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Two Weeks of Catching Up

Feb 10, 2020

I have been busy exploring but off-line for almost two weeks and not posting updates to the blog. First, here in Oaxaca with museums and visiting other interesting local places. Then, I went down to Puerto Escondido to visit the southern coast for 5-days. Here are the highlights...

By taxi and colectivo and finally on a "Moto Taxi" for the last leg of the journey, I went to the small village of Atzompa to see their red clay pottery that is finished with a green glaze. It is pretty but as with most things, not practical to take along on my journey, and the salsa just doesn't keep.

Google Pic of Moto Taxi

Salsa in green glazed bowls from a Taqueria called "Taco Brown", go figure, I didn't ask.

Pottery from Atzompa - 16" diameter

I was able to visit la Escuela de Sordos (Coral) en San Martin. It is a school for the deaf in a "colonia" just below the Monte Alban ruins. The administrator and teacher I met there were very helpful. Mexican Sign Language is very different from American Sign Language (ASL). But along the way I learned I can communicate well enough to get some dialog between me and a local deaf person. The Teacher I met referred me to a social event held on Sundays in a local park. On the day I went there were only four deaf people there because it was a holiday weekend, Día de la Constitución.

A couple of additional words have come my way that stuck a chord from the past. The first is "Bochorno" or bochornoso. Hot and sweltering, muggy, steamy. It seems to come from the Latin "vulturnus" meaning "East Wind". It has been that way here for the last several days while Amalia got over 2-feet of snow, 3-feet in Ventero. James and Josie Lucero's house is posted on Facebook, I hear, with piles of snow. Flora's is just across Hwy 196 from their house.

Another word I got from reading a book by Isabel Allende, the Spanish version. The word is "Tutear". Basically in context it is used as "No me andes Tuteando". Or don't be so informal when speaking to me (e.g. Tu), speak with respect as "Usted", or maybe, Hablame por Usted y no me andes Tuteando.

On a Saturday I went to a Couchsurfing MeetUp to meet other fellow travelers. It turned out to be mostly younger travelers, about 24 of them,  at a small cafe from at least seven countries including, the US, Canada, India, Germany, Italy, Mexico, and a couple more. The MeetUp was an Intercambio where you practice the language you want to learn and contribute to others who want to learn your language(s). The several Mexicans there are trying to improve their English.

There is a nature park on the north side of Oaxaca that most Oaxaqueños don't know about. It is called Parque Donatí. It has well developed hiking trails and several Zip Lines for some type of Outward Bound kind of program. It takes a bus ride to a village called Los Volcanes then a Moto Taxi to get you to the front gate. No entrance fee but you have to pay the $5MX to use the toilet. Then, you have to haul a bucket of water to rinse out the bowl and flush. No running water to the toilet. Amazing how your standards evolve as the need arises. TMI?

I hiked the trails of the park and kept seeing signs of Puma and Jaguare. It only scared me when I saw a large shadow on a tree move over me. Of course middle of the day it probably wouldn't be a mostly nocturnal cat. Instead, it was a squirrel's shadow magnified as it scooted from one branch to another. Another one of those Allah moments. After hiking a kilometer to the top, I crossed the cañada to the next ridge and followed it around. At the end of that trail and the end of the park I made my way down another couple of kilometers to find a bus in a different village to take me back to El Centro de Oaxaca, La Alameda (that doesn't have Alamos) and the Zocalo.

It was a dental visit day, whatever that day was as I lose track, almost finished, and I am off for a week. Time for this gypsy to move about. I purchased a bus ticket to head down to Puerto Escondido on Mexico's southern coast. The bus left Oaxaca at 10:00 pm and had me in Puerto by 8:30 the next morning. The deal is that on such short notice, there were no spaces on the 14-seat plane to get me there so I opted for the overnighter, $25USD. Clean and new Mercedes buses which they call First Class or Executive class. They have airplane like bathrooms that are clean and seats that are mostly comfortable. Everyone (except the driver) seems to sleep. I listened to audiobooks. It is not too far distance-wise but the road winds up the Southern Sierras then back down the Sierras. Curves are so tight that much of the trip is at about 35mph once you leave Oaxaca.

Once I arrived, I checked into my room and headed for the nearest beach. The beach was a sunning and running beach because the undertow was too strong to swim.

After breaking a sweat walking the beach, certainly not running, I opted to go back to the hotel's  pool and rinse off.

Aldea del Bazar hotel pool overlooking the ocean

Reflections of a setting sun on the hotel pool. 

It was a surprise when I arrived at the hotel that the architecture was "Arabic". Painted white with blue tiles, lots of arches, and airy open space. Good bar and restaurant too.

The hotel was a bit far from town so every time I wanted to go to a swimming beach or find a new restaurant, it was a taxi ride to and from, usually about $2-3 each way.

Playa Carrizolillo

The first night in town I found a place that offered tours so I signed up for one to a place called Mazunte. It was a nature trek and beach visiting tour. Iguanas, Crocodiles, birds, turtles, raisins, and prunes.

A river running into the Pacific 

Our guide, Jose Luis, took us on a row boat through the swamps, to keep from disturbing the wildlife.

Touring the mangrove swamps, awesome reflections.

The guide and an Iguana

An aerial termite nest

A large canal in the mangrove swamp

Not a floating log 

Well Fed and not too big.

From under the boat at 4.2 meters long, oh my, Dude.

These guys get fed on each trip so they don't eat as many tourists. Probably not what you see in the US but this is kinda cool until...

A local saying is that these cocodrillos are mostly vegetarian. "Solo se comen plantas y palmas, las platas de tus pies y las palmas de tus manos." Keep your hands and feet in the boat kids.

However, the turtles are harmless

One of the tourist draws is the hatching of turtle eggs. Tourists pay to release the day or two old turtles on the beach and try to shelter them from the Pelicans, and other birds that like this snack as they head for the water. Once in the surf, other predators take their toll. Just a few make it to adulthood but that is nature.

The rest of this tour was spent visiting a few beaches. One of the beaches is called Zipolite. Here is a math problem for you, a word problem of sorts. In 1960 or so, it was the hippie era and lots of them migrated to this beach in Southern Mexico. They loved to be naked so this became a Playa Nudista. It is now 2020 and some of these old hippies are still here. How long does it take for a ripe fruit to become a naked raisin or alas, a prune? Well, you can imagine what this beach is like now. Well, not all are of the specimens are circa 1960 vintage, of course, but there are a few.

Google It - Zipolite Beach, then click on Images.
There is even a Festival 

Still Looking?

Changing the subject slightly, on the following day I took a second tour, this time to an area in the opposite direction to a place called Laguna Chacahua. More mangrove swamps but this one is very long, two lakes, actually. On a motor boat we floated on the lake through tunnels under the red mangrove trees. It was amazing to slowly cruise through these pathways for an hour and a half and see mostly birds in this habitat. Lots of them, many species, both genders.

Starting point

The fleet

Heading into the Mangroves

Open water of the lake

Slow water in the Mangroves, Los Manglares

Above water "roots"/stems that provide oxygen to the plant but also anchor the plant in the lake.

Mike, Chema, and the Motley Crew? Speak for myself.

It took 1-1/2 hours to get to the destination at the far side of the lake. The village is of Afro Caribbean ancestry and of course they are descendants of earlier slave trader currency. The locals have made this place a home and for better or worse are making a reasonable living from the tourism industry. It is still rustic tourism so it isn't yet ruined by commercialism and all that comes with that.

When we arrived, we were asked what we wanted to eat and asked to set the time we want to eat. That gave us time to explore the area, take some pics, and have refreshments. Here is the restaurant and part of the menu:

Dalia's Place

Le Menu, Sil Vous Pliez
Naturally Red Fish - not blood or Mole coated

Next came the live shrimp, rather prawns(not shown), and the beer and the real Piña Coladas with Mezcal, and some shots or rather lessons on how to taste and appreciate a good Mezcal, or a bad one.

A travelers hat, shades, Piña Colada, and a shot glass without Mezcal.
Piña Con or Piña Sin

I really was there

A local girl who guided us to the top of the hill where the lighthouse stands.
She must have been 13-years old, and on her left shoulder? (I just saw that.)

Lighthouse view toward the lake wrapping around los manglares.

Lighthouse view of the Pacific where it meets the lake.
It is interesting to see the tide lowering and draining the lake downstream then coming back in and seeing the water move upstream.

End of the day

Lancha, Engine, and Captain, at rest

That was the end of two wonderful days of tours on the Pacific Ocean in southern Mexico and two day playing on the beach. I am glad I was there now while it is still relatively authentic, notwithstanding the raisins and prunes from the day of the first tour.

Sunday was the next day and I spent it on the beaches playing in the surf near Puerto Escondido. A good way to end a pretty nice week. I still don't recognize that white haired guy that may have been Crocodile bait or maybe a New Mexico Norteño. A life half-lived is not a life. "Da le gas y da le gusto, manitos".

On Monday it was time to head back to Oaxaca to rest. It is also time to think of the next leg of this adventure. I had already booked a ride to fly back north from Puerto Escondo. It cost $140 to fly but it was well worth it. While the bus was 10-1/2 hours of semi-sleep, the flight was about 40-minutes in the air and it took me another 40-minutes to get from the airport to my house. My nalgas are still thanking me!

The mountains we drove through getting to Puerto

Approaching Oaxaca from the air

Feb 13, 2020

Back in Oaxaca I have started taking a few last photos of the area. From here I have a one-way ticket to the Yucatan. In the meantime, I keep reminding myself that this isn't a marathon, or even a vacation, in retirement life it is just another day to enjoy so I wander, wonder, taste more food, find picture worthy focal points that talk about life, one-day-at-time.

Is this Rosie the Riveter?

This wall is cracking but... why would you have coated it with plaster with that wonderful stonework underneath.
With plaster and paint on the plaster the wall does not breath and holds moisture that weakens it. 

Taco Roy, it is called, this taqueria that serves 2.3 tacos and half bottles of beer with an amazing Pozole.
I over ordered not knowing that it was so much and so good.

I don't know what makes Tacos al Pastor so good down here but they are all amazing, whether you get them from a street stand, a corner cafecito, or a restaurant. It has to be a bit of chorizo and maybe some MSG. Oh So Good.

Friggin American Tourists. Multiple generations of them, herds. 

Saturday AM Feb 15, 2020

It was a cool morning as I walked out to the street in a T-shirt, shorts, and flip flops this morning. Probably down near 68 or so. Brrr. I was out looking for breakfast early, about 8:30, before the crowds. Huevos Estrellados, (fried and sunny side up, yolks firm - not runny), and coffee. The coffee was barely OK so, after breakfast, I walked on to the Avenida Turistica to a coffee shop called Café Brújula for a Blueberry muffin and a Cafe Americano, una carga, con leche y azucar.

I walk enough here, several miles a day, that a good sweet muffin after a full breakfast isn't much of a problem. In my mental wanderings as I sat down to sip, I started wondering a bit about the name "Café Brújula . Well, researching it, it seems that Brújula means Compass. I let that settle into the coffee and the cunques below for a bit as I nibbled on the too sweet and very savory muffin. In the definition of the word Brújula there was also somewhat of a metaphor. "Perder la Brújula, to lose your bearings. But not meaning "to lose your compass". It makes a bit of sense, the name of the Cafe, in its suggestion that to have a morning coffee is good, "para no perder la Brújula. Coffee helps you get your bearings or maybe to keep your bearings, as you start your day.

That will be my future mantra and recurring New Years Resolution. Tomar cafe todas las mañas para no perder la Brújula!

As you can see, the caffeine has kicked in. My mind started evaluating my environment, I was waking up. I saw a couple of tourist, a couple, she ordered her coffee then went to the door and took a pic of the church, he ordered his coffee and walked to the door to take a pic of the church. Clearly they both needed their caffeine, for a lot of reasons. First of all, the sun was bearing down directly onto the doorway and the facade of the church was in the shade. They could have stepped around the corner and taken a pic from the shady side of the building and greatly improved the pic. Okay, maybe too much caffeine already.

Another customer walked up to the counter and asked for the way to the baños. Here it is in this pic, the entrance to the hallway for the baños:

Entrance to los Baños

The sliding barn door access caught my attention. One, in how it is build, another in how it saves space in the cafe. I got to thinking about the poster and the word. I think I have been to a toilet and seen that word glazed in to the porcelain "Toledo". It is a figure of speech in some places, Hey, I am going to the Toledo, ese. 

Well, here it seems that this is a local hero of sorts: Francisco Benjamín López Toledo. He is a Mexican Zapotec, a painter, sculptor, and graphic artist who worked for 70-years. He is regarded as one of Mexico's most important contemporary artists. 

Maybe because of his stature as an artist from the state of Oaxaca, we can think of his presentation in Café Brújula's door more as a new way on how to view the world as you walk back out into the world. Some days we walk through the world with blinders on. 

On a separate note, I heard our dear Darlene is retiring. We chatted a bit this morning, via text, and I mentioned that I will forever think of her as a "Sammy Girl". You have heard of Rosie the Riveter, you have seen the pic of a pic above of the Tlayuda Oaxaqueña with her bulging bicep, and maybe you have heard of the Harvey Girls from the train hotel chain in Belen, NM. Well, after Darlene's too long career with Sam Walton, I have called her a Sammy Girl. Best wishes to her on her long awaited retirement. Damn, she must have achieved that "Over 64" status. Allah Dude, all my primos are getting older. I think my oldest cousin, up in Denver, is 80ish already. I have been threatened not to talk about the one on the other side of the family. 

Martha the housekeeper has not shown up yet and it is 10:30. I am guessing her daughter went into labor last night and it will be her first. 

Already I am thinking of a grapple bucket on a tractor and have been watching too many chainsaw YouTube videos. 

So with that, I am spending my last day here in Oaxaca. Tomorrow morning I head to the Yucatan. Join me there or here for more on that part of the journey. 

Oh, did I mention? I went to see a dermatologist yesterday. Queria ver si me iva poder quitar un poquito de lo feo. Alas, she failed but it only cost me 1,000 pesos Mexanos to try, about $50. I was going on the legacy of the saying that is: "Beauty is only skin deep". Well, dermotologa or otherwise, I still have wrinkles, age spots, nariz torcido, and an itch to travel onward into the fog. Happiness is a moveable feast, a saying worth repeating. 

On to the Costa Maya...