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Sun, January 9

And She's Back (with a tan)!

I am writing this with a sense of complete overwhelming. I did not bring my blog main page access url with me to Mexico, and for three weeks had to write my adventures in a tiny little journal kept in my beach bag but usually only accessed at night...because that is when I like to write. Maybe it was a good thing--not to bore you with the day to day details, and instead, now I can share only the highlights.

So. We started out in the beach town of Puerto Escondido, in the state of Oaxaca (the Pacific coast). Puerto consists of a main road, off of which lie affordable hotels, and directly across from it (truly three steps) is the beach, called Zicatela. In terms of convenience of places to eat, buy toiletries, find bars, and have your hotel only minutes away from your beach palapa (little huts made of bamboo), Peurto was THE PLACE. This being the first leg of our trip, I thought our hotel was pretty bare bones, but in light of other places we ended up staying in, this was the Holiday Inn. And I mean that in a good way.

We spent four days earning our scuba certification, and it was nice to have a purpose to the day, beside lounging on a beach with a book. Yes, those days feel good too, but J and I like having projects, so it was a good way to start off. We went every morning to the other beach, in the "downtown" area of Adoquin, where Mexican families on vacation tend to stay and hang out. That is where the dive center was located. Our instructor, Jorge, was a middle-aged, very smart, witty guy, who we got along with (haha) "swimmingly." He had a cute little assistant/girlfriend in the shop whose job it was to walk around in little dresses and try to convince people to buy T-shirts from the dive shop so she would have extra pocket money. Her name was Maribel, and she did funny things like hide Jorge's sunglasses, and make him look all over for them, only at the end of the day to leave them somewhere obvious where he would find them. He knew it was she who hid them each time, but it was her way of getting attention, and oddly enough they worked well together as a couple. Jorge turned out to be quite the ladies man too- he had a few kids in town who came in and called him "Papa" so...

During our first dive I freaked out when we had only gone about five feet deep. Jorge came up with me to surface, and I had to say to myself "oh just screw it and dive". Once I was under the water, about forty feet, I didn't think about the fact that my only means of air supply was on my back, or that if I freaked out and lost my wits, it was a long trip to the top...I just went with it, and it was a beautiful feeling. Something that, after you do it once, you wonder how you lived your whole life without having not done it.

Sadly, I barely passed the written exam. When Jorge had told us on the first day that not one person had ever failed, I know I would be that one exception to the rule--I am AWFUL at multiple choice. That, and we took the test on empty stomachs, and if there is one thing that can distract me from remembering facts like how many minutes one should wait between a dive of 60 feet after having dove 30 feet, its my growling stomach.

I passed by one number, which Jorge was kind enough to give to me because it was on a question that "he knew I knew the answer to" and just had filled in the wrong circle. If only the SAT's were that understanding.

Each morning we had breakfast at "Carmen's Cafecito" which is the hot spot in the "Lonely Planet" book, but for good reason--their food is delicious. I lived on granola, fruit and yogurt for three weeks, starting at Carmen's. It's funny though--when you order it, you get a big bowl of fruit with yogurt just spooned a little bit on top, and a little bit of granola. If I were to try to recreate that breakfast at the cafeteria at work, it would cost me about eight dollars because they weight the fruit in the states, whereas it practically is falling off the trees wherever you walk in those beach towns. So its dirt cheap. You could buy a papaya bigger than two heads for about seventy cents U.S.

Though we tended to relax on the Zicatela beach (by the hotels), the party was really at the Adoquin beach, where all the Mexican families relaxed. Girls walked around with big plates of cut up fruit (with hot soauce on top!), or shrimp cocktail. Mothers and fathers played in the water with the kids, who often were just in their underwear or sometimes naked. People rode on banana boats, there was music, and always the smell of fish on the grill or fresh tortillas with a little bit of meat and hot sauce. However, if we had tried to chill there, the barrage of "would you like to go on a boat? Snorkle? Fishing? To see the sea turtles?" would have been neverending. It was enough that on the touristy beaches a guy would try to sell you a hat just about every five minutes.

The waves there are pretty maginicent...I saw actual "pipeline waves", the kind you see in surfer movies...Which explains why Puerto was originally a surfer town, but as the surfers started bringing their girlfriends, cafes started to pop up to give the girls a place to hang out and after a while you know, it was a tourist spot.
We spent Christmas Eve at a hotel called "The Rockaway" where J had stayed the previous year. A lot of ex-pats and hippies, or retired Americans. Who knows? It was so great. Just lots of people, whose kids had already gone on to their own lives, hanging out, from all different walks of life. J and I loved that most of the people there came alone, and could walk into the bar/restaurant by the pool and automatically be part of a party because everyone is so friendly. The cook/bartendar, Dianna, made a huge Christmas eve dinner, and they had a live band, tons of Mezcal all around.

After Christmas, we left for San Augustinillo, which was an hour and a half busride away. Here, you could stay right on the beach, literally...as in, you open your door, and there you are, on the beach.I didn't wear shoes for a week.

We ate breakfasts and dinners at the best hotel on the beach (too bad it was booked solid), called "Mexico Linda y que Rico" (when I say best, it is not because of luxuries or amenities, but just overall cleanliness, proximity to the beach, and good reputation. The most expensive places were fifty dollars a night for two people). The service was slow, but nothing beats eating dinner with your toes buried in the sand just a mere fifteen feet away from crashing waves. And, they had pasta, something I hadn't eaten the whole time we were in Puerto, and it was a nice change from tortilla or fish based meals.

We stayed in one of the nicer places the first two days, which we had reserved for four, but on the second day we were told by the hotel owner that he had mistakenly given us a room he had booked previously. Not a good thing to hear considering it was the busyiest time of year ever in that beach town. The option of sleeping on a hammock in the neighboring beach town of Mazunte, was definitely not for me, considering I am a mosquito magnet. We spent two hours hunting for a place to stay, and finally happened upon a hotel off the beach, back in the jungle-y area more. When we walked in, we found oursevles under a lush canopy of palm trees and flowers, and everywhere we looked were tons of cats. The owner, Anna, told us that she said to herself that if she were to ever open a hotel here, she would make it an animal refuge as well, because of the way that animals are mistreated or uncared for in that area.

Within five minutes of reserving a room, I was bitten ten times by mosquitos. This should have been the bad omen.

The next day we went with our backpacks to settle into our new lodgings, only to hear that the room that was supposed to be ours was still occupied, and Anna felt bad about kicking the people out--they had overslept and missed their bus and now had now way of leaving San Augustinillo. "But you can sleep for free in the front of the hotel since it was my fault" she told us. Hm. Considering that I got ten bites every five minutes, the idea of sleeping in the entry way of the hotel (hint: outside) on an old matress did not seem appealing. However, she said one of her neighbors was a young Italian guy who might have an extra room to rent, but he was gone for the day so she wouldn't know until later.

We sat around and chatted with Anna, who really is a nut, and I affectionately called her "The Cat Lady". Her husband is a weird hippie from Indiana who used to collect fruit, and later was a map salesman. They had a blind guy named Gus or something, staying with them, who also was from the Midwest, and what he lacked in sight he made up for with talking. Anna, probably feeling guilty, invited us to come for dinner later, and although she used to be a chef in Santa Barbara, the thought of spending more time than I had to getting bitten by mosquitos and hearing the blind guy talk was less than appetizing.

J and I went to the near-deserted beach, where, if you go down far enough, there's a sign that reads, "Beware: Robbers Beyond This Point". J and I expected to find bandits with masks, dancing menacingly behind the sign, making faces and wielding knives but instead only found big crabs scurrying among rocks and a few seagulls doing kamikaze nose-dives into the waves.

There is hardly any shade to be found. I thought there might be those guys selling umbrellas and chairs, but then was reminded that the upside to a deserted beach has the downside of being, well, deserted. We found two sticks in the sand and went hunting for another, and were able to take our blanket and pitch a tent of sorts. I felt like Brooke Shields in "Blue Lagoon". Thankfully, a quarter mile away, was the more crowded part of the beach, where restaurants had quesadillas and grilled fish, or if we were lucky, an Argentinian guy would come around the beach selling mini pizzas.

Later that evening, Anna reported that the Italian guy had a room for us. It looked decent enough. Except, the "bathroom" was a shed a few steps away from the room. There were creepy crawly things everywhere, attracted to the light in the bathroom, and the open window without a screen didn't help much. The toilet was like every other toilet in those towns- "ecologico"-which means that you can't put toilet paper in it, ever. You have to throw it in a little waste basket (ewwww). I looked around for the shower, and finally lay my eyes on a big chain attached to the cieling. Apparently if you wanted a shower, you had to yank it, and when you yanked it, only ice cold water came out. Of course, when J tried to pull the chain for me (it was impossible to wash up and hold the chain at the same time), it came off, and we had to figure out a way to put it back together...Fun, fun fun!

At night, we went to sleep happy that at least we had a roof over or heads, and didn't need mosquito netting since the windows had screens. But when I woke up to find an army of ants on my bedside table and IN MY BED, I completely lost it.

"We need to get out of here. NOW."

J understood.

We went for a hike to Mazunte, and right before we got there we found a sign that pointed to a place up the hill, called "La Terazza". J said he had emailed them weeks ago and they were full, but I urged him to just check again, perhaps someone had fallen through.

Praise the lord, they had an opening the following night. We couldn't wait to be able to stay there. It was on a cliff, overlooking the ocean, and consisted of only two rooms plus the home that the hotel owners lived in. The husband was a Mexican doctor, 27 years old, and the wife was a beautiful Belgian woman, who painted the art that was all over the hotel. The rooms were pure white, with big comfy looking beds, and were relatively clean. We even had a dipping pool on the patio. This was the Ritz of Mazunte.

One more night in the Hotel of Horrors, and we happily hiked with our backpacks at the hottest part of the day to our new abode. Things were a little rocky from the start though--the room was not ready, and Pascal, the wife, who really ran the whole place, hadn't gotten her fish or vegetable delivery that day and her help hadn't arrived yet. We didn't care. We were out of harm's way and relaxing, reading, overlooking sparkling ocean.

At around seven, our room was almost ready, though I don't know if it made much of a difference because the bathroom looked just as dirty as it did when it wasn't "ready" as when it was. Either way, the roomw as huge, and the beds looked like they wouldn't give me a permanent neck ache. We settled in, relaxed, and got ready for dinner. The cold showers were a surprise, but we were happy that we didn't have to yank a chain to get clean.

As I was brushing my hair, I noticed something funny out of the corner of my eye, on the mirror. It was a long hairy leg, but quickly figured it wasn't mine cuz I had happily, just shaved. No, the hairy let belonged to a giant hairy TARANTULA.

Yes, a friggin mother f-er of a tarantual. Bigger than any I had ever seen from behind the safety of glass at the zoo.

"Uh- J, you might want to see this." I kept my calm. I was in shock.

"Holy shit. Alexis, stay there, I'll get Gabriel (the husband)."

I stared at the monster as it made its way quickly towards the door to our bedroom. Those things sure can move fast! By the time J came back with Gabriel's cousin Pedro, it had disappeared behind a basket on the floor.

Now, Gabriel must have expected we were two Americans afraid of a daddy longlegs, because he brought with him a small piece of tupperware to trap the sucker. When he saw the Tarantula, I swear, I've never seen a man jump so high out of fright. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" he shouted. Sweat streamed from his brow. J and I were in hysterics, and in the end, it took a team effort to get the damn thing in a bag and out of the room.

Later, on our way down to dinner, Gabriel seemed not surprised in the least. "Oh yes, there are many of Tarantulas around here. But they are not poisonous. One night Pascal woke with one right on her neck. She was scared, but it didn't do anything."

How reassuring. For the next two nights any time J's body brushed against mine I'd have to ask, "is that you?" just in case.

We ate most of our meals at their restaurant, that seemed to get more and more popular as the days passed by. Each night they seemed overwhelmed by the amount of guests, and the service was very slow. The food was pretty good, and the view was unbelievable: being so high up in the cliffs, the stars seemed within reach. By this point, the moon had waned nearly completely and the stars shone brighter each night against an ever-darkening sky.

I made up constellations. My favorite being the "mini dipper" which is the baby brother of the "Little Dipper" in my book.

J and I also became addicted to Backgammon during our stay, and have been at war ever since. I think I won the last game, on the airplace back to NYC.

We walked over to Mazunte a few times, once to see the "Turtle Liberation". Years ago, the beach was full of sea turtles, and the people started killing them in the millions for their shells and meat. So, now, to make up for it, there is a big conservation effort, and a few times a year they release a couple hundred baby sea turtles into the ocean. Everyone gathers at sundown at the beach to witness it...Of course, you have to wait two hours in suspense as they get the turtles "ready." They hand one to each person who waits on line, and then there is the turtle release precession, as each person carries a baby turtle, wriggling in their hands.

Then, the big moment, occurs, and a woman on a bullhorn tells everyone to let their turtles go. It would be exciting to watch, except, you know that term, "as slow as a turtle"? Well, the excitement wanes when, thirty minutes later, the turtles have only made it three feet from where they were released. Most of them get swept up in the lapping waves, when they reach that part of the beach. Sadly, many don't make it past that, as the seagulls overhead wait even more in advance for sea turtle release days.

New Years Eve was a bit of a let-down because we expected it would be a big party at the hotel restaurant, with all of the owner's friends and big communal tables. But, instead, we were seated separately, and the atmosphere didn't pick up at all until after midnight but at that point, we'd been waiting three hours for the party to start and were pretty tired of it. There was a bit of excitement about the pinata they had, but this one aggressive little girl took eight swings at it without a blind fold, so that was over in under thirty seconds.

The next day we went to Mazunte to hike over the cliffs to see some hot springs. We were not quite sure how to maneuver it, but it seemed to require walking over some rocks. The rocks turned into massive pointy rocks, that would have worked better had we been wearing hiking boots and not flip flops and swimsuits. I clung to every rock for dear life, my only driving force being the hopes that once we made it to the springs we'd find a better, safer way to get back. The last leg required J to push me up a vertical dirt path as I clenched weeds on the side of the cliff to keep me from falling.

No hot springs were to be found, but there was a nice deserted beach where we enjoyed as much of the sunset as we could until we realized if we didn't start hiking back soon, we'd be hiking in the dark, and mosquito meat to boot.

We left that night for Oaxaca City, which is the capitol of Oaxaca (duh), and looks like a European city. I have never seen such a lively city--life centers around "the Zoccolo", a big square in the middle of town, with cafes all around. In the middle are benches, and a gazebo and eveywhere people are selling jewlery, T-shirts, pottery...At night, there are popcorn vendors, men selling ices, or corn on the cob covered in crumbled cheese and mayonnaise (its good!) Colored lights are strung through the trees, and hanging sparkly paper mache are everywhere. Children stay up all hours, so it is like a constant amusement park, with them running around, blowing bubbles, and of course, the poorer kids trying to sell you things you don't need (like hand paddles with bird figurines on top).

We lucked out and found a great hotel for only fifty dollars a night, with cable TV and hot showers, and someone who cleaned the room every day! Luxury. Oh, and the toilets accepted t.p. so i was happy.

On the first day, after we had taken a night bus for a nine hour ride along treacherously curvy roads, we wandered around and looked at churches. The architecture there is amazing--the Spanish came in the 16th century and basically exerted their influence in everything but the food. It is a very religious place, with the church of Santo Domingo being one of the main attractions. Santo Domingo houses a museum of Mexican Culture, and shows the way Oaxaca used to be before the Spanish came...There is a place up in the mountains, about twenty minutes from the city, called Monte Alban (I'll get to that later) which dates back to 200 B.C. The museum boasts the collections of what discoverers found in the caves and tombs of that ancient civilization of the indigenous people of Mexico. We walked through, surviving on adrenaline, from not the best night's sleep the night before.

For lunch we ate in the market, which takes over quite a few city blocks, filled with everything from spices and cheese, to sneakers and cowboy hats. We ate where only Mexican families were eating, right next to the butcher stalls. (Not once did I not drink the water, or be wary of fruit or vegetables, so I did not hesitite this time). We ate chorizo and steak, served with giant tortillas and grilled onions, and lime covered radishes. So good. Though I do not speak much Spanish (poquito, poquito), I was able to have fun with the kids sitting across the table from us, eating with their mother.

The next day we went to Monte Alban, early in the morning, and spent a couple hours marveling at ancient civilizations, climbing stairs that looked like they could kill you if you made a wrong step...Monte Alban was completely leveled by the Mixtec peoples when it was first founded, and was home to five different groups of peoples until 850 A.D. It is unclear why the civilization dissolved, and in its last phase of life, it was only used for burial purposes. But at its height, it was a place where the wealthiest peoples lived, because they were in control of the water supply. The views were breathtaking, and there were places where you could clap your hands and hear it echo off the walls from a quarter mile away.

When we got back to town we were starving so J took me to a hole in the wall taco place that he had hit last year. Up until this point J and I had eaten the same things as eachother, sharing bites of every food item. This time, for no real reason, he didn't eat the chopped tomato and jalapeno that was on the table, and since I can't ever pass up a ripe looking tomato, I didn't hesitate to partake. Hours later, at a really nice restaurant, I started to realize the little stomach ache I was trying to ignore was undeniable.

We went home, where I ended up staying in bed with terrible pains and of course, nausea, for the whole next day. Thank God for the T.V. because I think I would have gone insane otherwise, knowing how much fun and life I was missing out on by staying in. Eventually, the stomach thing turned into a fever thing, but I was happy to not have to lie in a fetal position, finally.

That night I felt a little better, and we went out for crepes (no Mexican food that night).

The next day was a full on errands/shopping day. I bought J a piece of art he liked, by a local Mexican artist. I love it. Its a scary clown done in ink, and he's making a funny face. I hope it might replace the big black and white Victoria Secret model pictures he has in his room but, we'll just see.

We went to the Rufino Tamayo Biennial (famous Mexican artist, whose museum hosts contemporary artists's work), which was one of my favorite sights in the whole trip.

I took pictures of street corners, trying to capture the intricacies of the iron gates, and the colors of the buildings (salmon against blue, yellow, orange), the perfect, cloudless sky. I want to get back to painting, so hopefully I'll be able to recreate some of the photos when I get them developed.

We had hours to kill before our bus, so we sat in the cafes, hit the internet cafe, did more shopping for jewlery and scarves and T-shirts...had a nice dinner at a Spanish restaurant called "Olivo", but my stomach thing had come back and I wasn't hungry enough to enjoy the good food.

Our "first class bus" that night was the worst ride EVER. Someone had decided to bring their 6 month old on a 11:30pm busride, and the kid did not stop crying the entire way. If it did stop, it would only be for a few minutes, then the bus would hit a bump and it would be wailing again. For some reason the bus driver made the bus 90 degrees, even though it was a comfortable temperature outside. And, as if he were a race-care driver, took every hairpin turn at 100 mph. I looked out the window at one point and felt like the guy in that Twilight Zone movie, when he looks out and sees a menacing gremlin on the wing of the plane.

I swore we wouldn't make it.

Miraculously, we made it to Huatulco, the luxury part of the trip. We stayed at a real resort (The "Camino Real"), in a huge (although badly decorated) hotel room, that even had its own little pool on the balcony. It was hard to adjust to at first, with all the English being spoken around us and the only Mexicans being those employed by the hotel. The only real nuicance were the hundreds of hawks all over the place, and weird looking flies. No more fresh juices on the beach, or real Mexican cooking- but at this point I was ready for a club sandwich and hamburger.

We went on a snorkeling trip the next day, and visited five beautiful bays. Our "captain" showed us interesting rock formations, where you could easily make out faces, and shapes like whales and a man and woman sunbathing. It was like finding shapes in the clouds, only these didn't move!

The snorkeling was fun until I got stung by eight jellyfish.

Our last night, we ended up having the most amazing dinner. It was at a nearby hotel, the "Quinta Real", that we almost stayed at but J didn't like that they had a shuttle to the beach because the hotel was high in the cliffs. Though it was so gorgeous and the food delicious, it still would have been too stuffy and uppity for us.

We talked about what we'll miss about Mexico, and what we've realized we can't wait to do and experience in New York. Three weeks...I've never been away that long, but it scares me to think that I could have stayed longer. J was more than ready to go home and back to his New York life but I don't feel quite so ready to dive back into the flurry of obligations that New York holds for me...Yes, I enjoy and love all the things I do here, but it was so great to step away from it and reprioritize. The only time I ever stop and contemplate is on subway rides, but here, I had three weeks to stare at the waves and just think, or not think.

I dread tomorrow and the week ahead. All the work I've missed! But once I just get it all done, I'll have my life back, and be able to do the things I do (gym, start art classes again, more writing).

And...J and I got along so amazingly well. Not one fight. Not one bad day. I think that bodes well for us, for our future, hopefully.

On a funny note, I spoke to the college boyf. last night--he'd been in the city over the holidays and called to hang out. He didn't know I was away. Turns out his roomate reads my blog (he's a college friend) and found my Inner Monologues piece. The college boyfriend's only comment: "You really should have asked me about those quotes...I never would have said anything from Poe."

Ok, I've talked enough! Back to "Normal" now...

Posted by lexzog at January 9, 2005 04:42 PM

Comments

I am so happy to hear you guys had a great trip - minus the nausea, fever and jelly fish. I know how much it must suck to be back home. I always cry going to the airport after a trip. I never want vacation to end. But I guess that fact that they do end makes you appreciate them more. I'll see you soon at our first rehearsal. Hopefully you will still have a tan!

Posted by: Buttercup at January 9, 2005 11:10 PM

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