the hidden port

fear and panic gripped us until we settled into our overnight, first class, 10 hour bus to the coast. then we relaxed. then we pulled out the cookies and milk. then we popped tylenol PMs, inserted our ear plugs, donned our face masks and tried, in agony, to get some semblance of sleep on a shaky, bumpy ride. our eyes peeled open at the cracklight of dawn to see a vibrant, lush plain of low trees and endless grasses and the occasional donkey obstacle. we pulled into Puetro Escondido (the hidden port) at around 730 am and checked out bags at Cabanas Pepe (andrew has stayed here twice before...once with amenee, once with phil) where we got a 3 bedroom with a million dollar balcony view for 25 us dollars per night. we walked up the beach in search of breakfast and witnessed the fishing boats pull onto shore D Day style as the crazy denizens swarmed in, pulling the fresh fish off the boat onto the sand, shouting offers for mackeral and these mini shark like fish. later that night we would eat these mackeral, either fried or in salsa, whole. with bone skull and all.

we found a cove where the swimming wasn´t deadly and the price of a cerveza was easy on the wallet. and kicked it. swimming in the pacific ocean. this is strange and unusual. and so very sweet. the tourists down here are mostly mexican, spanish or french. but mostly mexican. there are a handful of americans, but they stay in the tourist box and go surfing all day. in fact, we strolled the main part of town (the main street closes to vehicles after 6 pm...what a fucking good idea!) and soaked in some bad cover songs from an impromptu stage setup in the street (so far every night in mexico there has been a band or orchestra set up in the main square playing free music. also, every night we´ve been here there has been a fireworks show...however brief. I´m all for having a fireworks show at 7 pm every night to celebrate the end of the work day. Por que no?).

the nightlife here has suffered from being the low season. all the tourists are spread out thinly between the gazillion bars that no one bar has any synergy. our picture was taken from the bushes, followed by whistles, so the fear is settling in once again. the tourist police carry M16s...for use on tourists or to protect tourists we do not know. we are going to go be lazy on some beach all day today and then move on to Zipolite, a more casual, relaxed atmosphere, as if we need a place even MORE relaxed than this hidden port city.

so far, no illness has befallen us. but we did run into a 70 year old Polish guy with a big beer gut who tells us he escaped East Germany to live in Australia, where he was given a retirement pension and has been traveling for 35 years. his name is Piotr, and he is my very definition of a ´madman´. his story is inconsistent. he has nine 40 gallon jugs of water in his hotel room (just two rooms over from us). he tells us he doesn´t want to talk politics, but then proceeds to rip apart America and urges us to run for president.

but overall, we are in a good spot.

with love and fear and loathing,
Chuck

p.s. i am taking pictures with my film camera, so don´t expect any images until a few weeks after my return. maybe andrew will upload a few from his camera¿=?