29/10/08
I recently got back from a couple of days on the Oaxacan coast, which is supposedly where the beach scenes from 'Y tu mama tambien' were shot and while we were there we discovered how remote and deserted a beach could be.
It's a six hour turbulent bus ride from Oaxaca over the coastal mountain range to the town of Pochutla. The road snakes like spaghetti strewn over a baby's bib and coupled with a diver intent on breaking his personal best time, it left all occupants and luggage sliding around like marbles on a skate board. However on the occasions I found my face pressed against the glass, I did get to take in the incredible scenery. At the highest points lush green mountain caps gasped for breath above the white water of cloud as the sun was slowly extinguhised. From Pochutla we shared a cab with a wild eyed Mexican who at the top a his voice kept making what can only be described as a Donnald Duck impression. After a long hour of this, we finally arrived at our destination of Crucecita.
The next morning we approached someone with the confident look of having years of local knowledge, with the hope of finding an unspoilt beach. He murmured his directions to us which thankfully he then murmured to a taxi driver and we were on our way. The beach was a ten minute trek through swampy forest (which we've since learnt contained crocodiles). What waited on the other side was well worth the effort, a sweeping stretch of sand cut off by the forest at the back and two rocky cliffs at either end.
After a short while we decided the cliffs had to be climbed and that maybe we'd find someone selling food on the other side. So with no intention of returning we took all our stuff and began to traverse round the rocks that stretched out to sea. Each time we thought we were approaching the end we found the rocks we'd just climbed only concealed more rocks, the heat and hunger started to bear down. We climbed for almost an hour and a half and for those who know their climbing grades I'd estimate in certain places it was 4a. With no rope, unsuitable footwear, heavy rucksacks and sweaty hands in the intense heat, it was a test.
Finally upon reaching the other side, our hearts sank as we stared at another deserted beach, this time a around a mile long. With the pangs of hunger hitting like a sledge hammer we cut straight through the forest and hit the welcome road. Luckily a taxi came within minutes and took us to a beach that served food. Here we were greeted by a conspicuous chap who led us to old shack he called his 'place of business' we were then introduced to his 'business partner', a man half hanging out his hammock, who once introduced, burped a 'hola' through alcohol laced breath. We took whatever we could get, drowning the food's taste with chilly sauce.
That night we watched a live band in the park band stand with beers and tortillas in hand, that was a civilised as that night got!
Next day we opted for the more popular beach of Mazunte where the big rolling waves made for a good session of body surfing. Got a 'collectivo' (a pick-up truck that people pack ontop of) back to our gruelling 6 hour bus bound for Oaxaca.
31/10/08
Oaxaca is truly beautiful city from the Zapotect ruins of Monte Alban overlooking the vast valley, the small suburb like town of El Tule that claims to have the worlds biggest tree, to the cobbled streets of the old decaying centre. At night, even in the busiest part of town, crickets can be heard chirping to themselves and warm breezes blow smells of spices down the narrow streets. No matter how narrow the street though, the traffic flys up and down. The streams of cars are held at traffic lights like over-eager dogs held on taught leashes and tear off the second they see green. In these brief still moments, street entertainers appear from nowhere, juggling and even fire breathing for the loose change on the drivers dash boards. Some of the drivers are equally entertaining; yesterday I sore a man on a small scooter wearing a wrestling mask with his two small children squeezed on the seat.
There is a strong sense that rules are there to be broken. This is a county where the smoking ban is in place but everywhere you go, bar staff are lighting everyones smokes before lighting their own. On a recent trip to the pharmacy, I noticed most of the people in there were buying cigarettes.
Food however is taken very seriously and groups of Mexicans can be found on every corner, chewing over their day along with numerous tacos. Street fiestas are never more than a short walk away and you're always made to feel welcome if you stumble across one. Art is also high on the list of importance, with galleries and exhibitions at every turn not to mention the blanket of street art that covers Oaxaca's walls. Often all three are combined. The other night we crashed an exhibition with a great live band and free mezcal.
Sleep has been tricky. The local dogs (who live on the roofs) have obviously learnt of the success of the West end musical 'Cats' and have taken it upon themselves to rehearse for their big moment with a chorus of barks and howls. I've donated enough blood to mosquitoes that I'm expecting one of them to turn up soon with a NHS cup of tea and biscuits.
I've stayed in Oaxaca slightly longer than I originally thought as I've been advised not to miss the 'Day of the Dead' celebrations this weekend as it's supposedly the biggest few days in the Mexican calender. This has given me time to continue Spanish lessons and get a much better taste of this city. Excitement is in the air as people everywhere are preparing to set things off tonight with a bang!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
11/10/08
.............. Our half planned trekking trip got off to a slow start. Waiting at the bus stop, Felix snapped his only pair of glasses in two after over-manipulating them to stay on his head. With the prospect of jaw-droppingly beautiful mountain views being no more than a greasy blur, we decided to fix them. I of course had my trusty first aid kit to hand and managed to bind them together with a sticky plaster. This crummy repair job engrossed us both to the extent that our bus came, stopped, waited then left right before our unobservant eyes. Eventually another choked up and we were on our way.
We swapped our bus for coach and headed for the small mountain village of Cuajimoloyas. From here we planned to hike 10kms to an even smaller, more remote settlement named Llano Grande. We had been warned several times by several people that we should hire a mountain guide as the forest tracks are overgrown and in many places barely visible but thanks to the miss-guided boldness of youth and the Mears/Gyrils phenomena (the belief that having watched a posh bloke on tv squeeze water from elephants dung, you can survive on shoe laces alone), we disappeared into the thick forest leaving only the perplexed looks on the locals faces behind.
The air was incredible, the freshness stung the lungs but due to the altitude was also very thin, testing our hung-over limbs. It was an unusual mix of forest and jungle or 'fongle' as we decided upon. Everywhere I looked I was seeing species of plants, birds and insects that I'd never laid eyes on before.
With only my trusty compass and a map that would insult the work of a 5 year old using blunt crayons, we were soon lost. After going through a spectrum of emotions (desperation being one of them as I asked Felix if he had a lighter, with warming fires in mind) we stumbled on Llano Grande as evening was drawing in. We were greeted by home cooked food and cold beers by the incredibly welcoming locals. They put us up in a cabin with open fire, a magical setting that we both agreed might be better suited shared with different company but numerous games of 'shit head' (the ancient card game), kept us well entertained.
Early next morning we decide to hang up what was left of our male pride and hired a guide. He took us to the highest, rock covered peak in the area. At first we thought it was a particularly misty day but then realised we were in a cloud. The white whispes seemed to absorb everything they passed, suffocating sounds like a wave of cotton wool. The view from the peak was a silent expanse unlike any I'd seen before.
Our guide, who'd barely said a word for the first three hours, warmed to us and began telling us that pumas and jaguars were not uncommon sightings. Unfortunately they all seemed to have taken the day off.
After waiting for two hours for the bus that never came, we jumped in the back of a pick-up truck, carrying others back to Oaxaca (including an American girl who was threatening to throw up out the back of it).
That night, Stephanie came back with a two litre bottle of mezcal she'd bought from a farmer and the kitchen was a buzz.
.............. Our half planned trekking trip got off to a slow start. Waiting at the bus stop, Felix snapped his only pair of glasses in two after over-manipulating them to stay on his head. With the prospect of jaw-droppingly beautiful mountain views being no more than a greasy blur, we decided to fix them. I of course had my trusty first aid kit to hand and managed to bind them together with a sticky plaster. This crummy repair job engrossed us both to the extent that our bus came, stopped, waited then left right before our unobservant eyes. Eventually another choked up and we were on our way.
We swapped our bus for coach and headed for the small mountain village of Cuajimoloyas. From here we planned to hike 10kms to an even smaller, more remote settlement named Llano Grande. We had been warned several times by several people that we should hire a mountain guide as the forest tracks are overgrown and in many places barely visible but thanks to the miss-guided boldness of youth and the Mears/Gyrils phenomena (the belief that having watched a posh bloke on tv squeeze water from elephants dung, you can survive on shoe laces alone), we disappeared into the thick forest leaving only the perplexed looks on the locals faces behind.
The air was incredible, the freshness stung the lungs but due to the altitude was also very thin, testing our hung-over limbs. It was an unusual mix of forest and jungle or 'fongle' as we decided upon. Everywhere I looked I was seeing species of plants, birds and insects that I'd never laid eyes on before.
With only my trusty compass and a map that would insult the work of a 5 year old using blunt crayons, we were soon lost. After going through a spectrum of emotions (desperation being one of them as I asked Felix if he had a lighter, with warming fires in mind) we stumbled on Llano Grande as evening was drawing in. We were greeted by home cooked food and cold beers by the incredibly welcoming locals. They put us up in a cabin with open fire, a magical setting that we both agreed might be better suited shared with different company but numerous games of 'shit head' (the ancient card game), kept us well entertained.
Early next morning we decide to hang up what was left of our male pride and hired a guide. He took us to the highest, rock covered peak in the area. At first we thought it was a particularly misty day but then realised we were in a cloud. The white whispes seemed to absorb everything they passed, suffocating sounds like a wave of cotton wool. The view from the peak was a silent expanse unlike any I'd seen before.
Our guide, who'd barely said a word for the first three hours, warmed to us and began telling us that pumas and jaguars were not uncommon sightings. Unfortunately they all seemed to have taken the day off.
After waiting for two hours for the bus that never came, we jumped in the back of a pick-up truck, carrying others back to Oaxaca (including an American girl who was threatening to throw up out the back of it).
That night, Stephanie came back with a two litre bottle of mezcal she'd bought from a farmer and the kitchen was a buzz.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Mexico city then Oaxaca
My journey began on the 08/10/08. The plan; to take in the sights, sounds, smells, culture and people whilst traveling, exploring and working in the exotic far away land of Central and South America. This unfortunately had to start at Heathrow terminal 5 where the mountain of lost luggage with circling vultures is visible from the coach stop.
Before boarding the plane one of those bizzare yet strangely common reminders of how small a world we walk on occurred. I bumped into an old neighbour of mine 'Guy' with his girlfriend 'Ruth'. Not only were they on my flight but had booked into the very same hotel in the biggest city in the world!! A coincidence I put down to everyone's reliance on the google search.
After 12 hours of flying, some bad inflight films, terrible infight music (I suspect was selected by a hospital DJ) and the usual travel plan comparisons with others on board (who then steal your elbow room when your back is turned), I got my first glance of Mexico City from a 1000 ft up. Millions of flickering lights sprawled for mile after mile. They washed around mountains, linking up again on the other side like the incoming tide would a small rock.
After meeting up with Guy and Ruth we shared a taxi to the hotel and it felt as though we'd descended into the ants nest. Thousands of cars fighting for road space in a high speed bumper to bumper flow. After four or five phone calls the taxi driver worked out where our hotel was, on arrival we dumped our stuff and headed for the bar for some much needed cerveza and tacos.
The next day would be my only one in Mexico city before getting the bus South to Oaxaca to meet my step brother Felix so I headed out alone fairly early (which wasn't hard as my body thought it was some time in the afternoon). I enjoyed the time I spent there but felt one day was probably enough as the exhaust fumed hustle and ustle would have worn down a London taxi driver faster than a walk to the shops.
Guy and Ruth decided to get the same bus to Oaxaca. The bus entertainment was James Bond, Casino Royal played at full volume and in Spanish which I strangely enjoyed thanks to the over-the-top bad guy accents. The views were spectacular with cactus pepped mountains and people by the road side selling everything from tortillas to puppys!
After meeting Felix we ate at a small road side taco place, grabbed some beers from the shop next to our apartments and drank and talked rubbish on his porch (hammock included) till the jet lag was too strong to fight.
The place I'm staying in is amazing. It's a big open garden, each apartment has a bathroom and everyone shares the outdoor kitchen. The garden is dotted with different types of palms and lime trees with most of the herbs known to man grown next to the kitchen. There are seven of us sharing the kitchen; a French couple Paulina and Pascal, a Belgian named Stephanie, Yoko, a Japanese woman and an older Italian man, Claudio. There's also the extended Mexican family who own the place, have there own facilities but come and go most of the time. One of which has taken great delight in chanting my name, 'hola Jac.........jac....jac....jac'. There are also two dogs, three cats and a changing number of chickens depending on what's on the menu.
10/10/08
Felix and I walked around some of the markets where you can sample almost anything and I soon found myself chewing on a dried grasshopper which I guess could be described as salty chicken. I can't say I'd like a plague full for dinner though. The Organic market shares it's square with a free independent cinema that shows films from all over the world old and new. It's funded by a local artist and therefore doesn't charge for admission. What a great place! An opinion that wasn't totally shared by a girl I was talking to who had all her bags stolen on her first night in Mexico and even admitted to having to wear the same pants for several days in a row. We promptly left.
That night a few of us from the house went to a fiesta at the abandoned railway station (apparently Mexico's entire railway net work stopped running around 40 years ago but the track and stations still remain). A local big band kicked things off followed by a Gypsy band for Bulgaria accompanied by a DJ wearing far too tight tights and a jester's jacket! It was a odd contrast to be sandwiched between such noise, colour and energy and the ghostly tracks that ran into the night behind us. Bumped into Guy and Ruth, they said they were heading south the next day but we said we may hook up again in Costa Rica.
On the walk back home, Paulina bought a bottle of mezcal which is the local equivalent of tequila which was promptly opened and sampled by all. Back at the house the guide books came out and Felix and I made a hazy plan for a two day hike in the Sierra Norte to start the next day . . . . . . . .
Before boarding the plane one of those bizzare yet strangely common reminders of how small a world we walk on occurred. I bumped into an old neighbour of mine 'Guy' with his girlfriend 'Ruth'. Not only were they on my flight but had booked into the very same hotel in the biggest city in the world!! A coincidence I put down to everyone's reliance on the google search.
After 12 hours of flying, some bad inflight films, terrible infight music (I suspect was selected by a hospital DJ) and the usual travel plan comparisons with others on board (who then steal your elbow room when your back is turned), I got my first glance of Mexico City from a 1000 ft up. Millions of flickering lights sprawled for mile after mile. They washed around mountains, linking up again on the other side like the incoming tide would a small rock.
After meeting up with Guy and Ruth we shared a taxi to the hotel and it felt as though we'd descended into the ants nest. Thousands of cars fighting for road space in a high speed bumper to bumper flow. After four or five phone calls the taxi driver worked out where our hotel was, on arrival we dumped our stuff and headed for the bar for some much needed cerveza and tacos.
The next day would be my only one in Mexico city before getting the bus South to Oaxaca to meet my step brother Felix so I headed out alone fairly early (which wasn't hard as my body thought it was some time in the afternoon). I enjoyed the time I spent there but felt one day was probably enough as the exhaust fumed hustle and ustle would have worn down a London taxi driver faster than a walk to the shops.
Guy and Ruth decided to get the same bus to Oaxaca. The bus entertainment was James Bond, Casino Royal played at full volume and in Spanish which I strangely enjoyed thanks to the over-the-top bad guy accents. The views were spectacular with cactus pepped mountains and people by the road side selling everything from tortillas to puppys!
After meeting Felix we ate at a small road side taco place, grabbed some beers from the shop next to our apartments and drank and talked rubbish on his porch (hammock included) till the jet lag was too strong to fight.
The place I'm staying in is amazing. It's a big open garden, each apartment has a bathroom and everyone shares the outdoor kitchen. The garden is dotted with different types of palms and lime trees with most of the herbs known to man grown next to the kitchen. There are seven of us sharing the kitchen; a French couple Paulina and Pascal, a Belgian named Stephanie, Yoko, a Japanese woman and an older Italian man, Claudio. There's also the extended Mexican family who own the place, have there own facilities but come and go most of the time. One of which has taken great delight in chanting my name, 'hola Jac.........jac....jac....jac'. There are also two dogs, three cats and a changing number of chickens depending on what's on the menu.
10/10/08
Felix and I walked around some of the markets where you can sample almost anything and I soon found myself chewing on a dried grasshopper which I guess could be described as salty chicken. I can't say I'd like a plague full for dinner though. The Organic market shares it's square with a free independent cinema that shows films from all over the world old and new. It's funded by a local artist and therefore doesn't charge for admission. What a great place! An opinion that wasn't totally shared by a girl I was talking to who had all her bags stolen on her first night in Mexico and even admitted to having to wear the same pants for several days in a row. We promptly left.
That night a few of us from the house went to a fiesta at the abandoned railway station (apparently Mexico's entire railway net work stopped running around 40 years ago but the track and stations still remain). A local big band kicked things off followed by a Gypsy band for Bulgaria accompanied by a DJ wearing far too tight tights and a jester's jacket! It was a odd contrast to be sandwiched between such noise, colour and energy and the ghostly tracks that ran into the night behind us. Bumped into Guy and Ruth, they said they were heading south the next day but we said we may hook up again in Costa Rica.
On the walk back home, Paulina bought a bottle of mezcal which is the local equivalent of tequila which was promptly opened and sampled by all. Back at the house the guide books came out and Felix and I made a hazy plan for a two day hike in the Sierra Norte to start the next day . . . . . . . .
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