The Old Man & The Sea

 The Drive

Here is the question: What makes Mexican driving the bane of my existence?

Is it the car-swallowing potholes?

Is it the signs (when there are any) that are mere suggestions?

Is it the Mexican drivers, who always manage to make 2 lanes out of one?

Is it the torturously winding roads that never seem to end and often lack modern conveniences like guard rails?

Here is the answer: None of the above. 

No, without doubt the ultimate cause of my rage and despair is the dreaded “tope” (pronounced “toe-pay” and loosely translated as “I’m gonna jar your teeth from your mouth and tear the wheels off your car”). I’m not going to get into a lengthy description here - there’s plenty of that on the Interweb. Suffice it to say that they are everywhere, they are quite often unmarked and the front edge is usually a foot high & almost vertical. 

The seldom seen warning sign. Note the angle of the car - preparing for take-off

A mini-tope. Note the height and front edge. 

But enough of that. Our drive from Oaxaca to Mazunte was fairly uneventful, bone-jarring tope encounters notwithstanding, but it was L-O-N-G and it was mountainous (see question above). It didn’t top the drive Sarah & I took from Las Pozas to Mexico City on the advice of an expert (“You gonna love it. It’s soooo scenic”. Uh-huh) but it was a close second. 

No need to explain those squiggles is there?

The Quaint Villages

This could easily turn into another of my Old Man Rants (“Ahh, you kids/tourists/greedy-ass developers/corrupt govts! Taking beautiful beaches...”), so let’s just say that the 1995 Lonely Planet Mexico book in my room says that if you want to stay in Mazunte you’ll have to go & knock on a local’s door and hope for the best, whereas we could have stayed at the Zoa Hotel, with rooms individually designed by renowned architects, for $500US a night and eaten a $200 meal at a number of local restaurants. 

Having said that, we did have a lovely time there. 

Morning in Mazunte.

San Agustinillo beach

We’re the little white building on top of the hill

Things could be worse. 

The best fish tacos I have EVER had. 

The divine source of the tacos, where, because it was run by Argentineans, I also managed to cop some alfajores - the world’s best cookie. 

So, for two days did I hypocritically and shamelessly take advantage of the very things I railed against? You bet your ass I did. Do as I say, not as I do. 

The Big City

The drive from Mazunte to Puerto Escondido is surprisingly easy and you can do it in about an hour. Once again, toss all your preconceived notions of a laid-back, undiscovered paradise out the window. The official population is 45 000, but the tourist population is probably at least double that and it ain’t pretty. Fortunately, we’ve coughed up The Big Bucks and are comfortably ensconced in a house with a/c and a pool, in Carrizalillo, an upscale neighborhood only a block from both our go-to surfing beach and a shitload of great restaurants. Amazingly, we’re also a short hop from Bacacho, a beautiful and usually deserted beach which is perfect for walking or just laying around. It’s the best of both worlds. 

“I wonder what the poor people are doing?”

“Oh really, who cares?”

Carrizalillo Beach, where we surf with the unwashed masses - and there are Oh-So-Many of them. 

Puerto Angelico & Bacacho beaches where, like Green Day, I walk alone. 

And that’s about it. We’re here for another week and plan on adopting a “When in Rome” philosophy, doing as little as humanly possible aside from staying alive. We MAY drive up or down the coast, or check out the scene at Zicatela, supposedly one of the world’s great surf spots, but I wouldn’t put money on it. This indolence thing is both appealing and easy and we wouldn’t want to “spoil the vibe, dude.” So we see. 

After that, I drive back to Oaxaca  - a 6 1/2 hour drive supposedly worse than the one here, although I don’t see how that’s possible - a COVID test, 2 days waiting for results, a 13 hour plane ride home and a $1000 hotel quarantine. I can hardly wait. 

Ruination

 A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, a brilliant teacher did a unit called “Voyage of the Mimi”on the Mayan civilization. How long ago? Well, one of the stars of the videos was a 12 year old Ben Affleck. But I digress. The salient point is that ever since, I’ve had Tulum, Coba and  Chichen Itza on my bucket list. And now The Dream has become reality and, as an added bonus, none of them was in any way a disappointment.  

I could literally drone on all day about the Mayans - their calendar, their ingenious Math system, their astronomical, artistic and architectural skills, their hieroglyphic language. But if you’re interested you can look it up yourself. I’m simply going to provide you with some eye candy. I’ll attempt to exercise restraint. 

TULUM

Deservedly more renowned for its location than its architecture. Still impressive when you consider it was built over 1500 years ago - by hand.

COBA

Poor Coba. More jungly and, in my opinion, underrated. A much more natural and less touristy site.

Tunnel through base of a pyramid. 

One wall of smaller ball court. Many rules, the most important being that the ball, which was as heavy as a brick, couldn’t touch the ground. Losing team’s captain, or occasionally entire losing team, sometimes sacrificed, providing that extra bit of motivation. 

Mayan maiden preparing to be sacrificed. 

CHICHEN ITZA

The granddaddy of them all. Everything here is super-sized and often amazingly well preserved. 

Temple of Kukulkan - feathered serpent hot shot. 

Temple of the Warriors. Each column represents a warrior & his exploits and there are literally hundreds of them. These guys loved a good battle. 

Gigantic ball court. One has to wonder how you would ever toss a ball the weight of a brick through those hoops. Perhaps the death threat helped. 

By now you get the idea. At one time the Mayans completely dominated a huge area, with a multitude of cities and a complex civilization. And you can see why.  Then a combination of  Spanish conquest, infighting and mysterious circumstances wiped them out for all intents and purposes. Ah,  progress!

CENOTES

Cenotes are water-filled sinkholes caused by limestone collapsing. They can be both above ground or totally underground and were used by the Mayans for drinking water and, of course, human sacrifices. But all that is irrelevant. The only thing you really need to know about cenotes is that it’s an unspoken but unbreakable  rule that you MUST visit at least one after each tour of a Mayan ruin, preferably in a large, obnoxious group. Consuming vast quantities of alcohol during the visit is not compulsory, but is strongly advised and under no circumstances can you make any sounds other than a piercing shriek or ululating howl. So....good times.

Fortunately, while we were engulfed in a few crowd catastrophes, we actually managed to have at least one entirely to ourselves, if only for long enough to think,”Wait. Something is really wrong here.”

 

And so much for your obligatory sightseeing. Of course we have continued to make the rounds of both Valladolid and Oaxaca, but honestly, in my opinion they’re nothing to write home about (contrary to the opinion you’ll get from most other bloggers, who rave about the quaintness and beauty, etc.) Are they nice? Yes. Are they less touristy? For sure. Would I make either my primary destination? Probably not. So our walks mainly involve Caitlin scoping out hip venues and me trailing along asking stupid questions. 

Woman on a mission

There is, however, one extremely important exception to the above somewhat “meh” evaluation. 

If you’re not a Brownie or don’t know one personally what I’m about to tell you will probably not make much sense. It’s like having kids: if you have them I don’t have to explain. If you don’t, I couldn’t possibly explain. In the past few days we have literally spent twice as much on food as we have on accommodations. I know what you’re thinking: “But surely that’s not humanly possible!” I can assure you it is. When you’re slurping down homemade pasta with Nona at Osteria Della Nona, gobbling an assortment of Oaxacan delicacies at Los Danzantes and then polishing off a six course meal at El Destilado, it’s no trouble at all. If there’s a heaven and you’re a Brownie, it’s going to closely resemble Oaxaca. 

A Brownie in her natural element

See above

BONUS  (FOR WOMEN ONLY - HONESTLY)

Because of who Caitlin and her equally fashion obsessed  sister are, she absolutely insisted we HAD to visit Coqui Coqui Coba. Basically Coqui Coqui is a renowned perfume brand, but they’ve branched out into other areas, including boutique hotels - often in unlikely locations. I swear we had to literally drive down a dirt road past hovels with junked cars to get to this place. But once you get there - OMG!

Here, see for yourselves:

Unfuckingbelievable, no? 

Only 5 rooms so make your reservation now. 

Tomorrow it’s off to Mazunte, a tiny, unspoiled (we hope) village on the Pacific coast. The 6 hour drive over the mountains is often described as “hair raising”, but not for a grizzled veteran surely. We see. 

Wish us luck & stay tuned. 

Next time: Beach Blanket Bingo

Head of a Madman

 Fine. I’ll admit I’m not wild about the horse-drawn open wagon that collects the dead every morning. Yes, having corpses wash up on the beach at sunset does somewhat kill the vibe. And, no, the stench of the nightly body-burning bonfire is not the most pleasant odour ever. But nothing’s perfect, right? And the sunshine...

Truthfully, people here are much more conscientious than I had any right to expect - young American rich kid tourists being the obvious exception - and I feel as safe here as I did at home, admittedly due to the fact that we spend almost all of our time outdoors. And what have we been doing with that time?

TULUM

I’ve done more than my share of beach towns, and I’m categorically stating that Tulum is officially The Most - the most crowded, the most expensive, the most overrun, the most (insert hideous tourist trap word here) ever. It’s a fucking nightmare - an endless road, swarming with privileged assholes, lounging on their “no public access” beach beds and paying stratospheric prices for the honor. 

Having said that, there were a few bright spots. We went “glamping”, for a reasonable $150 a night (which in Tulum is actually quite reasonable, only proving my point) and had access to our own “private” - in this case meaning the day we weren’t overrun by day trippers - cenote, complete with a resident alligator, who I met (unexpectedly I can assure you ), while paddle boarding down a narrow channel  Surprise!

Home, sweet home

A fellow sun seeker

Leaps of faith. 

Note my graceful style as opposed to Caitlin’s somewhat awkward attempt. 

But all good things must come to an end. And so, after 4 days of tranquility, we reluctantly packed our bags and headed out on The Old Archeological  Trail. 

Next time: You guessed it - Ruins, Ruins, Ruins