Friday, December 28, 2007
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
The Distant View (Farewell Wah-ha-Kah)
The sobered, distant view, while not always the prettiest picture, usually paints a more realistic scene than the one writ while submerged in the thick of travel. Especially, for example, if I'm writing about Oaxaca as a destination that you may one day want to visit. I realize it may seem like my visit was fraught with difficulty and hostility. That simply wasn't the case. Well ... mostly not the case. There was the freakish rooftop encounter in Oaxaca city last Saturday night, but even that will get blown out of proportion if I recall it here, so I will leave it for a later, further sobered, perspective.
So the story picks up in Zipolite. Adan & I stashed our freshly laundered clothes in our room & enjoyed one last beachside meal at Lola's. The food good and cheap. As the sun fell toward the horizon, the family from St. Louis pulled into the hotel in their Land Cruisers for their nightly ritual of daiquiris and the sunset view from Lola's. They were staying at a resort in neighboring San Agustinillo but apparently the sunsets were better at Lola's, so that's where they ended each of their evenings. Unfortunately on this day Lola's did not soundtrack the sunset with any music. I'm going to miss their schizophrenic music selection. One moment they're blasting hip hop, the next it's bad '70s funk, the next it's soft piano ballads, the next it's laser beam disco beats...etc. They have their name done up in big lettering (like the HOLLYWOOD sign) and it's lit up at night. A lovely beacon for bleary-eyed hotel guests making their way back from the main village on the beach on a moonless, misty night. When the sign is turned off at 8pm, a pair of christmas lights blink on and off, a good enough beacon.
Just before the sun set, we strapped our bags, walked to the road and caught a taxi in about 4 minutes. We were headed back to Pochutla for the overnight bus connection back to Oaxaca. Dropped off at the dusty bus station in this featureless transit town, we learned the bus was sold out. We pondered the dread of a night in Pochutla for a moment before the bus agent told us to take a bus an hour south to Huatulco and catch the overnight bus there, and "executive class" bus that cost a few bucks more than First Class. So all was well. In Huatulco we dined on tacos with "cabeza" and "al pastor" (pig's brains and pork), popped a Pepto-Bismol, drank Coca-Cola, and prepared for another night of shifty, sleepless rest.
The bus system in Mexico is superior to anything I've found in other countries. Canada's and the U.S.'s disgrace of a bus system, Greyhound, pales in comparison. It's cheap, the seats recline, the buses are all new and clean. But even the best buses are a bitch to sleep on, esp. while navigating Mexico's highways, with their speed bumps every 5 miles interrupting the "magical position" you finally found against the window.
We wandered downtown Oaxaca city in the early dawn hours searching for a hotel room to crash. The hotels were either closed or too expensive or too clinical (the HI hostels) or told us to return later. We eventually settled in one of the nicest hotels of our trip, the Hotel des Cues, just 2 blocks south of the zocalo. We got a king size and a queen in a spacious room for $60. Then we crashed until 2 pm. Andrew and Adan watched the end of "The Birdcage" on TV before we set out for the open-air market. Really the entire city is a big market. All the sidewalks are crammed with booths hawking their wares (usually nail clippers, remote controls, burned copies of CDs & DVDs, cheaply made fashions, and, odd in such summery weather, Christmas decor & ornaments). We wandered the labyrinthe of the market for a couple hours. Andrew bought underwear and socks (he preferred to wash his clothes in the shower and was suffering the consequences with increasingly soiled underpants...ha! He's probably going to flip when he reads this, but dude, you really shouldn't wash your clothes while you take a shower). We bought a mid-sized duffel that was falling aparts at the seams for $8 ... a rip, but we needed it for our hammocks, bottles of mezcal, hot chocolate, rubber chickens, wooden combs, lobster magnets, candles, posters of elk scenes, and miscellaneous plants, herbs, soil samples and other highly suspect items that would easily pass through U.S. Customs due to our rosy cheeks and sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes.
Mexico is an enigma wrapped in a corporate bubblegum wrapper.
So the story picks up in Zipolite. Adan & I stashed our freshly laundered clothes in our room & enjoyed one last beachside meal at Lola's. The food good and cheap. As the sun fell toward the horizon, the family from St. Louis pulled into the hotel in their Land Cruisers for their nightly ritual of daiquiris and the sunset view from Lola's. They were staying at a resort in neighboring San Agustinillo but apparently the sunsets were better at Lola's, so that's where they ended each of their evenings. Unfortunately on this day Lola's did not soundtrack the sunset with any music. I'm going to miss their schizophrenic music selection. One moment they're blasting hip hop, the next it's bad '70s funk, the next it's soft piano ballads, the next it's laser beam disco beats...etc. They have their name done up in big lettering (like the HOLLYWOOD sign) and it's lit up at night. A lovely beacon for bleary-eyed hotel guests making their way back from the main village on the beach on a moonless, misty night. When the sign is turned off at 8pm, a pair of christmas lights blink on and off, a good enough beacon.
Just before the sun set, we strapped our bags, walked to the road and caught a taxi in about 4 minutes. We were headed back to Pochutla for the overnight bus connection back to Oaxaca. Dropped off at the dusty bus station in this featureless transit town, we learned the bus was sold out. We pondered the dread of a night in Pochutla for a moment before the bus agent told us to take a bus an hour south to Huatulco and catch the overnight bus there, and "executive class" bus that cost a few bucks more than First Class. So all was well. In Huatulco we dined on tacos with "cabeza" and "al pastor" (pig's brains and pork), popped a Pepto-Bismol, drank Coca-Cola, and prepared for another night of shifty, sleepless rest.
The bus system in Mexico is superior to anything I've found in other countries. Canada's and the U.S.'s disgrace of a bus system, Greyhound, pales in comparison. It's cheap, the seats recline, the buses are all new and clean. But even the best buses are a bitch to sleep on, esp. while navigating Mexico's highways, with their speed bumps every 5 miles interrupting the "magical position" you finally found against the window.
We wandered downtown Oaxaca city in the early dawn hours searching for a hotel room to crash. The hotels were either closed or too expensive or too clinical (the HI hostels) or told us to return later. We eventually settled in one of the nicest hotels of our trip, the Hotel des Cues, just 2 blocks south of the zocalo. We got a king size and a queen in a spacious room for $60. Then we crashed until 2 pm. Andrew and Adan watched the end of "The Birdcage" on TV before we set out for the open-air market. Really the entire city is a big market. All the sidewalks are crammed with booths hawking their wares (usually nail clippers, remote controls, burned copies of CDs & DVDs, cheaply made fashions, and, odd in such summery weather, Christmas decor & ornaments). We wandered the labyrinthe of the market for a couple hours. Andrew bought underwear and socks (he preferred to wash his clothes in the shower and was suffering the consequences with increasingly soiled underpants...ha! He's probably going to flip when he reads this, but dude, you really shouldn't wash your clothes while you take a shower). We bought a mid-sized duffel that was falling aparts at the seams for $8 ... a rip, but we needed it for our hammocks, bottles of mezcal, hot chocolate, rubber chickens, wooden combs, lobster magnets, candles, posters of elk scenes, and miscellaneous plants, herbs, soil samples and other highly suspect items that would easily pass through U.S. Customs due to our rosy cheeks and sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes.
Mexico is an enigma wrapped in a corporate bubblegum wrapper.
Monday, December 03, 2007
home
If you are receiving this email it is because you are on a group list that I have titled "home". All I do is type in "home" and this message comes to your inbox. You are my home now. I am home, now. Further details about the final chapter in my Mexican foray will be forthcoming as soon as I find a drop of time to write it. I'm swamped in work right now. Oregon is a mess of wind and rain. Arcade Fire is blasting in my earphones. I am home.
Chuck
Chuck
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
