pleasantly surprised at how easily it all came back to me.
Anyway, I do really like some of the folks I have run into here. Robert is a British bloke whom I met while hitching a ride to Pochutla with Tino, the manager of our little hotel. He has a travelling buddy who was so quiet for the first two days, nobody knew his name. Lo and behold, by day 4 he's the one keeping the party going until 5am - and his name is Allan. Christine is an artist from Virginia who has been travellin for quite a while and has been very eager to send me all the places she's been in the last three months. I now have a page long list of things to do in Chiapas and Guatemala. We seem to share a similar taste for natural beauty and small towns, so I may well heed her advice here and there. And then there's Nick the Oaxaceno living in El Paso, who reminds me of my little brother in so many ways, its hilarious.
But on to the real merit of the beach. It is beautiful, sunny and hot hot hot. My favorite thing to do during the day is to hop on the back of one of the many camionetas (pick-up truck taxis) and ride around the country side to another beach or another little town. Riding in the back of pick-up trucks is one of my favorite things anywhere, and here the scenery and weather make it even more fun. The landscape here varies between sadly dying hill sides of dried and shrivelled woods and lush green luxurious tropical forests. The fruit season is in high gear, and the smell of coconut, mango and papaya is everywhere. Everyone moves slowly, talks slowly, smiles slowly. Will write again from San Cristobal...until then. Party on.