Monday, August 24, 2009
Life in Puerto Escondido makes your heart beat a little slower. A typical day consists of three basic routines: eating, surfing, and napping. Since I don´t have a car, going anywhere takes time. Going to the Super Che, Mexico´s version of Walmart, is at least a half-day journey. Walking is my main mode of transport, but when the heat is really kickin, I hop on the pick-up, which is a truck with a blue tarp covering the bed that has benches built in. You have to get a running start when you literally hop on the pick-up because the driver doesn´t get out of second gear for you. However, for just $.30, you can get to the market and strike up a convo with some local families.
As Super Che is a wonderful place, I have been falling back on my hunter-gatherer skills for food. Spearfishing here is pretty reliable, and you can always catch red snapper and trigger fish at this little rocky beach down the way called Playa Coral. Then the neighborhood is lined with mango, lime, guayanaba, and avocado trees, so I jack fresh fruits and veggies when no one´s around. Something about being in Mexico makes me crave sweet stuff all the time, and these Mexicans, they know this. There is the most amazing assortment of delicious goodies here. They even sell little frosting packets to keep in your pockets. My numero uno is the most excellent Bubu Lubu, which is a marshmellow bar coated in strawberry jam, and then the whole thing is covered in chocolate. I try to have one after every meal.
I´ve got a little farm going back at my apartment. There´s Canella, the light brown puppy who was chilling with me at the beach, and since she was so cool, I lured her back to my apartment with a can of dog chow I bought at the mini-super. I kept her around for a few days, but had to hide her from the cleaning ladies. She ran off though, preferred a life on the streets I guess. Then there´s Don Julio de los Angeles and Maria Jose de Espirito Sancto, the demonic cats that stalk my terrace. I threw some fish to them one night, and now they pace around my front door and give me the death stare through the kitchen window. Maria J.d.E.S actually got in the apartment and tried to hide under my bed. She took a shoe to the head. Lastly, there´s Rocky Balboa, the baseball-sized spider that lives in the bathroom and guards the toilet.
I´ve made a lot of Mexican friends, got a tight little posse now. It started by meeting Julio the surf instructor, a five-foot mayan samarai with full arm sleeves of tatoos, gold-capped cannines, and a serious red vein running through his life eye. Despite his cheery disposition, he was been a great tour guide, showing me tons of sweet point breaks around the area and introducing me to all the beach lifeguards and lots of people around town. I tried Mescal (Mexico´s other national drink besides Tequilla) and it tastes like surgical tape. I don´t know why an entire nation would enjoy drinking something that tastes like a hospital.
I saw a man almost die in a car accident right in front of my face Friday. I ran over to see if he was ok, and saw him stuck inside his crushed VW Beetle, hunched over the dash board with blood streaming down his face. I was with some of my Mexican amigos, so we tried to pull him out. He was unconscious but still breathing. One of the guys knew the man, and said we had to run and tell his family. So we ran to their house, and while we were runnning, everyone was praying hail marys and crossing themselves over and over. I did an our father while everyone was at it. When we got to the house, the family had already found out and was on the way to the hospital. It´s a really small town.
I´m watching myself blend in more and more with the local population each day. My skin has gotten super dark...my teeth have never looked so white. Then I busted my nose on my board wiping out the other day, leaving a mean bump that looks kind of like the Mayan nose. The español is coming along. I enrolled in a Spanish class that meets for a few hours each week. It´s ok, but conjugating verbs outside in the heat of the day pretty much makes me want to scratch my eyes out. This week, I´m going to make some excursions to some of the towns around: Zipolite, Playa Angel, and Roca Blanca. I imagine it´s gonna be more water, more sun, and more afternoon siestas in the hammock.
*Update: A stream of pacific ocean came running out of my nose while I was sleeping, flushing out the massive bug and soaking my pillow. Yay to that.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
My First Days...mis primeros dias
Aug.16, 2009
Getting to Mexico was somewhat of an old fashioned journey, although I was traveling in a modern day jet. The problem was I had to switch planes in Cancun and then in Mexico City, get on the Mexicana Click to Puerto Escondido, the city I am staying at which is on the southwest coast of Mexico, about a five hour drive south of Acapulco. Usually switching planes in most airports isn't a problem since they move your luggage for you, and all you have to do is show up at the next terminal. There is usually even a two to three hour layover, so you have time to grab an overpriced airport snack and relieve yourself. Well, in Mexico you must do things manually. In both Cancun and Mexico City, they made me go through immigration, which now includes a swine flu check, which was the most accurate doctor's evaluation I've ever had. First, you fill out a form that asks if you're experiencing high fever, body aches, weak limbs, etc. Then after you check the boxes, you hand the form over to a man wearing a white coat and a stethescope. The man reads over your sheet then takes a look at you, noting your complexion and the crust in the corner of your eyes, and then gives you a nod to continue on. But just when you think you've passed the cool test, you have to go over and press a button to see if you get the green light, meaning proceed, or the red light, meaning you're screwed. Well, I got the green light so I must have been smelling good that day. So after that, they make you grab your luggage, leave the airport, re-enter the airport, check in at the airline desk, go through security (which I realized doesn't require you to take off your shoes as I stood there barefoot getting strange looks), and then sprint to the terminal because you have about 30 seconds before the gate doors close. I had multiple anxiety attacks that day.
From the plane leaving Mexico City, I got a good view of the monstrous place. The city is so big, it doesn't make sense. No city should be that big. It made my stomach turn thinking about going back there and taking a look around. For now, I won't think about it. Here in Puerto Escondido you don't have to think about much. You have to remember some necessary daily routines like reapplying sunblock every couple hours, taking your multivitamin, and drinking bottled water, although the free water from the tap looks so tempting. Then there's deciding what to eat for breakfast, which area to surf at, if these are clean underwear or the one's I was wearing yesterday, etc. Surfing here is difficult for me so far. The waves break fast and powerfully, and there is only about four feet of water under you. Wiping out here is like getting punched in the gut, except you can't let out that gasp of air because you are going to be underwater for at least 30 seconds. So you just have to suck it in. I did manage to get a good ride last evening, amidst a thunderstorm. It felt like the sky was yelling at you, and the water was yelling at you, yet it felt so peaceful feeling the warm water beneath me and the cold rain hitting my face.
Everyone I come across seems to speak as much English as I speak Spanish, so I've been getting by with some hardcore Spanglishing. It has been kind of hard to meet people here, since I am staying in an apartment and not a hopping hostel. I think because of my dark skin, non-natives think I'm a local and are scared I might bight. The Mexicans are very friendly with me however. One Mexican guy of Guatamalan decent named David pulled up to me on his moped and told me he was working, but maybe after work I might like to take a ride with him on his high performance street bike. He even gave me his professional card from JOX Tortas Gigantes so I could give him a call, riiiiiight. I surfed at the local's end of the beach yesterday, but no one said anything to me or told me to leave. They were funny with their use of random English words. Example: Buena ola Meng! tu eres un CAVEMAN...or a guy gets a nice ride and everyone screams...VOLCANO!...CAVEMAN! yaaaaaaa.
Hypothetical Question: So say I was running through some tall grass, and a very big bug flies up my right nostril with such force that it was able to lodge itself in that little canal from your nose to your throat. Now will it eventually die and decompose and slowly trickle down my throat? which is ok I guess, protein and all, as long as it doesn't start to reek while it's decomposing in my nose.
Observation: Although a baby donkey approaches you in a friendly sort of way, it will still try to eat your hand when you go to pet it.
Getting to Mexico was somewhat of an old fashioned journey, although I was traveling in a modern day jet. The problem was I had to switch planes in Cancun and then in Mexico City, get on the Mexicana Click to Puerto Escondido, the city I am staying at which is on the southwest coast of Mexico, about a five hour drive south of Acapulco. Usually switching planes in most airports isn't a problem since they move your luggage for you, and all you have to do is show up at the next terminal. There is usually even a two to three hour layover, so you have time to grab an overpriced airport snack and relieve yourself. Well, in Mexico you must do things manually. In both Cancun and Mexico City, they made me go through immigration, which now includes a swine flu check, which was the most accurate doctor's evaluation I've ever had. First, you fill out a form that asks if you're experiencing high fever, body aches, weak limbs, etc. Then after you check the boxes, you hand the form over to a man wearing a white coat and a stethescope. The man reads over your sheet then takes a look at you, noting your complexion and the crust in the corner of your eyes, and then gives you a nod to continue on. But just when you think you've passed the cool test, you have to go over and press a button to see if you get the green light, meaning proceed, or the red light, meaning you're screwed. Well, I got the green light so I must have been smelling good that day. So after that, they make you grab your luggage, leave the airport, re-enter the airport, check in at the airline desk, go through security (which I realized doesn't require you to take off your shoes as I stood there barefoot getting strange looks), and then sprint to the terminal because you have about 30 seconds before the gate doors close. I had multiple anxiety attacks that day.
From the plane leaving Mexico City, I got a good view of the monstrous place. The city is so big, it doesn't make sense. No city should be that big. It made my stomach turn thinking about going back there and taking a look around. For now, I won't think about it. Here in Puerto Escondido you don't have to think about much. You have to remember some necessary daily routines like reapplying sunblock every couple hours, taking your multivitamin, and drinking bottled water, although the free water from the tap looks so tempting. Then there's deciding what to eat for breakfast, which area to surf at, if these are clean underwear or the one's I was wearing yesterday, etc. Surfing here is difficult for me so far. The waves break fast and powerfully, and there is only about four feet of water under you. Wiping out here is like getting punched in the gut, except you can't let out that gasp of air because you are going to be underwater for at least 30 seconds. So you just have to suck it in. I did manage to get a good ride last evening, amidst a thunderstorm. It felt like the sky was yelling at you, and the water was yelling at you, yet it felt so peaceful feeling the warm water beneath me and the cold rain hitting my face.
Everyone I come across seems to speak as much English as I speak Spanish, so I've been getting by with some hardcore Spanglishing. It has been kind of hard to meet people here, since I am staying in an apartment and not a hopping hostel. I think because of my dark skin, non-natives think I'm a local and are scared I might bight. The Mexicans are very friendly with me however. One Mexican guy of Guatamalan decent named David pulled up to me on his moped and told me he was working, but maybe after work I might like to take a ride with him on his high performance street bike. He even gave me his professional card from JOX Tortas Gigantes so I could give him a call, riiiiiight. I surfed at the local's end of the beach yesterday, but no one said anything to me or told me to leave. They were funny with their use of random English words. Example: Buena ola Meng! tu eres un CAVEMAN...or a guy gets a nice ride and everyone screams...VOLCANO!...CAVEMAN! yaaaaaaa.
Hypothetical Question: So say I was running through some tall grass, and a very big bug flies up my right nostril with such force that it was able to lodge itself in that little canal from your nose to your throat. Now will it eventually die and decompose and slowly trickle down my throat? which is ok I guess, protein and all, as long as it doesn't start to reek while it's decomposing in my nose.
Observation: Although a baby donkey approaches you in a friendly sort of way, it will still try to eat your hand when you go to pet it.
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