I'd forgotten to mention another guy who spoke English in Tehuantepec and approached us. He was a local of the town but also a bit of a traveler. He had been living and working just north (?) of Atlantic City, NJ, and in the summer was headed to Acapulco. He said he had to be wary of who he spoke English to, since one time he saw a white person in town and he greeted him with "Hi, my name's Mike, are you visiting?" and the person looked confused and said, in Spanish, "I'm sorry, I don't speak English." But we are American gringos, so he was in luck. He asked us how we liked his town, since people rarely come visit, and said, "The people here, they'll drink for anything!" Just like every weekend is a holiday weekend.
Anyway, after our final night in Tehuantepec, we awoke around 5 a.m., when it was still pitch black out, and headed towards the bus station to catch a 6:30 bus for Oaxaca City. A motocarro driver was asleep on the sidewalk beside his chariot, but woke up automatically as we approached, however quiet we were being. He gave us a lift to the bus station for a dollar (total, for the both of us, which was the same fare we paid for being driven to find food -- it must be a fixed rate though I'm not positive) and it was terrifying! The town we'd gotten to know surprisingly well during out day and two nights there was nothing at all like this sleeping 5 a.m. Tehuantepec, where no one was awake, no windows were lit, and there were few street lights. At times it seemed he may have been driving us into a field somewhere, as we could see nothing and the roads seemed so much narrower and bumpier than I'd remembered them. They were lined with sleeping dogs and the occasional street-side fire. But alas, out of that deep thundering wild darkness, speeding past fires and over speed bumps, clutching our bags and the handrail, we began to recognize buildings, signs, homes -- the place where the man who talked to us with a mouth full of food was eating, where the two boys were standing and laughing at us, the Disney mural, and finally the bus station.
The ride from Tehuantepec to Oaxaca was mainly through the desert and I don't remember much of it. We watched a couple movies and slept and stared out the window and sewed -- My favorite skirt, which I'd had since the 90's was destroyed finally in an epic crushing wave in Mazunte while we were leaning against a sand bank that hasn't been washed with water in quite a while. In the fashion of that beach, we laughed and got destroyed. So it goes, though, and it was a way to pass time. I feel like to a degree Evan and I fell in love again each time we rode the bus. It was a pretty good blend of the two of us's instincts. Economical, safe, efficient; travel, speed, movement. Not to mention the laziness of a bus ride that both of us took great advantage of, with our moving around so often and so boisterously.
In Oaxaca City we stayed at a youth hostel because it was the cheapest and they had a kitchen and single/double rooms, meaning we didn't have to share a room with anyone else. We had stopped somewhere else but it was fancy and expensive and the only room they had available was for six people. I had a hard time coming to the understanding that for purposes of timing and sensibility it wouldn't be logical for us to camp, thus squashing my dreams of pitching a tent in the middle of the Oaxacan desert forest and exploring the unurban outback. So it goes. We were in the center of town, right near a great bakery, the market, the town square, and lots of incredible street art. That was one of the coolest parts of Oaxaca City, there was so much incredible graffiti and stencil art, lots of real political and anarchist art and wheatpaste art everywhere. We only saw a few punks, but that is probably because we were staying in a hostel, and a hostel in the center of town at that. I don't go to the weird outdoor concerts with crappy musicians in Pittsburgh or Boston, so why would I expect the punks to go to the same sort of deal in Oaxaca?
We went to see the ruins one day, and on the way there, Evan stepped in this puddle of stagnant water and sewage run-off that smelt like rotten diapers that had been sitting in the sun and been kept wet with homeless bile puke and bleach. Ew. Totally ruined his shoes, but he was a trooper and stuck it out through the bus ride up to the ruins and the three hours spent there (too long!) and until we got back to the hostel, where he just threw his shoes out. They were pretty old tennis shoe sneakers anyway, not a totally huge loss, but still too bad. We also went and saw that giant tree, which was so big it put the redwoods to shame. There were some more touristy historic stuff to be seen, but Soupie was over it at this point and it's never really been something I've been interested in. It is more fun to me to figure out how to take a city bus out there and find the place than it is to actually get there, which is why taxis are a bit dumb unless you need one because there is no other public transportation.
After Oaxaca we headed to Mexico City, mainly just en route back to Acapulco to catch our planes. We were walking down the street wishing there was a place to go, when all of a sudden we heard the Buzzcocks being blasted. We followed the noise and it turned out to be an art/punk free show/party at a gallery. They watched out bags for free while we hung out and looked at art and drank a couple beers. Actually, it was this crazy concoction that included beer that is popular there, but I forget the name of it. Soupie will tell you, tell him to write a blog with all that stuff in it. That place was only interesting for so long, despite the good DJ, because I'd never been to Mexico City before and wanted to really see the city and wander around. We saw the people doing Aztec dances and rituals in the city square, and apparently they are there every night, because the region is so powerful and spiritual. We wandered some more, got some tortas which were the most delicious we'd had during either of our times in Mexico, and I got hit on by a couple of dudes until I told them I had a "nuvio." They were nice about it though and didn't press the issue. On our way back to the bus station, we bumped into Sheila from Canada, who lives at the Squat Evan was staying at for a while. A bit spacey but very nice and cool.
Back in Acapulco, we went to the beach, walked around a bit, and met a guy who gave us real good advice on where to get cheap food and how to get to the airport by bus rather than by taking a taxi. He was the one who told us that every weekend in Mexico is a holiday weekend. It bums him out, because he needs to make money. It was a moment that showed a lot of privilege on my end, because I joked that I wished every weekend in the US was a holiday weekend (I was joking because I only work 4 days a week and so every weekend really is a holiday weekend for me), but he was like, "No no! We can't make any money! The weekend goes from Friday through Tuesday sometimes! It's awful!" That the issue of money didn't even occur to me was a bit embarrassing, though there was certainly a time when I did want to work a lot more than the hours I was given. Just not now. He also explained how awful Acapulco is, how the city spends so much money on stupid things, meanwhile the roads flood every year and by just spending a little bit on better drains everyone would be much better off, the locals would be much better off. But no one cares about the locals there. Which seemed pretty true, spending a bit of time there. Man, what a shit town.
That's basically it for the trip. We took a few buses and a short taxi ride to the airport, had a ton of layovers and plane troubles, they lost our luggage in between Atlanta and Mexico City but they found it the next day. Also the next day, I found out that Evan's van had been stolen the night we got home, and that the saddest possible had happened the Thursday I was away:
RIP Matt Frado.
Punx Never Die.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Mexico III
One of the best feelings regarding travel is the moment you find a place to put your things, and then leave them there, and step out into this new dimension that cannot be conceived during the worst part of travel: carrying 30 lbs on your back and trying unsuccessfully to remain somewhat incognito or at least out of people's way (neither are possible with a giant pack, or even a small one such as mine, since I travel light to compensate for my clumsiness). So off Evan and I went, into the dark of Tehuantepec, to eat their food and mingle with their locals in a manner a step beyond "Where is the closest place to stay? Can you say that slower please, I only pretend to speak Spanish." We stopped by a juice stand, as Mexico is full of juice stands where they make freshly squeezed juice, and I got a large glass of orange juice (about 4 or 5 oranges worth) for $1.50. The guy's name was Roberto, and he had been studying English for about 5 years and was dying to talk to a native English speaker, since he never meets them (Tehuantepec is not a tourist town by any means). This didn't really help our Spanish much, but really my Spanish needs more than just a conversation with the dude pressing my juice. He gave us the low-down on the city, told us where the bars are and where the outdoor marcado suddenly appears in the morning, full of chickens and tortas and slabs of beef and piniatas, and told us about the motocarros, which are essentially pedicaps pulled by motorcycles. And instead of a nice little carriage in which to sit while going to your nice restaurant, you are standing on a platform with a railing in the front, while zooming in and out and around traffic. More on our experiences with those later.
After a bit of walking and exploring, we called it a night. And in the morning, it was already about 90 degrees. WOAH! And it was my birthday. We went out for an early morning walk and may or may not have gotten breakfast, neither of us had appetites this entire trip, really. Later we got a couple small pizzas with pineapple on them that were absolutely horrible. Well, they were sub par. Apparently Soupie's had good pizza in Mexico, and this was well below the standards that had set. But regardless, that was laterl In the meantime, we walked around a bit. There was this blue-ish tunnel we could see from our hotel window, where a road headed straight for it, then turned into a dirt road, then a windy/zig-zaggy dirt road, then by the top it sort of disappeared, like no one ever really made it that high. It also looked like people were trying to make a road, and lost momentum as they went further up until finally they just said "Fuck it" and blew a tunnel into the top of the very tall hill. Not quite a mountain, but almost. In our wandering, we thoughtlessly found ourselves heading up there. Maybe Soupie knew what to do that whole time, but to me it felt like wandering, checking out the other side of town.
We walked along these railroad tracks suspended over a probably 50 foot or so drop. It was rickety but not bad. We saw a woman herding goats with a stick that had strips of trash bag tied to the end of it, sort of like a larger version of what is used to shoe the flies off meat at the market. It was pretty epic to see, as nothing is ever really herded where I come from, except maybe high school graduates into college, and college graduates into shitty middle management positions in offices, and don't forget the homeless people in New York who were herded first to New Jersey and then to the South. Not really ever animals though, especially animals that are used for sustainable living. So we watched them move along as we crossed the tracks. On the other side, when we eventually made it, turned out we had to scoot ourselves down this short but steep descent that happened to be full of syringes and other such party accessories. Apparently Mexico has a lot of diabetics (and, from the amount of glue bags we saw, a good amount of artists and craft workers as well). We made it unharmed (p.s. I had a gaping wound on my left big toe from stubbing on a log in the dark on the beach in Mazunte, and was wearing sandals, and Evan was sure I'd get something stuck in there, though the sand that had hardened into the wound assured me that nothing would be able to penetrate and I was completely out of harms way) and walked across a long, hot valley where men led donkeys packed with goods, or worked on their broken down wagons. It felt timeless, or from a time not mine, and I felt incredibly out of place but not uncomfortable. Lining the valley were small farms and gardens full of greenery, vegetables, roosters, and the occasional boy lying in a hammock for a siesta as the afternoon heat began to kick in.
On the far end, we hit the town and emerged into the streets, which were covered in graffiti and littered with tiendas with video arcades, hammocks, and lots of fans, that seemed to only sell one or two candybars and a couple sodas each, just enough to have a reason to stay open. We wandered in and out, drinking water and purposefully not complaining about the heat. We cut through a few people's yards, asking permission of the one older man who was out, and saw a few pigs scattered about, grazing on grass in the shade. There was a church that had all the stations of the cross designed into its architecture in this unique way, where I did not personally see any statues, paintings, etc to describe the stations, but the flow of the church came to specific halting points that were angled in specific directions to indicate such a pattern. The feng shui of Christ. Past the church we saw the road that struggled up the hill with the tunnel.
As we headed up the road, as we passed the last house, there was a mother dog and her litter, all starving, and the runt kicked out of the pack to die alone. The ones rest of the litter took turns trying to nurse off the starving, dehydrated mother while she laid and panted in the dust. "Let it go, Sweetheart, it's just Mother Nature," Evan said as we walked past on our way up, noticing the look of terror on my face. They made terrorizing whelping noises we could hear all the way up the hill.
As we headed further along, towards the tunnel, the road got steeper and steeper, until we needed to use our hands to climb and it was apparent that this was no tunnel for cars trying to make it to the other side, and probably not even burros with heavy packs. When we reached the top, we saw the tunnel was actually cave. And the cave was actually a Shrine to St. Michael, the saint my grandmother always told me to pray to when things were going wrong in my life. We sat in the cool of the cave and listened to the bats flutter sleepily in the tiny holes around the back of the tunnel and drank more water and wiped the sweat that dripped from our bodies. The view was incredible, though I'm becoming less and less one for views. It's just looking at a place we are not a part of, or a civilization we're not taking part in. What's the point? Though here in the cool shrine, it made more sense. The reflective didn't seem any more inclusive, but it did seem a bit less intrusive and perhaps slightly more purposeful. Less weird, more poetic. We stayed, dripping and listening to the whelping dying pups, until we saw another group of people ascending the climb. As atheists, I feel wrong being in someone else's religious environment – it's very intrusive. When I was in high school my dad tried to convince me to get Confirmed in the Catholic church, and his reasoning when he realized my atheistic tendencies were agnostic at best and angry at worst, was that at least I would get money from my relatives. It seemed weasely, taking money from people on the guise of faith. I may not have to much faith in the Catholic Church as an organization, but I certainly have faith in some things in this world, like the love I share with Evan and that everything will eventually work out because they have to, and that I'll make it out alive, and I wouldn't want anyone to cash in on that. I don't like seeing corporate punk bands, and while that in itself is an insulting comparison, I wouldn't want to be the corporate punk band hanging out in the local underground club when the kids showed up to see their friends' bands play. So we descended and crossed the family on the road – three men and a little girl on one of their shoulders. We said hello and they asked if we were up there, we said yes and they all smiled genuinely and sincerely.
It was too hot when we got to the bottom, so I went to the hotel room and took a cold shower (that was actually a hot shower since the water tank was so hot from the sun and could not cool itself) and laid on the bed and napped a bit while Soupie went out and got a piñata for my birthday. He came and got me and put a bandana over my eyes and we walked slowly down the five flights of stairs. He'd gotten permission from the hotel staff to hang it up, and they were all waiting for me when I came down, singing Happy Birthday and another song I had never heard before, that sounded happy and good-spirited and nice, probably a special song for piñatas. I suck at piñatas. I missed it a bunch, and then cracked it practically in half, still not spilling out any candy. I tried to tear at it with the stick, while the hotel's live-in family/owners sang that cheerful song and giggled. I finally gave up and opened my eyes to my failure, then shook some of the candy out for the little girl of the hotel to come pick up. (Yes, I also ran around afterwards picking it up).
After the piñata was the jaunt out into the streets to find food and then a bar. After taking one motocarro ride in search of food that dropped us off at a few street vendors selling beef tacos and skull meat (literally), and then stopping by a restautant that was incredibly overpriced (Tehuantepec, for having zero tourism, have an incredibly firm economy that supported itself with it's markets, agriculture, crafts, stands set up full of all the hip digs of the times, and also their own The rest of the night was spent wandering more and taking multiple showers in an attempt to keep cool.
After a bit of walking and exploring, we called it a night. And in the morning, it was already about 90 degrees. WOAH! And it was my birthday. We went out for an early morning walk and may or may not have gotten breakfast, neither of us had appetites this entire trip, really. Later we got a couple small pizzas with pineapple on them that were absolutely horrible. Well, they were sub par. Apparently Soupie's had good pizza in Mexico, and this was well below the standards that had set. But regardless, that was laterl In the meantime, we walked around a bit. There was this blue-ish tunnel we could see from our hotel window, where a road headed straight for it, then turned into a dirt road, then a windy/zig-zaggy dirt road, then by the top it sort of disappeared, like no one ever really made it that high. It also looked like people were trying to make a road, and lost momentum as they went further up until finally they just said "Fuck it" and blew a tunnel into the top of the very tall hill. Not quite a mountain, but almost. In our wandering, we thoughtlessly found ourselves heading up there. Maybe Soupie knew what to do that whole time, but to me it felt like wandering, checking out the other side of town.
We walked along these railroad tracks suspended over a probably 50 foot or so drop. It was rickety but not bad. We saw a woman herding goats with a stick that had strips of trash bag tied to the end of it, sort of like a larger version of what is used to shoe the flies off meat at the market. It was pretty epic to see, as nothing is ever really herded where I come from, except maybe high school graduates into college, and college graduates into shitty middle management positions in offices, and don't forget the homeless people in New York who were herded first to New Jersey and then to the South. Not really ever animals though, especially animals that are used for sustainable living. So we watched them move along as we crossed the tracks. On the other side, when we eventually made it, turned out we had to scoot ourselves down this short but steep descent that happened to be full of syringes and other such party accessories. Apparently Mexico has a lot of diabetics (and, from the amount of glue bags we saw, a good amount of artists and craft workers as well). We made it unharmed (p.s. I had a gaping wound on my left big toe from stubbing on a log in the dark on the beach in Mazunte, and was wearing sandals, and Evan was sure I'd get something stuck in there, though the sand that had hardened into the wound assured me that nothing would be able to penetrate and I was completely out of harms way) and walked across a long, hot valley where men led donkeys packed with goods, or worked on their broken down wagons. It felt timeless, or from a time not mine, and I felt incredibly out of place but not uncomfortable. Lining the valley were small farms and gardens full of greenery, vegetables, roosters, and the occasional boy lying in a hammock for a siesta as the afternoon heat began to kick in.
On the far end, we hit the town and emerged into the streets, which were covered in graffiti and littered with tiendas with video arcades, hammocks, and lots of fans, that seemed to only sell one or two candybars and a couple sodas each, just enough to have a reason to stay open. We wandered in and out, drinking water and purposefully not complaining about the heat. We cut through a few people's yards, asking permission of the one older man who was out, and saw a few pigs scattered about, grazing on grass in the shade. There was a church that had all the stations of the cross designed into its architecture in this unique way, where I did not personally see any statues, paintings, etc to describe the stations, but the flow of the church came to specific halting points that were angled in specific directions to indicate such a pattern. The feng shui of Christ. Past the church we saw the road that struggled up the hill with the tunnel.
As we headed up the road, as we passed the last house, there was a mother dog and her litter, all starving, and the runt kicked out of the pack to die alone. The ones rest of the litter took turns trying to nurse off the starving, dehydrated mother while she laid and panted in the dust. "Let it go, Sweetheart, it's just Mother Nature," Evan said as we walked past on our way up, noticing the look of terror on my face. They made terrorizing whelping noises we could hear all the way up the hill.
As we headed further along, towards the tunnel, the road got steeper and steeper, until we needed to use our hands to climb and it was apparent that this was no tunnel for cars trying to make it to the other side, and probably not even burros with heavy packs. When we reached the top, we saw the tunnel was actually cave. And the cave was actually a Shrine to St. Michael, the saint my grandmother always told me to pray to when things were going wrong in my life. We sat in the cool of the cave and listened to the bats flutter sleepily in the tiny holes around the back of the tunnel and drank more water and wiped the sweat that dripped from our bodies. The view was incredible, though I'm becoming less and less one for views. It's just looking at a place we are not a part of, or a civilization we're not taking part in. What's the point? Though here in the cool shrine, it made more sense. The reflective didn't seem any more inclusive, but it did seem a bit less intrusive and perhaps slightly more purposeful. Less weird, more poetic. We stayed, dripping and listening to the whelping dying pups, until we saw another group of people ascending the climb. As atheists, I feel wrong being in someone else's religious environment – it's very intrusive. When I was in high school my dad tried to convince me to get Confirmed in the Catholic church, and his reasoning when he realized my atheistic tendencies were agnostic at best and angry at worst, was that at least I would get money from my relatives. It seemed weasely, taking money from people on the guise of faith. I may not have to much faith in the Catholic Church as an organization, but I certainly have faith in some things in this world, like the love I share with Evan and that everything will eventually work out because they have to, and that I'll make it out alive, and I wouldn't want anyone to cash in on that. I don't like seeing corporate punk bands, and while that in itself is an insulting comparison, I wouldn't want to be the corporate punk band hanging out in the local underground club when the kids showed up to see their friends' bands play. So we descended and crossed the family on the road – three men and a little girl on one of their shoulders. We said hello and they asked if we were up there, we said yes and they all smiled genuinely and sincerely.
It was too hot when we got to the bottom, so I went to the hotel room and took a cold shower (that was actually a hot shower since the water tank was so hot from the sun and could not cool itself) and laid on the bed and napped a bit while Soupie went out and got a piñata for my birthday. He came and got me and put a bandana over my eyes and we walked slowly down the five flights of stairs. He'd gotten permission from the hotel staff to hang it up, and they were all waiting for me when I came down, singing Happy Birthday and another song I had never heard before, that sounded happy and good-spirited and nice, probably a special song for piñatas. I suck at piñatas. I missed it a bunch, and then cracked it practically in half, still not spilling out any candy. I tried to tear at it with the stick, while the hotel's live-in family/owners sang that cheerful song and giggled. I finally gave up and opened my eyes to my failure, then shook some of the candy out for the little girl of the hotel to come pick up. (Yes, I also ran around afterwards picking it up).
After the piñata was the jaunt out into the streets to find food and then a bar. After taking one motocarro ride in search of food that dropped us off at a few street vendors selling beef tacos and skull meat (literally), and then stopping by a restautant that was incredibly overpriced (Tehuantepec, for having zero tourism, have an incredibly firm economy that supported itself with it's markets, agriculture, crafts, stands set up full of all the hip digs of the times, and also their own The rest of the night was spent wandering more and taking multiple showers in an attempt to keep cool.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Mexico II
Climbing up it got real hot and steep, and I turned around too soon and caught the view right as Evan was saying, "Don't turn around yet you'll ruin it!" Oops. But still the top was worth it. It reminded me a bit of New Mexico, certain parts of New Mexico, certain views. How the houses fix into the landscape, everything is subtle despite the reality of the heat, the harshness of cactus pins, life in general. The family was away searching for Ines, the other sister, in Oaxaca City, because she'd gone there a few weeks back and never returned. When we got down from the hill, though, there she was in the house, fresh off the bus and smiling. She'd gotten engaged while Evan was gone, and we went over to her fiance's house across the street, a place Evan said he'd always known as the garage that played extremely loud music, since there was a garage out front, to say hello. He makes hammocks for a living and had a few weaves going when we stopped by. He picked up a good looking mango from the ground and sliced it up for us and offered us a seat on his hammock that was hanging in the shade. He was very friendly, with a healthy gut and a nice smile, and we talked (mainly him and Soupie, and I interjected with a little Spanish here and there) about surfing, skateboarding, tattoos -- he showed us some of his tattoos, including a MASSIVE marijuana leaf, I think it was on his arm. After a bit of chitchat and an incredibly juicysweet mango, we headed off to catch a collectivo (like a minibus for the smaller neighborhoods) back into town to head southwest.
More beautiful scenery, I can't say much about it except there was a lot of Evan sleeping on the bus while I had the shades pulled back on the windows on both sides of the bus behind him and just ran back and forth seeing which view was better, holy cow, this can be said for most bus rides, eyes wide as a whale's mouth, taking in anything I could to filter later.
Mazunte, a little beach town up the elbow of Mexico, is a tropical paradise. When we got off the bus, there was no bus stop, just a little tienda on the side of the road and a taxi that quickly picked us up and took us to the beach. We asked him about camping and he took us to his friend who is building a big 3 story concrete house. He said we could hang hammocks there for $10 (or $15) each, which seemed outrageous. The view was great, it's true, but there was concrete dust everywhere, paint cans, building tools, etc. So we said we wanted to walk around town a bit and found a hostel type place that let us throw up a tent for $7 total, and we had use of showers, bathrooms, and the security of being under someone else's watchful eye. I personally just kept my stuff on me all the time, as per what I'm used to, but Evan gave his stuff to the people in charge. It is still a bit weird for me to pay money to put a tent up on a beach when it is just a beach, but it's because I have no real sense of things, hence perhaps the nickname "Mistake." But anyway, Tropical Paradise. There were a few people on the beach, literally. A few bars with thatched roofs stretching casually into the sand, and the waves crashing chaotically about, no real pattern or sense of tidal obligation. Past those few bars there was nobody, nothing. Just Evan and I, a house tucked way up high above the beach, on a hill, and the silhouettes of those few by the bars near our hostel. We went swimming even though the water was dangerous. We were soaked anyway due to the waves and the tide's unpredictability. It was fun. We got tossed around. We didn't drown. Moments like this I am reminded of that quote by Joseph Conrad, in The Secret Sharer: "Let them think what they liked, but I didn't mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank -- but that's not the same thing." One morning Evan and I went swimming on the more populated side, it was early, before anyone was really awake, and he picked me up in the waves. I have being picked up, but in the water's boyancy I don't mind so much so I let him. But then that damn tide sucked away and I was up in the air, and he didn't put me down in time and a new wave came and I got sucked out of his arms, hit my head on the ground, on something on the ground, banged up my knee, came up disoriented and strange, so we packed up and walked along the sand for a wild, walked around town and saw all the small sights of smalltown anywhere, the roosters wandering about, the goats and burros, tiendas everywhere there are so many tiendas in Mexico!
We packed up the tent and headed to Pochutla, a small bustling town with a big marcado (market area with lots of tables etc. selling all sorts of things, small restaurants, etc.), Tortas and banana liquados (like a fresh banana milkshake sorta), an old colonial spanish style church with a view overlooking the city. One cool thing about Mexico, at least southern Mexico, is that wall space and store fronts are used as billboards, so a lot of times we would be walking, and this was very prominent in Pochutla because it lined all the streets as well, and there would be names of political nominees currently running for position, or announcements for concerts or events coming up. A very efficient use of space and material.
Anyway, from Pochutla we headed to Tehuantepec. I loved this town. We arrived at night and it was very warm but it felt nice. As we walked towards city center, we tried to talk to a man who was eating. He had called out to us but then turned out to be not much help, he kept on mumbling through his food and our Spanish is already pretty bad so it was hard for us to understand and he wouldn't try to enunciate or anything, just kept on speaking through his food. Not the greatest start. But there were these two kids who were watching the whole interaction and giggling and I looked at them and smiled. When we left mumbly dude, they kept following us, making hissing noises. We ignored them at first, then they started calling out, "Americanos! Hey Americanos!" When we finally turned around we saw two very friendly gay teenage boys, one who spoke a bit of English and one who didn't speak a word of it. "Tell me a question to ask them!" the one would say, "what should I say to them?" The one who didn't speak any English just smiled and they giggled and the one who spoke English asked us where we were from in America. "Pittsburgh, in Pennsylvania," we replied. "Oh! With the Steel." He turned to his friend and they giggled some more and the thin one with no English twisted shyly. "Could you tell us how to get to the center of town? Or where a hotel might be?" He gave us directions in a mixture of Spanish and English, then we chit-chatted a bit before we ran off to find a place to put our bags for the night. We had to ask a few more people, all of whom were surprised to see us but very friendly and helpful in giving us directions on where to go and how to get there. We ended up at Hotel Oasis, a nice place for only $18 total per night. We put down our stuff, rested a moment, then headed out into the street to meet people and see this town with no tourism.
To be continued....
More beautiful scenery, I can't say much about it except there was a lot of Evan sleeping on the bus while I had the shades pulled back on the windows on both sides of the bus behind him and just ran back and forth seeing which view was better, holy cow, this can be said for most bus rides, eyes wide as a whale's mouth, taking in anything I could to filter later.
Mazunte, a little beach town up the elbow of Mexico, is a tropical paradise. When we got off the bus, there was no bus stop, just a little tienda on the side of the road and a taxi that quickly picked us up and took us to the beach. We asked him about camping and he took us to his friend who is building a big 3 story concrete house. He said we could hang hammocks there for $10 (or $15) each, which seemed outrageous. The view was great, it's true, but there was concrete dust everywhere, paint cans, building tools, etc. So we said we wanted to walk around town a bit and found a hostel type place that let us throw up a tent for $7 total, and we had use of showers, bathrooms, and the security of being under someone else's watchful eye. I personally just kept my stuff on me all the time, as per what I'm used to, but Evan gave his stuff to the people in charge. It is still a bit weird for me to pay money to put a tent up on a beach when it is just a beach, but it's because I have no real sense of things, hence perhaps the nickname "Mistake." But anyway, Tropical Paradise. There were a few people on the beach, literally. A few bars with thatched roofs stretching casually into the sand, and the waves crashing chaotically about, no real pattern or sense of tidal obligation. Past those few bars there was nobody, nothing. Just Evan and I, a house tucked way up high above the beach, on a hill, and the silhouettes of those few by the bars near our hostel. We went swimming even though the water was dangerous. We were soaked anyway due to the waves and the tide's unpredictability. It was fun. We got tossed around. We didn't drown. Moments like this I am reminded of that quote by Joseph Conrad, in The Secret Sharer: "Let them think what they liked, but I didn't mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank -- but that's not the same thing." One morning Evan and I went swimming on the more populated side, it was early, before anyone was really awake, and he picked me up in the waves. I have being picked up, but in the water's boyancy I don't mind so much so I let him. But then that damn tide sucked away and I was up in the air, and he didn't put me down in time and a new wave came and I got sucked out of his arms, hit my head on the ground, on something on the ground, banged up my knee, came up disoriented and strange, so we packed up and walked along the sand for a wild, walked around town and saw all the small sights of smalltown anywhere, the roosters wandering about, the goats and burros, tiendas everywhere there are so many tiendas in Mexico!
We packed up the tent and headed to Pochutla, a small bustling town with a big marcado (market area with lots of tables etc. selling all sorts of things, small restaurants, etc.), Tortas and banana liquados (like a fresh banana milkshake sorta), an old colonial spanish style church with a view overlooking the city. One cool thing about Mexico, at least southern Mexico, is that wall space and store fronts are used as billboards, so a lot of times we would be walking, and this was very prominent in Pochutla because it lined all the streets as well, and there would be names of political nominees currently running for position, or announcements for concerts or events coming up. A very efficient use of space and material.
Anyway, from Pochutla we headed to Tehuantepec. I loved this town. We arrived at night and it was very warm but it felt nice. As we walked towards city center, we tried to talk to a man who was eating. He had called out to us but then turned out to be not much help, he kept on mumbling through his food and our Spanish is already pretty bad so it was hard for us to understand and he wouldn't try to enunciate or anything, just kept on speaking through his food. Not the greatest start. But there were these two kids who were watching the whole interaction and giggling and I looked at them and smiled. When we left mumbly dude, they kept following us, making hissing noises. We ignored them at first, then they started calling out, "Americanos! Hey Americanos!" When we finally turned around we saw two very friendly gay teenage boys, one who spoke a bit of English and one who didn't speak a word of it. "Tell me a question to ask them!" the one would say, "what should I say to them?" The one who didn't speak any English just smiled and they giggled and the one who spoke English asked us where we were from in America. "Pittsburgh, in Pennsylvania," we replied. "Oh! With the Steel." He turned to his friend and they giggled some more and the thin one with no English twisted shyly. "Could you tell us how to get to the center of town? Or where a hotel might be?" He gave us directions in a mixture of Spanish and English, then we chit-chatted a bit before we ran off to find a place to put our bags for the night. We had to ask a few more people, all of whom were surprised to see us but very friendly and helpful in giving us directions on where to go and how to get there. We ended up at Hotel Oasis, a nice place for only $18 total per night. We put down our stuff, rested a moment, then headed out into the street to meet people and see this town with no tourism.
To be continued....
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Mexico
I don't know how much I will be able to get out about this trip now. It may have to be done in blog stages. This past week has been a bit of a blur, with untimely and tragic the death of Frado and with the theft of Evan's van, so memories of Mexico are a bit hard for me. Evan tried brainstorming me about it the other day though on the way to his mom's house, and it helped a bit. I suppose I will start at the beginning.
Before leaving, I got held up 45 minutes at work, I tried to print out essays and poems for a contest whose deadline was that day, May 1st, but my printer was out of ink. I finally left to pick up Leanne, because I said I would because I was going to be heading in that direction anyway, thinking I would have to go to the Bloomfield post office to drop off the entries. But, as I searched for my keys to get going, after nearly and hour of tearing the house apart, I realized I'd locked them in the car a few nights ago when Ted called me right as I was parking with a car load of groceries and a dog who was not tired despite his 2 hours at the dog park. So Leanne rode over on her bike to meet me while Colleen made vegan pizza as a going away/birthday present, and we all waited for AAA to come break into my car. When we got in, I ran a few errands and took MJ to Mayhew's for babysitting and was so sad to leave him after a solid 6 months of just him and me. Came home, packed, try to get my life somewhat in order, slept for 2 hours and then it was time to pick up Leanne to go to the airport so she could drive my car back.
Airport garbage, I had a 7 hour layover in Mexico City. Funny story. Evan was in Mexico City for the past week, but had to take a 5 hour bus ride, while totally pukey sick, to meet me because if I were to just get off in Mexico City and leave the airport, I'd forfeit my return ticket. If I told them I was getting out in Mexico City, I'd have to pay $300. Bullshit. So it was 7 hours alone in the airport for me, 5 hours sick on a bus for him.
We met in Acapulco, he grabbed us a taxi and we were in traffic for over an hour and a half. Every weekend is a holiday weekend. As someone from Tehuantapec later joked with us, "these people will drink for anything." The cabbie tried to get more tip money from Evan because of the long drive but at this point he'd been in Mexico long enough to know that cabbies are the highest paid of most communities, and that they will rip off tourists/white people whenever possible. So we just whisked off into the Acapulco night, the deep alleys of faded discarded tourism, and a mystic feeling that comes with windy narrow streets lined with stubby buildings and closed down markets. Teenagers loitered on stoops talking the local gossip, making plans for the late evening. We passed into the open halls of the hotel where Evan had rented a room for the night, and were lulled to sleep by the city's last gurgles.
In the morning we ran about gathering food for breakfast and the the upcoming 8 hour busride to Puerto Escondido. The thing to know about Southern Mexico is that just about all American prejudices against Mexico are false, as far as I know about both Mexican culture and American prejudice. All the food we ate all trip was fresh, starting this very morning at the bakery where we picked up loaves still warm from the oven, plus a few pastries to give us a quick delicious sugar rush to start the day. Next we stopped at at a tienda (like a corner store, bodega, etc.) to get Soupie's Coca Cola fix which he'd acquired in Mexico, due to the deliciously smooth sugar they use instead of the American high-fructose corn syrup.
A close call with a speeding car, a bit of wandering, and 2 city buses later, we are at the bus stop, in the bus, and headed south to the coast, through small towns and villages and past shacks held together by hammocks, grazing burros, small tiendas, gushing valleys, palm trees and cacti, short flashes glimpses of coast, the heat steaming off the highway, all studded with speed bumps every so often. In the US this would be insane, speed bumps on a highway, but here where there are no street lights, and not much life except for scattered houses, tiendas, mechanic shops, and herds of cattle etc., a person could easily kill something, or drive off the road, on these quick windy speedways.
Finally in Puerto Escondido I could tell Evan felt at home in the place he'd first gotten acclimated to Mexican life, and we weaved easily through the streets as the city became more populated, finally making it down to the beach. I wanted to camp, always wanting to camp, but he didn't trust it much and opted for staying at the hostel he'd stayed at after living with the Romero family for a week. They were full and we came to agreement at the modest surfer hostel down the road, mattresses on concrete blocks for $5 per night, showers, toilets and the peace of mind that our stuff was getting looked after. We freshened up and laid our stuff out, then set out to buy groceries, find a cheap torta (a recurring sandwich on our trip, always made slightly differently, typically with mayo, egg, queseo [a oaxacan cheese that is very salty and stringy, slightly like mozzarella, though i hate mozz and love queseo], tomato, avocado, maybe lettuce and/or onion), and then head to the beach to watch the midnight waves crashing.
In the morning we went swimming at the surfer's beach, walked along the shore and up a crag pooled with tide, rejected teenage lovers, couples giving each other the googly eyes. I picked shells and waded with some small fish, then we headed to the top and we walked through town and eventually made it back to our room for a siesta. The second half of the day was about the same, only it included an 80-cent cone of homemade (like, that day) coconut icecream and swimming in my underwear under night's thick warm sheet. The next day was about the same, more wandering, swimming, exploring, a pina colada at the beach, and then we headed to the Romero family's house in Independencia, right outside Puerto Escondido. Only one of the sisters was home of the whole family, so we played with their pups for a bit and then hiked up this big hill that overlooks the town and the valley....
to be continued...
Before leaving, I got held up 45 minutes at work, I tried to print out essays and poems for a contest whose deadline was that day, May 1st, but my printer was out of ink. I finally left to pick up Leanne, because I said I would because I was going to be heading in that direction anyway, thinking I would have to go to the Bloomfield post office to drop off the entries. But, as I searched for my keys to get going, after nearly and hour of tearing the house apart, I realized I'd locked them in the car a few nights ago when Ted called me right as I was parking with a car load of groceries and a dog who was not tired despite his 2 hours at the dog park. So Leanne rode over on her bike to meet me while Colleen made vegan pizza as a going away/birthday present, and we all waited for AAA to come break into my car. When we got in, I ran a few errands and took MJ to Mayhew's for babysitting and was so sad to leave him after a solid 6 months of just him and me. Came home, packed, try to get my life somewhat in order, slept for 2 hours and then it was time to pick up Leanne to go to the airport so she could drive my car back.
Airport garbage, I had a 7 hour layover in Mexico City. Funny story. Evan was in Mexico City for the past week, but had to take a 5 hour bus ride, while totally pukey sick, to meet me because if I were to just get off in Mexico City and leave the airport, I'd forfeit my return ticket. If I told them I was getting out in Mexico City, I'd have to pay $300. Bullshit. So it was 7 hours alone in the airport for me, 5 hours sick on a bus for him.
We met in Acapulco, he grabbed us a taxi and we were in traffic for over an hour and a half. Every weekend is a holiday weekend. As someone from Tehuantapec later joked with us, "these people will drink for anything." The cabbie tried to get more tip money from Evan because of the long drive but at this point he'd been in Mexico long enough to know that cabbies are the highest paid of most communities, and that they will rip off tourists/white people whenever possible. So we just whisked off into the Acapulco night, the deep alleys of faded discarded tourism, and a mystic feeling that comes with windy narrow streets lined with stubby buildings and closed down markets. Teenagers loitered on stoops talking the local gossip, making plans for the late evening. We passed into the open halls of the hotel where Evan had rented a room for the night, and were lulled to sleep by the city's last gurgles.
In the morning we ran about gathering food for breakfast and the the upcoming 8 hour busride to Puerto Escondido. The thing to know about Southern Mexico is that just about all American prejudices against Mexico are false, as far as I know about both Mexican culture and American prejudice. All the food we ate all trip was fresh, starting this very morning at the bakery where we picked up loaves still warm from the oven, plus a few pastries to give us a quick delicious sugar rush to start the day. Next we stopped at at a tienda (like a corner store, bodega, etc.) to get Soupie's Coca Cola fix which he'd acquired in Mexico, due to the deliciously smooth sugar they use instead of the American high-fructose corn syrup.
A close call with a speeding car, a bit of wandering, and 2 city buses later, we are at the bus stop, in the bus, and headed south to the coast, through small towns and villages and past shacks held together by hammocks, grazing burros, small tiendas, gushing valleys, palm trees and cacti, short flashes glimpses of coast, the heat steaming off the highway, all studded with speed bumps every so often. In the US this would be insane, speed bumps on a highway, but here where there are no street lights, and not much life except for scattered houses, tiendas, mechanic shops, and herds of cattle etc., a person could easily kill something, or drive off the road, on these quick windy speedways.
Finally in Puerto Escondido I could tell Evan felt at home in the place he'd first gotten acclimated to Mexican life, and we weaved easily through the streets as the city became more populated, finally making it down to the beach. I wanted to camp, always wanting to camp, but he didn't trust it much and opted for staying at the hostel he'd stayed at after living with the Romero family for a week. They were full and we came to agreement at the modest surfer hostel down the road, mattresses on concrete blocks for $5 per night, showers, toilets and the peace of mind that our stuff was getting looked after. We freshened up and laid our stuff out, then set out to buy groceries, find a cheap torta (a recurring sandwich on our trip, always made slightly differently, typically with mayo, egg, queseo [a oaxacan cheese that is very salty and stringy, slightly like mozzarella, though i hate mozz and love queseo], tomato, avocado, maybe lettuce and/or onion), and then head to the beach to watch the midnight waves crashing.
In the morning we went swimming at the surfer's beach, walked along the shore and up a crag pooled with tide, rejected teenage lovers, couples giving each other the googly eyes. I picked shells and waded with some small fish, then we headed to the top and we walked through town and eventually made it back to our room for a siesta. The second half of the day was about the same, only it included an 80-cent cone of homemade (like, that day) coconut icecream and swimming in my underwear under night's thick warm sheet. The next day was about the same, more wandering, swimming, exploring, a pina colada at the beach, and then we headed to the Romero family's house in Independencia, right outside Puerto Escondido. Only one of the sisters was home of the whole family, so we played with their pups for a bit and then hiked up this big hill that overlooks the town and the valley....
to be continued...
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